#rukkhadevata and her did so much for their people

[anantaru]

focalors made me cry

[kirarinlovesidols]

Prologue part 1.

You feel nothing. See nothing. Hear nothing.

Another day where you find yourself lost.

How many days has is it been? How much time? You do not remember. All you know is that you’re not good enough, nothing compared to Greater Lord Kusanali.

Your name is Lesser Lord Rukkhadevata and you are currently, well, have been, held captive in your nation for 500 years. But what kind of sin would you have committed to deserve such a mind numbing punishment? being born.

The sages of the akademiya considered your existence a threat to Greater lord Kusanali's reign, after all what kind of purpose would you serve if not to inherit her legacy?...you didn’t resent them though. As far as you were concerned you weren’t supposed to exist at all.

Essentially you are nothing more than Irminsul’s plan B, a spare in case the original died, which did not happen even if it was supposed to. The greater lord herself did not understand it. After exhausting her power she was supposed to lose all memories and regress back to a younger form, all that happened was the latter. Maybe it was a miracle? maybe it was Deshret’s doing? no one knew. So she continued to reign as an archon despite her much smaller form and limited power.

She was supposed to resent you, yet she never did. Fiercely against your captivity she tried her hardest to reason with the sages, you are a living being as well, you deserve to live freely. However it did not work. They had become overly protective of her to the point where they would even make decisions for her, with or without consent.

You were grateful she tried at all.

You wish you could’ve done more for her and Sumeru people, you wish you could’ve experienced the world outside of your cage. Such desires are nothing more than selfish whims that should not exist, but….is it so wrong? for you too to wish happiness?....

⟥────────✤────────────────────⟤

When you woke up you were in a carriage.

The trotting of the horses and the little sways of the coffin worked to almost lull you back to sleep. Except you don’t remember getting in a carriage or…leaving your cage for that matter.

Your eyes immediately shot open only to be met with darkness and the feeling of being quite literally stuck in an enclosure. You tried to move in a panic, push the lid off by any chance, to no avail. You were too weak if it was greater lord Kusanali she would’ve had calmly assessed the situation and found a way to get out in seconds. But you’re the lesser lord, you’re not capable of such feats.

Trying to calm yourself down with deep breaths, you hear a weird noise…almost…akin to scratching? and…is that a voice? you leaned in further to hear better.

“I better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me..”

There it was! the voice sounded a bit high and kinda…scratchy? silly? you couldn’t tell very well…

“Urgggh... This lid weighs a ton!”    The figure seemed to be trying it’s hardest to open the “enclosure” which was more likely a coffin due to it’s overall dimensions, you deduced, by force. Still it seemed like they too were no match to it. It seemed very well made, you wondered if whatever was happening was an assassination attempt by the sages? if it were why would they bother getting you a coffin? you doubted it was out of respect. Were they swindled by that one funeral parlor in Liyue you heard people talk about?.....

“Dammit…it won’t budge…then i’ll have to use my secret weapon! Try this on for size! Mya-ha!”

Secret weapon? what? what were they trying to do? you started panicking again as the source of the voice seemed to do something to the coffin. Were they planning to crush you to death? your hands trembled in fear as the answer to your question came with the weird smell of burning wood.

…Wait….

THEY WERE BURNING IT? WERE THEY PLANNING ON EXECUTING YOU LIKE A WITCH?

Now that was too much. You might be selfless but really, you didn’t deserve to be burned at the stake– err, coffin. Maybe it was the joined efforts of you, the adrenaline going through your veins, the fire and the person who might be your “killer” but the lid finally opened.

Blinded temporarily by the light of the moon you could see exactly who it was.

“Now to grab the goods…” The voice said in a sing-song tone that immediately stopped as it looked at your robed form.

“What?! You ain't supposed to be awake!” The person, or better yet, creature. Seemed very upset at you being conscious. However you couldn’t really provide an answer to it, your predicament was a surprise to you as much as it were to it.

“A…talking…cat…?” Not only did the cat speak but it also seemed to have fire coming out of it’s ears. Was this a new elemental creature? your knowledge about teyvat was limited.

“How... How DARE YOU! I am no CAT! I'm Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire!” Grim, the “sorcerer extraordinaire” stomped his foot on the ground of the carriage as it pouted.

Absolutely fascinating, how did this creature even work? Your eyes followed his movements almost in a trance.

“Tch. Whatever. You...human! Just gimme your uniform, and be quick about it!” He then smirked showing his sharp teeth. It seems like he wanted to intimidate you. It wasn’t working.

“My…uniform? but i’m not…wearing one…” You were pretty sure your garments weren’t an uniform, you weren’t a student at the akademiya. As if to prove your point you looked down only to see you were clad in a robe of sorts.

“What?...a robe..?”  You analysed the fabric, it seemed expensive…akin to silk? and dark in color. You thought the colors were gorgeous, you weren’t allowed to wear such colors as the sages deemed them….”impure” as if…they actually cared about you.

“Stop pretending to not know anything! also don’t ignore me! now…hand over the uniform!” The pyro cat seemed to adopt a much more aggressive tone and stance, it seemed to be preparing to use fire on you.

“Cause if you don't...you're gonna regret it! You watched for a few seconds as his little body seemed to intake air. You took it as your immediate cue to jump off the coffin and run.

“Am i under some kind of illusion…or dreaming?”

You wondered as you ran as far as your legs could take you, ignoring Grim’s protests to stop running.

⟥────────✤───────────────────────⟤

You were NOT used much less built for this level of activity or exercise. Why didn’t you just fly actually? wait, are your powers even working? You examined your hands amidst ragged breaths.

Your legs ached and you noticed you were wearing shoes. Truly, what was going on here? were the sages torturing you for their sick pleasure? haven’t they made you suffer enough? what else did they want.

And even worse than that was how this place…didn’t remind you of teyvat at all. It looked gloomy and scary, right out of one of those fontainian horror movies you heard so much about. The palace of Surasthana as much as it was your prison, at least it was built using warm colors, the sun’s light could peek through the windows just as much as the moonlight, it wasn’t scary. Just lonely.

This though? this place was downright horrifying. Brick walls, eerie green candles and a lot of gray, black and colder palettes. You audibly gulped as you walked through a place that could only be described as a library. You didn’t even realize you entered a building.

The only thing remotely comforting was the smell of books. You had to read a lot of them to get the unfortunately inferior amount of knowledge you have right now. Possessing that Snezhnayan bionic puppet,  Katherine and using her as a proxy you managed to hear things from other regions, see the world outside…even if you couldn’t feel it with your own body.

“Just…what would… she do if she were in my place?”

Speaking to yourself outloud was your mistake, really. Take that L.

“Foolish human! Did you really think you could slip away from ME?” The pyro cat creature found you.

“Now, unless you wanna get burned to a crisp, take off that—”  Some kind of rope…or…whip? seemed to have constricted Grim before he actually got the chance to try and steal your clothes again.

“Me-YEOW! That hurt! What gives?”  You watched confused and a bit relieved as a masked man approached you both.

“Consider it tough love.” He said as he brushed some dust off of his…very expensive looking coat.

“Ah, I've found you at last. Splendid. I trust you're one of this year's new students? My, were you ever eager to make your debut.”  He questioned you, still holding Grim hostage.

“Student? what…? Sir, i’m–” You were rudely cut off by him.

“And bringing a poorly trained familiar with you? That is a clear violation of the school's rules.” The man used a tone you could only describe as used by a disappointed parent scolding their child.

You don’t know why but you felt immediately ashamed, disappointing people seemed to be something you did…a lot.

“As if I'd serve some lowly human! Now lemme go!” Grim struggled against his bindings as if he had enough strength to break through, it was quite pathetic.

“Yes, yes. Rebellious familiars always say that. Do be quiet for a bit, won't you?” The man rolled his eyes ignoring the very clear “Mmmrph!” that came out of the now, covered, grim’s mouth.

He only sighed as he looked at you again, ready to resume his “sermon”.

 

“Dear me. Of all the students I've dealt with, you're the first with temerity enough to open their own gate and step out of it. Does the very notion of patience elude you?”   At that you could only lower your head in shame. What else were you supposed to do? be burned alive by some creature you’ve never seen before? you hated how weak you were to figures of authority.

“I’m…i didn’t–....” You tried to explain only to yet AGAIN be cut off. This was getting old, very fast.

“No matter. Your orientation has already begun. Let us return to the Mirror Chamber”. He then put a hand on your shoulder and forcefully started to push you to where he wanted you to go.

“W-wait! sir! what do you mean by chamber?” You quite literally tried your best to resist or at least slow the drag of your feet but being in a cage for 500 years didn’t do you any favors in the physical strength department, even a child was stronger, probably.

“You awakened in a room full of gates, did you not? All of the students here at the campus arrived by passing through such gates. Although typically the students have restraint enough to wait until I open them before waking up.”  He said in a matter of fact tone as if you were stupid for not knowing any of that.

“So….these coffins are…gates?” Something like teleportation wasn’t unheard of in Teyvat, just not very common.

The man nodded. “The design is intended to symbolize a parting with your former world, and a rebirth into a new one.”

He had just dropped that bombshell as if it were nothing. You had the feeling but…it really did seem like…this wasn’t Sumeru…or Teyvat for that matter. Such information only served to make you even more nervous, what did these people even want ? and what in celestia were they talking about?!

“But now is not the time for such prattle. You've a student orientation to attend! Go on, now. Make haste.” He kept “””””””””gently guiding you”””””””””””””” through this terrific building and only more questions popped in your head.

And since this wasn’t your world, the least you could do was gather info.

“Sir…could you tell me where we are?” 

At that he raised a brow, or…at least you think he did, you can’t really tell with the mask.

“Hm? Have you not fully regained consciousness? The timespace teleportation must have addled your memories…” He mumbled to himself before just shrugging.

“Well, these things happen, I suppose. I shall explain it to you while we walk. Truly, my magnanimity is boundless.”   Now it was your  turn to raise a brow. Wasn’t it very rude and overall….arrogant to say that about oneself? you didn’t know, your social skills aren’t the best.

He cleaned his throat before extending an arm as if doing a presentation as you two walked and said with a smile.

“This is Night Raven College. It is an institution for students the world over who demonstrate a rare aptitude for magic. It is the most prestigious academy of its sort in all of Twisted Wonderland.”  He sounded awfully proud of this academy…and…magic? so they did have something similar to visions…that would be easier for you to understand how this place, Twisted wonderland was it?, worked.

“And I am Dire Crowley. Having been entrusted with its care by the chairman, I serve as headmage.”

Oh. So…He was like….one of the sages back at the akademiya. A high figure of authority…great…..

“I see….and…what about the magic….?” You had to keep digging, this man is your only ticket way out of this place.

“Only those who the Dark Mirror perceives as having a talent for magic are admitted to the college. Those who are selected are summoned to the campus through those "gates," which can appear anywhere.” The dark mirror????? what??? he explained one thing only to give you another question, this sure is…an experience.

“A black carriage bearing one such gate should have come to meet you.”  Oh! right! the carriage!

“Well…i do remember the horses….” More specifically the fact you almost gave in to the noise and almost slept again.

“That black carriage serves to receive a student chosen by the Dark Mirror. It too bears a gate that connects to this campus. And as you know, sending a carriage to meet someone on a special day is a time-honored tradition.”  It…indeed was…but you really only saw that happening for Greater Lord Kusanali, never for you.

you just sighed at the resurfacing of the memory and failed to realize you were finally where this man says you were supposed to be.

“Now, let us attend to your orientation.” You could feel your legs almost want to give out, this was scary in a way no one prepared you for. Looking behind you you saw the pyro cat still struggling and gave him a look of pity. You wish you could set him free, even if he did  try to hurt you….

⟥────────✤───────────────────────⟤

You thought you were mortified before? Oh no! your past self is absolutely wrong! this is way worse actually! 

You stood frozen as you watched as countless people were standing, some seated, at this mirror chamber place. However there was one thing that absolutely ticked you off. These were all men. No women in sight.

As the Lesser Lord you never managed to have many conversations with others but even when possessing Katherine you still had to deal with some weird guys who thought it was a good idea to hit on the poor puppet, they probably did not know. So you know what it’s like, and to be thrown to the wolves like this is just awful to say the least.

You watched as a red headed boy talked to some students near him. His voice seemed imposing and his expression was scary. Archons you want out of here immediately.

“We're done with orientation and dorm assignments? All right, new students—let me be clear. At Heartslabyul House, I am the law. Break the rules, and it's off with your head!”

You could feel your body flinch at his tone. It reminded you of the way the sages talked to you. When can you go home?

“Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever.” A deep voice followed right after with a yawn.

“I'm going back to the dorm. If you're in Savanaclaw House, follow me.” This boy seemed a lot…calmer? if not outright just…lazy? your eyes went straight to the tail that swayed behind him as he walked. Oh so he was a demi-human? back in teyvat you remember dealing with the chief of the forest rangers while acting as Katherine a few times so this is nothing new to you. At least there was some kind of familiarity other than their so called…”magic”.

“New students! Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your achievement. As dorm leader of Octavinelle House, I am honored to have the opportunity to support you in what I hope will be a fulfilling campus experience.”  A boy with glasses said in a very “charismatic” tone. But you could tell it was fake or at least forced, akin to one of the merchants that would come to Sumeru, more specifically port Ormos, to sell their merchandise or scam some poor adventurer. You didn’t spend 500 years observing people for nothing, it was really all you could do.

“Hey, does anyone know where the headmage went? He disappeared midway through the ceremony…” This time a boy that could only be described as “pretty” spoke. His skin seemed flawless, you could only wonder how does one achieve that effect.

“Some headmage he is, lmao.”  Was that….some kind of floating device? Now that was something you didn’t consider. Fontaine was the most advanced country in Teyvat and you were aware of their accomplishments but…you never stopped to actually think about how this world might differ from yours on that aspect. Yeah, you just hope you can just get back.

“Maybe he had a tummyache?” A boy with red eyes questioned as he looked around for the figure that was literally beside you.

“I most certainly did not!”  He sounded terribly offended by that.

“Ah, speak of the devil.” The red haired boy looked over to Crowley, expecting him to explain his whereabouts or at least announce the end of the ceremony.

“If you must know, I was searching for the new student who'd failed to show for orientation. You are the only one who has yet to be assigned a dorm. Step up to the Dark Mirror, and be quick about it. I'll watch your weasel.”   And hold Grim did he do, the cat looked like he was about to tear his fingers off if only he could open his mouth.

Still you wish he didn’t just say all of that cause now you have all attention on you and you don’t…like that one bit. You could feel the stares of multiple students on you so you raised your hands up to drag the fabric of the robe closer to your face, so you could hide the blush starting to rise out of shame.

 

“Damn there’s always a sucker who wakes up late as hell, huh?”

“For real. Wonder if he didn’t read the schedule.”

“What a loser, lol.”

“Did you just fucking say lol in real life?”

And now they were even gossiping about you, great! this day couldn’t get any wose, could it?

You walked to the mirror while hoping to god no one would notice your mortified aura or anything.

“State your name.”  The mirror seemed to have a face in it….or a mask? you couldn’t tell. It sounded awfully imposing so you did as you were told.

“R-” You stopped yourself immediately. Your name is way too long, it’s better to just shorten it.

“Rukkha…” it was easier to pronounce than Rukkhadevata, for sure.

“The nature of your soul is......unclear to me.” The mirror seemed at loss.

“What did you just say?” Crowley had to do a double take to be sure of what he had just heard.

“I sense…a great magical power from this one…however…it is not the same as others…it’s a lot more…condensed. I cannot comprehend it. Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate for this young lady.”

As soon as the mirror said lady you immediately hid you face in your hands in even bigger shame. It was easy to deduce this was an all boys academy since there was no female here other than you but to be outed like this in front of everyone? yeah, you hoped this wouldn’t happen.

“Wait? a girl? does NightRaven takes girls now?”

“Dude! who even CARES! it beats going to school with a bunch of sweaty men any day!”

“I hope she’s cute.”

“This is an absolute W actually, i love NightRaven, i take back everything i said about it before.”

“Are you suggesting that the black carriage went to receive a person with unstable magic and a woman at that?! But that is absurd! The student selection process has not erred once in its century of existence! How could this have happened?”

You immediately raise your face off your hands only to stare at Crowley in disbelief. Your powers were NOT unstable. How did he interpret the mirror’s words in such a way? that was so rude for no reason.

Before you could even think about defending yourself the pyro cat of earlier took advantage of the headmage’s surprise to break free from his constraints. He puffed his little chest and pointed a paw to himself.

“ME! Let ME have this student's seat! unlike her my magic isn’t unstable at all and i’m a boy!”

For the last time your powers were NOT unstable.

“Now, not so fast you hyperactive weasel!”  The man looked prepared to absolutely bind Grim again.

“Look, I'll show you! My spells're the cat's meow!”  He then started breathing fire everywhere. This silly cat is willing to use pyro elemental energy without regard of people’s safety yet your powers are considered unstable? You wondered if this is what young people call “being done”.

“Everyone, get down!”  The red headed boy immediately warned his fellow classmates. Well, despite being that authoritarian at least he seemed to care about those under him.

“AHHHHH! HELP! I'm on fire over here!”  You simply stood there in mortified horror as chaos literally broke loose. You could feel your patience slipping by the second.

Unfortunately there was nothing you could do about the fire as your dendro powers would only make the flames stronger, it would be stupid.

“Someone catch that blasted animal before it sets the entire school ablaze!”

That though? you could do.

You raised your hand in Grim’s direction and concentrated. If things were still normal then you should be able to do this.

Dendro energy started to accumulate near Grim who could only look at the strange green glow under his feet. With a flick of your wrist a dendro construct bloomed into sight. The little cat’s rampage was over just as quick as it started, he was now stuck inside a cube.

“Myaaah! what is this? don’t think such a flimsy thing can hold the great Grim, i’m just gonna burn a hole right through it!”

With a big inhale he tried to use one of his “signature” fire spells only to see it had done no damage, he was stuck.

“You need to be quiet, i’ll let you go when you calm down.” You said with a strained voice. 

“Just what kind of spell is that? never seen it before.”

“Dunno? maybe it’s her UM.”

“Kinda cool though.”

You walked to Crowley as the cube that held Grim captive followed floating behind you.

“Here he is. He won’t be able to escape but please don’t drop him, he’ll get hurt.”

Was all you said before gently motioning the construct to settle on the man’s hands. At that the headmage just blinked owlishly.

You then finally took off your hood, you felt a little angry now and it was getting honestly hard to see. A bit of your snow white hair spilled out of the fabric as you let it fall free.

“This creature, is not mine. I’ve been trying to tell you that. You would know if only you didn’t cut me off.” You only sighed in stress as your long elf-like ears flicked slightly in irritation.

“Now that things are solved and your students have managed to do something about the fire, can we talk like normal and civillized people? i hope so. My patience is running thin.”

At that your eyes seemed to glow with a dangerous light for a split second.

Crowley could only wonder what kind of creature was unleashed inside his beloved NightRaven.

While you could only hear the voices in your head remind you that this is why they had locked you up. You couldn’t inherit Greater Lord Kusanali’s divine throne, you were just not benevolent enough.

And you doubt you'll ever be.

⟥────────✤───────────────────────⟤

Holy mother of god, this took HOURS.

I'm tired as fuck!

Anyway i hope this isn't too cringe, i'm sorry, i tried :"^)

Part 2 should be coming soon.

[stainedglassthreads]

The Traveler being around is probably good for Furina. In Marcel's trial, we see Melus and Silver speculate on why Furina's suddenly taking everything way more seriously--and they think it's either because the Traveler humiliated her, or because she's so embarrassed and horrified by pressing charges against an innocent.

In a way, I feel like the people of Fontaine kinda encourage Furina to act as she does--spoiled and immature, dumping responsibility on Neuvilette and the Oratrice. But she also encourages them to not question the justice system, by struggling so hard to put on a show and save face. It's something of a vicious cycle. The people treat her as a celebrity and only really expect her to amuse and reassure them, not actually DO anything. So she's encouraged to act like a bratty and spoiled child. But the Traveler being around is someone who's NOT impressed or amused by her--and, even better, they're someone she really, really does WANT to impress, who she greatly respects. The Traveler will treat Furina as a person and an Archon, and force her to take responsibility for her people and actions. 'Cause like, she sucks at her job and needs to either take responsibility or find a way to retire like Zhongli. But also I feel like she's probably kinda lonely.

Like. Venti and Zhongli are highly respected and beloved by their people, and are the most proactive and responsible with their roles, at least in the present day. They're also the most oldest of the Archons, so they are the most experienced. It makes sense.

Ei, Nahida, and Furina, though, all seem to be foils of each other to varying extents. While Zhongli and Venti rule their country from behind the scenes, the three younger Archons initially appear to be in positions of power and authority...but aren't really.

Ei has a great deal of power and authority, and is feared or respected by most of her people. But due to her grief over the losses of Makoto and her generals, she has given up responsibility and stopped caring what her people want. She orders Visions be collected and does the war against the Resistance, but she's not really...present, letting the Raiden Shogun and the Tenryou commission run things. She knows the Fatui are in Inazuma apparently, but doesn't seem to care. Only when the Traveler and Yae Miko beat/talk sense into her does she really start to act like a leader and try fixing her mistakes. Up until that point, Ei has been isolating herself.

On the other hand, the Akademiya were grieving Rukkhadevata so much that they forcibly rejected, isolated, and imprisoned Nahida. She did her best to interact with her people and help them when she could, but she wasn't really allowed to rule, and lacked the power and authority she needed to properly lead Sumeru. Largely, Nahida only needed more confidence, and to be believed in--she was already much more mature than Ei or Furina were.

Ei is treated as an Archon, but lacks the maturity of one. Nahida had maturity and a sense of responsibility, but people didn't treat her as an Archon until Rukkhadevata was erased from memory. Furina inherits the worst of both Ei and Nahida's positions and personalities. She lacks the maturity of an Archon, but also no one actually treats her as one. When the Oratrice malfunctions people turn to her for reassurances...but really, the Oratrice seems like way more of a God to them than she ever was. It's not Furina who is the final authority in the Court, it's the Oratrice.

Honestly, Furina might be what would've happened had Nahida lacked the maturity and wisdom she had, and been completely replaced by the Shouki no Kami. Aside from the lochfolk and the Pari, people in Fontaine don't grieve the Lord of Amrita like Rukkhadevata was grieved, but the people replaced their Archon with a machine that tells them comforting lies about how easy and straightforward Justice is, and their Archon helped them do so.

I feel like Furina must be a lonely individual, since she's dismissed by most in her country, and even other Archons likely find her unpleasant, annoying, or immature. She has some growing to do, too, but I hope that by not being impressed by her at all, and instead being blatantly annoyed by her, the Traveler can reach those parts of her.

[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact: The Overworked God [2]

Part 1

Summary: In which one of the lore writers who help write the world of Genshin Impact was suddenly thrusted in the very world they created. 

Well, testing characters is one thing, but playing God, and raising 7 children at a time? 

Oh boy. He just wants to go home and sleep.

Note: Finally back from break!

Part 2 of the Overworked God! Creator! Male OC!

What if we had a smarter Creator that never forgot his initial wish of going home?

Warning: Genshin and SAGAU themes, some OOC and angst.

★・・・・・・★

Tempus, or Kai has been in the world of Genshin Impact for a very long time, since its creation where it was just him and Celestia. 

He struck a deal with Celestia, promising to be the Creator and consequently the God of Time to help create Teyvat, but on his own terms. Doing what he can to save his creations from unnecessary pain and suffering. 

So, he’s still overworked, stressed and sleepy all the time, especially now that he has to take care of 7 children too.  

But finally…today is the day he could finally go home. 

Home sounds foreign to him, after all, he spent more years in Teyvat than on Earth, but he has never given up on returning after fulfilling his duty as the Creator. 

It’s going to be a difficult announcement to make, considering how attached his children could be, but perhaps, he could twist the narrative just a bit to appease them.

“Tempus!” Speaking of, two bundles of mass hopped towards him as usual, and he caught them with both arms as if it was a routine. He stumbles a bit, sighs, but pats them on the head. 

“It’s been so long since you visited Monstadt! I missed you~” Venti hugged his waist as he peaked up with puppy eyes. Before Kai could respond, Furina beat him to it. 

“It’s because he likes Fontaine better! He’s been in my country the longest!” Furina quipped back with a proud expression on her face. 

“That’s because you suck at ruling your country!” 

“Says you, Mr. Drunkard Bard!” 

At least they both have trustworthy people like Neuvillette and Jean to take care of their country…

“That’s enough, you two.” A spark of lightning scared the two to cling onto Tempus even more, but Ei easily picked the two off. 

Ah, one of the more responsible leaders…

“Please ignore these two, Tempus.” Ei says stoically, as she sends a deadly glare that shuts the two up. 

“It’s fine.” Tempus greets every single Archon with a nod, before taking a seat at the head of the table, his expression showing his tiredness despite the light-hearted banter that usually happens during these meetings.

“Have a seat everyone.” All the Archons did a curt bow before taking their respective seats. 

Materializing snacks resembling that of an English afternoon teatime, he smiled when even the stoic Tsaritsa seemed to enjoy his food. 

It’s a shame though, this will be his last time. 

“Tempus.” He turned to the Tsaritsa, who seemed to notice his distress.

“I’m fine.” He brushed it away, before he felt a cold hand on his. 

“Let us know if anything is bothering you.” Zhongli added on, and Tempus shook his head. 

His children could handle Teyvat without him, what else would he be worried about? 

“Tempus, are your worries the reason why did you call us all today?” Sharp as always, Nahida asks, gaining everyone’s attention all at once. 

In the end…Rukkhadevata chose her fate. There are things that could not be changed…

“Yes.” Feeling everyone’s eyes on him, he felt even more estranged. 

"As you know, I've overseen Teyvat, guided you all, and tried to make amends for the mistakes of the past," Tempus continued. 

“After much thought, I believe it’s time for me to rest.” 

Multiple teacups fell onto the table with a loud thud. With a wave of his hand, the spilled tea disappeared. 

“T-Tempus! What, what do you mean?” Murata stood up abruptly, knocking over a flower vase, which Tempus easily dissolved to nothing. 

“Tempus, how could you abandon us!” 

“Calm down.” But it seems to have no effect, instead, he felt the cold hand squeeze his own, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Tempus, you belong to us.”

“As I’ve said, I will be going into deep slumber-” Suddenly, many eyes shot towards the Bard who looked very pale. 

“-to take a break.” A teacup shattered, but Tempus paid no mind to it. 

“My decision is final, and I hope you can take care of Teyvat while I rest.” For eternity. 

“Tempus.” Scoring golden eyes burned into Kai’s soul, and he forced himself to remain neutral as he stared at Zhongli-Morax. 

“Please stay. I’m begging you, please, Your Eminence. Please don’t leave us.” 

"But what of Teyvat? You've become integral to the stability and well-being of this world, and us." There were many nods that followed. 

“We need you.”

There was desperation in his voice, and while it did hurt Tempus to leave them, he doubted he could stay any longer knowing that he could finally leave. 

“All of you are strong and are capable enough to rule your countries, which I am very proud of. Teyvat will be in good hands." Some Archons smiled briefly, but it was short lived. 

"Which is why it's time for me to step aside and take a break."

They had grown accustomed to Tempus's guidance, his wisdom, and his tireless efforts to steer them towards a better path, so for them to lose his support is like fighting without a weapon. 

“W-Where, will you be resting? In Temporium?” Furina’s shaky voice filled the silent room. 

“Stay here, the Fortress of Meropide will keep you safe. Fontaine and I will keep you safe.”

“Yes.” 

“For how long?” Venti asked, anxiety in his voice. 

“I’ll find you, I’ll find you no matter where you run.” 

“I do not know, for as long as my body needs.” Their faces became pale at thinking of the possibility of not seeing Tempus again. 

With a sigh, he stood up, making others rush to stand too. 

“Come here, each one of you.” In an instant, they rushed over and Tempus pulled them one by one into a hug. While he made himself tall and muscular, he felt small in the group hug that lasted an incredibly long time. 

He felt arms around his waist, chest, arms and back, being hugged by 7 people at once was somewhat suffocating. 

“You all will do great. I will miss you all.” This was not a lie. 

“Time flows like water, and perhaps I will wake sooner than you all expect.” This was a lie. 

Tempus heard sniffles, and felt hands grabbing his robes and weaving through his long hair. 

“Tempus…do you have to leave us?” Nahida asked, tugging his heart strings as he saw such a wise person tear up. 

Did she read my thoughts? 

Tempus got rid of that idea as he forbade her from doing so, and with his current power alongside Celestia’s authority, she should be blocked from doing such a thing. 

“I am not leaving, Nahida. I am merely resting.” 

Finally, with some coaxing, he managed to peel them off one by one. 

“I leave Teyvat in your hands.” 

With that, Tempus bid farewell to the Archons and quickly prepared to depart from Celestia. The longer he stayed, the more unbearable this would become. 

However, once he left, the atmosphere shifted once more. The Archons, loyal to their Creator beyond measure, exchanged anxious glances, and a heavy silence settled over the chamber.

“Tempus lied.” Nahida said, as tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“Nahida?” All of the Archons felt their heart drop at her words. 

“He may be resting in Temporium, but there’s more to it. I can’t read his mind completely, but…he’s going to leave us if we let him go.” 

“What are we waiting for then?” Suddenly, the atmosphere turned cold. The Tsaritsa stepped forward with her Ice scepter, Permafrost. Like many other Archon’s weapons, they were gifted to them by the Creator himself.

“If Buer’s words are true, then while his body remains in Temporium, his soul is elsewhere.” 

The Archons soon came to a consensus. 

“We cannot let him go into slumber.” 

Or they will lose him completely.

[Are you ready, dear Creator?] 

Tempus laid in his resting chamber on the edges of Temporium, in a makeshift mountain. He created this place in secret, so no one else by him knows. 

He felt bad for his kingdom, as he told the royal family that he will be gone doing his Godly duties for a long time, but never informed how long. 

Regardless, they should be able to live without a god, considering the technology and time Tempus gave them. 

[Yes]

As he lay in his comfortable bed with minimal decorations or other items, he shut his eyes and reminisced about the past. 

Although it was a very long time, he was never really alone. 

But he has seen much more than a normal human on Earth, from war to life and death, to the repetitions of stories by going back in time many times to fix his mistakes. 

“Stop him! He’s going back in time!” 

Truly, it takes a mental toll on his mind. He can’t let his emotions take over, otherwise, he would have to redo everything again. 

[Thank you for your work, dear Creator]

[Just make sure you fulfill your side of the deal]

[Of course]

When he shut his eyes, he felt safe, comfortable and oddly relieved, relieved of his duties at last. 

“Tempus!”  

His eyes snapped open and saw his chamber shake with vigor. All of his protective mechanisms activate, indeed, he prepared for this.

“Tempus!” 

Voices slowly became louder and the earth seemed to roar. 

How did they find him? Was it Buer? It must've been.

“Tempus!” 

There was desperation in their voices, and Kai assumed that they seemed to have figured something out. 

Perhaps honesty was better, but in the end, this was always the outcome. 

Yes, Tempus already knew that no matter what he did, the Archons would rebel, would seek him out.

Even if the walls seem to crumble, it did not affect Kai’s chamber, after all, it was sealed and protected with his powers.

But perhaps with a bit more persistence, they would soon destroy the mountain all together, leaving him and his chamber exposed. But, Tempus was not worried, after all, he had prepared for this moment too long ago. 

[Farewell, dear Creator] 

Suddenly, he felt a bright light engulf him as he felt incredibly sleepy. 

Through his blurred vision, he could see the stormy skies, and all seven Archons rushing towards him. 

“Tempus!” 

“You can’t leave us, Tempus!” 

Seeing them in their prime, in their Archon outfits was a little nostalgic. 

Hearing a crack in his chamber’s shield was somewhat surprising, but also, incredible. His children have grown up well. 

[Farewell]

With a fleeting smile, Tempus bids farewell to his second home. 

“Tempus!” 

His eyes close, just as the light takes him whole. 

“Tempus!” 

Morax and Murata pierced through the tough protective layers desperately, and Ei and Venti whiz past them to reach their Creator. 

But, they were too late. 

“No, Tempus is…he’s-” Barbados was crying as he held Tempus’s hand. 

“Kai! Kai!” Furina bawled her eyes out, calling his real name repeatedly as if it would bring him back. 

But he won’t come back. 

Bal held his body as she froze in shock (in regret), as if she was reminded of her past. 

“Tempus, you’re cruel.” Buer, the one who got them so far and so close but not enough. She knelt down beside him and cried while pressing his hand into her face. 

“You’ve left us with death, not slumber. You lied, you lied!” 

It was like they lost a part of themselves. 

After all, Tempus was there whenever they needed guidance, he sacrificed his own personal time to make sure they were alright. 

“K-Kai…” Morax stumbled towards the still body that used to be his friend, mentor, benefactor, love, and everything. 

Even in death, he was still so beautiful, kind and holy. 

Tempus was their everything. 

The Tsaritsa dragged herself towards Tempus with her scepter. She was known to not show her emotions, even when Tempus encouraged her to do so to stay emotionally healthy. He was the only one that saw her vulnerable side, and knew who she really was, and never judged her for it. 

“Tempus. How dare you…abandon us like this?” She stood by Tempus’s feet and her eyes did not leave his body at all. 

While others wept, her tears were turned into weapons. 

Murata stood by her with the same dark, solemn expression. 

It’s not fair. 

How could he treat them like his everything, and then leave them so abruptly? 

If only he could open his eyes again and say it was nothing but a terrible joke. 

But Tempus is gone, leaving his lifeless body as his final memory and gift. 

[kashimos-hajime]

—𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐚𝐥-𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦

summary: he hasn’t dreamed in a long time, but when al-haitham dreamed for the first time after the akademiya coup, he dreamed of you.

WARNINGS: archon quest akasha pulses, the kalpa flame rises spoilers! soulmate au if you squint, swearing, mentions of violence, death, injury, minor self-loathing, plot AND lore heavy, angst, fluff, not poly, happy ending!  pairing: al-haitham x fem!reader, minor kaveh x fem!reader word count: 18.1k grind

a/n: written for the lovely @zhongrin​ and her elemental supercharge collab! it was super fun to work on and really inspired me to love writing again because it was just a breath of fresh air. my entry: dendro + dendro + cryo = permafrost 

here are some important notes for this fic to help with understanding it:

tsaritsa is the former goddess of love. the goddess of flowers was a seelie. king deshret reborn was al-haitham. possibly ooc al-haitham (he’s also deaf!) i made shit up about teleport waypoints and about pretty much all the lore surrounding the three god-kings besides what i glimpsed through some books/theories/etc. i was just like fuck it we ball. 

inspo songs: who is she? - i monster, about you - the 1975, awake from a nightmare - hoyo-mix (i recommend you listen to this one especially during kaveh - chat: craftsmanship)

now on ao3 x

Greater Lord Rukkhadevata - About the Goddess of Flowers

In the place where Padisarahs bloom, two gods speak in the absence of their third. The Lord of Flowers picks these Padisarahs and the Greater Lord watches, entranced in the velvet purple petals that gleam in the sun.

The latter says: “You know the price to be paid if he searches for that divine nail.”

The other says: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t pretend to be a fool. You and I both know that—”

“Rukkhadevata.”

The Dendro Archon is silenced.

At last, the scorned one speaks. She has lost her people, her home. She refuses to die until Celestia is buried beneath her bloodied hands. “There is nothing to be done. Do you think Deshret’s mind sways so easily? He is set on finding the answers he seeks, and I am set on aiding in his endeavours.”

“But you… why? You understand what the Heavenly Principles are capable of, and you still put yourself in their line of fire. Again. Why?”

“Because Deshret asked.”

“I don’t think you understand what he is asking you to do.”

“No? Then, you have no idea of what I am, Rukkhadevata, and you are the one who won’t ever understand.”

Deshret - About the Divine Nail

The sandstorm is brutal, tearing at their clothes, their skin, blinding their eyes and clogging their throats. It had picked up so suddenly, there’d barely been enough time for Deshret to shield her from the first impact before realizing that the storm chaotically revolves around them. Around him. Uncontrollable winds swiping through the eye of a hurricane do not with hold their strength from the Goddess of Flowers, but Deshret, the powerful God-King remains untouched. 

He pulls her in closer to his side. The Goddess of Flowers can barely see straight by the time the divine nail rises to its full height, her withered body barely able to withstand the powerful galeforces that pull at her every which way. 

The divine nail is beautiful, glowing blue, refracting gold, and she can only smile as Deshret beside her raises a hand. He, too, glows, but he glows like the sun, like divinity.

“You’ve done it,” she congratulates through her weeping. The sand burns into her corneas, brands her lungs, but nothing touches her heart, and that is how she knows the reason it is shrivelling in her chest is because she is dying. The god beside her, the one holding her hand, turns, and she can’t help her laugh. “I told you once, though, that you would lose much in this exchange.”

“What?” His hand springs off her wrist, but her body is already disintegrating. It feels like it did when her kind was casted from their old home; her body thinned into a husk of what it used to be. Back then, she had prioritzed saving her mind over every inch of her beauty, yet now… now she doesn’t have the strength to save anything. 

Deshret cannot protect the Goddess of Flowers from a trade conducted by those who rule above gods. “No… no, what is happening? You’re…”

“I hope,” she cuts off cleanly, “that one day, I can love you without any selfish desire. I hope… in another life, another samsara as Rukkhadevata would so fondly call it, I will love you more than you ever loved me.” His eyes widen, and a trembling hand reaches for her face. The Goddess of Flowers smiles. Tilts her head into his palm, and laughs again through the tears that evaporate off her cheeks as soon as they spring off her eyelashes.

He is incinerating to touch—a conduit of swirling sand, an incarnation of the sun. How ironic it is that the hand that once saved her from the sands will be the hand that seals her fate amongst the dunes.

Stepping closer, her flesh burns away when she cradles his face. He is shining so brightly. A brilliant morning star, a genius with a hungry mind, a gluttonous scholar. The God-King of the Desert.

Yet, Deshret does not seem like the god everyone makes him about to be.

Before the Goddess of Flowers, Deshret is nothing more than a man, crying and holding onto her with all his might. 

A soft part of her melts at his expression.

“In all honesty,” she whispers, soft and choked, “I aided you because, in your ambitious vision of the future, I saw the possibility that you could free all of us from the shackles that chain us to the Heavenly Principles. In the end, it was my own selfish nature that led us here, and it is my own doing that marked your path to be one that you will have to walk alone.”

Deshret takes hold of her face, eyes searching, but the goddess withdraws her hands to settle her fingers on his wrists lightly.

“It was not your fault, Deshret.”

“No!” She pulls his wrists away, but he curls his hands into fists, fighting to free himself from her grip. For once, it is impossible, and he lets out a desperate growl, tears glinting upon his cheeks. “Don’t leave me. Don’t… don’t go.”

“Deshret—“

“Stay. Just a little while longer. I will take that divine nail and hammer it into this world, and build you an eternal oasis where I will bring you back to life with the knowledge that spills from its organs.” Lunging forward, his hands find themselves on the sides of her neck, thumbs stretching to trace the lines of her jaw. “I will not lose you. I cannot lose you!”

The ragged storm enflames, the winds grow deafening, loud enough to resemble a constant thunder that echoes in the hollowness of her chest. 

“Don’t worry about that sort of thing, Deshret.” 

Her voice is very weak now. When she swallows, sand shreds her insides and her eyes burn from the strength it’s taking to avoid coughing up iron.

“We will meet again,” she continues. “If Rukkhadevata has a hand in anything, it is the wisdom that pools around all of us, and the knowledge that there will not be an era where we are separated.”

“No, no, don’t go!”

But it falls futilely on deaf ears. The Goddess of Flowers lets go, and steps backward, her knees shaking, her frame swaying from the winds she can no longer fight. 

As soon as her heel tucks into the edge of the unrelenting galeforce, she is ripped away, and the Goddess of Flowers disappears.

Tighnari - Something to Share: Akademiya Days

If one asked Tighnari what he thought of the Artificer of the Akademiya, he would return that inquiry with one of his own:

“Do you mean my thoughts on the Artificer alone, or about her relationship with the Scribe of the Akademiya?”

The truth of the matter is, the Scribe and the Artificer’s history go past colleagues at the Akademiya, past scholars searching for a thesis, for once upon a time, they were students, too.

Paimon isn’t aware of this: “Er… I don’t know. Did they know one another?”

“Al-Haitham wields his practicality like a spear. Nothing could quite faze him or outwit him. Nothing could unsettle him, except for the Artificer. She was a student in his year, but she was a scholar of the Kshahrewar Darshan. They were quite the reliable pair of scholars.” A soft hum. 

“Really? Al-Haitham doesn’t seem like the partner type.”

“He isn’t. I suppose exceptions could be made when it came to her. I met Al-Haitham through the Artificer, actually, when they were working on some sort of prototype translation device for foreigners and she had asked if Sumeru’s scientific names for plants from other nations were derived from their original language.” Tighnari’s ears twitch. “I didn’t know her well back then, but from my brief meetings with her, she was very lively and happy. She didn’t care about the Sages and the politics surrounding the Six Darshans. All she wanted was to study. I think her thesis was to find a way to repair the Teleport Waypoints around Sumeru. It made quite the wave back in our day.”

“The Teleport Waypoints?” Paimon says. “Paimon noticed that they’re guarded by the Corps Of Thirty in Sumeru when in other nations they’re pretty much abandoned.”

“Her hypothesis that they’d been placed by some higher power than the Archons is a banned reference material and only the highest level of scholars are aware of the theory,” Tighnari says, and there’s a far off look in his eyes. “The Corps of Thirty supposedly defend these sites for a historical scholar for the day she comes home, but to be honest,” he adds quieter, “I think they were ordered to defend the Waypoints from the Artificer should she ever return.”

.

Technological advancement in Sumeru had progressed far enough that prototype cochlear implants are, though not a norm, a potential alternative than going through life unaware. The alternative is only made available by the resources of the Akademiya and Al-Haitham’s enrolment there since it’s where he can maintain upkeep with the help of Kshahrewar students who were overseeing this new piece of headgear. 

You are the student assigned ot make sure his top of the line technological headwear didn’t go awry. You spend a lot of time with him, which means, against all odds, the bright, voracious, and laughing sun of the Kshahrewar Darshan has become Al-Haitham’s friend.

He had avoided it at first. Honestly. In the three years they’ve been together as mechanic and project, it took almost a year for Al-Haitham to consider even looking forward to seeing you every Thursday afternoon where you’d fiddle with his settings and write down notes on his condition.

And, yet, when he conceded to the fact that you were a staple to him—a constant in the ever-changing nature of the Akademiya’s cutthroat landscape where scholars dropped at the tip of a hat—he found that he learned more about you in the first month he gave in than he did in the last twelve he resisted. 

Each factoid is like a dash in his head: your thesis is to be about the possibility of repairing the shattered Teleport Waypoints scattered across the nation, and how you’d go about doing it. Your work with Al-Haitham is just a way to investigate how the Akasha terminal and said Teleport Waypoints could work in tandem. Your life goal is for the latter to work on its own some day like it did in ages past and ease travel for those who could not afford to.

“It’s an altruistic thing to do.”

“I’m from Snezhnaya, but I moved here when I was younger.” You’re sitting across from him at the library as you tinker with a device similar to the one on his ears. “I used to go back every summer, but now that I’m at the Akademiya, I haven’t returned because I don’t have time, so the Teleport Waypoints would help with seeing my family more often, too. I’m not all good.”

He doesn’t look up from his book, although above the top of it, he can see your fingers deftly trying to rearrange wires. “Family?”

“Mhm. My father is a researcher here. My mother stayed back home. I grew up in a small hamlet, you know.”

He smiles faintly, flipping a page. “Yes, I know. It’s one of the first things you told me.”

“Oh, well… I didn’t think you’d remember,” you say, and he finally looks up from the pages to find you staring. You don’t look away, and instead, your smile grows as you tilt your head. “You’ve got beautiful eyes. Has anyone ever told you that before, Al-Haitham?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answers. That’s another thing about you. You always say his name when you speak to him, as if to make sure that he understands you are directing such things to him.

That, and just the way you say his name. Every syllable purposeful, in that voice of yours that edges on melodic. You still have a Snezhnayan accent when you say certain words, including ones of Sumeran origin.

“Well, you do. They’re so beautiful.” Your smile makes your eyes crinkle as you return to your project, and Al-Haitham clears his throat, fighting the red that’s burning his ears. Scratching his jaw, he shakes his head minutely and instead tries to think of anything else.

You like oranges, but have a secret soft spot for peaches. You like reading romance, and you love art. Your father is a member of the Spantamad Darshan, and during his thesis, he travelled back to his homeland and fostered a family, which includes his eldest daughter, you.

The same you he can’t stop thinking of now that he’s stuck on it.

Later, when they begin to pack up their things from the library, in between him slipping a book into his bag and you sliding each tool back into its spot in your case, he asks if you’d like to have dinner with him at Lambad’s Tavern.

“Alright, but I’ll have to drop this off at my work room before I do. I don’t want to damage it,” you answer, tilting your head to your project wrapped in cloth which you’ve carefully nestled into a box.

“That sounds fine. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the tree, then?” he asks and you smile fondly at him, the box in your arms and your bag slung across your shoulder.

“Give me a minute or two,” you say. “I won’t be long.”

Al-Haitham bids you farewell at the entrance to the House of Daena, and you walk off with a bright smile, your figure outlined in a melting sunset gold. There’s not a lot of people outside—most have found shelter in Akademiya buildings or they’re out in the city, trying to maintain a social life as well as a scholar can.

“(Name)!” someone shouts, and Al-Haitham, who’d been walking down the ramp, looks up to see a tall, slim figure bolt past him. Blond hair flashes in the burning orange of dusk as a man runs past, and Al-Haitham twists around to avoid being hit by him as a foul word springs to his tongue.

But then, he realizes what the man had yelled and who the man even is the longer he stares at his retreating back, and Al-Haitham shakes his head.

You won’t be happy with him if he gets into an argument with your childhood best friend of all people.

Kaveh is easy-going, passionate, and empathetic. It is… to say the least, everything Al-Haitham is not. He’s met him once or twice out of pure coincidence, and he’s seen the blond around you more often than not. A part of him dislikes his nature. His whimsical, idealistic view of their future does not fall into line with how Al-Haitham sees it, and borders on idiotic considering that a romantic vision is not feasible in a nation where knowledge seeks to rationalize every existing thing.

The more logical half of him knows that you share all the same traits as Kaveh, and that the real reason behind his disdain is because Kaveh clearly has romantic feelings for you, and you return them.

It isn’t difficult to decipher the nature of your relationship with your “childhood best friend.”

How else would you describe the way his hand wraps around your elbow when other people want your attention and how when he leans to whisper something in your ear, you never fail to laugh and swat at him, your own arm looped through his.

He thinks that sick, logical side of him would pay to see you stumble through your words as you try to explain your relationship with your friend, but he can’t bare to do it. It feels cruel when all you’ve been is patient and kind with him.

“You seem distracted, Al-Haitham,” you intone with concern. You cradle tea in your hands, and cock your head at him, a thoughtful frown playing at your lips. “Is something wrong?”

Blinking, Al-Haitham finds you looking at him with those wonderful and warm eyes, and that logical side of him vanishes—a rat scurrying from the sunlight and back into the dark.

“No. No, I was merely thinking of something,” he dismisses, poking at the food he’s barely touched. The tavern is loud—almost too loud. His head aches with the amount of thoughts that swirl around, clattering in cacophony. It’d been stupid to suggest this place when he’s so tired from studying. Archons, he wants it to stop now. To get up and run, to curl up with a book and a warm fire, to tell them to stop, everyone, please, for the love of the Dendro Archon, shut the fuck up—

You laugh, and set down your cup of tea, reaching over to grab his wrist and squeeze gently, and his world goes quiet. It zeroes in on you, and the softness of your palm betrays the calluses on your fingers, a strange juxtaposition against his wrist.

“I know it’s hard,” you utter teasingly, “but I want you to stop thinking tonight. Nothing about studies, or labs, or anything about any kind of dictionary.” He smiles at that as you stroke your thumb over the back of his hand. “Just you and me, and this food.”

“Duly noted,” he mutters, and you smile again, returning to your own supper. But he cannot. His eyes do not stray, and his shoulders sink into his body, invisible weight sloughing off his skeletal frame.

All Al-Haitham does is watch you eat, rice slipping between two perfect lips, lips he knows, lips he could draw, and he’s not even close to resembling an artist. A mouth he can paint without seeing the reference, eyes closed, asleep, unconscious. A mouth he has dreamed of before, and he wonders just how he can tell you that, now, the reason he can’t stop thinking is because he’s thinking about you.

Collei - About Technology: Lockboxes

“What do you wanna know?” Collie asks brightly. “Oh, this is the Artificer’s seal! How do you have this?”

“We found it in the Balladeer’s chambers. It was addressed to Al-Haitham but we can’t seem to open it.”

“That’s probably because you need his permission to open it. Most of her work is password protected, so I guess that means including this. Top secret stuff. Master Tighnari received a few cases back before I knew him, though they’re still in his quarters.” She sighs. “Apparently, all her work is more valuable than a lot of the stuff the Sages hold, according to Master Tighnari, because she went missing and there is no way to replicate it.”

“I thought Tighnari didn’t know her well,” the Traveler mutters to themself quietly, before asking, louder, “Missing?”

“I don’t know much about what happened, but she went missing five years ago after an expedition went wrong. Apparently, a huge snowstorm overtook the desert and she was swallowed up by the sand. The rest of her team came out fine, but her and some other Spantamad scholar just… died in that snow. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen! So much snow it almost completely covered the sand dunes.”

“That’s strange,” intones Paimon. “It’s so hot and dry here, wouldn’t the snow just melt?”

“It seemed like a freak incident,” Collei agrees, “but the Sages were scrambling to figure out why. The Akademiya was in a flurry that whole season before it died down.” Her eyes fall to the box the Traveler holds again. It has a flat surface, with no keyhole, yet it’s sealed shut, and Collei hums. “Maybe, they’re just blueprints and stuff to keep safe. That’s what Master Tighnari has in his boxes. Or, maybe it’s a secret treasure!”

“It could be,” the Traveler answers. “But I haven’t been able to find Al-Haitham.”

“He’ll show up,” Collie assures confidently. “He always does.”

.

As a member of the Haravatat Darshan, Al-Haitham is capable of speaking nearly every living language in Teyvat and a handful of dead ones. It’s required for him to graduate alongside a well-founded dissertation. He wrote his own on the developing dialects of sign language across the regions, which he recited in front of his professor entirely in sign language.

A bit much, but Al-Haitham is nothing if not thorough.

He already has a reputation in his Darshan to be no nonsense, borderline rude, and a lone wolf, but brilliant, and the future of the Akademiya. A prodigy with no morality of the common sort, Al-Haitham walks the Akademiya grounds knowing that there are few who can shatter the earth beneath his feet. 

If the Sages are right, the current Scribe should be stepping down soon, and he could take that position easily. All access to so many projects would be granted, and he wouldn’t be short on resources for things he’d like to study. It’d also grant him more time to pursue his own endeavours. The desert is sorely understudied, but the rumours of a Divine Knowledge Capsule floating around the black markets, too, piques his interest.

Al-Haitham is a scholar without equal.

“Al-Haitham, there you are.”

Yet… in front of you, he’s nothing more than an awkward boy who doesn’t know what to say.

In the years since they’ve been mere fresh-faced students, you’ve graduated, too. Now, you work as a Dastur, leading expeditions with your father. Al-Haitham’s met him multiple times, but he’s been returning to Snezhnaya recently according to you. You’ve even overtaken some of his smaller projects.

“That’s not any of your responsibility,” he had pointed out in quiet Snezhnayan when he had come across you returning late to the city from an expedition to Avidiya Forest. Mud had ruined your shoes, and you looked up at him, moving to dump your bag on the ground. He had caught it before it could crash to the ground. Your eyes glinted, pleased, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

When his arms wrapped around your waist, you had seemed to melt into his body. Your fingers found purchase in his hair, and your nose dug into his neck as you sighed.

“Well, it’s my father,” you murmur in your mother tongue, strangely beautiful against his skin. It was one of the first languages he challenged himself to learn. You are much more subdued when you speak in the dialect of your homeland, yet no less beautiful. An everlasting snowflake in the middle of a rainforest. “He is most important to me, and I must do what he asks.”

He walked you home that night without you even asking.

Your smile is impossible to refuse, your laughter one of the few sounds that can bring him to a sane state of mind. A scholar without equal means a mind that never sleeps, and when Al-Haitham has enough of it all, he seeks solace in your mouth and your hands; your fingers carding through his hair, your lips whispering against his ear.  

A solace, no doubt, Kaveh receives nightly considering you two live together now on the stipend the Akademiya provides. Al-Haitham’s thoughts have driven him to stay up late on his most exhausted days, wondering what you did when you parted from the dinners they’ve scarcely scheduled and you returned back to that small house you shared with your childhood best friend. 

What do you and Kaveh even do every night anyway? Dinner, and conversations over what? The arts and poetics that Kaveh constantly waxes, whether or not you’re around? 

You plant yourself in front of him to stop in his tracks, and Al-Haitham’s eyes dart from your face to your neck against his will. 

Clear. It’s always clear.

“I’ve been looking for you,” you say.

“Have you?” Flippant. A bag hangs off your shoulders, and a shorter cut of the uniform drapes off your frame. Against his will, his heart sinks. “You look like you’re packed for another expedition.”

“Mhm. I’m going out into the desert for a month, maybe two. There’s a Teleport Waypoint near the Mausoleum of King Deshret that’s been displaying some abnormal levels of energy, so it might be a breakthrough depending on the cause.”

“You think there’s a Ley Line disorder?”

“Or maybe King Deshret’s risen again,” you comment blithely. Al-Haitham’s eyebrows shoot up at your boldness of stating such a blasphemous thing in the centre of Sumeru City, but you don’t seem bothered. “There have always been stranger things. Either way, I want to check it out.”

“I suppose so. Will Kaveh be accompanying you this time?”

“Kaveh? No. No, an architect and an artist has no place in the desert when he could be here.” You avert your gaze and you fight the stuttering in your voice. Al-Haitham bites his tongue. “Scholars from the Spantamad Darshan will be, though, considering the Ley Line aspect of the situation. It’ll be nice to spend time with my father again. He returned just recently, did you know?”

“I was made aware,” he says. He saw your father early yesterday morning, and they’d exchanged words, but you don’t need to know that Al-Haitham speaks to your father on a semi-regular basis. “Well, then, I hope your exploration is fruitful.” 

“Of course it will be. It’s me leading the expedition,” you tease, winking, and he can’t help the small smile that pulls at the corner of his mouth. Your smile softens into a fonder, more genuine one, and you take hold of his hand. In Snezhnayan, you utter: “I wanted to see you before I left.”

“I’m happy that you made that effort to,” he murmurs in the same, inclining his head. You squeeze his fingers, before letting go, and Al-Haitham’s gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth. It’s still smiling, still warm, still those same lips that have haunted his dreams. He lets out a silent sigh and raises a hand to rest atop your head. In Sumeran again, he says, “I will await your return then, Artificer.”

“What a silly title.” A displeased expression overtakes your face but nonetheless, you clutch his bicep and duck from his hand and begin to make your way past him, trailing your fingers down his forearm. He turns to prolong the contact, his fingers tracing your veins. “Now, I don’t want to go, knowing you’re waiting for me to come back.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” he warns. They are at each other’s fingers, and he curls his digits, locking you in place for only a moment. “I might not be here when you come back.”

“Please,” you snort, but your expression betrays how happy and excited you are. “See you later, Al-Haitham.”

“I’ll be seeing you,” he agrees, and you giggle, waving one last time before turning around fully and running off to wherever you’re needed. Al-Haitham’s smile doesn’t fade as he watches you go. His heart warms whenever he’s near you, and now that you’ll be disappearing for a few months, he’s determined to keep that fire inside him burning low and bright.

He loves you. He knows that very well by now. Loves you without rival, without equal. Very few things can even think to challenge the spot you have in his life, although he is sure he does not have some sort of equivalent seat in your halls of life.

Why would he sit there when you have so many more acquaintances? Better-tempered ones, kinder ones, ones that aren’t ruled by selfish ambition, who actually have the initiative to tell you how they feel because they are not bogged down by the arguably controversial opinion that love is nothing more than an obstacle.

“Al-Haitham, the Grand Sage Azar wishes to speak with you,” an attendant says, and Al-Haitham is forced to look away from you. The scholar frowns at the request, but nonetheless, he follows the man to the House of Daena.

When he returns home from his meeting with the Grand Sage, Al-Haitham wants nothing more than to rip his brain out, strip it clean of memories. For the first time in his life, he curses knowledge, and the consequences it has inflicted on him

But a box sits waiting for him, a note attached to the top of it. By the intricate lock system on the front baring no keyhole, but a scanner that illuminates when Al-Haitham’s finger brushes against the box, he knows who it’s from.

Cyno - About Cold Cases

“The Artificer?” Cyno asks in the dying minutes of the feast in his honour. Crossing his arms over his chest, his brow furrows. “Why do you want to know about her?”

“We heard there’s a lot of mystery surrounding her, but if she’s such an important figure in the Akademiya, why didn’t she ever come back?”

“So you know she’s missing.” Cyno sighs. “I’m not sure if this is information I’m legally allowed to reveal to you as an outsider, but it’s you so I suppose I could make an exception. Her belongings were seized and her quarters were raided after her disappearance five years ago. The Eremites posted around the Teleport Waypoints are to assure that she doesn’t come to tamper with them.”

“Why? Is she a criminal?”

“No. The Sages put a stop to all of her research after it became clear she was extremely close to unlocking the full potential of the Teleport Waypoints. Whether or not it was fear that she would use that knowledge and surpass them is unclear, however she was well-liked by the public. Much of her work during her time was contribution to the public. Improving different aspects of our nation.”

“So, why… do you think the Sages had a hand in her disappearance?” the Traveler asks.

“I had my suspicions during the investigation which were only further supported once I was made the General Mahamatra and granted the ability to investigate past open cases.”

“As the General Mahamatra, you would probably know more about the circumstances surrounding the situation,” mutters Paimon. Cyno’s lips twist into a dismayed scowl.

“It was only the beginning of Azar’s need to retain power in Sumeru.” A resigned exhale. He glances around, but the place the Traveler has led him to is secluded and quiet. “I suggest you never reveal that you are searching for the Artificer to Al-Haitham. Talking about her is… a touchy subject.”

“The reason we wanted to find her is because of this box we found addressed to him.”

“A box?”

“Yeah! It must be something she hid from the matra before she disappeared.” Paimon flies around to the Traveler’s shoulder. “We wanted to ask Al-Haitham to open the box, but he’s been distracted by something else recently.”

Cyno hums, lips twisting into a frown. “From what I remember, the conclusion drawn from the investigation was that a freak snowstorm had caused her and another scholar to go missing. It went on for a month or two past their initial end date, so their resources eventually dried out, especially with being unprepared for that sort of weather. However…”

“What is it?” the Traveler asks.

“Well, why was she and a Spantamad scholar the only ones who went missing? The other members of the expedition emerged from the snowstorm cold but relatively unharmed at Caravan Ribat. Furthermore, there was a great shift in the area surrounding the Teleport Waypoint in front of the Mausoleum of King Deshret, suggesting that the Teleport Waypoint had somehow been used. I’m not quite sure of the efficacy of which it operated, but considering that there was no trace left behind, it’s possible that the snowstorm covered up the Teleport Waypoint tapping into the Ley Lines, and transporting the two scholars into some other place to escape.”

“So, in the end, she was successful in what she was trying to do,” the Traveler muses. “The Teleport Waypoints aren’t effective everywhere in Teyvat, though.”

The General Mahamatra shakes his head. “No, not to my knowledge.”

“Thanks, Cyno. This was a really big help,” the Traveler says, turning. Paimon flies in front of them, her hand scratching at her head. “I should leave you to your celebration. Sorry to bog it down with work.”

“Wait, Traveler. There’s one other thing that you should know. The investigation was preceded by an assignment issued by the Grand Sage to none other than Al-Haitham.”

.

Outside the Mausoleum of King Deshret, an expedition bustles around their camp. Scholars measure the Teleport Waypoint, use devices to take the temperature, and scribble down every observation in a small radius to ensure that the conditions are ideal.

You’ve retreated to your tent. The heat’s getting to you, and you feel exhausted as you set down your tool on your work bench, finger running down another manuscript to make sure everything is perfect.

Snezhnayan catches your ear and you turn around to see your father approaching, the tent flap closing behind him.

“You think it’ll work this time?”

“I’m sure, Papa,” you answer, lifting the core you’d been inspecting. They’ll insert this into the base of the Teleport Waypoint in a few days time once the Spantamad scholars are able to locate the source of destabilization in the Ley Lines. 

Archons willing, the core will be able to detect the Ley Lines running beneath the structure and channel energy back up into the Waypoint, and they’ll be able to go home in a blink of an eye.

There is one thing that you think separates you from the other scholars at the Akademiya, and it is not this groundbreaking technology you’ve crafted with your own hands. 

It is the higher purpose that fuels you to study. Not just for the sake of knowledge, or to find something new, something exciting.

“It’s our last chance. If we fail, the Doctor will have his way with me. I haven’t been useful enough, and he has no patience for people who waste his time. Little Star, I refuse to go back to Snezhnaya alive.”

The Fatui Harbingers. The fingers in your bones feel brittle after toiling for years and years for them to the point where you’re not sure that these hands are your own anymore. Maybe they belong to some unseen mind you don’t even know, but fear all the same.

All your work has only ever been for the Doctor, but maybe… maybe this way you and your dad can somehow find your mother and your siblings, find a secluded corner of this continent and hide from the Doctor for the rest of your days.

“Thank you,” your father murmurs, and you lower the core back into its box. Closing it, it lets out a little beep, and you drum your fingers against the top of the lid, sighing. “Little Star.”

“It’ll be fine,” you whisper, letting out a long breath. It feels like it takes the soul out of you, and you plant your hands against the table, letting your head drop. “We’ll be just fine.” 

A hand settles between your shoulders, and you let your father guide you closer towards him. His chest is warm, and when his arms embrace you, it feels like home. Turning into him fully, you wrap your arms around him and press your cheek against his chest, feeling like a small child again.

“You’ve worked so hard for my sake. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

“The fact that I’ve managed to save your life, Papa, is reason enough to do anything.” You withdraw, and smile at him. He sighs, eyes scanning your face. “The Doctor will be pleased enough by this progress, right? I… it might not be a permanent solution, but he’ll think it’s enough of a relveation that he won’t kill you?”

“Don’t think like that.”

“I can’t help it!”

He flicks your forehead, and you separate, wincing. Rubbing your brow, you send him a glare. 

“That Al-Haitham won’t want you to be so pessimistic.”

“Dad!” Heat flashes over your face, and you whirl around, busying yourself with cleaning up your work bench. Your father laughs, leaning in beside you. “Al-Haitham’s just a friend.”

“I never insinuated anything more than that,” he teases. “But I’m sure you two are closer now than ever.”

“Papa!”

“You ought to stop giving him the wrong impression, if he’s just a friend. Living with Kaveh, playing house,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s going to realize that you and that silly boy are together.”

“We are… not… together.” You could strangle your father. Returning the manuscripts to your own box, you don’t quite close it yet. You’ll still need to do one last check to make sure the winds from the desert haven’t swept anything underneath anything else. “Kaveh and I are just friends. We just like living together.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll never understand then why you don’t pursue Al-Haitham.”

“You don’t have to understand anything,” you complain, exasperated. “Al-Haitham’s not interested in that way with me, Papa. Besides, I don’t have any time to foster a romantic relationship. Save that for when we’re in the clear.”

“Who knows? Maybe he can accompany us.”

“Father!”

“Artificer! The Scribe of the Akademiya has arrived looking for you.”

“The Scribe?” you murmur, frowning. Immediately, all that teasing evaporates like smoke, and your brow furrows. Your father’s expression is identical. “What would Abbas be doing here at his age?” 

“Perhaps there’d been urgent news?”

“They would’ve sent a messenger, wouldn’t they? Or even the General Mahamatra if it’d been serious.” You sigh. “It’d be better if you weren’t in here when I receive him. It could be something bad.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod. “You can send him in.”

Your father departs, and he chats with whoever is outside, but you can’t let yourself eavesdrop. Your anxiety is biting at your frayed nerves. You haven’t slept well in days.

The day that will seal your fate comes closer and closer, and you can’t think of anything else. Your head hurts, and you grab your canteen, taking a sip and hoping it’ll help with the ache. 

What will you do if the Teleport Waypoint works? Will you leave the Akademiya entirely? The Doctor might ask you to stay, and further develop and streamline the process for whatever plan the Harbinger is creating, but with this technology, you could run. Leave it all behind.

You absently brush your finger over a stick of charcoal. You’ll have time to think about it, you suppose.

The tent flap opens, and you let out a sigh. “Scribe Abbas, I’m surprised you—“

And whatever words you had, whatever had been autopilot motoring off your tongue, die.

“Al-Haitham?” Surprise shoots through your system. Your heart skips a beat when you see him, and that uncomfortable rhythm pounds against your ribs as he smiles faintly at you. He looks the same. Always the same. “What? What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” he admits, and you can’t help the silly smile that rises to your face. “I would prefer to speak with you in Snezhnayan. I know that your mother tongue goes unused often. I don’t want to get rusty either.”

“Oh.” That heat comes again to your face in a crashing flood. “Of course,” you comply. “But I don’t understand why you came all this way just to speak with me. Couldn’t it wait? I would’ve been back in the Akademiya in a few weeks.” Your mind scrambling for more words to say, your eyebrows knit together. “Wait. Scribe. You’re the Akademiya’s new Scribe?”

He nods. “Yes. I was promoted last week.”

“That’s excellent news!” you exclaim, coming closer and grabbing him by the wrists. His eyebrows rise but you tug him towards your bedroll. Sitting, you tug him down and tuck your knees beneath you. “Tell me everything. Wait, do you need anything? Food, or water?”

He chuckles, letting his bag slide off his shoulder, and you soak him in again. His beautiful eyes, the sweep of his downy grey hair. It has always reminded you of a dove’s soft breast. Fluffy, and attached to a body that can fly anywhere it’d like.

You card your fingers through that crop of hair fondly, pulling it away from his eyes and brushing the longer bits behind his ear.

“No, I don’t need anything more than your time,” he answers, taking your hand and pulling it back down to rest between them. “I was apparently Azar’s first choice to be the new Scribe. Abbas wanted to retire.”

“He is getting old,” you admit. “But I hadn’t realized. You don’t know how happy I am to hear this, you know.”

“I think I know.” His voice makes your eyes widen. You’d never heard it like that before—so unguarded, so softly spoken. Your eyes dart to his and your chest squeezes at the way he stares at you. Had he always looked at you like that, or is that a desert mirage manifesting itself in your tent?

You smile, letting out a scoff. “You have no idea how much I care about you, Al-Haitham.”

“More than Kaveh?” he asks off-handedly, and you blink. 

“Well, that’s not fair. Kaveh’s my oldest friend.”

“I think it’s more than fair,” he says. “But, I know I’m no rival of his for your affections, so I won’t pursue you on the topic any further.” Arguments build up in your mouth but he only pushes onward: “Are you making headway with the Waypoint? I saw some of the scholars crowding around it but you’re still in here.”

“The Ley Lines have been stable as of today. I was doing some final additions to a device that would activate the Waypoint, so we are,” you say warily. “The new blueprint I drafted before I left seems to be the most promising.”

His eyes drift over to your work bench before he nods. “I see. May I go look?”

“Yes, of course.” Rising together, you’re shocked when he leads the way, their fingers still entwined. Never before have you tempted physical touch for this long. You’re always aware that he’ll be overstimulated, or uncomfortable, or even just not in the mood to be touched, but you guess he’s amiable today, because he lets you sidle in close next to him—close enough that their arms are pressed together.

A sharp tug at your heart makes you sigh. You hadn’t the time to factor him into your future yet. You’ve thought about Kaveh—what he’d do if you left. You’d tell him, of course, where you’d be going. Why. How. You’d explain everything to the blond with the sincerest apology you can front it with.

After all, Kaveh won’t be able to afford the house they live in on his own stipend if you have to leave, and you can’t just leave your truest companion out in the cold like that. 

Kaveh. Your heart aches for him. You love him so much, but it’s never been the way he wanted you to. 

Glancing at the man beside you tracing a finger along your drawings, something inside you wilts. 

“Al-Haitham… I have a favour to ask you,” you speak suddenly. He’s silent, leaning against the work bench. Their hands are still interlaced in beween them, and you look down at his fingers, long and nimble. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, and you swallow.

“You know I don’t believe in favours,” he intones, not taking his eyes off the paper.

“I know, but this is something I have to ask out of our friendship.”

“Alright.”

You let out a breath. “If something happens to me, you’ll take care of Kaveh, won’t you? Give him a home if he needs one.”

“Why should I care about him?” he mutters apathetically and you smack him. His eyes finally meet yours and you glare at him.

“Al-Haitham.”

“Besides, why would anything happen to you?” he continues. “You’re one of the smartest scholars the Akademiya has right now. If you follow their rules, it’s nearly impossible for them to expel you.”

“Well, I know that’s what the Sages think, but there’s just a lot of things that are unpredictable.”

“Like King Deshret resurrecting?” he asks, and you scowl.

“Why do you always remember the things I say?” you complain. He smirks.

“You were the one speaking blasphemy.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter dismissively, and you let go of his hand, moving away, but he grabs your elbow before you can stray far enough. “What?”

“I was teasing. Of course I’d look out for Kaveh. He might not like that very much, though. I don’t know if you’ve realized, but like others, he can barely stand me.”

“Well, I’m not asking you to become his life partner. I just… I care about him deeply. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him.”

“Fine. I’ll do it,” he acquiesces. “But I won’t do it happily.”

“Oh, shut up. You love to tease him.”

“That is true.”

“Oh, you said you wanted to speak with me, though, Al-Haitham,” you remember. “This can’t be all you wanted to talk about. The promotion’s great and all,” you add hastily as he turns to you fully, frowning, “but a letter would’ve sufficed.”

He doesn’t answer straight away, and you frown. He simply stands there, searches your face for answers you don’t know the questions for, and you’re shocked by the tight pain that screws up his forehead. He smells like the desert and sweat, but you don’t mind it. You’ve grown used to Al-Haitham in all sorts of states—grown used to the space he’s carved into your heart hurting from how swollen it gets in his presence.

You love him so much, too. In the way that he doesn't want you to. The irony is not lost on you, but you don’t know how on earth you’ll survive not seeing him anymore if the homeland keeps you there.

“Al-Haitham,” you whisper as his eyes dip to your mouth and linger there. Your lips tingle, and you swallow, his name trembling the second time it escapes your tongue. “Al-Haitham?”

“Hm?” he hums, gaze finding yours again and you realize that he wanted you to notice him staring. Your mouth runs dry, and he tilts his head, face tender, and sad, if you can trick yourself into believing it. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just… I’m happy to see you. Honestly, I am.”

His eyes are an oasis. “I’m sorry,” he utters softly, and you frown.

Your heart shivers in your throat. “What for?”

You learn only a second later what it is. Soft lips press against your own and your eyes widen in shock as hands cup your jaw, holding you there for a moment longer before pulling away. A horrible blush stains Al-Haitham’s entire face, and he looks away, stepping back with shaking hands.

Your eyes fall to those fingers that had just held you so gently, watch as they roll into quivering fists, and a sharp breath leaves Al-Haitham as your own digits touch your lips.

“What?” It is all you can muster to say.

His ears are bright red as he ducks his head. “That was what I wanted to speak to you about.”

“Well, there wasn’t much speaking,” you stammer, and he looks up at your tone. 

“I apologize. I don’t… know what came over me, but the truth of it is, I came here because I wanted to confess that I’m in love with you before anything else happened between us that could ruin my chances,” he says slowly, deliberately. He clears his throat. “The kiss was… supposed to be what happened after if I had luck on my side.”

“Luck on your side?” you echo.

“If you loved me back,” he clarifies, “which I’m not sure you do.”

There is one thing that you think separates you from the other scholars at the Akademiya, and it is not that you’re the smartest Kshahrewar student they’ve had in years, or that you’re working for the Fatui against your will.

It is that Al-Haitham, against all odds, against reason and logic—the very values of which he has built himself up on—loves you. 

When you told your father you didn’t have the time for romantic relationship, it was not because of that entirely. Your father, after all, had been a scholar who fostered an entirely family on the job, and there are tons of families with members in the Akademiya. It’s hardpress to find someone who doesn’t know of someone in the Akademiya.

It was because you love someone already, and you didn’t want to get your hopes up. And it isn’t Kaveh, as much as you had wished for years and years that it would be. Maybe it would’ve saved them all some heartache.

Oh, but the heart wants what it wants, just as the brain chases what it desires.

“Al-Haitham,” you murmur in a soft breath, “would you kiss me again?”

The Scribe’s—internally, you laugh fondly at the idea that he has that sort of authority—eyes light up, and he approaches you cautiously, his hands flexing and waning. 

When his fingers slide along your jaw, this time you’re ready for it. Your eyes slide shut, your hands find the lapels of a chest you wish you were more familiar with, and when a soft mouth presses against your own waiting lips, you take your time to enjoy it.

Kaveh - Chat: Craftsmanship

Kaveh is a slim, tall man with blond hair. The Traveler doesn’t know him well, but they find him just as he’s about to enter his house whilst they’re looking for Al-Haitham, and he is polite enough to invite them in for tea when they accost him.

“Woah, we’ve never been in Al-Haitham’s house before!”

“I assumed not. We don’t have many guests over,” Kaveh says to Paimon. “Most of the interior decoration was by me.”

“I heard you were an architect.”

“Yes, I still am. The Palace of Alcazarzaray; have you ever seen my magnum opus?” At the Traveler’s nod, he smiles wryly. “I actually just returned from a project in the desert, and coming back to this whole mess in the Akademiya has been disorienting.” He places a tray of tea on the table and sinks down onto his seat. “What did you want to speak to me about?” The Traveler explains briefly, and his eyebrows rise as he raises the mug of tea to his mouth. “You know of the snowstorm? Cyno told you. I see.”

“I’m sorry if it’s a touchy subject.” 

“It’s not. It just reminds me of someone.”

“The Artificer?”

“I… yes. She left Sumeru during that storm years ago.” Kaveh sighs. “We grew up together in the same hamlet. Childhood best friends.”

“Wow! Paimon didn’t know that.”

“You said you were looking for my esteemed roommate,” he prompts dryly. 

“Well, if you know the Artificer well,” the Traveler says, “could you tell us where we could find her, too?”

“What makes you think I would know?”

“You said ‘left Sumeru’ instead of ‘missing.’”

Kaveh looks away, the light in his eyes dimming. “You’re as perceptive as Al-Haitham said you were.” He doesn’t speak for a moment, simply choosing to stare into his tea. 

“Of course I know where she is,” he utters at length. “I loved her with all I ever had. I warranted more than her leaving without a goodbye.” It’s said in a tone that does not offer an opportunity for further dialogue down this route. “Traveler, what do you want?”

“We just want to return this box to Al-Haitham,” Paimon answers as the Traveler procures it. “It was sealed within the Balladeer’s construction chamber, but it looks super important. And a part of Paimon is wondering how it even got there in the first place if she’s gone supposedly missing all these years. If it belongs to her, maybe she could help us. We heard she was studying the Teleport Waypoints and that they’re some sort of… out-of-realm kind of technology? Paimon’s still a bit fuzzy on the details…”

But Kaveh had stopped listening roughly two sentences ago. His gaze fixes on the box in the Traveler’s lap. “It’s hers, you’re sure? You… have her seal?” With an assenting nod, he takes the box gingerly, running his hand over the craftsmanship reverently, and the Traveler averts their gaze in respect. Kaveh’s fingers trace the edge, and he sighs softly, rubbing his temple with the same hand. “She isn’t missing. She returned home to Snezhnaya,” Kaveh answers at length after a hard internal fight, letting his hand drop. The Traveler can see it in the way this great architect clutches onto the box until his knuckles pale, and his breath comes shaking. “There, she worked under who I believe is the Fatui Harbinger, Dottore.”

“The Doctor?” Paimon whispers, horrified. “She was a Fatuus?”

“No, she wouldn’t. Despite those horrid people giving the rest of Snezhnaya a bad name, she was the best person I knew.” Kaveh’s voice softens wistfully. “Her mind far surpassed many of those who call themselves scholars now, but I don’t think any of us realized that she was being blackmailed by the Fatui behind the scenes.”

“That’s awful…” the Traveler murmurs, fists clenched tight in their lap. Kaveh sets the box down tenderly, and he raises his eyes warily to the blonde before him. “So she’s dead? Did the Fatui kill her?”

“No. No, they wouldn’t kill an asset.” At this, the colour drains from Kaveh’s face. “From what I understand… she gave her body to the Doctor’s definition of science in exchange for her father’s life. I only saw her twice since the snowstorm. Once, when she returned to Sumeru City after she departed for her homeland, and once again two years ago, and she was more machine than human.” Guilt, and a heavy tinge of regret seeping into his voice and face. “In other words, I have no idea if she’s still alive.”

“How is that possible? That she could survive all that human testing and not go mad,” the Traveler murmurs, setting down their mug. Their stomach turns over at the scenarios running through their head. “Thank you, Kaveh. Maybe I should leave the box with you, considering Al-Haitham will return, one way or another.”

“I’ll look after it,” he promises. Together, the two rise, and Paimon flies towards the box, inspecting it one last time as if it’ll hold clues they’ve missed. 

The Traveler sighs, and picks up their backpack. “We’ll be off, then. Al-Haitham still has questions we need answered.”

“Questions about…?”

“Well, Cyno told us of an assignment that Al-Haitham was given that sent him into the desert according to his report afterwards, but never about what exactly happened,” Paimon informs. Kaveh stiffens, his jaw clenching and a terrible scowl crosses his face. Flying back to the Traveler, the companion continues, “If Al-Haitham can give us answers about what exactly happened—”

“The Artificer bears a Cryo Vision,” Kaveh interrupts coldly. “And do you know, Traveler, what the Tsartisa used to embody before she was consumed with the vengeance that rules her hand? Her nation?”

The Traveler pauses mid-step, lightning shooting down their leg and freezing them to the ground. The icy anger that overtakes Kaveh’s body, seizes his entire body into a husk of hollow fury plated by brittle wrath, makes the Traveler swallow, arms tensing. The architect has tilted his head away, blond hair curtaining the darkening expression consuming his face. It makes him monstrous, unrecognizable from the amiable man that had been in his spot only seconds before.

For a moment, the Traveler is unsure if they should be the one to speak—to answer a question they’re hesitant to answer. The air cracks but Kaveh saves them from the terrible decision only moments later after a harsh breath, and a soft, bitter laugh. It sits in the Traveler’s throat like sour melon seeds.

“I know Al-Haitham believes that I dislike him because of differences in beliefs, menial things like personality clashes,” he whispers scathingly with an age-old contempt, “but the truth of the matter is, he is the reason my best friend has disappeared, and I won’t ever forgive him for it, no matter how many favours he grants me. I know he doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart—it’s because she asked him, and he thinks this is even close to honouring her.”

“Kaveh…” Paimon floats forward, but the Traveler grabs her hand, holding her back. The floating companion looks back at them, but they shake their head.

“Most people see Al-Haitham as someone who’s callous, coldhearted, and dishonest, but I’ve seen him grieve her more plainly than anyone else. He mourns her even now, carries that guilt like a thousand weights without a single complaint. And it infuriates me,” he grits out softly, fists clenched by his sides. He tilts his head back, and inhales shakily. A sharp amber gaze meets the Traveler’s, and Kaveh lets out a short, horrible laugh. “I’m guilty of actually… caring about him despite what he’s done. It’s why I told him a few days ago that she sent me a note that she’d be leaving Port Ormos by the end of the week.”

The Traveler understands, and without another word, they race out the door.

.

The day before they’re supposed to complete their first trial on the Teleport Waypoint had been a lazy one—consisting of well-placed naps on your part so you could be prepared for the long day ahead of you tomorrow. Al-Haitham had been your steady companion through it all, letting you show him around camp and describing your work just in case he wants to report back to the Sages. 

“They’re not concerned, are they?” you had asked, and he had shook your head. Your father also wanted to speak to Al-Haitham, and you had surrendered your partner for anyone else looking for your attention. Penultimate observations of variables were taken. Meals, prayers, and stories were exchanged.

Al-Haitham kissed his name into your neck, your cheek, your lips throughout the day, waking you up from your naps and corralling you to your next one with punctuality only expected of him. You can still feel him even as you bid him farewell that night. 

He frowns, brushing the back of his fingers down your cheek, before taking hold of your jaw and tilting your head towards his lips. It’s a brief kiss, but familiar, and you can’t help but smile into it.

“I’ll see you when I come back?” you murmur against his mouth, and he nods, eyes dark and downcast. He’s not happy about leaving just like you, but there’s something stronger in his stare, the downturn of his mouth that’s occupied him when he thinks you won’t noticed. It feels almost like regret. Pulling back, you take hold of his hand. “Alright, Scribe, lighten up. I’ll be home soon, and we can talk about all of this.” You squeeze his fingers. “I promise.”

“We… we will need to talk,” he insists, and your brow furrows. He brings your hand to his lips with both of his own, and reverently presses a soft kiss to the heel of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

You curl your fingers over his hands and push them down, shaking your head. His somber attitude in the wake of what could be the happiest moment of your life is ruining your mood with a growing bud of worry, but you can’t let him know that. So you paste a smile on your face and simply squeeze him. “Don’t be sorry. Just go.”

His eyes linger, but you only shake your head minutely and he lets out a long exhale, his shoulders falling. That lost little frown still possesses his mouth, and there’s a permanent wrinkle in his brow that must’ve been there for the past few hours. 

He woke up before you, and you’d found him outside sitting by the fire on his own. It’d been a strange scene, and he looked lost in his melancholy—book all but forgotten in his lap, his eyes staring sightlessly into the fire. The sun had barely risen, but now you’re starting to wonder if he slept at all if the puffiness of his eye bags and the lethargy that he’s been trying to hide all day is anything to go by.

A part of you is nervous that it’s because he didn’t want to sleep next to you and had to seek refuge, but you rationalize that when you had called his name, he had returned to you without argument and a kiss to your crown.

The troubled gaze still lingers now, even with the dusk approaching. He had said it’s best if he sets off now so he can get back to the Akademiya and make use of the cooler temperatures. He’ll spend most of this week travelling, and you know he’d rather not miss the beginning of another work week. However, you can’t help but let the thought that there’s more than travelling at night in the desert that bothers him.

You wanted this farewell to be sweet and temporary.

Except now, it feels more and more permanent, and the sweetness of it has suffered for it.

“Al-Haitham, don’t go doing anything irrational or stupid or… unthought of in these last few weeks,” you mutter, and his head raises just as you slither your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. His bag nudges against your side, just another reminder that he’s leaving, before he’s pulling back again, and his hands on your back rub up and down. You sigh and kiss him quickly.

His eyes flutter shut, and he presses his forehead against your own before whispering softly, “I’ll do my best.”

With that, he pulls away, and you grab hold of his hand. Together, they walk out of the tent, and you observe the activities occurring around camp. Most of the scholars are talking and bonding around the fire. Your father’s feeding the Sumpter Beasts, but he’s speaking to another Spantamad scholar you think he’s been taking to as a mentor figure. Rafiq, you remember his name as.

Humming thoughtfully, you let go of Al-Haitham’s hand as Rafiq looks over and you smile. He nods to you, and you note his eyes darting over to your companion, but he doesn’t appear to be watching as they approach.

“Father, Rafiq,” you greet politely. “The Scribe will be leaving our encampment, now.”

“Already? You won’t stay another day?” your father complains, and Al-Haitham has at least the decency to look sheepish as Rafiq quickly finds the Sumpter Beast the Scribe had ridden from Caravan Ribat, saddling the animal quickly as he can despite the low groaning protests.

“Unfortunately, the Akademiya calls,” he answers dryly. “The Scribe has no shortage of work.” Your father frowns, and glances at you, but you shrug. “I hope all goes well tomorrow. With luck, I’ll see you by the end of next week.”

“We’ll have to catch up, one-on-one,” your father says, leaning over nefariously and obviously eyeing you. You cross your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes as Rafiq returns, rope lead in his hand. You take it, giving the Sumpter Beast a quick pat on hard ridge. It lifts its head into your palm in response, and Rafiq crouches down to feed it an apple. 

“The Sumpter Beast is ready, Scribe,” Rafiq says, rising, and this time when they meet eyes, your eyebrows twitch together at the way Rafiq gulps and glances at you. He must be intimidated. You smile reassuringly as Al-Haitham clips his pack onto the saddle and takes the lead from you. Fingers brushing, you fight the heat rising to your face and the way your smile grows in pleasure.

“Goodbye,” he whispers, and you tilt your head at him. 

“I’ll see you,” you answer. He nods before clasping hands with your father in a firm shake. You can’t help but roll your eyes again but they let go soon enough before Al-Haitham swiftly presses a final kiss to your mouth. You blink, eyes widening, but before you can even question it, he turns to mount the Sumpter Beast with a soft grunt and picking up the reins and flashes you one final (sad) smile. 

You return to your tent, your bedroll feeling suspiciously more empty now that he’s gone. Sighing, you tuck yourself in for a sleep as restful as you can make it and wake up too soon by the hands of the last watch who was instructed to as soon as signs of the sun rising were visible.

You get up and prepare yourself, although the apprehensive feeling in you does not do anything but swell. Walking to your work bench, you go to the box containing all your documents and let it scan once you place your palm atop of it, your Akasha terminal connecting to the device within. With a soft beep, it unlocks.

You’d given one similar to this prototype to Al-Haitham before you left. You smile and wonder if he’s opened it yet. It’s a bit different than yours, only requiring a fingerprint and a connection to his Akasha Terminal rather than a full scan, but you muse if that’s what had prompted him to come here after all this time. Maybe he finally realized the depth of his feelings with such a hard-earned gift.

Presently, you open the box and reach inside. Your smile dissipates as soon as you do. Nothing touches your fingertips except for the bottom of the box, and you lift the lid fully. Empty.

Huh. Maybe your father (the only other person with clearance) had already retrieved the needed documents while you slept. You wouldn’t put it past him to give you just a few more moments of rest. Sighing, you instead pick up the second box which contains the core. Strange he didn’t take this with him, but you dismiss the thought. 

You’re entirely too protective over the device. Besides, this is your moment of crowning glory.

You leave your tent to a frenzy. The sky is not quite clear—a few clouds spot the sky. Your father’s one of the first awake, too, and he’s running a hand through his hair as he takes the temperature of the air and writes it down. Another Spantamad scholar is measuring Ley Line energy through a device puncturing the ground, their Dendro vision winking in the growing light. Placing the box on one of the tables set up near the Waypoint, you sweep your gaze around the site.

You mainly search for the Kshahrewar scholars. As you walk around to make sure everything is going smoothly and if anyone has any questions on the way, you frown when you realize that none of the scholars from your Darshan are present. Approaching your father, you ask him quickly if he’s seen them.

“They’re awake,” he answers distractedly. “Some of them had gotten breakfast. Perhaps they’re still going over their notes.”

“I suppose,” you say doubtfully. They need the entire day to workshop this as effectively as possible and monitor any fluctuations. The entire operation is running late. It’s the only thought that’s ruling your brain as you glance around.

Still, no one. Perhaps you should check on them in their tents, just to make sure…

Before you can move: “Artificer!”

Turning, you spot a Kshahrewar scholar running towards you. Her brown eyes are wide, and she looks frightened to death as she runs her hands over her braid, tugging a bit hard to be a nervous habit.

“What’s the delay?” you ask irritably. The sun’s burning orange sky stains your corneas even when you close your eyes, and you squint against the rays as Amina skids to a stop before you, her face shining with sweat.

“All our manuscripts, the blueprints for the modifications of the Teleport Waypoint…” she trails off and dread begins to grow like a virus at her expression. The Spantamad scholars nearby pause in their work to watch, and behind, you see the other scholars of your Darshan running up. You are rended to the bone at each of their expressions. “It’s all gone! All our work, our notes, even the most personal things like our diaries have been stolen!”

“What?” your father shouts, storming over. Immediately, your heart drops and a chisel digs into your skull and cracks it in two. Your world goes dark as he continues to interrogate the young scholar, but a buzzing begins to whine in your ears as you stare at Amina who is frantically trying to explain herself. Your focus leaves, and your mind swirls as a flash of green later, your father has seized the poor young woman by the arms and shakes her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

He swears loudly in Snezhnayan. You cannot move. Letting go of the scholar, he turns to look at you, and all the colour has drained from his lips. His eyes are wide, his breathing sharp and rapid against your face. Suddenly all you can see is your father’s eyes—they fill your whole world with their colour, their shrinking, frantic pupils. “Little Star?“

But you can’t speak, because, for some reason, that horrible gut feeling that’s been bothering you since you woke up and found Al-Haitham outside yesterday morning, that tingling sensation that something is wrong, the nagging in your heart… it all returns in full force. Your heart wrenches into a rotten twisted ache and you want to fall to your knees, let the hurt of the stone against your bones distract you from everything else.

And it is not the thought that your father is going to die that first swarms your brain. Not even the second. No, that comes third. 

The first thought is that your father isn’t the one who extracted your papers from your box.

The second is that wish you weren’t smart. Not that you had never joined the Akademiya, no. You wish your brain didn’t work as fast as it does. You wish you didn’t see the whole picture, that you never knew which edges of the puzzle piece aligned perfectly and what slightest adjustment could be made for something to work like a well-oiled cog and handle. You wish you had no intuition, no fine-attuned sense. 

No memory, no heart, no brain. 

No emotions, no human fallibility. 

Humans make mistakes. They’re emotional creatures. You’ve always embraced that that is what makes life very much worth living, but that you has died in a matter of moments. You look out at the desert where, less than twelve hours ago, Al-Haitham disappeared beyond the dunes.

You had left the box open. After he had kissed you, you had spent the rest of the night on your bedroll, just dozing and speaking and rambling about all sorts of things, completely unaware. Unthreatened. It was not even a thought in your head in the heat of his arms. After all, how can someone you ask such stupid (unfailingly human) questions be untrustworthy? How could he ever hurt you? 

“When did you start liking me? Did you know how much I liked you? Yes… Kaveh does have feelings for me, but he understands I could never… I promise. Oh, you thought my feelings were my obvious? As if!”

“Rafiq has disappeared, too. I can only assume that he’s the one who took them. We haven’t seen him since sunrise, but we thought he was just exploring below the bridge,” are the first words that pierce through the dim, blurry fog that has surrounded your brain and sedated you to the point of debatable mental presence.

You blink, and look up. Your father is staring at the scholar who had spoken. A Spantamad scholar who only stares back at his leader with sympathy. All the others have gathered around them, but your movement catches everyone’s eyes. When you lift your head higher to take in those waiting eyes, you cannot help but feel numb.

“We weren’t stolen from,” you finally say at length. Your father returns to your side, his hand clutching onto your elbow, and you meet his eyes dully. “The Akademiya has confiscated all our research. They’re sending a message, loud and clear.”

He understands immediately, and you silently curse him. The hatred is sudden, pitiful, and undeserved, but you can’t help it. Where else could you have gotten your mind from? “No… no… he wouldn’t. He couldn’t do such a thing to… to you, of all people…”

A terrible, overwhelming sensation swarms your body like locusts. Your blood burns with the fury of a thousand suns, and you stand beside this Waypoint outside the buried resting site of a dead god, unable to do anything. Clouds that have gathered above you begin to darken.

Your mind rends at the memories from that night that seems like a lightyear away now. The way he had brushed your arm, the deliberate trailing of his fingers down your shoulder. He had kissed you, touched you, listened to you speak all the while knowing what he was here to do. 

It wasn’t to see you at all. Was it all… 

Was it all some ploy he had to make you a fool? A lovesick, blind fool whose heart is hanging on strings, tugging at every which way Al-Haitham wants it to. He doesn’t know what you’ve sacrificed to make sure that these Teleport Waypoints would work all the way from Snezhnaya to here. How much blood and flesh and sweat and time you’ve given up for the sake of family.

All that drive. All that ambition. All that desire.

Gone, like sand grain in the wind. Never again will you see that speck of nothing

Al-Haitham has made you a failure, and that is one thing you cannot… You cannot stand.

“What happens now, Artificer?” a meek voice asks. You don’t answer immediately and instead push through the crowd and you cannot look away from the dune your lover has disappeared behind. Lover. How stupid of you to think that word could suit your tongue. “If all of our research has been confiscated, I… we can’t just give up, can we?”

“Now?” you echo numbly. The clouds above you begin to swirl into a storm, and you cannot help the incredulous scoff, the noxious feeling of that smile curving your mouth. It’s bitter, and it makes you want to retch your rations onto the dirt as a crack of thunder sounds in the distance.  “Now, I think my father and I must return to our homeland and answer for our failure. The possibility we return is nigh zero.”

“Homeland? But… the rest of us—“

“The rest of you will return safely back to the Akademiya.” A gust of wind sweeps over you, and your eyes burn before it can touch your face. A shuddering exhale leaves your lungs in a death rattle sort of way, and it must mean something. That your heart has withered away and is nothing more in your carcass chest. That in this silence, Al-Haitham has declared you dead to a world he wants to create for himself.

“The rest of you should leave,” you breathe out, shoulders falling. The winds grow stronger as you let your head hang, blink and let the tears fall to the dusty tile beneath your boots. “The expedition is over. You won’t be paid much, so you should do your best to collect your wage before any sort of fees rack up for this expedition.”

“Artificer, there’s a storm—”

“Prepare to leave. You won’t have enough time if you dally around me any longer,” you intone listlessly, watching as the gales pick up the sand around your feet, swirl against your pants, rip at your clothing, and you squeeze your eyes shut, more burning tears streaking down your nose, into your grimacing mouth as you try to hold in the sob that clutches your heart. 

You want to pull your hair out, to scream, to do anything more than just stand here and watch as the work that carries your father’s life is carried farther and farther away.

Then again, Al-Haitham could’ve burnt all your manuscripts. Sunken them into an oasis never to be found again. 

Desecrated your work with something as simple as a flick of his wrist. 

Destroyed your entire life without a care as to what it would mean for you.

Were all those years meaningless to you? You wanted to know. Was your betrayal a price I had to pay for you to ever consider loving me? Or do you not consider this a betrayal at all, but just a trade between two scholars vying for the validation of the ones above us?

Blinding pale blue lighting cracks, and the thunder that follows is deafening as a column of light shoots through the dark storm that gathers over Sumeru’s desert as it did thousands of years ago. Sudden and loud, it sends the scholars scurrying. Your father stumbles back, calling orders in your stead, and you cannot speak. 

Clutching onto the front of your scholar uniform, you pull so hard you feel the threads stretch against your back, and your breath comes short and sharp, lodging into your intercostal spaces. 

Tears stream down your face and your mouth is dry, full of cotton, as you pant for air, bending over and stepping back, trying to find your footing on even ground. Heat blustering all over your face, your heart pounds in your ears and your hearing leaves you the moment you look up, trying to peer through the sandstorm and your tears. Blinking, you let out a low hiccuping sob of pain but even that is cut short by the knife that sinks into your heart.

Fingers splayed across your chest rip the buttons from the seams, tear your uniform apart in an effort to make space for your lungs to move. Running your palms over your face, you let out a raspy shout and clutch onto your scalp, trying to just breathe. The winds buffet against your head, the temperature in the desert sinking lower and lower as the rising sun is swallowed by the storm. 

How you wish you could rip your own brain out by the stem. Give up your body in the name of science, and rid yourself of this infernal contraption they call a heart. What have you done?

Voices inside your head scream louder than anything else: No! No, no, no! This can’t happen to me!

And that is when the third thought blasts into your chest like a gunshot. It leaves a wider hole than it entered through, and the shrapnel lodged in your body poisons everything. Out of every human emotion, it is guilt that tastes the most foul.

Howling squalls scream back at you as your entire world is consumed by this storm that turns white and grey. Flashes of pale blue lighting flicker at the corner of your eye, and you spin around, the shadow of a man making you crumple to your knees. He stands there for a moment, before he is blown away, and your squeeze your eyes shut, baring your teeth in a restrained sob. 

None of it is real.

None of it was ever real.

“Al-Haitham!” you scream in vicious Snezhnayan above the crackling thunder. Your throat tastes like iron. “I will never forgive you!”

You let out a screech that comes from the pits of your soul and it only dies into a loud, unhinged wailing cry that you cannot restrain any longer. Your bones chatter from the sudden onslaught of snow and brutal, slicing winds, but your fingers have numbed to any sort of sensation as you claw at your chest, your throat, pull them into tight fists that cannot do any more. Cannot tinker anymore—invent anymore.

Useless.

How could your father ever think that he was useless when you sit here, unable to do anything to save him?

A flash of lightning blinds you before the entire world pauses. The winds fade into a dull roar, the blazes of the storm cease into muted foggy glimpses of lighting, and the thunder rumbles like a heartbeat. Raising your head, you feel a soft breeze caress your tear-stained cheeks, and in the distance, you hear people screaming. People begging for help.

The world hasn’t stopped for them. Why has it for you? Are you dead? Do you… have the past few minutes been wiped into your mind? Looking up, the black clouds part and you see a moon that should not be visible at this time of day. Snow falls delicately and a pillar of lunar light shoots down through the hole, illuminating each snowflake that fall so slowly, so unhurried in their descent to the earth. 

You raise a hand to the moon peeking through, hoping for some sort of benevolence from the gods, but when you only serve to cover it from your sight, the edges of the round orb spilling between your fingers, you know it’s a stupid endeavour.

This moon is not the tender one it is in Sumeru. It is cold, and judgemental, and silent, and as the storm begins to swell around you once more, you bow your head to the Tsaritsa’s brutal judgement, letting your hand fall. You take hold of it with your other hand, cradling your palms to your chest when something hard meets your fingers. Jerking your head back, you stare blankly at the item that has appeared.

A Cryo Vision rests in the centre of your hands. 

You curl your fingers over it, feeling the newfound power of the element stream through your system. It sings with unbridled fury, as if the Tsartisa herself has wielded your betrayal, crafted it into a sword of permafrost that burns your hands, and you let out a soft breath.

To your surprise, it mists in the quiet, snowy air, and you let out a terrible sob, keeling over this Vision that means that something inside you has broken hard enough that it is worthy of being noticed by the husk of the Goddess of Love. 

That this… this is enough to be seen as other-worldly. As a kin.

A rattling scream echoes across the dunes, empties from your lungs into the remains of a lost civilization. The storm ignites, sending a rippling shockwave through the dunes. The buffeting winds crash into the stone. The snow begins to fall in earnest, and it mounts around you, covering the ruins you’ve studied so intimately. 

Ice spreads in thin spiderwebs from underneath you, crawling over the stone at a lecherously slow pace, and your heart rends. 

Hollows. 

Wilts like a dying flower. 

Crumbles to nothing. 

Disappears in the howling gales of a snowstorm, and for a long time, no one comes to you. 

No one will come.

No one can save you from your fate.

And so the storm rages on, and it will rage on until you feel nothing at all.

Al-Haitham - About Al-Haitham: Love

The only reason he knows you’re in Sumeru is because of Kaveh. The only reason he finds you is because of Kaveh. 

Al-Haitham curses that. Hates it more than anything that he’s in debt to a man who would’ve treated you far better than he did. Kaveh would’ve never betrayed you for the Akademiya. For all the romanticism and idealism Al-Haitham can’t stand, perhaps those are the things that would’ve saved you from ever leaving the safety of the city.

When he first sees you after five years, you are standing on the dock, speaking to the Snezhnayan engineers that must’ve been behind the Balladeer’s chambers and helping them load their ships with their supplies and technology that they must’ve scavenged to bring back to their country. He’s not sure if they’re all Fatui—not sure if you’re one of them, too—but you speak so quietly he cannot hear. They must not be, considering they aren’t arrested by the Dendro Archon’s command nor did they flee with the Doctor.

You’re clad head to toe in Snezhnayan colours, not a drop of green on you, and there’s something new on the harness that crosses in an x at your back when you turn around. It is pinned there, glinting pale blue in the sunlight.

A Vision.

He had never known you to have one. You’re also… bulkier in a way. More muscular, taller. Your hair is cut differently, too, and when you move to lift something that seems much too heavy, you do it with remarkable ease. But it’s you.

He hasn’t dreamed in a long time, but when Al-Haitham dreamed for the first time after the Akademiya coup, he dreamed of you.

“I will be there when you dock,” you say loud enough that Al-Haitham can hear from where he hides at the mouth of the entrance to Wikala Funduq. “The Teleport Waypoint isn’t far from the harbour, and I’ll be able to sort out travelling arrangements before you all arrive. It’s short-notice, so I can’t guarantee the best, but I’ll try my hardest.” 

Peering around, he notes you surrounded by the engineers, but they begin to dissipate a moment later. Some leave the pier, while others board the boats, and you remain there, turning around to look out at the sea, hands planted on your hips.

Al-Haitham seizes his chance.

He walks out of Wikala Funduq, and as soon as his boots touch wood, you turn around.

The most peculiar shade of purple bewitches Al-Haitham. It’s a colour he is certain he’s never seen before, but an itchy part of his brain tags it as something he should be familiar with. A purple he should attribute to something else, something beautiful.

Your lips part, and a soft near-silent sigh escapes you as an entirely concoction of emotions racks through your face. Your eyes are not your own, yet they’re set in your face, and they widen like your eyes used to at the sight of him.

So it must be you. “(Name).”

You stiffen, arms falling limp at your sides, yet he cannot do anything but let out the breath he can’t recall ever holding and forgoing any sort of decorum, any sort of remembrance of who he is in the standing of the Akademiya. He is not the lone wolf scholar, the Akademiya’s Scribe, the Acting Grand Sage.

He is just a boy who is in love with you even now, even still, and his face crumbles into pure relief as he walks towards you in a daze, his feet dragging along the pier. You stare at him warily, and there are Snezhnayan workers who watch. Some even reach for a weapon, but at your barely raised hand, they fall silent.

“Al-Haitham,” you say, measured, soft, shaking, still your voice. You’re trembling in front of him. He is falling apart at the seams. When he nears, he can finally take in your finer details: the unnatural purple of your eyes, the mechanical optical rings of your irises, the way your pupils dilate  and shrink unnaturally as if sizing him up, inspecting him. “How did you know?”

“Kaveh told me,” he answers, and a sharp twinge of pain and betrayal flashes through your eyes before you blink, turning your head away. He’s surprised you haven’t frozen him to death yet, and he tests his luck further by reaching to touch your arm, but you only jerk back with a heavy step.

“How much did he tell you?” you ask roughly, eyes flitting from his fingers to his hand. 

“Nothing. Only that you’re here. That… you were leaving.”

“Did he tell you how he doesn’t even recognize me anymore?”

That silences him for a beat. “No.”

“I see. Well, I suppose you have questions?”

“Aren’t you upset with me?”

“If you’re asking if I’ve forgiven you,” you say, “then no. I haven’t. I won’t ever forgive you.”

“I’m sorry.” This time, when he says it, you understand. You didn’t five years ago, how he kept apologizing. You look away.

“Perhaps we should find somewhere more private,” you suggest quietly. “I don’t have any interest in entertaining your apologies. It’s in the past and we’re both… different people now, so I’ll answer your questions, and then we can see what happens next.”

“Fine.”

“I have a place nearby that we could talk.”

You begin to stride past him, but Al-Haitham, never one in the last five years to have the last word, feels himself act before he can think. “(Name), wait—“

When his fingers stretch to touch your hand, he feels a hard surface where you should be flesh, and your wrist twists unnaturally to free itself from his grasp. His blood runs cold at the way your hand rotates itself back to a more anatomically correct position, and you clutch it with your other gloved hand. 

“Don’t touch me,” you snap. “Just follow me.”

He nods, burning, but he’s not sure with frustration or guilt.

You lead him to a hotel room that’s hidden but overlooking the pier. It’s a small place, but quaint and barely furnished. Picked dry mostly, except for a backpack resting slouched against the wall and some other knick knacks—a pen, a notebook you close as you walk past it.

You pull a chair at the table by the window out and sit down. Al-Haitham can see the water from the glass, and as he approaches, you lean on the table by your elbows and gesture with your hand to the chair across from you. He seats himself, and glances around the place.

“The last five years. Where have you been?” he begins.

“Snezhnaya. When you left, the one thing you didn’t take was the core of the Teleport Waypoint I created. My father and I used it and managed to successfully teleport home.”

“This whole time you were there?”

“Not exactly. I roamed the world for a while. I went to Mondstadt and Fontaine, but that was only a year or two ago.” You look down at your hands. “When we returned, the Doctor had been furious that I lost my research, but he blamed it on my father. He was… technically my supervisor.” As if realizing something: “Though, I don’t suppose you know all of that. With the Fatui blackmailing me, and… and everything.”

“I had gathered as much only recently,” he answers. “I went to the Balladeer’s chambers after he was defeated. I thought I could recognize your work, but… I was unsure.” Swallowing, he shifted uncomfortably. “All these years, I thought you had died in that snowstorm and that it was my fault.”

“Some would say I’ve had a fate worse than death,” you remark, acerbic and unsurprised. “If you had known, do you think you would’ve done what you did?”

“I think I would’ve been more aware of the consequence.” He shakes his head. “I would’ve been honest, even. When I received the assignment, I thought the worse. Betraying you was an impossible task, but they assured me you wouldn’t be punished, so I followed through with it with utmost secrecy. I thought you’d just come back to the Akademiya, and we’d have a huge fight, and somehow I could convince the Sages to allow you access back to your own work as long as there were restrictions placed.”

“Restrictions? None of my work was ever illegal, though.” Your eyebrows furrow, and Al-Haitham thought you were angry, but you only look at him in a strange, morbid curiosity. You’re only searching for honesty. “Unless…”

“They suspected your father’s loyalties had been swayed. The objective of the assignment was to take your materials away, bring you and your father back, and put you on trial. You would’ve been innocent, but your father…”

“He never did anything wrong.”

“I know that,” he replies coolly, “but Azar saw your father as a threat. Saw you as a threat. You were a public figure with a strong will of your own, inherited from your father. I doubt he could’ve put you under his control. Honestly, if you’d been here, do you think that entire situation with the samsara would’ve gone on as long as it did?”

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I don’t know much about anything anymore, I think.”

For some reason, and Al-Haitham has weathered many storms before, during, and after their friendship, this is what makes his heart shrivel.

“What do you know?” he asks softly. You peek up at him from underneath your eyelashes, and a tired face stares back at him. 

“I know that I loved you,” you reply. “I don’t know if I still do. Looking at you now makes me feel something, but it’s not a good thing.”

“Do you hate me?” 

“I don’t know. It’s over now. I hated you for a bit,” you allow, “but to be honest, I’m just exhausted. This whole ordeal. The Doctor. I finally have the chance to leave his service. I could, but I have obligations to other people. To be honest, I have a half-baked plan, but I’m not sure if it’ll work.”

“Are you returning home to Snezhnaya?” he asks, afraid to even put himself in this position of wanting something from you again, and you frown. 

“Kaveh insists I stay here to be safe,” you tell him. “He misses me. I miss him. Travelling Teyvat, all I could think about is how much he would appreciate the different types of architecture around the world.” You shrug. “But… he doesn’t really recognize me as a person. It’ll take some time for him to get used to the fact that I’m more machine than human.”

“You’re still you,” he assures immediately and you arch an eyebrow. 

“How do you know?”

“Because you haven’t killed me yet when I deserve punishment for what I did to you so you must have a heart,” Al-Haitham answers steadily. “And I know you could strike me down if you wanted to. Don’t lie to me.”

“Al-Haitham…” Your mouth moves but you don’t speak, and he nods, understanding.

“My opinion shouldn’t matter, but I would like you to stay.” He cringes at even recommending it. “I know I have no right to ask this favour of you.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “I thought you didn’t believe in favours.”

“I don’t.”

They sit in silence. You draw your hands towards you on the table. He steeples his fingers and looks out at the port to give himself something to do. The quiet isn’t amiable, but not openly hostile. Al-Haitham never thought he would be able to do this again. To sit across from you had been a long forgotten wish, and he doesn’t want to ruin it now, so he waits for you to start again.

“Did you ever open the box I gave you before I left?” you ask after a while. You’ve been tracing the woodgrain with your finger, and Al-Haitham has been watching you do it. You lift your hand back up and rest your chin in your palm to look out the window.

“I did.” A hard swallow. “How did you find such a collection of journal entries? They must’ve been rare.”

“Ruin diving and desert exploration,” you explain briefly. “At the time, you said you were interested in that catastrophe the oldest historical biographies mentioned, and when I had come across one of the journals detailing first hand experiences of a scholar during that time, I had to find out if there was more I could find and translate. Those six entries were all I could find at the time being.”

“There were more in the House of Daena’s collection. The entire anthology was called A Thousand Nights. A lot has been lost to time, so the rarity of these journals is high,” he says, and at last, you give into a faint smile although you still don’t look at him.

“You found more?”

“Yes, although the ones you gave me are stored safely in the box.”

“Not turning in precious material to the Akademiya? How rebellious, Al-Haitham,” you intone. You finally tilt your head towards him, and your smile has his heart racing. “Al-Haitham, you know of my feelings for you. What about yours?”

“Are you asking if they’ve changed?”

You nod. 

“Why does that matter?”

“I don’t know. Because I doubted it for a very long time. I thought that someone who loved me wouldn’t dare to do the things you did to me, but that’s an idealistic of the world I don’t have anymore. I don’t exactly trust you right now,” you tack on quickly, “but right now is honesty hour, isn’t it?”

“Seems like it.” He thinks on it for a moment. He could very well lie. It’d probably the easier choice for you to not possibly feel obligated in some way to his feelings. You wouldn’t have the burden of knowing that his love is unfaithful, nor would the chance to tempt it be there. 

And you’d believe whatever he says. Whether or not you know it’s the truth, you’d probably force yourself to believe it and he would, too, and they could leave all of this… them, their past, their present, and their potential future, too, in the sand.

Honesty hour. 

Is that what you called it?

“I did love you,” he admits when his moment is up. “I grieved you for a long time. I knew it was my fault that you had died and debated if my cushy job was worth surrendering the one person who could actually stand me and, against all odds, loved me for who I was. Those hours in your camp before I stole the documents made me feel the most helpless I’ve ever felt in my life and I hated it.”

“And now?”

“Now?” He ponders over this. “As soon as Kaveh told me you were here, I ran just to see you myself because I couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to see you when I had the chance. I… you’re not the same. I understand that. I understand my part to play in this, and I know that what I feel should not influence your decisions. I ask that you don’t consider them at all.”

“Al-Haitham…”

“I do love you. I’ve loved you for years, but it feels… longer than that somehow. Maybe I don’t make sense, but even when I couldn’t dream, I could still see you in my sleep.” Your stricken face makes him blink, and he fights the burning in his face and ears by looking down. The tightness in his sternum only aches more. “I don’t want your forgiveness, but I do love you.”

You are quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. Then, unexpectedly, you say, “There’s a box”—and he jerks his head up, confused “—that I hid in the Balladeer’s chambers. I’m not sure if it’s completely destroyed by now, but only you and I have clearance for it.”

“What’s inside?”

“All the things that reminded me of you in the past five years. Things I wrote about you. Blueprints for your hearing aids. Collectibles I thought you’d like. I don’t know. Just a bit of everything, honestly.” His eyes widen. You don’t seem to notice, or you don’t let it deter you. “When I told you that I wasn’t sure if I loved you still, it’s because I’m trying not to love you. It’s very easy to convince myself I don’t when I never see you. But I see you and I feel disgusted.” 

You chuckle a bit, almost nervous. Al-Haitham isn’t quite sure of what to say. Grasping at straws, he opens his mouth to speak but you shake your head.

“To be honest, I never gave myself a chance to let my love for you die,” you whisper. “The disgust comes from remembering what you did, but it’s so overwhelmed by everything else. The longer I sit talking to you, I just feel like everything’s the same.”

“But it isn’t.”

“It can’t ever be, Al-Haitham” you agree. “But I’m willing to pretend. Just for a little while.” You look down at your hands, and slowly pull your glove off. A plate of silver metal catches the sun rays and Al-Haitham’s heart lodges right up in his throat at the cylindrical fingers that tug at your other glove revealing skin and a hand that he recognizes. “I thought it would be best if you saw it.”

“Does it… feel different?”

“Yes. I don’t… feel much the same way anymore, but most of the work was internal. Injections, a heightened metabolism, tinkered senses. A new leg. My eyes, obviously.” You gesture to your pupils, but they seem more natural the longer Al-Haitham watches. “My Vision gave me even more durability and he couldn’t kill me because of how useful I was to him, but I was the next best thing to a perfect subject.”

“Your father, then?“

“He’s alive. It was either him or me, and I gave myself up in an instant,” you answer. “I don’t regret that much of my life.”

He reaches forward tentatively for your flesh hand, but your mechanical hand comes into contact with him first, warm against his wrist. It’s almost like you’re still alive there, but the texture is too smooth, the edges where the metal plates too sharp to be human, and he looks down at the hand that touches him.

This is who you are now. This is who he’s made you.

“I want to move my family away from Snezhnaya, Al-Haitham,” you tell him in the lowest tone you can muster. Al-Haitham’s eyes meet yours, and a soft, pleading expression has taken over your face. “I know you’re the Acting Grand Sage, and that you have duties to the Akademiya, but—“ and he hears it for what it is.

I want there to be a chance for us.

“I would give you anything I could in a heartbeat,” he swears immediately. “If you need asylum, I’d be more than obliged to grant you your request. I—“ But nothing comes out. What his words cannot say, he hopes the silence can. I love you. I will help you in any way I can. I love you. I miss you. I love you.

I’ll find you.

I love you.

“You have beautiful eyes, Al-Haitham,” you whisper, lifting a hand to his cheek. When metal touches his smooth cheek, his eyes flutter closed, and a soft amused hum leaves his companion. “I think I’ve told you that before, haven’t I?”

Cupping your wrist with his own hand, he turns his face into your palm. It smells like nothing, yet there is a hint of your scent clinging to your sleeve that slowly seeps into his nose. His lips kiss the ticklish part of your hand, and your mechanical hand reacts like your normal flesh one would—your fingers curl against his face, and your thumb strokes underneath his eye.

He smiles. “Yes. Yes, I’m certain you have.”

Buer - About Samsaras

The Traveler reaches Port Ormos by nightfall a few days later. By then, it’s too late and they’re too exhausted to even think about trying to find the man they search for. For all intents and purposes, he could be gone, but it doesn’t hurt to ask around on their way to their room.

They ask the owner of the hotel, Shapur, manning the concierge, who briefly mentions seeing the Acting Grand Sage walking with a woman renting a room in the hotel by the water. She had the most distinct purple eyes. 

Somehow, the Traveler knows that’s who they’re looking for and they take off again with renewed vigour, and leave Paimon in the dust.

They reach the port quickly. It’s mostly empty, but there are two distinct figures sitting by the water speaking. The moon is their only witness, and when the Traveler steps from around a pillar to observe them more clearly, they can see those purple eyes that Shapur mentioned clearer than day. They glow, even at night, and look almost fake. They’ve never seen eyes of a normal mortal glow like hers do.

Then, Al-Haitham, leaning back onto his arms, pushes himself up, and he extends a hand to his companion to help her up. When he turns, his eyes, too, catch the bright moonlight in a flash of golden divinity.

For a moment, time seems to stop, and the Traveler watches as they, holding hands, begin to walk further down the pier.

“This world is an eternal samsara,” someone comments. Spinning around, the Traveler’s eyes widen at Buer walking from a nearby ramp. When had they fallen asleep? She smiles, green eyes wide and innocent. “Just as there are memories of passed family members living in those of the present, gods never truly die. They are reborn when the time is right, and even alike souls can find one another again.”

The Traveler frowns. “What do you mean?”

“They’re happy. Let’s not disturb them,” she says instead, stretching out her hand. The Traveler takes it, and instantly, they are brought back to their room in Shapur Hotel. Paimon has fallen asleep, and the Traveler sits on their bed. Buer perches herself on the table, her feet not quite making it to the chair. 

“When did I fall asleep?”

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t a long time. I just didn’t want to ruin their reconciliation,” she explains. “I don’t remember them well, anymore, but as I’ve read more ancient texts in hopes of… remembering the more important details that have been lost to me, the times I had with King Deshret and the Lord of Flowers come clearer. Together, we were the three God-Kings of Sumeru. It’s unfortunate you were unable to meet them. They seemed to be my greatest friends.”

“They both died ages ago,” the Traveler says, and the knowledge that comes to their mind is stuck in their throat, chained from being freed. Rukkhadevata and the forbidden knowledge. That must be a secret that stays a secret.

Buer giggles. “Died in the loosest sense of the term. Gods don’t truly die. They may be banished, or lose their memories, but their essence is immortal. Even when they seem to be gone, a seed of them will always remain on this planet, seeking the right time and conditions to sprout.”

The Traveler’s spine shoots ramrod straight, and their mouth drops open. “You don’t mean…”

“Although it’s hard to confirm, I find it hard to mistake the similarities between your friend and mine. Deshret has been reborn,” she says, “not resurrected like the Eremites had predicted. As for the Artificer. Her purple eyes, although artificially made, bear a striking resemblance to those Padisarahs of ages past, don’t they?”

“Like the one in Nilou’s dream,” the Traveler realizes, all of it dawning on them like a flood and crashing wave.

Buer nods. “There are very few coincidences in this world. Be happy for them. Their ending in their last lives was not a happy one and they’ve struggled and toiled in this samsara, too, just for the chance to meet again. Even still, they will have to continue to fight these challenges to persevere.” She sighs, looking down at her feet. “Hopefully in the next one life, they can just be born friends and save each other some heartache, and maybe we can be friends again, too.”

“The Goddess of Flowers sacrificed everything for the price of King Deshret’s divine knowledge,” the Traveler points out distantly, their voice soft and wistful. “He drove himself mad because she was gone.”

“There are some events that must repeat on different scales in each samsara,” the Dendro Archon agrees quietly. “A first meeting, a death, a betrayal. I’m happy that my friends have found one another again, even if they don’t remember, but perhaps that is their pinned, pre-determined fateful event that must happen in every samsara. I don’t know. Irminsul’s powers are beyond even my full understanding.”

“They say she disappeared in a storm.” A sharp chill shoots down the Traveler’s spine as Buer hums, nodding. “And she was never seen again.”

“You’re understanding,” she says, delighted. “This time, though, she came back to him, and this time, he knows the knowledge he craves is not worth losing her love.” Buer smiles cheek-to-cheek. “The rest is up to them, now.”

a/n: reblog/comment if you enjoyed! did you catch all the parallels and foreshadowing? there was as much as i could stuff in, from subtle to unsubtle! i read and watched so many theory threads/videos for this and again this was such a fun collab! 

the prompt was to either make the third person (in this kaveh) a love interest or someone who helps the main couple get together, and i thought why not a bit of both. after all, it is kaveh who was al-haitham’s biggest reason not to confess, and also kaveh who told al-haitham where to find you. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ heheh thank you for reading!!

[iloveyanderes]

More yandere ideas:

Rich yandere(pantalone, ningguang, ayato and diluc) x workaholic darling, rich yandere really just wants to pamper darling and take care of them for the rest of their lives, making sure they don't have to lift a finger. Meanwhile darling really loves working, they live for working, their entire lives revolve around doing things for other people and can't handle the idea of someone trying to do things for them, rich yanderes like ningguang and diluc might just settle for paying all of darlings expenses and helping them out with their work making sure they don't get sick or overwork themselves, but rich yanderes like ayato and pantalone would absolutely not allow that. Ayato probably won't kidnap you at first but he'd probably make sure you'd get fired and no on would hire you, if you decide to leave inazuma for work he'd definitely kidnap you and hide you in the kamisato estate, never to be seen again. Out of all four of them pantalone would definitely be the most dangerous, I fully believe that he would drug you to the point of paralyzation if you refused to come with him, if your so instant on working all the time then why doesn't he just take away your ability to work?

Yandere sagau idea where the reader is the Creators granddaughter. The great and might creator is seen as someone unattainable, so perfect and better then everyone else. So you can imagine the suprise when the creator falls in love with human and had a child, their child immediately becomes a god and is seen just as unattainable as the creator, but when the child of the creator gives birth to a granddaughter people immediately assumes that she will be as high and mighty as the latter, except she isn't the girl was a human she was weak she was fragile, she didn't have any powers like her mom and grandmother. It was then that people decided she was obtainable, when she turns sixteen you can't imagine the amount of courting gifts she got, unfortunately the granddaughter really isn't interested in love so she kindly rejects them. Eventually that gets people angry so they force her to have them, people go all out just to wisk her away to a "date" where they spend the entire time profoundly expressing their love, maybe drugging them so the granddaughter can't run away.

Platonic yandere Childe x lumine&and aether younger sibling reader, imagine after the unknown god attacked you and your older siblings you wake up in snezhneya, worried because of the neverending cold you quickly try to find shelter, losing more and more of your strength before finally collapsing on the snow. About an hour later Childe finds you on the ground, flabbergasted by your almost blue face and very young appearance he quickly brings you to his family to get you warmed up, let's say when you wake up your surprised when your in someone's house, it's there that you see one of childe's siblings who quickly calls Childe. Because of your child like appearance your very used to be talking to you as if your a child but this guy talked to you as if your a helpless infant toddler that didn't know anything, it was infuriating to you since your pretty much older then his great grandpa. Though at the moment it was your best bet to find your siblings so you cooperated with him. He pretended to play along with your concern and promised to help you, but when you turned to leave he didn't let you saying that since your so young you can't protect yourself. When he went to liyue he made sure his parents kept you confined to the house, he did end up meeting your sibling and befriended them, your siblings asked where you were and he pretended not to know you, he led your sibling farther and farther away from you.(sorry I got very board writing this one)

Yandere cyno x rukkhadevata reincarnation reader. There's a theory that cyno is the reincarnation of the priest that was loyal to the greater lord and I'll play of this. Imagine cyno gets all of his memories from his past life and remembers rukkhadevata and has great regrets that he wasn't able to protect her, so when he meets you her obvious reincarnation he makes sure he doesn't repeat the mistakes of the past. Your confused when some random person you've never met suddenly kidnapped you and brought you to the nicest looking prison ever. At first you absolutely refuse to eat anything but quickly change that when he forces food down your mouth, every time you refuse to sleep on the silk bed made just for you he ties you to it and blindfolds you so you'll eventually fall asleep, the moment you take a single step out of the house, your immediately brought back inside. Cyno would rather die them ever hurt you, he'd never punish you for anything you've done but if someone else even put the slightest of scratches on you they would suffer indescribable hell.

Yandere Abyss twin x isekaid reader, imagine your the biggest genshin impact fan ever, you've read millions of fanfiction, have tons of merch, spent ever extra dollar you make on genshin, memorizing all of the lore. Then one day truck-kun decides to take your life and you wake up in kheanri'ah, luckily the people bring you in kindly, when the abyss twin shows up you immediately explain your situation to them and it takes a while for them to believe you. But when they do the two of your become very close, when the destruction of kheanri'ah comes around the abyss twin absolutely refuses to let you near dainsleif, thinking of him as a traitor and you can't be allowed near him. Over time you notice the abyss slowly corrupting you friend, but whenever you mention it to them they get mad at you, wanting to help your friend you join the abyss too. The abyss twin keeps you very close almost never letting you leave the abyss, when you and dainsleif met again and the traveller is with him, the abyss twin immediately orders you to leave but you stay, wanting to consult dainsleif about the absolute crap your friend has gotten in too. The abyss twin ends up dragging you back to the abyss and let's just say there not happy.

This is all I've got for now please feel free to take these or give me your ideas

[genshinarchives]

𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇. 𝟔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟔 : 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : The Cataclysm came and went like a passing wind. As you gained the trust and respect of Sumeru’s people, you’ve also lost a piece of your heart.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 : Al-Haitham, Kaveh; hints of Cyno x reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : Romance, adventure, isekai

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : Minor character death

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : N/A

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟓

The sounds of war were all that you hear - the cries of the warriors, the clash of their weapons, and the explosions of Ka-dingirra's dingir cannons... With smoke rising to the sky like grey pillars, Sumeru had become a hell above the ground. You did everything you could to protect Rukkhadevata's and Deshret's people, and even spared some of Ka-dingirra's technologically advanced weapons for Sumeru's militia to use.

"Defeat the monsters! It's one more push before their front line crumbles!" Shamash barked out orders to the sukkals - the soldiers of Ka-dingirra - under his command. The Eleven Generals of Tiamat had all been stationed on the perimeter of Sumeru as the first line of defence; they were supposed to be the impregnable defence, yet the presence of the abyssal monsters in Sumeru told you of their fates. When Ereshkigal reappeared before you, kneeling with her head bowed, you knew that she was keeping her gaze low not out of reverence, but out of despair of what had befallen your precious generals.

"Raise your head," you said without looking at her trembling form, "and don't be afraid to tell me what happened. Relaying accurate information is vital in reducing the casualties as much as possible."

The grief of losing something was no longer foreign to you.

So why does your heart ache when you think about the lost lives of your generals?

With the combined efforts of Ka-dingirra's and Sumeru's militias, you were able to eliminate most of the monsters that were threatening the nation, pushing the front line back to where it began. As the sun disappeared below the horizon, the birds returned to their nests and the creatures of nocturne roused from their daytime slumber. However, the soldiers were given no moment of respite from the war that had blackened the sky while the civilians remained in their homes, shackled by fear.

After personally seeing to the wounded, Enki exited from the medical tent and roamed the camp in search for you. He scrutinised the area, hoping to see your familiar face - but all he saw were the haggard faces of the soldiers who had either been pushed to or were close to reaching their limits. He quickly stopped a passing soldier and questioned your whereabouts.

"I saw the King walking towards Avidya Forest," the soldier answered, pointing in the direction he saw you leave in, "When I asked her what she's planning to do there, she told me that she wants to check on the flora of the forest."

Enki's gaze saddened when he realised your purpose of being there. "I see... Thank you."

As you stood by a tree near Gandharva Ville, you quietly observed a small family of fennec fox hybrids, their large ears and bushy tails reminding you of a certain general who once served you with utmost devotion. The only difference between them is the colour of their fur; while his was light green and white, theirs is dark green and black.

"It seems that General Kingu was able to leave some descendants behind."

You turned your head just as Enki stepped forward to stand next to you, his gaze focused on the family you were observing.

"The colour of their fur is darker," he remarked with a slight smile, "They must have evolved to live in the forest."

"Yeah," was all you said.

Enki could tell that you weren't really paying attention to him or the hybrids; the faraway look in your eyes wordlessly told him where your mind was.

"Master, is something on your mind?"

His question finally drew you out of your thoughts, and you blinked at him, eyes wide. "Is it obvious that something is bothering me?"

"It's clear as day, at least to me."

You let out a muted sigh, your shoulders drooping.

"I don't know if I've been making the right choices," you admitted in a murmur, "It feels like there's always something blocking my path whenever I try to find a way to move forward. I'm always losing something whenever I make progress." You clenched your fists by your sides. "I've taken countless measures to reduce the casualties on our side as much as possible... and I've lost all but one of my generals. Only General Bašmu is alive."

"You can't make a change without sacrificing anything," Enki said with a frown, "Something has to be lost for something else to be gained. That is nature's law that has and will never change."

"I know," you whispered, gaze downcast. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and you quickly blinked them away. "I know that, but still-" Enki's hand on your shoulder cut your sentence short.

"I trust you, and so does General Bašmu. That's why we've chosen to fight by your side," he softly began, "Although you need to make an effort, there's no need to bear the entire burden. Moreover, even if your choice is correct, there is the possibility that we, the entrusted, will fall. Even with utmost preparations, soldiers will die."

Even with utmost preparations, soldiers will die.

That statement has remained true in Teyvat and in the modern world. War is unpredicatable, and one can only prepare themselves for the worst. Before you can muster up a response, he pulled you into a tight hug. As his warmth seeped through your skin, you're suddenly reminded of home... and how you're starting to forget it. You subconsciously raised your arms but for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to embrace him.

"Before you became a king, you were a normal human. Please never forget that," he said, smiling when he felt your hands clutch the back of his cloak.

❀

The battle continued. There seemed to be no end to the riftwolves, just like how there seemed to be no end to the darkness that has clouded the firmament above. The soldiers were beginning to lose morale, and you were beginning to lose the will to persevere. It's as if the light at the end of the tunnel was slowly fading and you were about to be consumed by darkness - but you knew that you had to remain standing. You're the beacon of hope, the pillar that shoulders the entire fate of this failed timeline.

As you stood on top of the sandy hill overlooking the Mausoleum of King Deshret, you drove the tip of your staff into the ground and leaned against it. The physical and mental exhaustion that have accumulated inside your body were beginning to show on your countenance, and you were on the verge of collapse. There wasn't a single moment in your life where you were pushed to your utmost limits, and you weren't sure if you could keep this up any longer.

"Where did I go wrong...? I made sure that everything went according to the correct history..." you muttered to yourself, your grip on your staff tightening.

Where? Just where did you make a mistake?

You then spotted a silver flicker from the corner of your eye and turned your head to find Enki standing next to you, visible patches of blood patterning his clothes. 

Your eyes widened. "Enki-"

"It's not my blood," he swiftly interjected, relieving you for a second, "Master, something is wrong. Everything went according to your predictions but-" As if on cue, tremors shook the ground. With beads of cold sweat rolling down your forehead, you slowly directed your gaze to the growing shadow that was blocking out the horizon in the distance, its wings spread wide to cover the sky. A deafening roar followed the beast's emergence and it echoed across the sands of Sumeru like the trumpet of judgement.

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe. You dropped onto your knees, the gravity of the situation finally crushing the remaining hope you were desperately clinging to.

"A-A dragon-" you gasped out. It felt like your worst nightmare coming true, and it was. Enu had mentioned in his notes that a remnant of the old world - a dragon - may rise to completely derail this timeline from the correct course of history, thus destroying it. Before this battle even started, you had hoped that his prediction wouldn't come true; yet this timeline seemed determined to test your resilience.

As you stared at the dragon raging in the distance, corrupting the surface it was walking on and causing black mud to spew forth, one thought lingered in your mind:

Can I even defeat it?

"Master, please stand up," Enki gently said, grasping your arm with both hands, "Nothing is impossible. I promised you that I will remain by your side, did I not?" When you didn't answer him, he knelt down to your level. "You wanted power to protect those who are more precious to you than your own life. You wanted to become a king with such power, and I'm here to give you that power."

You finally responded, the mist in your head clearing slightly at his words. "But the dragons of this world are more powerful than you can imagine. I... We don't have the power to..." You trailed off when you suddenly remembered something.

You do have the power to defeat this dragon... at a cost.

Enki watched you curiously as you stood up, appearing resolute and unswerving. He trusted that you had a plan to defeat the dragon but when he recognised the spell you were going to cast, he knew that he had to stop you. Holding his palm out, he immediately nullified your spell with another spell of his, eliciting a look of confusion and surprise from you.

"You can't use that, master! Your body will evaporate from the intense heat!" he exclaimed, exasperated.

"But we can't just stop dead in our tracks! I don't know what happened but if we leave things like this, everything Rukkhadevata has protected up until now will be destroyed!" you yelled as you prepared yourself to cast the spell again, "As Teyvat's Second Chosen Star, it is my responsibility to correct this failed timeline!"

Although Enki knew that you were set on selflessly throwing your life away to protect a world that is not your own, he couldn't let you gamble your life again. It might be a selfish wish of his, but he truly wanted you to live and perhaps find happiness in this strange land.

He clenched his fists and turned his gaze to the approaching dragon.

He knew what he had to do.

"Before you became a king, you were a normal human," he said, interrupting your chant, "I won't let you forget that."

Before you could react, a blunt force struck the back of your neck abruptly. A gasp tumbled out of your mouth as you collapsed on the sand, and you slowly raised your head to see Enki standing in front of you, his white hair waving behind him like a banner. At a distance, it might look like a white flag was being flourished to signify your surrender - but the two of you knew that you were far from admitting defeat.

And Enki was willing to sacrifice everything he had to ensure defeat never reaches you.

"Even if you're merely a tool meant to carry out Celestia's bidding, simply do the things that you want to do," he uttered. Flashing you one last smile over his shoulder, he faced the approaching dragon and raised his spear to the sky. As a magic circle appeared beneath his feet, silver orbs rose from the sand and surrounded him in a slow waltz.

From that smile alone, you realised that he was going to make the ultimate sacrifice in your place.

"O admonishing melody... arise in the name of the Second Star."

"No! Enki, please stop!" you cried, your voice wavering with emotion. You weakly reached out for his figure as black spots dotted your vision. "I can't... I can't lose you too!"

Despite your desperate pleas, Enki didn't stop; he too was desperate to ensure that your life would continue to flow with time, no matter what lonely and painful future awaits you.

"The light of my conviction will pierce the heavens to strike you down. Resound, gather, transform into a spear that destroys all-"

You didn't realise it until this moment, but you didn't want to lose anymore; you didn't want to lose anymore precious people.

As your hand dropped down, a silver glow shrouded Enki's body and a gargantuan spear materialised above him.

"-Enki!"

The spear shot forward, leaving a bright trail in its wake. It soared through the air before piercing through the dragon like a bullet, leaving a gaping hole in its body.

And just like that, the beast was defeated. As its body slowly crumbled, so did your heart. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you watched Enki's body dissolve into a myriad of orbs that floated towards the sky above, where slivers of light began to peek through the ashen clouds.

You didn't care about the fame and glory you'll leave behind by fulfilling the duty you were burdened with.

Victory or defeat, in the end, it's no more than a point embedded in the flow of time.

You lost the only person who knew you inside out - who understood your thoughts better than anyone else.

Finally, your consciousness left you as your head landed on the sand dust of yesterday's woes.

❀

"Only 500 of our men survived."

Shamash was kneeling on the floor as you stood in front of your throne with your back facing him, one hand grasping the Sword of Marduk. The sages of Sumeru had returned the sword to your possession to express their acknowledgement of you as their god when you had returned to Sumeru victorious, and you weren't sure how to feel about it.

You brought victory back... but you've also lost something along the way.

Raising the sword to your eye-level, you simply said, "I see. Order our men to take a break for three days. Make sure that they rest properly and spend that time with their family."

"Yes, Your Highness," Shamash replied, rising to his feet. Once his foosteps faded behind you, you slowly turned around and lowered the sword to your side, the tip brushing against the floor.

The sunlight filtering into the throne room made the Cataclysm feel like a long dream which you've just woken up from. A flourishing new world was healing all of the past - but the same couldn't be said for you.

You took a step away from the throne, and another step. As you approached the light, one question echoed at the back of your mind:

Have you really strayed so far?

Pausing in your tracks, you turned to look at your throne. For a moment, you could see Enki smiling and bowing to you, but you knew that's merely a figment of your imagination.

A soft sigh slipped past your lips as you spun on your heel and walked away.

Even if you can no longer smile for yourself, you'll still smile for the happiness of others.

ㅤPart I: Age of Gods, End.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 : 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒 ; 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟕

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @flowwerpot / @hey-comrade-hold-stil / @genshin-idiot / @crunchy-princeles / @yandere-romanticaa / @tiffthescales / @5ugarcan3 / @hana-chie / @lunavixia / @depressed-bitchy-demon / @cynides / @mangobee / @a-piece-of-shell / @kazukazusbaby / @ella-janehaven / @catvyr / @sophisticatedleslie / @kiraisastay / @miralifox / @night-shadowblood-writes2 / @quintessentialdreaming / @chuusposts / @dulcetamore / @thenyxsky / @anxious-piece-of-bread / @undecidingfate / @sserafimez / @scaranaris-lil-niko / @nirvana5874 / @xcharlottemikaelsonx​ /

[perpetuallyobsessed0613]

Each Region's Dragons & Archons

So it's no secret that the Dragons of Teyvat used to hold sovereignty over the word before the rise of the Archons. As a result of that, some relationships between the Archons and their designated dragons are either amicable, nonexistent, or hostile. This post is a refresher and then delves into some of my theories on Focalors's relationship with Neuvillette based on the Fontaine trailer seeing as it's been revealed (leaked) that Neuvillette is the Hydro Dragon!

Monstadt - Dvalin & Venti

Their relationship was strained because Dvalin feared being forgotten into obscurity. He felt a deep betrayal at the lack of acknowledgement on his behalf by the people of Monstadt and therefore fell prey to the *Abyss Order's schemes.

Venti, however, considers Dvalin a friend, one he cares about dearly. He would go through hell and back to make sure the dragon is okay and that they're on the same page about things. Very obvious seeing as he did throughout the very first Archon Quest.

Relationship overall: Deep trust and friendship

Liyue - Azhdaha & Zhongli

Azhdaha was initially buried deep in the bedrock beneath Liyue, with a soul that spoke out to Rex Lapis, so much so that Rex unveiled him from the deep layers of rock and fulfilled his wish to see the world.

Rex Lapis carved out Azhdaha's form into a great dragon and blessed him with eyes. The two explored Teyvat together and fought together. They were great, dear friends. They had made a contract that should Azhdaha bring havoc to order in Liyue, he would be sealed away once again.

They were so close that Azhdaha was the only one who could call Rex Lapis 'Morax' with fondness

The passage of time brings about the erosion of time, and Azhdaha was not immune. As a result of the erosion, Azhdaha forgot about his contract with Rex Lapis and with the overexploitation of The Chasm by the people of Liyue, his condition worsened and he broke the contract, forcing Rex to intervene and seal him away.

In Zhongli's story quest, he re-seals Azhdaha and is himself moved by the bittersweet goodbye he has to say to him until they meet again someday.

Relationship overall: Bittersweet friends

Inazuma - Orobashi & Ei

Essentially, Orobashi is the reason Enkanomiya and Watatsumi Island exist

Initially Orobashi fled to the depths of Enkanomiya to flee the rule of Teyvat after being unable to defeat Ei or the "golden god" (assumed to be Rex)

An explorer happened upon Orobashi and asked it to be a god and it did, ending the rule of the Sunchildren (puppet rulers) and reducing the threat of  Bathysmal Vishaps

The people of Enkanomiya then co-worshipped Orobashi because of this

Orobashi was preparing for them to resurface to Inzauma, however it happened upon a book that detailed a history of Teyvat that Celestia intended to be buried

Orobashi sacrificed parts of its body to create Watatsumi island and also

Because of this forbidden knowledge Orobashi and Watatsumi Island were found guilty of profanity and deceiving living souls

Orobashi took all the transgressions upon himself and was slain by Ei while Watatsumi Island was taken back under the rule of Celestia

Relationship overall: Hostile/Nonexistent

Sumeru - Apep & Nahida (and Rukkhadevata)

Apep despises the Archons and humanity because they rely on Celestia for their power

Originially, Apep claimed Sumeru as its domain

Apep, along with the other dragons of old, fought against the Heavenly Principles for the right to rule over Teyvat. They lost and thus, power over Sumeru was given to King Deshret and Rukkhadevata.

Because King Deshret was essentially the cause of the forbidden knowledge spread, Apep also got corrupted by it as a result, which further amplified her disdain for Celestia, the Archons, and humanity

However, Greater Lord Rukkhadevata had actually created a backup plan to help save Apep by concentrating her elemental energy into Fire Seeds, she didn't get to use them herself though (rip)

In Nahida's second story quest she attempts to reason with Apep and eventually the two reach an agreement that Nahida can help her (basically Nahida's a sweetheart and proved she would do anything to save Apep, including sacrifice herself)

Apep still harbors disdain for the Heavenly Principles but sees no reason to wipe out the Archons or humanity, she decides to simply watch and see how far things go

Relationship overall: Tolerable

Fontaine - Neuvillette & Focalors (Theories)

Based on the trailer I am certain of one thing: these two have a deal of some sort that allows Neuvillette to retain a semblance of jurisdiction over Fontaine while also maintaining Focalors's ultimate power

According to the Genshin Impact Wiki: "A prophecy in Enkanomiya claims that a new Dragon of Water will be born in human form, as these dragon-lords require a "pure" vessel and the Bathysmal Vishaps, originally Hydro, had become "impure" when they evolved to harness the powers of Electro and Cryo", so my guess is he's a descendant or reincarnation of the Dragon of Water that was born shortly after the Archon War.

These two have entirely different temperaments. While Neuvillette is a stickler for law and order, opting to rule with an iron thumb in court, Focalors thrives on chaos, craves it even. This could actually lead to a clash or twist in Fontaine.

Neuvillette is still subservient to Focalors as a result of their agreement.

It's very possible that Arlecchino will play the role of whispering ideas into Neuvillette's ear, causing him to consider trying to defeat Focalors and take jurisdiction himself OR

He could actually consider Focalors a formidable foe that he respects and instead fools the Fatui into thinking that they've got him under their thumb only to use that against them to help Focalors keep her Gnosis?

IDK man I'm sensing a double edged sword kinda relationship with these two, we'll see!

Relationship overall: Dubious...

[cometrose]

hi. i’d like to hear your take on how the other archons represent or have moon symbolism to zhongli’s sun, if you don’t mind!

in genshin there’s a lot of lore scattered around and pieces waiting to be clicked together, and your post really makes ideas go off haha

sure, im not as read up on the other archons as I am with zhongli but there is still a lot to work with

Venti

In his trailers and cutscenes (e.i Xiao) we often see Venti with the moon

You can also look into his style of archonhood and how he does not directly guide his people but rather lets them do as they want and times guides them from behind the scenes

He is not overt and direct like the sun but more subtle like the moon

This is going to be true for most of the archons but there is the fact that Venti's image is based off someone else. Venti looks like the nameless bard but that is not his true form.

Venti is a reflection of someone else, much like moon reflects the sun's light

Mondstadt literally means moon city

To others he can be very bubbly and outgoing but when he is around the traveler his calm more reserved sides come out.

Venti has connections to the god of time, Istaroth, and time one key themes of moon symbolism as the cycles and phases of the moon have been used to track time, seasons and life itself. (Did you know the phases in the spiral abyss are based off the 3 moon sisters which is why there are 3 versions of a spiral abyss before it resets?)

Ei

First look at her design and her wish. She has a dark color palette, deep purples and reds and Inazuma, specifically Tenshukaku, in the background is covered in darkness

In her domain and her trailer it is rainy, dark and thunderous

Ei's constellation, Imperatrix Umbrosa, translates to Empress of Shadows

She was literally Makoto's shadow (kagemusha)

To go further, Ei lived in the shadows of Makoto's light. The story tells us that Makoto was better at guiding humanity and understood humans much better. Makoto was the archon, Makoto was the one who was adored. Ei was the moon to Makoto's sun.

However, you could even say since Makoto and Ei are twins rather than sun and moon symbolism you could attribute Makoto and Ei to the light and dark side of the moon. Because of the way the moon rotates, from earth we only see one side of the moon at all times. Hence, Makoto was the light side of the moon that was leading Inazuma while Ei was the darker side that was never seen.

Then Ei hiding away in the plane of Euthymia for hundreds of years while her puppet ruled means that Ei once more lived in the shadow (or subconscious) of another being

Originally Raiden wished for an eternal and neverending Inazuma. She wanted nation that would not suffer from the change of time. However change, and new beginnings are signaled by the onset of dawn. Each new day begins with the sun rising so by yearning for an "Eternal Inazuma" it was a nation that never saw a new day or was always stuck in night.

Even though the war is over and she can freely mingle with her people Ei is rather reserved and prefers to keep to herself

Nahida

Nahida has very direct moon symbolism.

Nahida directly refers to herself as the moon in Act II of the Sumeru Archon Quest and throughout the entire questline as a whole.

Similar to all of the other archons, Nahida is trapped in the shadows of Rukkhadevata.

Nobody cared for Nahida because Rukkha's glory and wisdom outshone her in every way (plus she was locked up in jail) even Nahida herself believed Rukkha was more shining and brilliant than her.

She even says in Act II after learning the sages have been acting behind her back that "In the end, I'm just the Moon. The real Sun is long gone."

Nahida's abilities and symbols are dreams, sleep and illusions. All of which are all connected to the moon and the night.

Nahida's character design. She is very white, and pale like the face of the moon. She looks like just a younger version of Rukkhadevata.

Although, Nahida comes to understand that she does not have to be like Rukkha or any other archon to be a good archon-she still has a long way to go. She is still a "small light" in Sumeru and it will take some time before she can shine as brightly as Rukkhadevata once did

Her wish looks like a big old moon doesn't it?

Furina

Furina much like the others lives in the shadow of not only Focalors but indirectly Egeria

She is constantly trying to live up the glory of her predecessor (Egeria) but also the other archons.

Furina was forced to be in the spotlight. She shines brightly and strongly but that is not her own light. She is using the title as god and archon to be something she is not. In a sense, giving off light that isn't hers but merely reflecting the light of Focalors.

Just in basic symbolism, oceans, waves and tides are all usually connected to the moon, so the god of water is going to be connected to the moon.

Furina's "true" form her Ousia form which is dark and black in color while her "fake" form her Pneuma form is white and bright.

Furina had no real power and to save Fontaine true divinity and power had to come from the original source (Focalors and ultimately Neuvillette)

Her true self lived in the shadows of the "Hydro Archon". Her true identity was a mystery until the trial.

When Furina leaves the spotlight and the curtains close and the lights dim was she finally able to be herself.

For example even when Arlecchino ambushes Furina it occurs in the dead of night when she assumes nobody is watching her anymore and she's allowed to be free for just a moment.

Furina's power and authority came from "others". She acted like an archon so we believed she was an archon. Much like how the moon "looks" like it produces light but really the light comes from the sun.

Furina is haughty and gaudy as an archon but as a human she far more relaxed and easy going. She doesn't have the striking confidence and dominance of the sun but a more gentle and refreshing aura to her.

Furina’s true light and beauty is when she can be herself or on the stage as a performer when she is no longer trying to be something she is not she because far more special.

A big part of why most of the archons have moon symbolism is simply because they are 1) not the original archon or 2) derive a significant portion of their life, legacy and or goals from someone else. In their lives there was a person who was the center of their life -their "sun". Whether or not the knew the person depends but these archons either embodied or idolized their ideals and appearance. As in they derived their light from someone else. Zhongli avoids this cause he doesn’t have a “twin” and he’s an original archon.

Character development and story progression have changed these characters appear and their respective symbols but I think you can safely argue that most of the archons have more ties to the moon than the sun.

The only exception I really see is Zhongli (you could argue Venti too sometimes) and the Pyro Archon due to the connections between flames and the sun.

But the Tsaritsa, on the other hand is very likely to have lots of moon symbolism. The only time we see her palace is in the dark of night, she's always commanding the Fatui to carry out her plans in secret, cryo -> ice -> winter -> dark -> night -> moon, plus the moon is tied to themes of romance and love she is the goddess of love etc. We can do this all day.

Nonetheless, moon symbolism connects to a multitude of themes such as femininity, shadows, time, darkness, eternity and renewal, love and mystery, divinity and gentleness etc. Many of these concepts appear in our archons and their storylines.

So of the archons we know Zhongli is the most sun-orientated (masculinity, power, strength, passion, clarity and knowledge, life etc) so far. It’s not like sun and moon traits don’t overlap so you’ll definitely see these characters embody different ideals but in my mind most of the archons represent the moon.

[bitwynn]

so i was talking with my friend abt like-- genshin lore and it got to the subject of forbidden knowledge and stuff

and she used this analogy of it being a computer virus or a corrupted file that cant be processed properly

which then made me think "ahaha yes SAGAU IDEA--"

so what if... the forbidden knowledge was the fact that the world is a game/simulation? and since the world of genshin is a computer program, it wasnt built to handle the realization of the nature of its existence and like-- processed it as eleazar, and "forbidden knowledge" and its other effects on the world

eleazar is the system like-- turning it into the safest thing the program can handle and leaving it to the gods (rukk and desh) to try and fully put a stop to it like anti-virus-- the program is only running the world, not the beings and people in it, so itd make sense for them to stop it since when the world is ending and you can do something about it, youd probably do something about it--

since rukk and desh were gods and therefore much "closer" to the games code/programming (closer in the sense that they were much more directly tied/connected to it-- esp rukkha because of irminsul), they were able to handle the realization in a sense-- like... they knew that they werent "real" in some sense and knew that this knowledge is slowly killing them and their deaths to the knowledge that "they werent real" is inevitable and that-- in a way, the eleazar is one of the safest ways for people to handle the knowledge-- that even the world is protecting them from the ruin of it

i imagine the way the two gods processed the information was like-- thru the "corruptive qualities of forbidden knowledge" and in fragmented parts. its why i said that they only knew that they werent "real" and not that they knew that theyre a video game world-- kind of in the same vein of practically every harbinger going "the sky is fake let me tell you about it" (proceeds to not tell you about it) (dottore i love you but im still mad about it)

but if the "forbidden knowledge" is knowledge about how youre not real because youre a video game and youre not supposed to be self aware of it, how then can the harbingers handle that information without going mad or constantly dying of eleazar? i mean-- in the both the manga and in the game its pretty explicitly said that like, dottore fully stopped colleis eleazar and practically cured her of it.

so... you know how they manage to keep altered information in the form of stories in scaramouches archon quest? i think a similar case happened here-- an allegorical story about people living in a fake reality, be it a dream or a story or something, was made to preserve this information. and since it wasnt the pure unadulterated truth about the nature of this worlds existence anymore, the program could handle it and keep anyone from reading it suffering the negative effects of forbidden knowledge

pierro probably did it tbh-- in the archon quest, it was said that the events of khaenriah and the events leading to the deaths of king deshret and rukkhadevata are similar, if not exactly the same.

so how can we then tie this into SAGAU? are you still with me? did you completely forget that this is about me bullshitting the games lore so much to fit this really specific genre of genshin fandom stuff so you can make content about it? have you forgotten i write SAGAU fics? ...honestly i cant blame you for that last one if you did, i havent been writing SAGAU fic in a WHILE LMAO

ANYWAYS--

the concept of "forbidden knowledge" being used in SAGAU is really interesting which is why im writing abt it in the first place lmao-- and the concept is uber fun so this is just me helping you fit this into your own fics and fanworks

since the "forbidden knowledge" is literally just like "youre a computer program and youre not supposed to know that", y/n would DEFINITELY be able to handle it without the adverse effects. and i know that y/n is basically the equivalent of a mary sue at this point and it physically hurted me when i started writing y/n fics but-- if you think abt it, it makes sense

i am trying so hard rn to like-- not turn this into a discussion about mary sues-- just watch OSPs video on the subject and youre golden lmao

it makes sense for y/n to be able to handle it because number one: y/n is literally us. y/n is not lines of code in a program. y/n is never supposed to end up inside a program or software, and is DEFINITELY SUPER AWARE OF THE FACT THAT GENSHIN IS NOT REAL.

y/n is a human, or at least was a human before they got isekaied or whatever plot thing you decide to do to put y/n in the genshi world. y/n is human, not programming and can definitely handle the thought of "youre not real, youre a game". (lmao it could also really make for some good introspection and/or angst moments where they could philosophize about themselves now that theyre in the game, and the nature of pataphysics and all that fun stuff lmao)

i feel like-- you could also use this as like, a sort of leverage thing? to prove that you are who you say you are and, if this is impostor au, you could use it to your advantage as well in more aggressive ways-- not just as a "prove that youre the one above us all" situation but as a sort of self defence thing-- like when scara and dottore were both talking about the sky being fake thing

obviously youd be immune to eleazar and the madness of the forbidden knowledge caps and the other adverse effects-- BUT you could also inflict those things to the people and the world around you. while other characters like the fatui and the gods could say "youre fake, the world isnt real", they wont inflict the bad stuff since its like they heard the info from a friend of a friend of a friend-- the knowledge has been filtered and purified and fragmented so much that it wont do anything-- its not the full unadulterated truth

but when y/n says it, thats when it inflicts the adverse effects. its the difference between knowing something happened because you were there when it happened and witnessed it, and knowing something happened because you heard it happen from a friend who found out thru the internet. y/n fully knows the truth and intricacies of that statement on so many different levels than the characters can comprehend which is why they can do that.

i feel like it could depend with the volume and amount of people that heard-- like, if you scream it and a whole crowd hears you, the ones closest to you suffer the worst cases of eleazar ever recorded or EVEN DIE, and the severity just decreases the further it gets away from you. itd also be an instant withering zone or become something like the mud from the chasm

i also wanna say that you can "control" the spread in a way but like-- i dont see a way of making that happen tbh. if youre reading this and are getting inspo, go wild babes-- i believe in you, but i personally dont believe that y/n can control it. using the "computer virus" analogy, youd probably have to go into the essence of Teyvat itself to "delete that information" similarly to irminsul but different in the sense of like-- irminsul only put it in the recycle bin but youre going in the recycle bin, selecting all instances and deleting it. maybe you can bullshit it via leylines and abyss mage drops since they carry around leyline branches but i personally think that you just spew out forbidden knowledge, and have to go to irminsul itself to delete it

but yeah! thats my thoughs on Forbidden Knowledge in SAGAU and how it could fit into the world of the AU! making this actually like-- inspired me a bit to write again lmao-- theres just like, so many cool ass concepts in genshin that i dont see in this AU (probably because i havent been there in a while ;vjklldxfg) and i really hope you guys get inspired too :))

[nacrelysis]

wanderer as nahida's right-hand is perfect. they both have a history of abandonment, neglect, and exploitation, plus for similar reasons.

nahida was imprisoned in the sanctuary of surasthana for centuries, left to wither as a failed god her people chased the shadow of a 'better' ideal: greater lord rukkhadevata.

wanderer was abandoned by his mother in shakkei pavilion because he was the failed prototype for her ideal ruler of eternity: a puppet who could execute the lightning's will without regret, whom she intended to create after having makoto die in her arms.

the people involved in wanderer and nahida's pasts - both, in a sense, have convinced themselves that their actions were for the greater good. the sages don't even see nahida is a god, much less a human - to them, all she is is the reminder of what sumeru once had and never could again.

raiden ei abandoned kunikuzushi because she saw him cry, and, knowing he could never be the shogun she needed, left him to his own devices. it's been stated in canon that ei believed she was setting kunikuzushi free. and maybe she was, during those dark days after inazuma's first archon died. but, perhaps, what drove kunikuzushi to assign her actions as 'abandonment' was the fact that he was, in a sense, a lesser god. that he was created for reasons he didn't know. the first thing kunikuzushi did upon creation was cry - in the same way that a baby's first instinct is to cry, because their first impulse is to seek help. from this perspective, the thing kunikuzushi needed the most was guidance and acceptance from his creator (because he knew he was created by someone), while the thing ei thought he needed the most was solitude. miscommunication in the delivery room, am i right.

raiden ei's motives were not the same as the sages - you could argue that she really did believe she was doing it for kuni's benefit. i think she did. but what stands is that both these acts feature a theme of abandonment and neglect. they were carried out by people in the aftermath of grief, executed as neglect upon the people they were done to. and these acts catalyzed nahida and wanderer's development into the characters they are now.

they are not the same as the other archons.

venti's arc is focused around mending the wounds of the past, though it could be implied that he is re-assessing what "freedom" means for his nation. zhongli stepped back as yanwang dijun to allow liyue to move forward on its own while he could re-integrate as one of their common folk. ei is brought forward to re-evaluate her decisions as inazuma's absentee god.

good or bad, they all have experience with being a god.

nahida doesn't. she was intentionally kept from fulfilling her duties as archon for hundreds of years. anything she learns now, once free, is the first time she's learning it as kusanali.

wanderer can't. he tried. he took the electro gnosis and tried to transplant it into his own body - but, at the moment as we know it, gods technically can't be artificially created. the closest dottore could get was a mimicry.

so you have this unique circumstance, where nahida and wanderer both have no idea of what being a god really entails. but they don't need to know what being a god is like, do they? they just need to know how to be an archon: how to protect, how to decide, how to execute.

nahida is very forgiving. in my opinion, she's too forgiving (only because i hate the sages and would've called cps on them if i could). she sees the best in humanity. she works to engage with her people. she tries to listen to their hopes and dreams while moving towards a collective vision for the nation.

wanderer is cynical. he's been betrayed three times, in his words, and been taken advantage of far more than thrice. wanderer has seen the worst of humanity, and he continues to carry this critical eye. he's not afraid to do what nahida can't do (go undercover + beat up people) and he's not afraid to confront people when their motives stray towards the worse.

wanderer can demonstrate the things that define the worst of humans, while nahida can show wanderer the things that make humanity worth preserving. wanderer can execute orders with precision and make decisions on the fly (ha), but nahida is here to level his head and point out clues, motives, or implications that perhaps were not considered before.

and, isn't it a fitting conclusion to the sumeru archon quests? two former puppets, both alike in dignity, in sumeru where we lay our scene. together, they can reconcile the pains of their past - and together, they can build a better, kinder future together...the kind that both must have, at their worst, dreamed of living.

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

I guess you can also argue cryo and all the shenanigans being pulled as like. Alls fair in love and war- but we’re going to need to meet the Tsaritsa to really see how they characterize that beyond Dains description of her having no love left for her people. Can’t wait to see how the next two nations develop- and it’s a fun thought exercise to see how they can shape into different things. Like you said- Anemo can be interesting under “love” considering Venti is both kinda doing the “if you love something, let it go” thing with letting his nation choose how they want to go, versus him clinging to the memory of the nameless bard to the point of wearing his face, even this far into the future. A god who loved a human so much he couldn’t bear to let them go, who’s statues are made in their image now (and the achievement when you sit down in the hands? Beloved of the Anemo Archon, when the statue is at the scale of the nameless bard and whisp Venti? That’s a fun thing to turn over)

Sorry for rambling again. What do you think are some of the more fun interpretations/swaps that you could do? -☁️

you're so right on the venti thing. and yeah, we don't know what the tsaritsa is, we're just going off of the only hint available hahah

i honestly think the easiest swap would be wisdom for zhongli and contracts for furina. zhongli is already possibly the wisest/most knowledgeable character in the game (nahida is a different issue), and you wouldn't really need to change anything about him or the plot of liyue to make that work. it could literally go from the contract to end all contracts to if i want my people to grow wiser and grow stonger then the smartest move is to simply step down and let them be. you'd have to think of a better excuse as to how he settled a deal with the tsaritsa and why he cannot tell you about the cataclysm later, but you could work something out. maybe factor in forbidden knowledge much earlier into the game. this would also have the added bonus of linking him to guizhong in that she could very easily be made to align with wisdom, and so zhongli ending up as the archon came down to guizhong dying before he did, like a rukkhadevata/deshret situation, and how the raiden twins were both about eternity.

contracts for furina would be interesting because you could make the plot of fontaine about punishment for breaking a contract, since that's also what sinning could be (egeria's sin). and furina being unable to tell anyone what was going on could've been made even worse if she had to sign a contract with focalors to literally not say a word about it. after that, you could make the traveler finding out the truth a loophole to the contract, since strictly speaking furina never did tell anyone, and neuvillette found out from focalors anyway. like the plot of fontaine is already about consequences of one's actions, the overarching one being about the consequences of egeria's orignal sin; you could easily just make it about the consequences of breaking a contract with the divine instead of just offending them (not that that's less strong a plot point, but if it's about breaking a contract, it might give more nuance to celestia as oposed to just 'oh they got offended')

now that i think about it, you could also do something interesting with freedom for nahida. make it freedom to pursue knowledge in whichever way you may want to. freedom to enrich your mind and be wiser however you see fit, be it through arts, through study, through dreams. i mean she's already locked up (denied freedom to be out and about on her own), the akademiya was controlling the akasha (denying freedom of knowledge) and banning the arts (denying freedom of expression). sumeru's history is also about freedom, somewhat, what with deshret wanting to get over fate so his people would be free to dictate their destinies, but his solution being a literal hivemind (complete lack of individuality and freedom). even post-deshret with the jinn and their enslavement and all the mess liloupar kicked up. like sumeru is already more about freedom (and the lack of it) than mondstadt is LMAO

[viatrixtravels-a]

More Genshin High School AU

The students

Noelle is repeating her first year. She overworked herself to the point of falling ill on the day of the final exams and was held back as a result.

Everyone thinks Dori is an elementary schooler who wandered into high school. She claims not to be, but nobody knows the truth.

People often mistake Kaveh for being a second year student and Alhaitham for a third year, but it is actually the other way around. (Which very much upsets Kaveh)

Venti has been a 3rd year student forever. Nobody even remembers when he first enrolled at Teyvat High. If you ask him, he will simply respond with 'ehe~'

Albedo skipped a grade because he is too big brained.

The class presidents for each class are Ayaka (1st year), Yanfei (2nd year) and Ninguang (3rd year). Keqing volunteered to be class president but it would be too much to combine with her responsiblity on the disciplinary committee.

Student council

President - Furina

Vice president - Neuvilette

Treasurer - Zhongli

Secretary - Ganyu

Library committee

President - Alhaitham

Vice president - Xingqiu

Health committee

President - Kokomi

Vice president - Barbara

Student Disciplinary committee

President - Jean

Vice president - Keqing

School principal

Rukkhadevata

School counselor

Madame Ping

School doctor

Dottore (I had to)

Clubs

Lynette would be in the 'cannot be bothered' category but Lyney forced to join with him.

Similar situation with Chongyun who did not know which club to join so he followed his best friend Xingqiu to the literature club. He likes to read supernatural stories about demons and evil spirits.

Ganyu might eventually convince Xiao to join the gardening club with her. He finds being surrounded by plants and flowers strangely soothing. His favorite is the Qingxin flower.

Mona tried to make her own astrology club but there were no other members, so she eventually joined the art club instead.

Sara joined the cooking club with Ei so she can be there to stop Ei from setting the school kitchen on fire.

Cyno joined the debate club with the sole intention of making bad jokes for all of his arguments and annoying the heck out of his clubmates.

Wanderer is in the drama club because he's a DRAMA QUEEN.

There's several sports clubs so I'll leave it up to you guys' imagination which specific sport these characters would choose. uwu

[simping-on-the-daily]

sorry for traumatizing you with my boyfriend's trauma. wanna date???

The obligatory Scaramouche X Reader X Haypasia fic. Someone had to do it smh

Pardis Dhyai was pretty nice, for a research sight. It was nothing like the Fatui labs that the Doctor, the Marionette, and their respective henchman had for lairs, but it certainly had all the basic equipment for all Amurta researchers. And it did seem pretty relaxing too; you would've mistaken it for a park to bring your children too if it wasn't for all the scholars.

But you weren't here for sightseeing, or for the scholars....On second thought, you were looking for a scholar. Luckily, the person guarding that certain scholar had just finished doing a temperature check and was making his way to a rented room for the night. Upon looking at the fox-human hybrid, you had to remember you were in Sumeru, not Inazuma, otherwise you would've mistaken them for a youkai.

After doing an extra check for scholars still up in the late of night completing their assignment (there were none), you snuck into the giant glass building (super stealthily and super quickly, might you add).

The scholar was lying on the bed, not showing any sorts of distress in her slumber. The pillow was trapped in a suffocating embrace, and to Celestia you longed to be in those arms. Instead, you just sat next to her, the seat cushioned with pillows for aesthetic rather then tranquil rest.

While your boyfriend, the Balladeer, was busy getting 'dolled up' (you praised yourself for the pun for days on end), you decided to explore Sumeru. While the Akademiya had resources to rival writers for the Steambird, the whole lot of them were boring and arrogant. And for people who go on and on about how Sumeru was a land of wisdom, their obsession with the long dead Rukkhadevata was ironically the most stupidest thing you ever saw.

Luckily, you met someone from the Akademiya who didn't have coffee beans for brains. Haypasia was a great friend, always listening to what you had to say and offering to teach about Sumeru's culture. She was funny, and she was kind, and she had your heart race the same way Scaramouche did and ah shit did you fall deep.

To be fair, how could you not? She was just.......everything sweet dropped into this world. You loved her curiosity, you loved her face whenever she was focusing, and you could get lost in her eyes. Of course, you talked to Scaramouche about this, not keen on being his 'fourth betrayal'.

Thankfully, while he stated that he had never seen Haypasia before, he had to admit that your smiling and flustered face was something he'd fight for. The Balladeer did not care for monogamy, and, as long as they fit his standards, wouldn't mind another lover. (He said this much more harshly, but you knew what he meant)

From the corner of your eye, you witnessed a grey phantom, disappearing and evaporating all over the glass floors, with the gentle breeze of the night making the veil behind the figure flow.

Think of the devil.

"She's cute, isn't she?" You spoke up, getting Scaramouche's attention while also making sure Haypasia didn't wake up. Luckily, she didn't; you assumed that her failed connection to Irminsul wayed heavily on her conscious, or that the hybrid for before had given her sleeping pills.

"You know I do not care for the appearances of mortals," Scaramouche stated, turning his head around to look at you, "To do so is ridiculous."

"But......?"

"She and I are now connected."

Oh.

"Care to enlighten me on how, oh mighty Shouki no Kami?" You teased, pointing at The Balladeer's spiritual projection. You hoped it was nothing bad; you truly did care for Haypasia, and you didn't want her to suffer due to Irminsul's current predicament.

Scaramouche rolled his arms, arms crossed, but answered regardless. "You said that she was attempting to connect to Irminsul, correct?" You nodded. "It seems that in her attempt to do so, her consciousness connected to mine. She has gazed upon my life back when I was the kabukimono, and could do so again."

You lurched back in surprise, luckily with the chair not falling over as you did so. "So, like, she knows everything? Or at least, she knows about your......past?"

"Correct."

You rubbed your hands through your head. Whoever this hybrid was, you were lucky they found Haypasia before the Sages did, otherwise they likely would've exiled her just like the other scholars. Haypasia didn't deserve that. The desert was anything but merficful, even less so to exiled students.

"I understand why you like her so much."

Now that took you out of your thoughts. You raised an eyebrow at Scaramouche , who was looking down at the sleeping girl.

"She has seen me at my most pathetic; before I found the truth of the stars. And yet, she recognizes my supreme divinity and righteous place in this world. Her worship has not been faltered despite that idiot's best attempts," He sneered, "And sees me as what I was supposed to be."

He stepped forward, getting closer to Haypasia, who still showed no signs of stirring awake. "She is what you said she was. Determined, kind, and not like those arrogant Sages who think they're better than me. Even the Jester is now an ant compared to my power. She knows this."

A phantom hand gently pressed down on Haypasia's head, and there was a glimmer in Scaramouche's eyes as he did so. "My first follower....."

"What am I, chopped ham?" You scoffed in jest, arms crossed as you still sat down. To be jealous of Haypasia was ridiculous. You had no idea that she had connected to Scaramouche of all people; you just saw being taken to Pardis Dhyai for recovery because her attempt to be one with Irminsul had gone wrong. (You happened to see it as you went to your decided meeting place. You were not stalking your crush).

"You're an idiot, that's what you are." Scaramouche rolled his eyes with pretend animosity, as he took his hand off of Haypasia's head and crossed his arms again.

"She will be with us," He announced. "She will be our most respected follower. She will be our side as we rule together."

"We? You never told me that I was joining you in divinity," You narrows your eyes, "And what if Haypasia doesn't want to be a god? She's basically stuck in a coma right now and I don't want to do anything she wouldn't want."

"You really are stupid," Scaramouche sighed. "Do you think that I'd allow you in such a vulnerable decision until I was sure I could get the Doctor to get his gross hands away from you? He may be helping me, but I do not want him putting his hands on you." He seemed to snarl at the thought of it. "Though.......I do suppose we could wait until she's awake. She will still be one of us regardless."

"Okay, okay," You put your hands up in front of you, "I know I already told you my feelings about her before.....this," You gestured to the comatose girl, "But how do we know she actually like likes us? Even if her focus is on you, she's still technically insane, as much as I hate to say it. Are we sure she's in the right mind to love any of us? I don't wanna force her into anything. That'd be fucking gross."

"Just as she is connected to my mind, I am connected to hers. Not only does she reciprocate your romantic feelings as well, but she does not care for stupid terms to define her feelings, she does not mind romantic relationships with more then one partner."

Great. Haypasia looked into the backstory of your traumatized Fatui boyfriend, and the traumatized Fatui boyfriend looked at Haypasia's romantic interests. Though, of course, your heart was leaping at having heard that Haypasia also loved you. Honestly? It wasn't just leaping, it was probably doing some backflips as well.

"And as for her devotion to me," Scaramouche continued, "It appears she didn't connect into Irminsul that far like the other scholars. Unlike them, she's not entirely lost in her own world, she's still capable of cognitive functions, recognising people through face and voice, knows when a situation could be dangerous, and so fourth. Her worship of a god is not the same as loving one."

.....You guessed you couldn't argue with that, but-

"Besides, the Sages already found a way to lessen the effects of Irminsul induced insanity ages ago."

If you had a drink, you'd be spitting it out. "Pardon?"

He scoffed. "Like you said, they're arrogant and disregard anyone who isn't useful to them." He looked away from you as he spoke. Scaramouche was likely speaking on his own experiences with the Raiden Shogun. "They couldn't get rid of it entirely, but they'd be able to give them stable and happy lives without exiling them to the desert. They just don't care."

.......Yeah, that made sense.

"The Doctor has given me enough power to even cure Irminsul of it's withering. When I have ascended into a fully-fledged God, I will do so. Then, I will give you enough my power so you can ascend alongside by me. By then, Haypasia should be awake."

"That's a mighty plan. Sure it will work?"

"Are you doubting me?"

You giggled. It was so hard to take him seriously whenever he was angry. "You know I'm not. I'm not that much of an idiot."

Scaramouche sighed, putting a hand to his head. "Sometimes, you make me doubt that." He sat down on your flowerbed beside your chair, though his astral form didn't cause for any flowers to be crushed.

You playfully elbowed him. "Don't be an asshole," You grinned up at him. "What if Haypasia wakes up and the first thing she hears is her god being a complete potty-mouth?"

He glared at you, but did not respond.

".......So, we can agree on both wanting Haypasia to be in our relationship?"

"We just discussed that we did, dumbass."

"Just making sure."

Scaramouche grabbed your hand, and for someone who was currently appearing in an astral projection with his real body being inside a giant mech right now, his hand touching yours didn't feel weird. It felt natural; there was no tingling of your bones or goosebumps down your skin as he did so.

You leaned over to Haypasia, patting her head like Scaramouche did before. "Sweet dreams." You smiled, and your heart jumped at seeing how peaceful she looked.

The night was calm, the stars out and the breeze gentle. Haypasia's dreams were indeed sweet, you fell asleep on phantom Scaramouche's shoulder, and Scaramouche himself felt more power flowing through the Shouki no Kami.

Everything was going splendidly. Sooner or later, Scaramouche would ascend into a god, and you would be by his side too. Then, Haypasia would join as well, and then you three would become the Gods of Sumeru.

Though the kabukimono had once wished to no longer have a heart, the thought of throwing you to the side made him want to throw up. And after you had told him about the scholar who you were interested in as well, and gaining a connection with that same scholar, he didn't want to leave her behind.

Scaramouche would never be abandoned again. He wouldn't be, not when you loved him so much and he could feel Haypasia's devotion in the back of his mind.

And in that moment, with you on his shoulder and Haypasia sleeping tranquilly next to the both of you, he closed his eyes and wished for a happy ending.

[nekosoda]

We all probably know this Hiroshima wannabe so I wont introduce it <3

AHEM AHEM

Please inform me if I had any mistakes!

Spoiler under cut!!!!!

I just realised this had cubes.PURE cubes.Unlike...

HER cubes.

This is like 5000+ years old ATLEAST 5000 and was dropped after the 2nd who came had been "defeated" there are also constellations surrounding it

This is like 500 years old,back when Khaenri'ah was destroyed

This was the first time a civilization was destroyed by Celestia

This is the most recent civilization that was destroyed by Celestia (that we know of)

Why not just nuke again?Why go to ALL this trouble?

We know that the cubes belong to the Sustainer of heavenly principals,she probably had a role in Khaenri'ah 's fall

In the comic "Prolouge:The songs of the wind" Lind and Vanessa stated that Celestia was seemingly closer.That takes place 2600 years ago.Celestia could've just like,yk nuked yk,like,why not???Why go trough so much trouble after 2100 years????You're already close why destroy it like this??

Wth happened also why cubes go emo did they get corrupted???In Mondstat we saw Dvalin's corruption big boy litteraly changed colors *kinda similiar to certain cubes hmmm* Venti as Barbatos,an Archon,fell into slumber (For about 500 years If I remember correctly) Only the prayers and cries of his people were the things that woke him up.After the situation had been dealt with,Barbatos would always return to the forest,and not be seen until another crisis strikes (Probably still recovering from Durin's poison)

In Liyue,Morax had to call the Yaksha's,only for them to all go insane and succumb to the abyss,except for Xiao,who still has to fight monsters restlessly,with karmic debt only Venti,an Archon can purify.

In Inazuma,Makoto fell in battle,Ei's friends also died.The Ancient Sakura tree,which appeared with Istaroth's help,collects the filth of the nation,yet there are still those ANOYING FUCKING ABYSS WOLFS THAT I FUCKING HATE I HOPE THEY ROT IN HELL ONESHOTS MY LVL 80 NAHIDA AND 70 LVL KOKOMI AS IF 3K HP PER HEAL IS NOTHING AAAAAAAAAAAA-,roaming around the nation.

In Sumeru Rukkhadevata spent all her power fighting forbidden knowledge,created Nahida,got also corrupted by forbidden knowledge,trapped her conciousness in Irminsul,waited for Nahida to erase her from Irminsul so she could carry Forbidden knowledge to the coffin with her.

After writing all this,I realize,Its people that are related with time and wind that clean after the corruption,all being related to Istaroth in some kind of way.Istaroth has always been the only shade to fight alongside humanity,stated in the book "Before sun and moon" While The sustainer destroys and leaves chaos in its wake,Istaroth is the only shade with mercy,helping clean up.

What happened holy shit this was long hello????Thanks for reading this far!!!

[dshret]

Beyond warnings and such, she had agreed. It was hard to overlook such devotion and ambition and turn an eye away. Nabu ADMIRED the drive, knew that there was good reason to go against the principles at the end. However, with all of that, did Deshret know what the cost would be in this? Had Rukkhadevata clued in their fellow GOD KING as to what the price would be? Nothing is free in this world. And to break the chains at this level, something must take the place of those chains. It would be her. Though she pushes away those thoughts, those warnings. He looks HAPPY. Like the god that placed judgment upon each scale. Perhaps then, she needed to be braver, find a way around it. If Deshret could, why couldn't she? Nabu pushed the answer away, the obvious one. "How can I truly fret when you're so confident? You've found something, I assume." No, she won't take away from that confidence she so admires. So the woman sets down the food and takes a seat at his side.

@lycorisblooms

Just a small distance away was the end goal. Deshret could almost taste that and yet there was always something new that managed to steer him further off the path. The partial parts of knowledge was jumbled. By his own doing and of the method used to gather it to begin with. Yet confidence was something the God King had an over abundance of. No matter what: it would work. That was what HE wanted. Nothing could stop him fully. To his current knowledge, anyway.

"Perhaps too much confidence, some mortals may mutter. But indeed I have though only partial improvements." He stated almost too calmly. The manner he spoke about something that should not be researched was too blunt, eerily calm but long had he become blind to that fact. A hand had already moved so he could take at least a partial amount of food.

"The only issue being that still there is something I cannot locate. Some of our people that I hold great trust in have been requested to parts for me to construct something I believe shall help. But I question whether that shall work as I desire."