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slowd1ving · 3 months ago

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✦ II. COME HITHER, CURSE WHERE HE LIES

"This was the tale of the seventh prince; an elegy hidden from the footnotes of history. Within the game Lament of Ouroboros, his sorrows were summarised thusly: A strangely warm vein of ore. Hero, come here when dusk kisses the edge of the Borderlands. As your palm brushes against the rock, you may be able to feel the pulse of a slumbering prince. Three sentences were all that was afforded to the disgraced prince, forgotten to all but the Moirai." • . * cursed prince ratio + alchemist m reader rough design for minoan fashion ratio here warnings: video game violence, death? kind of? tyranny (are we surprised), male-coded reader (or at least the in-game avatar is), depictions of gore, turning into stone wc: 4.2k

LAMENT OF OUROBOROS MASTERLIST

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

It took all of one year for the warning to become prophecy. One year, approximately four hundred and eight days—give or take—for the two Suns to align themselves in the exact arrangement they had on the Day of Silence. And in that single year, the schemes of Veritas Ratio would germinate, blossom, and finally wither away irrelevantly.

He was born quietly, and thus his end would, too, be quiet.

The month of Hekatombaion had the seventh prince leave his tower: like a bird set free from its gilded cage. Though he was never caged, per se, the youth knew it was safest to stay in its stone walls: away from the all-consuming, bloody struggle for the throne, away from the greedy claws of his siblings and their power-hungry gazes. Yes, it was far easier being a shunned seventh prince than getting swept up in the tides of fatal politics.

Fatal, indeed—the internal strife had already claimed the lives of two of his siblings. He was the fifth prince, if one regarded the situation objectively—but it was better to lurk in the oblivion. Seven was a less significant number than five, after all.

Hekatombaion was the month of venture. The Day of Silence had occurred in its beginning; the day to mark the new year, where the blank canvas of muteness would sluggishly accumulate the sins and sorrows of the populace in the coming days and weeks. Like honey trickling over sweet basyniai, the seventh prince would begin to spread his own influence to achieve his saccharine conclusion.

So, the youth ventured forth—though not into the bloody palace, but the summer-worn streets and the agora. Past the stands selling their wares, and the philosophers sermonising on the achromatic cobblestones, were those conducting business and students of the various schools in Metis. The work and school day had shortly ended—the evening of debates and discourse had just begun.

Without the gilt laurels which suggested his status as one of Elation’s blood, he was no more prince than he was peasant. The drape of his clothes and their exceptional craftsmanship did, however, mark him as a wealthy man—perfect for infiltrating the symposium of a guileless young master.

Thus, the prince incognito began frequenting these conferences and gleaning precious information and gossip from the drunken fools who sought to boast of their knowledge and logos. Their fallacies were awful for entertainment, but Veritas was very grateful for how witless their lips were. All the news, rumours, and information passed around students and teachers alike were his for the taking: the rudimentary designs from which he would craft his weapon. From these anserine gatherings with peers a few years older than him he crafted a network of the politics of the kingdom: who sat behind and whispered to the magistrates; who supported the polemarch and just who was responsible for the military advancements of the archon in charge of armed forces; and finally, the influence of Aha and his siblings on the spread of the kingdom.

These were the preliminary preparations for investigating the ruling class of Metis.

Metageitnion was the month for thanksgiving. The seventh prince’s presence at the mess hall was nothing out of the ordinary, then, for the arid weather heralded festivities and games where his attendance was expected—if not mandated. As opportunistic as he was for information, he naturally assumed his place below his siblings: slightly sycophantic, yet assuredly not a threat.

Dried figs melted on his tongue—a mellifluous snack he’d consumed plenty of in his tower, but tasted especially cloying as praises flowed from his mouth like honeyed wine. His siblings, vain as they were, dangerous as they were, liked observing how their shunned brother cowed neatly before them. Though, the watered-down liquor they ingested was nowhere near enough to loosen their lips on matters of heresy; another span of days passed without gaining information. In its stead, he established himself as a vapid fool with no interest in scrabbling for the throne: a slippery, cowardly bastard who simply wasn’t worth the effort to kill off.

Had they paid attention to the glowing reports from his tutors, had they cared an iota for anyone but themselves, they might have noticed that his smarts didn’t just extend to backing off from the throne. Perhaps then, they would have surmised that the compliments and agreements uttered with his smiles were strategic more than anything.

But his tower was isolated from the main palace, and he was no more a danger than a caged bird.

A fool, just like the rest of them. Alas, his gormless act perhaps was a bit too convincing—the siblings in the know wouldn’t entrust state secrets to someone who appeared as imbecilic as he did. Nonetheless, they grew accustomed to seeing him, and his presence where they were no longer seemed unusual.

This was how Veritas tactically placed himself onto the petteia board as a piece that could no longer be overlooked.

Boedromion was a month of aid, so the prince decided to extend a hand to those seeking help in the assembly. From behind the scenes, he handpicked those he needed for his investigation: those who had the ear of the archon in charge of the military, those who worked in administrative wings of the palace, those who could be moulded into perfect aides for his siblings. He observed the strata unable to speak up, unable to assert themselves in the agora, unable to hold any sway of their own.

It was no altruism when he pulled them aside. Into their minds he painted himself as the benevolent saviour; the silver tongue who gave them their voice in the assembly back. In return, they turned themselves to pieces on his game board. Hence, he gained valuable information and more reliable rumours to investigate about the imperial family. Who to talk to, who to bribe, who to follow when the twin suns dipped below the horizon and the moon embraced the sky once more.

These were the new connections the seventh prince forged—a net far more sound than the ramshackle collection of drunken scholars and fools from the symposia.

Pyanopsion was the month of harvest, so his Highness watched his efforts fruit into an audience with Aha. The drunkard was shrewd—far too clever for someone rumoured to be an imbecile—therefore the seventh prince bowed before the sovereign and spoke no honeyed platitudes to THEM. When the king asked for his thoughts on the assembly, he answered honestly—and THEY guffawed with THEIR chalice in hand. When the king asked for his opinion of the people, he answered fraudulently—and THEY ruffled his amaranth locks with a hand that felt far too distant for a father.

What are people, if not tools for the Elation?

There is no greater joy for them than serving us on this grand stage.

Do you not agree, your Majesty?

Lie after lie dripped from his composed mouth. Even as he thought of the bright children running through sun-dappled streets, even as he thought of the beaming pedlars and their wares, even as he thought of the joy in the ordinary, mundane families he came across in the synoikiai—all these mentations came to a halt behind his expression. In those three sentences, his heart had hardened against THEM: as THEY smiled, as THEY affectionately broke bread with him, as THEY gestured for sweet wine to be poured into his cup.

The youngest prince was no longer a mere prince but Aha’s son; an acknowledgement that only served to disgust the youth further.

How vile.

And though his goal was reached, this was how the Elation successfully alienated itself to Veritas.

Maimakterion was the month of cold, and so the prince retreated to the stone palace for the first time since childhood. Past nightfall, he breached the lax security of the grand library and accessed its restricted section. All his manoeuvring, all his alliances and mind-numbing conversations—it was worth it to finally enter this place once more.

There, in a forgotten corner that seemed more sepulchral than even the mausoleum, the seventh prince found what he had searched for. Penned in faded ink that he could barely see even with the light enchantment, was proof of collusion between the imperial family and the so-called ‘heretics’.

This was the point in time where his Highness felt the most vindicated towards the venerable Sophos and THEIR mockery.

This was also the point in time where his Highness could no longer step off the path he had chosen.

“Do you think he can feel it?” The maiden idly twined threads past HER fingers, for it was far more entertaining to see a mortal walk towards his doom with a head held high. “Surely there must be some sense of ill portent.”

“The men most arrogant are least prepared for their end, Clotho,” the mother rebuked, but the syllables were about as harsh as spring butterflies—for SHE, too, anticipated the boy’s expression as he stared into the face of his own hamartia.

“Hubris!” the hag cackled, yet the tremble of HER deathly grin belied the ever-present tears that traced the weary lines of HER face. “What a terrible conclusion.”

For the Moirai, this fate was nothing more than a short-lived, tragic play.

And so, the month of Posideon passed quickly for both the three and the prince. The information inked into the yellowed scrolls was his proverbial labyrinthine thread, tugging his body to his salvation. Through the throngs of regular humans, his path was etched towards the harbingers of heresy: alchemists and their ilk.

Throughout these days, he hardly thought of Sophos Nous at all; yet the familiar sensation of exoneration remained. He would prove himself before THEM; he was ready to put Aha to trial in front of the assembly if need be.

The archontes were not infallible.

This fact applied to Aha especially.

When he probed those labelled as heretics, he was bitterly reminded that this wasn’t their fault. They were not the lawmakers, nor were they those with choice. Victims. Shackled to the Elation, their actions were akin to those of a puppet: pushed towards their day of reckoning by a force far superior to their own.

Thus, the seventh prince worked tirelessly. Through the short days, through the long nights—he toiled away in his tower. He compiled sets of arguments, practised endless logos, drafted out the evidence necessary to condemn those at fault within the upper echelons of Metis.

Gamelion came and went. Under the guise of a serving boy and some forbidden enchantments, Veritas walked the long stretches of the palace with nothing but worn sandals on his feet. He traced its ancient mosaics: memorising the old walkways and floor plans gifted by one of his acquaintances. For preparation was the friend of success, and the prince was nothing if not successful in his endeavours.

It all led up to this night—stepping into the room sequestered from any official floor plan.

“Look at him,” the maiden cooed. The spindle in HER cruel hands stilled momentarily—for a brief while, none were born. Though, this was an insignificant deviance in the tapestry of humanity: far too quick for anyone to realise. “Has he realised he’s out of his depth yet?”

“Hardly,” the matron scoffed. “He’s ablaze with self-righteous anger, as it were. Surely he could not have been ignorant of the sins on his own blood-kin’s hands?”

“Lachesis,” the hag warned. “Keep silent and enjoy the act.”

“Don’t tell me you feel sympathetic, Atropos?” the mother sneered, for it was ludicrous that the Moirai felt any sort of attachment to humanity. To fairly allot, the reason for THEIR very existence, was no longer possible if any bias was introduced to any of them.

“Hardly,” the crone muttered. HER sentimentality would not affect HER role in this universe; just as it had been before, and as it would be after, HER shears would continue their severing of life from humans.

The three were rapt as the prince gazed around the hall. Every turbulent beat of his heart, every miniscule grit of his molars, every bitter fist his sinuous hands made—all of his reactions were carefully documented, since a tragic hero like him had not been observed for an age and then some.

It was by no means a modest room. The circumference of the marble spanned the equivalent of the large temple dedicated to the Elation, propped up by frieze-decorated columns. Stone reliefs etched into the walls depicted the rise of his lineage; they were intertwined with a sickening repertoire of mythos that they had no place against. Heroes of the old gleamed bright against his family’s wickedness—so utterly out of place he couldn’t help but gaze foully at the castings.

Turned yonder, and the door through which he came glinted with the tell-tale light of an enchantment: a rippling string of formulae that indicated the space warping which enveloped this place. Yes, although the archon had expressly forbidden use of enchantments, they clearly had no qualms about taking the knowledge for their own gain.

For the Elation is above the law.

Past the vast anteroom was another door; this one, too, distended and undulated under his piercing gaze. Or rather, the silent movement of his mouth as he shattered its illusions and breached its innermost chamber—and this one was the one which struck him still.

The seventh prince could only watch, horrified, as the expanse of terror unfolded before him. There was no escape from the sight, not unless his eyes were plucked out of his skull.

Aeons.

There was no space unblemished by golden cadavers. Cadavers, for statues surely wouldn’t possess faces distorted in crazed screams and bodies contorted in the most despicable of agonies. Cadavers, for surely their pain had ended—he prayed they were dead within their metallic shell, he prayed their souls had departed the material world, he prayed that his presence didn’t disturb their rest any further.

Bile rested bitter in his mouth, and he struggled not to let the acrid film swirl into vomit—for his stomach churned and his palms grew clammy at the sight.

These were the supposed threats to the Elation—innocents whose only crime had been to be against the tyranny of his family.

For their dissent, they’d been dipped in molten gold—either dying through the intense heat, or slowly withering away as the alchemy chipped away at their flesh.

Both options were equally horrifying. The seventh prince’s vision swam, and he barely made it back to his tower before his legs finally gave out.

Yes, the prince had gained the knowledge he finally needed to take down his family, but at what cost?

Deep inside, he already knew the heavy feeling in his heart was the price he was beginning to pay.

If only he knew the fate allotted to him at the end of this thorny path.

Anthesterion trickled by slow as a fat bee. Sluggish. Every second was prolonged, every moment was accompanied by his racing pulse and adrenaline-stricken brain. No longer did he need to act the cowed prince—for before his siblings, his mouth grew dry and his pupils constricted into mere pinpricks.

When he glanced at his sister, he saw the golden woman who’d wept with her body curled in on herself: shoulders hunched to her ears, hands sharpened into desperate claws (gouging at her flesh, since everyone knew pain nullified pain—and what greater anguish was there than losing your very body to aureate?). She’d writhed in her last moments; the harrowing movements had sent shockwaves all throughout the security enchantments.

He could taste her tears.

When he stared at his three brothers, he also stared at the man who had ripped off his own arm to escape his inescapable fate. He stared at the blood that had pooled like gilt on the marble floor, for not even his most ardent lifeblood could evade the disgusting talons of his kin. He stared at the expression of horror the man had: eyes bulging out of their sockets, mouth twisted to an excruciating scream, and a wretched gaze afflicting him.

He could feel the oily sanguine dripping from his own hands.

He could no longer escape his siblings either.

They relished in the iron grip they had over the city. They revelled in the generated fear. They savoured their long talks—talks which Veritas was now privy to, talks in which he did his best not to heave up the fruit in his stomach and the bilious film that now perpetually dwelled on his tongue. He was reviled, but they indulged in their craving for petrification with a particular sapidity that broke him down—over and over and over until he could no longer smell anything that didn’t carry the stench of copper.

That was perhaps the month in which the seventh prince grew the most ill.

Elaphebolion trailed its ghostly fingers around his neck like a noose. He grew careless in his haste to put his family before trial: left too many loose ends, made too many connections, and drew the attention of far too many eyes.

It didn’t take long for his tower to truly become the cage of his metaphor.

No, it took less than three days from his last meeting with an informant to find the door to his tower securely locked. Overnight, while the seventh prince restlessly slumbered, wrought bars enclosed his windows in one final trap.

Thus, the prince was prince no longer, but a bird with its wings clipped forevermore.

But that was not the end of it—for if it was, his life-thread would not have been seeped with the bloodiest of carmines.

Mounichion was when Aha finally came to visit THEIR wayward son.

Join me, THEY offered—though Veritas knew THEIR proffered hand was no salvation, but puppet strings that would attach to his own. For the ceaseless entertainment of the Elation, this was perhaps the greatest mercy Aha could extend: to become a dull marionette in this gilded cage until only his bones were strung up for all to ridicule.

And when THEIR son’s incensed gaze did not waver, THEY sighed.

Maddened with grief, boy? THEY mocked the look in his irises—once as bright and sweet as cherries, now dulled to the hue of dried blood.

Kill me, those numbed eyes seemed to respond—but futilely, the youth wanted to live.

“I’ve something much better, son.”

Mounichion was thus the month of confinement, where Aha planted a short-lived weed of hope that sprung up in the cracks of the prince’s heart—and withered just as quickly.

Thar-gelion was when Veritas avoided death, but lost many things in return.

It had started off small. His vision began to blur somewhat, but he chalked it to confinement in his tower. Even when he crafted himself ocular lenses and fitfully forced himself to sleep in the topmost room, there were moments in which the edges of his sight faded and greyed with a frequency that slowly increased.

He browsed anatomical manuscripts. When the light from the twin Suns was particularly dim, he struck the oil-lamps with crude enchantments and perused their words as though they held the key to his answers—yet the lack of solutions was not enough to alarm him.

It should’ve been.

His sense of smell was next to mute, though this was a far more subtle difference than his sight. Being confined to a particular area would obviously force one to grow accustomed to its ins and outs—including the odours and various scents of it. It wasn’t a problem, until one day Veritas Ratio noticed he could no longer quite smell the papery fragrance of his scrolls, nor the rich tang of his ink.

Yet still, he ignored the warning signs. After all, he was preparing for his eventual execution.

Naturally, his taste palate, too, had dulled due to his weakening olfactory sense. Although, this loss was far less profound than one might have anticipated—but it made all too much sense if one took into consideration his status as a prince awaiting judgement. Feed him enough so he survives. A few pieces of flatbread, some cheese, and one or two bruised handfuls of dried fruits were dropped through the bars daily—along with a skin of sour wine—much like feeding a wild bird when it had not yet been tamed enough for the door to open. These various foodstuffs were bland enough that it wouldn’t have made a difference if he could taste either way.

Thus, the prince simply did not notice this sense fading.

The next sense to take leave was his hearing, and this time he did feel the difference. His balance was affected, though he surmised that was due to the lack of nutrients his body received. But when the fragile rustle of paper against his fingers stopped registering; when the tell-tale thump of his heart in the silence of his room grew silent; when he could no longer hear his own neurotic waves of breathing—this was when the seventh prince realised something was dreadfully wrong.

He’d screamed himself hoarse, tearing at his skin with his nails to wake from this forsaken dream—only to no longer feel his crescent nails digging into flesh.

No. No.

Air came shallow to the prince as his fading eyes desperately fixated on the blood welled on his arms. He could not feel the wounds. He could not smell the metallic crimson dripping in rivulets. He could not hear the hasty, panicked breaths and his racing pulse. And finally, when he put his mouth to staunch the flow, he could not taste the acrid tang on his palate either.

And so, the prince spent the month of Thar-gelion slowly losing his mind.

Skirophorion was when it came to a bitter end.

In those days, His Highness barely left his bed. Sleep was now the only respite; he could no longer read his books, he could no longer pore over his beloved tools, and he could no longer support his weakening body. Any meals were now delivered far more sporadically; alas, the prince rarely ever ate.

Death was imminent.

His mind had long since given up, and his body was sure to follow.

Any day now. Veritas could only count the seconds, the minutes and the hours—no longer could the youth cross the days off, not when his joints and limbs had petrified.

Death was a mercy the prince would not receive.

It was when Aha next visited THEIR son at the tower that Veritas truly learnt of the state he was in.

No, he was no longer at his tower. That was a lie—a last comfort afforded to the prince.

Poor child, all of this suffering could have been avoided, Aha’s message burst bright in his dulled mind. He thought he felt his index finger twitch.

Would you like to see what you look like? The golden impression faded, as though Aha was waiting for the prince to answer. Well, I suppose you can’t answer either way.

A sort of horrified fascination lingered in the scholar’s mind. Had his flesh, too, been transmuted to an aureate statue?

Did you think you’d join your people as one of MY sculptures? The question shook sympathetically, or maybe it was a dry laugh as the king looked on at THEIR pitiful son.

No, child, you deserve a tragic end befitting MY line.

And thus, the youth blindly awaited his judgement.

Death shall never end thee, for madness will be thy salvation.

No longer did he sense Aha’s presence.

Rather, one last image was transmitted through the king’s enchantment—a cliffside, in which Veritas could faintly see his own features carved into the rock. Then, nothing.

The stone smoothed out, and his image was struck from history forevermore.

. 　⁺ ✦

When the next Day of Silence came and went, the prince was truly mute. He had no mouth, after all—so not a scream left him.

The only thing he had left were his thoughts: one last, final burden.

Is this the cost YOU foresaw, Nous?

Veritas Ratio’s arrogance was no more. And so, the prince’s story came to a swift, acrimonious end. No, not end, for that implied that he was not shackled to limbo. Bound to neither gold nor a statue, he would spend the rest of time waiting to be purified of his sins—for gold was finality. Gold was the most sacrosanct form of death he had not been afforded.

And as the prince continued to count away the seconds, the minutes, the hours and eventually the years which trickled past in the hourglass, only insanity awaited him.

This was the tale of the seventh prince; an elegy hidden from the footnotes of history.

Within the game Lament of Ouroboros, his sorrows were summarised thusly:

A strangely warm vein of ore.

Hero, come here when dusk kisses the edge of the Borderlands. As your palm brushes against the rock, you may be able to feel the pulse of a slumbering prince.

Three sentences were all that was afforded to the disgraced prince, forgotten to all but the Moirai.

Three sentences were how his tragedy was retold.

Three sentences, a final insult to the most pitiful of princes.

. 　⁺ ✦

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silverdrein2 · 8 months ago

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Dancing in shadows.

#tyranny #bleden mark #archon of shadows #my art #tyranny art

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havarija · 2 years ago

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To walk through the Blade Grave is to walk through a blighted landscape of discarded armor and weapons, and high winds of rust and human dust...

#tyranny game #fatebinder #archon of tiers #archon of spiers #i will finish finish writing skyfall #i will

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idyllic-affections · 1 year ago

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if i am the wind, fleeting and transient, you are the steady and constant earth upon which i stand.

summary. kaedehara kazuha's older sibling is a geo-aligned mirror of himself.

trigger & content warnings. references to tomo's death and mentions of sensory overload.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, hurt/comfort. kazuha & older sibling!reader, slight beidou x reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader. reader has a geo vision.

author's thoughts. this was an old draft that i decided to finish bc tbh? kazuha >>> lately i'm finishing and posting old drafts? i think it's because i'm realizing that they aren't even half as bad as i originally thought.

imagine being kazuha's geo bearing older sibling.

kaedehara kazuha is, for the most part, a gentle gale. fleeting, transient, evanescent.

kaedehara [name] is his polar opposite—they are the firm earth. lasting, enduring, permanent.

they were easily one of the raiden shogun's most vocal opposers during the vision hunt decree. how dare she treat her people with such lack of care? the people she should have loved? the people that she had once promised a dream to? where was all that love when she decided to cruelly rip her citizens' visions from them in spite of all the terrible effects such force had? where was all that love?

(even after the decree gets repealed, they would still be a little bitter. they're expected to forgive her, just like that? no. their forgiveness is a thing to be earned; hell, they may simply choose to never forgive her, and after all the pain she caused them and their brother? it would be justified. they do not care if she is an archon.)

"eternity is not complacency in a stasis-like state," they once told kazuha, "but rather, it is the endurance of a legacy for centuries to come. that is eternity."

they stayed back in inazuma, holding off the shogunate while kazuha ran away after tomo's death.

he cried when he had to part from them, but at their command, he ultimately did obey. as much as it hurt him to abandon them, not knowing if they'd somehow manage to escape on their own, he knew they would hate it if he refused to leave. so he did.

thankfully, the resistance took them in. they stayed with kokomi and gorou the majority of the time, helping them push back against the electro archon's tyranny.

kazuha definitely adores his older sibling!! he will literally never say a single bad thing about them to anyone. never. no slander will come from his lips.

when beidou first got to meet them, she was absolutely overjoyed; she can see where kazuha gets his attitude from! they also thanked her profusely for taking such good care of him when they could not. the two got on very well! kazuha was so happy to see some of his favorite people getting along <3

beidou loves them. genuinely.

she always encourages them to come on the alcor. there is always a place for them with her crew! sometimes they do take her up on her offer and they travel teyvat for a while. once their family affairs are settled, they'll start traveling full-time, occassionally returning to inazuma to visit their friends.

she also gets so excited when she knows they'll be on board—beidou likes exchanging stories with them and just... talking. she loves that.

someone had to teach kazuha how to play music on leaves, you know. it was definitely [name].

kazu and his sibling would compliment one another really well in battle. they'd be able to predict one another's next moves based on muscle twitches, changes in stance... it's like they can read each other's minds! they can't. they just know one another inside and out.

sometimes they'll cup their hands over his ears to protect him in situations where he cannot avoid a storm or similar thing that might hurt his ears. this gesture is greatly appreciated. kazuha does what he can to reciprocate that—if they're overwhelmed or overstimulated? his first priority is to get them somewhere calmer. they protect him in his moments of sensitivity, so it's only fair for him to do the same.

i like to think kazuha and his sibling sit and admire scenery together. maybe they point out shapes in the clouds. maybe they take note of interesting sounds they hear in the bushes. however the two spend their time admiring the world, it is always an enjoyable time.

i also think the two would play in the rain, as long as it isn't too heavy <3 dancing in the rain together, taking walks in the rain together... it'a comforting.

sometimes kazuha will lay his head on their lap as if he were some kind of cat, and he'll just fall asleep. a mid-afternoon nap on his older sibling.

on top of all of that, kazuha speaks his mind to his sibling, and he hopes they'll do the same. he wants them to always be honest about what they're thinking and how they're feeling.

he knows that, as the eldest, they may have had to carry heavy burdens all throughout his childhood, while he got the privilege of existing without a care in the world.

the heavy burdens will be no more.

he is old enough to help shoulder the weight, and help shoulder the weight he will.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's headcanons 🌸#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x reader #platonic kazuha x reader #platonic genshin #platonic beidou x reader #beidou x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader

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lovelytreehugger · 5 months ago

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As a cleric, I fell in love with Eilistraee. She's so loving and cares a lot about the drow. So here is an Eilistraee appreciation post.

Eilistraee the Dark Maiden

Godess of beauty, dance, freedom, hunting, moonlight, song, and swordwork.

THE MESSAGE OF EILISTRAEE

"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."

DOMAINS

Light, Nature, Life

CHANNEL DIVINITY

Preserve life, Radiance of the dawn, Charm animals and plants

FAVORED ANIMALS

Silver moths & Silver-striped tabby cats

FAVORED MONSTERS

Aasimar, Light archons, Lythari, Pixies, and Silver dragons

FAVORED MINERALS

Mithral, Moonstone, and Silver

FAVORED COLORS

Silver

Eilistraee;

was the chaotic good drow goddess of beauty, song, dance, freedom, moonlight, swordwork, and hunting. She was the patroness and protector of the few dark elves who longed to return to the surface and live there, at peace with other races, and to abandon the endless conflicts and intrigues that dominated the lives of most drow. She was often referred to as the The Dark Maiden, the Lady of the Dance, or Lady Silverhair, and sometimes The Dark Dancer, among other titles. Briefly, she was known as The Masked Lady, when her faith subsumed that of the Masked Lord Vhaeraun, her divine brother, while the Seven Sisters nicknamed her Darkfire of Love.

She was the daughter of Araushnee (later Lolth) and Corellon Larethian, a free-spirited and kind-hearted goddess, with a fiery streak in her personality. When, during her youth, a host of evil deities assaulted Arvandor (her home), Araushnee's treachery almost made her slay her own father. Even though she was cleared from any guilt, Eilistraee chose to share her mother's exile because she knew that the drow would need her light in the times to come. After the descent of the drow, Eilistraee tried to be a mother goddess to her people and bring them the hope of a new life. She fought to lead them back to the lands of light, helping them to flourish and prosper in harmony with other races, free from Lolth's tyranny and the conflicts that dominated their lives.

Hers was an uphill battle, however, as her power was little, and she was opposed by all the gods of the Dark Seldarine. But, despite having to overcome many hardships and setbacks, Eilistraee never gave up fighting for her people. In the 1370s DR, her conflict with her mother over the souls of the drow race ultimately led to Eilistraee's defeat and disappearance. It lasted for about a century, until the Second Sundering (circa 1480s DR), when Eilistraee returned to life and to her followers.

As an avatar, Eilistraee appeared as a drow female of glowing beauty. She was tall (9 feet/2.7 meters in height) and lithe, with graceful, strong limbs and a glossy, obsidian-dark skin. She usually appeared unclad, cloaked only by her ankle-length hair that shone with a bright silvery hue, and by motes of moonlight that were ever-dancing about her body.

Her face bore a certain similarity to that of her mother, Lolth, as it possessed delicately sculpted features and shape, but her eyes were large, with irises that held the shifting hint of blue of a moonstone, and expressive of her mood or emotions.

When Eilistraee spoke, her voice always carried a soft musicality that made mortals instinctively drawn to it. Such attraction didn't cloud their minds, nor was of magical origin—it was as simple as the sound of a beautiful song.

Overall, the Dark Maiden's appearance inspired utter awe and astonishment, as well as emotions so deep to move mortals to tears. Those who contemplated and listened to her felt as if they had found the answer to all that their soul ever longed for. However, upon her leaving, they would experience a feeling of deep loss, or even desolation, though only for a brief time (as Sharlario Moonflower and his son, Cornaith, felt when the Dark Dancer manifested to them, warning them of the dangers of Ilythiir).

Personality

One moment she was a carefree child dancing like a moonbeam or running like a silver wolf through the forest; the next moment, she was either as seductive as a siren or as serious as a dwarven god.

~ ARAUSHNEE, ON EILISTRAEE.

As a young goddess, Eilistraee was a free spirit with an unpredictable temper. Even as she matured, these traits never really left her: she had a fiery streak and was prone to wild action, especially in protection of her faithful when they were harmed. The evil that was inflicted upon—and perpetuated by—most drow caused a burning anger within her, one that could cause her to lash out, but she was comforted that some worked their way free of the Spider Queen's web.

Due to a history of grief and losses and to the suffering of her people, melancholy and sadness were deeply rooted in Eilistraee's heart. It was a hard battle to endure, one that could weigh her down. However, it had also taught her to search for and nurture beauty everywhere, even in places like the Underdark, where it didn't seem to belong. Eilistraee fought her melancholy by striving to bring hope and joy where there was sorrow so that no moment was lost to gloom and to make life flourish wherever she went. She learned to find happiness in peace and arts, especially music and dance; in simple things like seeing artists composing and performing, craftsmen at their work, and people doing acts of kindness. She especially took delight in helping the needy in various practical ways, with a soft spot for outcasts, and in blessing artists with sudden bursts of creativity and inspiration. Eilistraee valued love in all its forms, be it passion and dedication towards something or someone (nor in elvish), the act of deep and unselfish love (alurlssrin in drowish), longing (ssinssrig in drowish), noble sacrifice (lurraggath in drowish), lovemaking (raggath in drowish; arkhlavae in elvish), and love and loyalty towards one's family and kin (immaea in elvish). She knew all the elven and drow words for all kinds of love, and seeing lovers during tender moments made her happy. Among the Seven Sisters, this earned her the nickname of Darkfire of Love.

The Dark Maiden was particularly close to her people

Aside from providing practical help in their everyday life, she was known to offer comfort and support in various ways, including listening to them as they let out or vented their personal emotions and experiences. When the right time came, she also personally accompanied her followers who died in battle to their afterlife in a moving celebration known as the Last Dance.

According to Rowaan Vrinn,

Eilistraee didn't test her followers, as the challenges of life were enough of a test themselves. She valued the intent behind their actions more than the actual success.

Moreover, Eilistraee refused to act as a commander: she saw herself fit to give advice and help in practical ways, to uplift and make people flufil their potential, never order.

"The Dark Lady smiles on those who see the deeper beauty within."

~ LORDS OF WATERDEEP

Though focused on the drow, Eilistraee accepted folk of all races who danced along her path, who delighted in life and in the free-form expression of it in all its forms. She fought so that all races could live peacefully together, helping and accepting each other despite their differences, and strongly believed in the possibility of redemption for those who had fallen to evil, especially the drow.

♧

#bg3 #bg3 drow #seldarine drow #baldurs gate 3 #eilistraee #bg3 cleric

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syn-amin · 9 months ago

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Natlan + Murata Speculation

(crack theory)

With the recent uproar surrounding the supposed leaks of Murata's design, i've been thinking a TON about what Natlan is going to be like. The lack of information in game is really infuriating, but it is most definitely for a reason, right? We know its location (Fontanian NPC Augustus Lovelace, Quest: Recollections of a Fontanian), we know about the existence of the Mare Jivari (from Venti's story quest), we know about some of the geography, how it has hot springs and volcanoes (two Inazuman NPCs), and we also know that there were, at a point in time, six tribes that ruled the land (reference the "Walking Stick" weapon story). According to Neuvillette, war ravages the land, and it is often referred to as "the nation of dragons." Other than those small bits and pieces, we know nothing. No NPCs from Natlan, and no information on the current Pyro Archon.

So here's a whole bunch of speculation brought to you by yours truly!

Spanish influence in both the Murata leaks and the Natlan Travail score. Murata "leaks" depict a matador inspired design, while the Natlan score has guitars and castanets, which makes it sound like flamenco music or traditional spanish music

Natlan is supposed to be influenced by the americas and africa. Why have spanish influence? Here’s why: colonization, both in real life and in genshin.

In real life, spain colonized a lot of the americas, heavily impacting native cultures

In genshin, many of the children of murata lost their connection with their god due to their struggle for survival and eventual enslavement, thus separating them from their culture

Vennessa, probably the most notable child of murata, stood up against the tyranny of the mondstadt aristocracy alongside venti and ragnvindr. Her red hair is a sign of her descendancy from murata

Vennessa effectively became a Mondstadtian thru the war and her title as the first “Dandelion Knight.” She died in Mond and became the Falcon of the West, which is one of the four winds

This Murata design could look so… european, because of the erasure of muratan culture thanks to enslavement in Mondstadt. The reason she could be an archon is because she fought to reclaim the land that rightly belonged to the muratan people

Which leads me to the reason for war in the first place. Murata might be dead

What leads me to say this? Well, Venti has no clue where Murata is after he awoke from his 1000 year slumber in order to assist Vennessa

None of the archons ever reference her in game. The only thing we do know is that the current pyro archon is NOT one of the original seven, as only venti and zhongli are

The constant war in natlan could be the result of a power struggle, where whoever’s on top at the moment is the acting archon, aka THE PERSON WITHTHE GNOSIS

At the end of the Fontaine Archon Quest, the traveler gets to ask Neuvillette about Natlan. Neuvillette doesn’t know much, saying “it’s a nation of dragons,” and that “war ravages those lands like an undying flame.” The most interesting piece, however, is that “the Captain” aka Capitano, one of the Fatui Harbingers, “has thrown his hat into the endless ring of war.” Neuvillette learned this from Arlecchino in their negotiations.

Why is a Fatui Harbinger fighting in a random war in the middle of the dangerous region of Natlan? There’s only one real reason. For the gnosis.

The Harbingers are allowed their own agendas of course. Signora wishes to “cleanse the world of its crookedness,” Childe wants to become the strongest warrior and fight the gods, Dottore wants to obtain the power of the gods, Scaramouche wants to become a god. But all of these goals (except for Scaramouche’s) serve the Fatui’s mission to collect the seven gnosises.

Capitano may have an alternative motive, but his main one is acquiring the gnosis, likely through means of war.

All of the past archons (and Neuvillette) have given up their gnosis in a manner fitting of their nation’s principals. Venti gave his up freely, not even trying to fight Signora back, despite the fact he very well could. Zhongli gave his up thru a contract. Raiden Ei gave hers to Yae Miko, who then traded it with Scaramouche in order to save the traveler’s life (which in essence is a form of eternity, by saving a life you elongate it), the electro gnosis is then acquired by nahida, who trades it with dottore in exchange for the destruction of his clones (the end of eternity). Nahida’s dendro gnosis is then traded to Dottore in exchange for knowledge on the skies of Teyvat. The hydro gnosis is given to Arlecchino by Neuvillette as a diplomatic gift, as she assisted in the rescue of many Fontanians despite her standing as a Harbinger

This means it is only likely that Capitano will win the gnosis in a war

In the Teyvat Travails trailer, Dainslief says, “the rules of war are written in the womb: the victors shall burn bright, while the losers must turn to ash. When the god of war shares this with the traveler, it is because she has her reasons.”

The metaphors of “victors burning bright” and “losers must turn to ash,” feels suspiciously like the life cycle of a phoenix

Ironically, in the Ars Goetia – a Hebrew collection of demons that the Archons take one of their names from – there is a demon named “Phenex.”

As a child, Vennessa did not learn many of the stories of her people, or her god. One story she did learn, however, is about Celestia. In the story, great heroes would be chosen to live and fight alongside the Gods in Celestia, where the great heroes would effectively become immortal.

In the story of Phenex, Phenex believed after 1200 years he would return to heaven, but he was deceived.

These two stories sound incredibly similar, especially with the allusion to the Phoenix in the Travail teaser, and the return to heaven/celestia.

Phenex has power over life and death, and is able to revive when killed. Venti once knew Murata, but he knows her no more. Perhaps this new archon is Murata rebirthed, born in Mondstadt, but still a child of murata who returns home to reclaim the land.

Additionally, the title for the chapter V archon quest is “Incandescent Ode of Resurrection.” Incandescent means “emitting light due to being heated,” an Ode is a poem in praise of something, and Resurrection, well… rebirth. This could once again point to the allusion to phoenixes thru the imagery of a fiery rebirth.

Perhaps the people are fighting to FIND the god of war, since the one who would win is the one who’s supposed to be the archon right? So if Capitano goes thru Natlan fighting every faction, eventually he’ll find the archon and fight them for the gnosis!

So it is possible that the current archon’s “demon name” is “Phenex,” or some variation of it. It is also possible that there is a constant battle in search of the god and the gnosis, explaining why the Murata Venti knew hasn’t been seen for so long, and why Capitano is (as of the latest mention of him) fighting in Natlan. The mondstadt-looking design depicted in the leaks could be due to the current archon being a descendent of Vennessa, who died in Mondstadt.

this is just speculation tho, and a bunch of wild, unorganized speculation at that. i hope it's at least somewhat comprehensible!

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin leaks #genshin theory #murata #genshin murata #natlan #natlan archon quest theories #capitano is there so that has GOT to mean something #i did have a lot of fun writing all this tho #just a whole lot of brain matter smacked onto a tumblr post

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ownedbythescribe · 2 years ago

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Mondstadt | Lost In You

ıllı Synopsis: Lost in your eyes, in your voice, and in your touch. Even with a simple turn, these men are captivated. For them, there is only you.

ıllı Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader

ıllı A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one! The characters might be a bit out of character, but when in love, I guess they can’t be faulted.

🍁 ALBEDO KREIDEPRINZ — PRINCEPS CRETACEUS

Ever since the Traveler quelled the anger and corruption residing in Stormterror’s heart, the winds within Old Mondstadt had calmed down. It was safer to explore even when alone, but caution was still exercised considering the number of monsters remaining in the area. As one of the researchers in the Knights of Favonius, you were delighted to uncover the unknown history of Decarabian’s sovereignty. Most artifacts unearthed from the rubbles deep in the spire tower were barely hanging by a thread. You had the mistake of holding a stack of paper there only for it to crumble. Even with alchemy, it could only hold for a few hours.

“Every day, I’m grateful for Albedo’s patience in teaching me alchemy. None of these would reach Mondstadt even with careful transportation. Hmm? This is… a diary of Amos?” You muttered, recalling the tragic love story between her and Decarabian. From what historians had written, Amos was Decarabian’s lover whom she begged to see the outside world. Her pleas fell on deaf ears, and so she joined the rebels. During the war, she was brutally killed by none other than her lover.

Historians said that she delusions herself into thinking that Decarabian loved her, and if she were to join the other side, she might get him to look her way again and see the birds fly. Her love was never reciprocated to begin with, they say. However, a part of you thought that the former Anemo Archon must have held affection for her. You knew that Decarabian was a cowardly god keen on keeping his people safe, even in despotic ways. The people of Old Mondstadt saw this as tyranny.

“Decarabian probably thought that this was the best solution. He chose to accept the hate of his people in place of his love. Gods can be narrow-minded at times. He might have found a better solution if he had communicated with the other gods. Of course, I have no qualms with Barbatos, just that….” You stopped, eyes boring at the diary in your lap. During their final moments, what face did Decarabian make when he slayed her? What about Amos?

Tears welled up in your eyes just imagining the heartache of such a tale. It might be one-sided, just as historians claimed, but there could also be a hidden story unseen by the naked eye. Decarabian must have cherished Amos at one point in his life, but how desire blinded him. There was no telling what was running in the god’s mind. Carefully closing the book, you heaved out a sigh and reminisced about your relationship with the Chief Alchemist. Albedo was usually out in Dragonspine for his experiment. Oftentimes, he would come back to the city to check up on you and Klee and report to Jean. He tried to spend time with you, but it was rare. One could measly count the number of times Albedo took you out on a date with their hands compared to the number he spent with Sucrose and Timaeus.

“But I can’t be jealous because Sucrose and Timaeus are sweet people. Albedo also assured me that… we will go to the Windblume Festival together.” You sighed, pulling your knees closer to your chest.

Momentarily, you heard light footsteps coming your way. You glanced behind. Lo and behold, it was Albedo. He was about to ask about your findings until he noticed your red-rimmed eyes. The Chief Alchemist paled, panic starting to settle in his guts.

“Why are you crying, Flower? Did something happen?” He kneeled by your side and cupped your cheeks, wiping the tears that slid down your eyes. His familiar warmth engulfed your senses, and you wanted nothing more than just be selfish, to tell him your deepest desires.

Albedo noticed a diary in your lap, and based on the tenuous pages peaking from the leather cover, it must be one of the ancient relics you dug up. He gave you the ‘Please explain’ look, which you did. Theories and thoughts about Old Mondstadt quickly flew out of your lips as he listened attentively. He noticed one particular topic you seemed so eager about: Amos and Decarabian.

“I see. Indeed, we can never know the thoughts running in a god’s mind, but it doesn’t mean they cannot be understood. I saw cowardice in Decarabian, but he tried to love his people in his way. It was seen as tyranny because he could not communicate properly with them. As for Amos, her love is commendable. She was true to her heart, but in the end, only Decarabian could say if she truly reached him. My view of relationships back then was different. I found it bothersome, especially when maintaining it, but now, I see it as something to look forward to. Do you know why it is, (Y/N)?” He asked, a strange twinkle evident in his eyes. You gave him a confused look which elicited a chuckle from him. He held your right cheek and pulled you for a quick kiss.

“It’s because I get to feel the warmth you humans give. You make me feel like I can be myself in your arms and have nothing to worry about. Lastly, amongst the spectacular sceneries I’ve seen, you are the most fascinating.” He admitted. Your lips quivered at his words. Albedo spoke the assurance you needed, even without you asking for it. You held his hand and looked him in the eyes.

“Do you think we can have a date this week, ‘Bedo? I really missed you.” You asked, a hint of hope tainting your tone. He smiled and kissed your forehead.

“Yes, I’d like that. We can do anything you want.”

🍁 DILUC RAGNVINDR — NOCTUA

“Oh, dear. It seems like you really have not seen your spouse.” Kaeya remarked, surprised about his brother’s casual demeanor. He meant the usual glare and sarcastic attitude the redhead always gives him. The Cavalry Captain slowly sat down in his chair and tilted his head. Irritated by this, Diluc turned to him.

“What do you want?” He gruffly asked. Kaeya raised his hands in concession. The star-eyed male told him he saw you irritated beside the flower stand, mumbling about ungrateful husbands and substandard communications with their partner. Poor Flora, the young one instantly became the target of your anger.

After hearing his words, Diluc paled. He wondered if he had forgotten an important date lately or did not give you enough attention. There was no such moment, but it could be him deceiving himself. Kaeya noticed that change in his demeanor as he furiously wiped the glass and ignored the other side's shoutings. Luckily, Charles was there to keep them civil, at the very least.

“Did you do something, Diluc?” He asked, a hint of teasing evident in his tone, which he immediately masked with a serious one. The redhead gulped and immediately diverted his eyes from anyone. He was sure that there was nothing he forgot or did not do. The date you two planned was still in two days. Plus, he already had everything ready.

“I-I’m not sure, but this is none of your business, Kaeya. Why are you even telling me this?” He asked, finally finding it suspicious. Kaeya shrugged and commented that you were his in-law. He wanted nothing but happiness in your relationship.

Diluc was far from convinced, but he soon found himself thinking about why you ranted about such topics. You two promised to be honest with each other, even at inconvenient times. He remembered you brutally informed him of his dry fashion that Adelinde even joined you. He sulked for a day until you pampered him.

‘Should I wait for them at home early? Charles can handle the bar for the night, and… maybe I could get them some flowers too.’ He thought. Firm with his decision, he approached Charles and talked about it. The bartender was not surprised by his boss’ actions, so he let him go. However, he was curious about the Cavalry Captain.

“Young Master, you know it’s not Master Diluc that (Y/N) had been mouthing off, right?” He asked while preparing the captain’s usual order of Death After Noon.

“Hmm? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Charles. Oh, can you give me some skewers as well?” He grinned. Charles merely shook his head.

Once you were home from your commissions, you were surprised to see Diluc sitting on the couch, tapping his foot nervously. Not only were you confused by his behavior, but also the fact that he was home early. You were aware of his night activities and busy schedule, but that did not stop you from marrying the man. There was no celebration today, and the date you two scheduled was two days away.

“Honey, why are you home early? And why do you look skittish?” You asked, giving Adelinde your groceries before sitting down beside him.

Instantly, you had a bouquet of Cecilias and Windwheel Asters on your face. You were baffled by the gift, but more so when your husband spouted apologies and nonsense in your wake. It was until you told him to slow down that you could understand what he was saying.

“Kaeya told me that you were irked by my lack of affection and gratitude, but please know that I appreciate you, Love. Every day I wake up, I’m grateful that you chose me. I can’t even begin about the things I love about you but—“ You immediately placed a finger on his lips, your cheeks flushed at his words. He was a man of few words, but this? It was too much for your heart.

“I’m sorry, Honey. I think I know what you’re talking about. It’s my commission. One couple placed a commission for me to be a delivery person to give their angry lover flower and gifts with so little money. I got mad because the guy could not even spend a little more for his lover. It’s not you, I promise.” You sheepishly explained, but when you turned to him, Diluc had a scary aura surrounding him.

“That… stupid icicle… He’s going to pay for this.” He muttered. You shook your head, then cupped his cheeks.

“I appreciate every word you said, though. It’s not often you assure me why you married the little old me. Even though our date is two days away, do you want to have a little fun dinner with me, Honey? We can cuddle after.” You suggested. Diluc huffed before pulling you closer to him, nodding at the suggestion. Caressing his hair, you gave him a peck.

“I love you, (Y/N).” He whispered, nuzzling your stomach.

“I love you too, Diluc.”

The next day, Kaeya was banned from Angel’s Share for a week. You patted his shoulder in condolence before leaving for your commissions.

🍁 KAEYA ALBERICH — PAVO OCELLUS

“I can’t believe it! It’s actually snowing this year. Kaeya, look! The street is already covered in white.” You voiced, eyes twinkling at the wonderland ahead of you. The Cavalry Captain was also in awe as it did not snow in Mondstadt last year. It was frigid but not snowing, which was unfortunate.

“Be careful now, Snowflake. You might slip in thin air before you know it.” He teased. You glared at him, but you skidded down the stairs just as he said that. It was so sudden that Kaeya had little time to react. He reached for your left hand and covered you with his body.

Landing with a thud, you glanced at Kaeya and fussed for any injuries. His periwinkle-blue orbs watched you momentarily before pulling down with him for a kiss. Before you could react, he pulled away with a cheeky smile.

“You dummy! I was worried, and you kiss me? Geez!” You huffed, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Kaeya got up and brushed the snow off your head before pulling you up.

“You just looked beautiful, Snowflake. No need to get embarrassed. How about we order the special hot chocolate at Sarah's?” He urged. Your attention was immediately piqued. Not only was their special hot chocolate good, but it was also perfect for the day’s weather.

When you arrived, there was already a line for the drink. Children and couples were out for the day, which warmed your heart. Kaeya noticed your contented face and squeezed your hand. A grin made its way to your face. Soon, it was your turn to order.

“Two cups, please! And… could you more mallows in mine, Sarah?” You hoped. Already knowing your sweet tooth, the owner complied.

“Can’t get enough of sweetness when you’re already so sweet with your lover, (Y/N)?” She teased. You pouted, to which they chuckled. Truly adorable for anyone.

After getting your orders, you two walked towards the bridge and watched the sky blanket Mondstadt in white. You tiptoed forward to get a better look, but Kaeya held your arm in warning. You gave him a bashful look before leaning on his side.

“I wish we could spend more time like this.” You unconsciously muttered. A regretful gleam crossed his eyes, which disappeared as you tightened your hold on his jacket.

“Thank you for this. I can’t wait for our next date.” A grateful smile presented itself on your face. Kaeya nuzzled his head on your neck and kissed it.

“I promise. Next time, we’ll have a longer date. Maybe we can go to Sumeru like you’ve always wanted.” He teased. You lightly laughed, tightening your hold on his. It was a silent promise between you two.

🍁 VENTI — CARMEN DEI

The first day of the Windblume Festival had ended, and there were a lot of new faces around. Most of the people you met were from Sumeru, and they were an interesting batch. Personally, you found the General Maha— apologies, Adventurer Cyno the most entertaining. His unusual jokes even amused Albedo, yet his companions seemed tired of his musings. However, they faced a conundrum that could only be solved with their shared efforts. You prayed to Barbatos that he would keep them safe in their endeavors.

Speaking of Barbatos, the windborne bard was nowhere to be seen. You knew he might be drinking his alcohol somewhere in Mondstadt, but it was unusual for him not to tell you a thing or two. The only interaction you had with him was when you left your shared house to help with the festivities.

“And I brought his favorite apple pie and Dandelion wine too. What a bummer. Could he be at the oak tree again?” You muttered, feet taking you to the said destination. However, the moment your gaze landed on the area, there was no hint of Venti being there. It started to worry you. Shifting your eyes to the sky, you sighed.

Suddenly, a familiar tune reached your ears. It was muddled, but you recognized it as the music Venti had been playing and revising for days. It was good as it was, but he pressed that it needed to be the best. For what reason? He did not say.

Following the tune in the wind, you found yourself in Starsnatch Cliff. The starry sky captivated you. The intricate details filled your mind with wonder.

‘Even though we’re so small compared to the vast sky, I’m still grateful to see this beauty in my life.’ You thought. The wind blew once again, and it carried a new tune. This time, it was complete and full of emotions.

Venti sat by the cliff, still playing the tune he had revised for this moment. The winds whispered your arrival, and he knew that you would prefer to listen in silence, so he did. Every note the bard took bewitched your heart, falling deeper in your affections. By the time he was done, he had smiled at you and urged you to sit beside him.

“Did you like my gift to you, Windblume?” He anxiously asked. You blinked owlishly. It was his Windblume gift for you. No wonder it felt like it was composed in your image.

“I did, Venti. It was the most beautiful piece I’ve heard in my life.” You voiced, a soft smile gracing your lips. He took your right hand and pecked it.

“All for you, my dear Windblume. Oh? Is that Dandelion wine I smell?” An excited gleam twinkled in his eyes. You shook your head at his enthusiasm before taking out the food you had prepared for him.

“Since my Windblume cooked my favorite dish for me, I shall gift you another precious item!” He exclaimed.

Before you could ask, a single Cecilia appeared in his hand. You could tell that it was different from the other species around you. Venti grinned and claimed he used his power to protect and preserve the flower. Hence, it would not wither away or get damaged when you are out for commissions. You reached for it and smiled. It seemed like all Venti did for today was make your lips curl up. A contented sigh left your lips before you went for your surprise.

“Huh—“ You pulled Venti down for a soft kiss. He tasted sweet, a hint of Dandelion wine on his tongue. The archon flushed at the intimacy, but he welcomed it. Venti slumped on your figure while you held his cheek to deepen the kiss. It was not usual that he got to see this side of you. He loved it.

“Happy Windblume Festival, Venti.”

Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!

#genshin impact #genshin #fluff #romance #slight angst #albedo #diluc #kaeya #venti #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #venti x reader

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