heavenlyprinciples

[heavenlyprinciples]

remilia vc: hello childe :')

❝ remilia, ❞ he says. the way he says her name is sickeningly sweet, full of reverence, full of greed / like no one else should be able to call for her, like he is the only one allowed to follow in her footsteps. [ HE IS: a believer, a devotee / SHE IS: his god, his lover. ] tartaglia smiles, all teeth and all affection. ❝ my dearest, how have you been? ❞

[heavenlyprinciples]

i would like to point out that while mona is technically rich, due to her spending her money on various expensive astrological objects, she is still working class. arguably you could have called her middle class when she was still living under and given an "allowance" under barbeloth. currently, however, mona is nothing of the sort. she has a spending problem, obviously, but this is due to the fact that she views astrological instruments as most important in her life-- even above actual necessities. mona has savings, yes, but astrological or divination instruments are worth dipping into them for, but... notably, not other things,

under the cut is a just a ramble about mona's relationship with food. disordered eating mention under the cut.

so it's no secret that mona, obviously, views food as the last expense she needs to cover. i don't think this is for no good reason-- i think it speaks more about mona, who thinks going hungry if needed is fine. not to say she doesn't eat, of course; she obviously does, and she often depends on her friends to feed her, but i do think mona just has a? complicated relationship with food. it's just subtle enough that others won't notice and that she struggles to call it an eating disorder, but it exists nonetheless.

generally, if mona does not have the spare money for food, and no one offers her food to eat, mona will simply go about her day hungry. this happens more often than one may like. mona does not keep extensive tabs on calories or the like anymore (she had a stint when she used to), doesn't particularly find herself ugly or overweight (nor particularly beautiful- just her personal opinions), and will eat when she has the means to, but she won't go out of her way to ask for food when in need.

[heavenlyprinciples]

it all comes back to that, in the end—— what he deserves, for being what he is. a mother decided he didn't deserve life, and sentenced him to death. and in the same vein, he did not deserve to die—— neither from the most vile acid or the sharpest blade, and was forced to live on instead. a meager, pitiful, half-existence—— WAS IT SUCH A CRIME TO WANT MORE?

( yes, yes it was. to want more than he deserved, to steal more than he was given. to suffice on scraps is more than enough, for something as unloved as him. a voice, soft and motherly, whispers in his mind: come back to the portrait, and be happy. )

❝ and why, ❞ it asks, ❝ does he? ❞ the wind howls—— bites at exposed skin, turns it red, red—— but it is not an answer. ❝ why does he deserve it? ❞ to them—— oh, to them, rubedo is the mirror image, the one who stole another man's face. BUT THE TRUTH IS REVERSED, ISN'T IT?

( it was his first, wasn't it? )

They've changed places — he, emptied out. She, full to bursting, panicking. He's bleeding but LUMINE'S DYING. A hand presses to their face, breath coming too fast. It's so disgusting, that a creature so disgusting / so like Lumine could look like Albedo, who is so bright, so kind, who sees Lumine not as a tool to use but as a person to love.

BOTH OF THEM ARE LESSER COPIES, BOTH OF THEM ARE BROKEN, NEITHER CAN EXIST ON THEIR OWN. Lumine knows with startling, serrated clarity that if it looked like a stranger / IF IT LOOKED LIKE LUMINE! / there would be little more cathartic than killing it.

( when did you become such a monster? another way they're so alike. )

"You don't deserve to be him," she spits ( at rubedo? at herself? ), staring down through their fingers.

[heavenlyprinciples]

if mother could see me, the worthless copy thinks, what would she say? the better question, of course: would she say anything at all? sitting here, in a cell barely as big as durin's heart, would she be as disgusted as the day he was created? rubedo doesn't need an answer, of course. ( for the dutiful son understands his mother well. ) but it was easier, almost bearable with a stranger's face stretched across its own—— because for moments, it could pretend. could believe it was as human as it wanted to be.

( and when the curtain fell, when the portrait was revealed—— the illusion was shattered. it will never be rebuilt. )

❝ feeding me, ❞ it repeats, monotone and unreadable. its eyes don't even bother shifting to meet the traveler's. ❝ ha, ha. like me and my brethren need to eat at all. ❞ oh, but that's the joke, isn't it? HE SHOULD LAUGH, SHOULDN'T HE? he tries, but it comes out—— wrong.

( in fate's twisted inversion, he had forgotten—— that this body is not his own, that he is a stranger instead. how shrill his laugh sounds, how disgusting it feels scraping the roof of his mouth.

oh, but that's the joke, isn't it?

that he wants to be himself now. )

“ i like it better when you look like this— ” it makes it easier to not hate you. a bench is dragged closer to the iron bars separating them, the sound grating to their own ears. they bear no wounds, no bandages, but they move like they have been, delicate and slow like it’d save them from opening the bloodless wound on their chest. sol stares at @heavenlyprinciples, sees a different face— a far cry from the man he stills adores— and thinks it an act of kindness. ( because at least they don’t need to look at him, or hear his voice. at least their heart can’t break twice. ) “ you look tired, ” it observes, dull in voice, eyes half-lidded and staring at the floor. “ have they been feeding you? ”

[heavenlyprinciples]

it unnerves her—— the way albedo stares at her so intensely, thanks her so earnestly—— and mona cannot help but avert her gaze. her head dips, an instinctual move that attempts to use her ridiculous hat as a shield, but. but! stupid, foolish girl, you aren't even wearing it. the tips of her ears tinge red as she clears her throat, finding herself floundering to reply.

( stupid, foolish girl. this is no time for flights of fancy, not when such danger lurks within the city's walls. and besides—— dreams are better off as dreams, where the stars will never judge them. for why would albedo ever look at her? penniless, hungry girl—— her starvation will ruin her. )

❝ i'll——! i'll keep that in mind, sir albedo, ❞ she says, stepping into her confidence like a well worn glove. ❝ but please, there's no need. a task like that is nothing but a stretch of the muscle. ❞ nevermind the fact that she barely has anything substantial to prepare, let alone eat, in her home. ( how dare you! she hears fischl squawk in her ear, only now you have humility? well, it's natural, isn't it? that a girl wants to impress someone she—— )

❝ you should go home and eat with klee instead. ❞

he watches in silence, knows better than to interrupt when one is focused on their craft. the language of the stars is one he has no extensive knowledge on / a lesson his mother opted to teach with one single book and summarized remarks, both provided by the same inventive astrologer. so albedo observes until she is finished with her divination, until she turns to address him with the news. ❛ your help is greatly appreciated, miss megistus. we'll continue on with careful monitoring and subtle preparations until the windblume festival. ❜ there should be enough distrust and unease planted by then / a meal so deliciously prepared, the poison would go unnoticed.

her words are protectively tucked away into the pocket of his coat, where they will remain until there is nobody before him but trusted captains and the acting grand master. but she brings up an interesting point that has the chief alchemist turning to face her, even taking a step closer to get a proper look at celestial features. ❛ it'll be no good if we work ourselves ragged. we're in a dangerous situation, but not enough to warrant disregarding one's own health. ❜ 

gloved hand comes to rest against where alchemic heart beats within the chest, gaze never faltering in sincerity. ❛ allow me to prepare you a meal, as my thanks for everything you've done. ❜

[heavenlyprinciples]

me and amari and sparky and namine just hitting each other bats over and over

[heavenlyprinciples]

gonna have to update my rubedo meta (spoilers undercut)

because it's starting to sink in how deeply miserable and pitiable rubedo is. like, he was abandoned essentially at birth for being imperfect, and forced to live in his own personal hell that was durin's stomach due to the fact that he couldn't die in it- only to escape and see a mirror of yourself living the life you never got to have. and when you try to steal it for yourself, you realize that it's not yours to have, and your mirror-self- your brother- kills you. and you can't even stay dead, because durin decides you cannot be laid to rest and DEVOURS YOU AGAIN. FORCES YOU TO LIVE IN THE SAME HELL THAT RAISED YOU ONCE MORE. what else is left for you when the world seems to deny you your right to happiness?

[heavenlyprinciples]

the shifting mound movements are very venti core btw

[heavenlyprinciples]

barbatos is an absent god. neglectful, uncaring, silent; everything his people have whispered about him for thousands of years, he knows, is true. ( because this, too, is freedom: to be able to turn their back to him as they wish. ) barbatos is a cruel god, has heard many prayers crying out his name ( for love / for glory / for salvation ) and let them fade away with the wind, but a prayer from lumine——

—— lumine, he will not leave unanswered.

( a sinner's penance. a god's embrace. aren't they one and the same? )

❝ i'm here, ❞ she says, as the winds carry her home. appearing in a burst of feathers and dandelion tufts, a mockery of an angel illuminated by gentle light; barbatos is a loving god, that carries each wayward child of hers home, that brings her star back into the skies. ❝ i'm here, lumine. ❞ hands that fret, afraid to touch / afraid to hurt more than they already have / afraid to shatter his shell completely, hands that hang in the air, waiting for him to take.

❝ what do you need? ❞

@heavenlyprinciples / venti & lumine.

Venti is a liar. Venti is not better — not really — than anyone else on this world. Like the other gods, he has used and betrayed her, lied with his eyes and his words and by omission. She is kind to Lumine, but not good to Lumine. Gods are never good to Lumine. No one is ever good to Lumine.

—— But. But. The predictability is something. Lumine expects a using / a lying / they expect the story to repeat and repeat. Lumine expects Venti to smile while the hurt enters her like a knife. It still aches, but it isn't as bad as a surprise.

It isn't as bad as ———

"Venti," Lumine says softly, standing in one of Mondstadt's many fields. They're attuned to Anemo now; they can sense she's near. They know she can hear them on the wind that loves them both. "I need you. Please."

[heavenlyprinciples]

❝ 𝒓𝒖𝒃𝒆𝒅𝒐 is a latin word meaning ‘ redness ’ that was adopted by alchemists to define the fourth and final major stage in their magnum opus. both gold and the philosopher's stone were associated with the color red, as rubedo signaled alchemical success, and the end of the great work. ❞ ──── fake albedo meta compilation post. art credit, previous version. subject to change.

my fake albedo is based on the one that we see in the ending cutscene of act 2 of the event. considering that albedo is a stage within the alchemical process, i've named him rubedo until we get more lore, if any. this is mainly due to the fact that fake albedo is associated with the color red, seen on the whopperflower page of the event tab and his connection to durin. it is also meant to be ironic; despite rubedo being a sign of success, the fake albedo was anything but.

( he is also affectionately called bepo <3 )

addendum, 04.25.2025: i wanted to note that he may also use the alias dorian when outside of mondstadt, calling back to the leaks about his npc model being named as such.

his reasoning for his plan was to experience that joy that albedo speaks of in his monologue, but it was additionally borne out of jealousy. it doesn’t understand why albedo was allowed to live while it was sentenced to be killed by durin. all that rubedo was ever allowed to experience was cruelty; from rhinedottir abandoning it, to being unable to die in durin's stomach. it envies albedo and wants his life for itself, and thus hatches a plan the only way it knows how. if taking albedo's place is what he needs to do, then it will.

despite this, however, being ‘ albedo ’ only causes rubedo more misery. it hates being albedo but sees no other option in order to be loved. because rhinedottir abandoned him for albedo, the perfect specimen—— how could he ever compare, as a failure? he has abandonment issues holds onto the belief that he isn't good enough on his own, and this further feeds into his jealousy of albedo. after a few years of this, it has devised a plan to take his place and it finally ventures into mondstadt for the first time in the event, although it leaves out of frustration soon enough. i do believe that the albedo we see near the end of the event is rubedo, but he is not looking to take albedo's place quite yet—— he's researching, in a way. his sudden appearance was influenced by listening in on albedo's story.

addendum, 04.25.2025: rubedo is undeterred by what happened in the event, but has changed the angle of its plan slightly. no longer merely content with simply being albedo, it may seek to ruin albedo's life so that he can share in its misery.

addendum, 05.08.2025: this sudden change in plan was concocted by rubedo in his final moments before albedo kills him, and then carried out by durin.

as a note: i think that after being given to durin to destroy, only to be birthed after its death, either the memory of the dragon haunts him or somehow, a piece of durin's soul latched onto him. for this reason, rubedo has one red eye and one blue. however, it does possess the ability to hide it; like a trick of the light, in a way.

so with the new event, rubedo's future is definitely up in airs. at the very least, here's an addendum with things that we know, for sure, happened in canon:

rubedo was killed by albedo after the events of shadows amidst snowstorms, who buried him on dragonspine. despite this, durin sent monsters to unearth his body and bring it back for him to devour.

after devouring rubedo ( again! ), durin gained access to his memories, before ultimately deciding to revive him.

rubedo was then tasked with impersonating hertha, seeing as he is the most advanced out of the other mimics and the most experienced with dealing with humans.

rubedo was captured after the events of the second trial, and he and the other mimics remain in the knight of favonius' custody. what will happen to him next is unknown.

as it stands now, my rubedo will be canon compliant with this.

[heavenlyprinciples]

what an audacious question—— tartaglia sits upon the broken pieces of the golden house's floor as sol wakes up again, twirling an arrow between his fingers. of course they waited, of course they're still here—— why would sol expect otherwise? on good days, it's what they do for each other; stand vigil over the corpse, until the heart beats once more. but today is not a good day, is it?

❝ because you, ❞ he says, body embroiled in an otherworldly rage, ❝ gave up. ❞

the words are spat out / accusatory / A WITNESS CALLED TO THE STANDS? / what use is a mockery of a fight? why bother with the charade at all? tartaglia throws aside the useless arrow as they jump down from their perch, strides slow and purposeful as they approach sol. well then, amuse me—— and what did they do instead? it stops just in front of the traveler with a tilted head and vacant expression. a wolf staring down cornered prey, since that's what they have offered themselves up to be.

( BUT HIS INFATUATION DOES NOT LIE WITHIN A PREY ANIMAL. )

❝ why did you do it? have you lost your mind? ❞ gnashing, biting, colder than the snezhnayan chill. ❝ that's disappointing, comrade. i didn't know you lacked such respect for me! ❞ he laughs, and the sound is cruel. ❝ if you're not going to give me a fight, don't come here at all. ❞

they let him win this time.  they make sure to swing their sword with vigor,  and they make sure to drag him through the floors of morax’s tomb, act like they mean to kill ‘til the very end.  side-step,  dodge,  and they see the killing blow.  body hits the ground,  diaphragm stops moving,  and for a moment,  tartaglia gives a god the luxury of peace.    (    but that never lasts forever,  no matter how much they wish it does these days.    )  like always,  the gold of their eyes brighten and decloud—  faster with each death—  and at long last,  they push themself upright.

@heavenlyprinciples is still there when it wakes;  perched against one of the house’s pillars,  blood trickling down their chin and knuckles bruised to hell.  waiting for them.  sol coughs,  represses the urge to heave.  manages enough energy to scoot themself along the floor and press their back against the column.    “ you’re still here,    ”    it mutters,  like it just noticed it after all this time.  ( like it wishes childe could do otherwise. )  they clutch the wound on their abdomen,  waiting for it to piece together and leave yet another mark to look at.    “ why do you do that? ”

[heavenlyprinciples]

LOOK AT WHAT AMARI DREW FOR ME CHIJIRA MY WORLD

[heavenlyprinciples]

@ruinedheart, for albedo —— it's not a surprise that he's asking her for this, in the end—— their wards are great explorers of the universe, experimenters with fate, etcetera and the like ... but most of all, they do not leave things to chance. mona turns her scryglass, looks into this hertha's future, and watches the lines between the stars—— shatter. this, without a doubt, is proof: subject two has taken the bait. mona lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and dispels her scryglass with a flick of her hand. ❝ the hertha that came back isn't the real hertha. no hitches in your plan ... so far. ❞

it's hard to shake the unease, of course. the fact that someone can be replaced so effortlessly with a mimic, a fake—— mona hates it. even more now, knowing that it could have been albedo before hertha had ‘ disappeared ’ and it had taken her place. how many times had it smiled at her with his face, without her suspecting a thing? it's sickening—— it's maddening, the fact that she'll never know.

all she can do now is keep an eye on it, scrutinize the fates of every person in mondstadt until the stars refuse her once more. ❝ gods, i don't think i'll get a wink of sleep 'til this thing is caught. ❞

[heavenlyprinciples]

❝ there's no need for formalities, monsieur. ❞ the words are quiet, in contrast to the theatrical way she pulls out a handkerchief. a practiced motion that ensures she dabs, not smudges, at her eyes—— before she freezes halfway through the motion, realizing her act. not to worry, though, her body is used to this! so she continues, even if the action is more subdued. no longer an archon, not quite a human; she is still adjusting, caught between two extremes she has never fully understood. ( perhaps ... this is what she senses, amidst each stroke of paint. ) furina clears her throat, as the embarrassment that tinges her cheeks and ears red truly settles in. ❝ i—— it must be something in my eyes ... because a painting like yours shouldn't feel so—— so sad, correct? ❞ the colors are so warm, so lively! surely, she's just overreacting?

could she feel it? there is something profound in the phenomenon that was pieces of artwork; nothing more than parchment and medium when broken down to its most simplistic cores, and yet somehow capable of bringing out the rawest form of emotion. there could be no more than twenty or so strokes on the canvas currently, and the hydro archon had already been brought to tears — was it adoration for the arts? was her heart more finely tuned to the subjective matter behind creation? or could she  feel what was hidden in the undertow? ❛ there's no need to apologize, lady furina. it's common for artwork to leave one so moved. i can only hope the piece continues to carry the emotion as i progress with it. ❜ for it was a celebration / a song of honor for a fallen brother.

[heavenlyprinciples]

ha.

ha, ha, ha.

it's not funny, though, is it?

it stares up at the snowy sky after the traveler backs away, quiet as a wave of apathy hits it. the clouds surge with the winds / the snow crunches underneath her footsteps / and rubedo, stares. was the sky always so dreary? was the snow always so cold? slowly, it pushes itself up, like a man dredged back from death.

( ha, ha, ha. )

he turns to the traveler with a neutral expression—— truly, this time. he has no emotion to hide / wasn't this true from the beginning? / and no reason to emote. A BLANK PORTRAIT FOR THEM TO PAINT THEIR LOVED ONE ONTO. isn't this what he wanted?

( —— no. )

❝ ha, ha, ❞ rubedo says. ❝ this is what i deserve, isn't it? ❞

WHY DOESN'T SHE JUST KILL IT. WHY DOESN'T SHE JUST KILL IT. She doesn't — can't — understand why every shackled cell of her fights and screams that she cannot kill this fucking thing. Schisming / breaking / YOU SHOULD KILL ME. She should. She should. SHE ———

His blood on her hands / his hateful eyes / her lips part, unthinking, she says, terrified and angry, "Stop, Albe ——"

Lumine stops. Lumine realizes. Lumine lets go, staggers backwards, almost retches, hands pressing to his chest and through as he doubles over, as if he can't breathe. BLASPEHMOUS. SINNER! TO, FOR EVEN A MOMENT, FOR EVEN A SLIVER OF YOUR SICKENED SOUL, TO THINK OF YOUR LIFE AS COMPARABLE TO THIS MONSTER! Lumine realizes, understands, HATES HIMSELF FOR EVEN THINKING IT.

it has the same face as the only person in this world who's never sought to use her. she can't kill something with his face.

They are not the same. They are not. But Albedo, he —— touched the scar, kissed their freckles — got angry when he was harmed ——— Albedo loves Lumine, Lumine can't ——— can't see Albedo and not ———

[heavenlyprinciples]

so i've marinated on everything for a bit and i'll leave my thoughts undercut. 5.6 spoilers below

i'm like... happy with everything that got revealed, don't get me wrong, but i will say i'm not exactly. on board with how they paced this? i assumed this would take more time, even multiple acts, because this was such a big story they were alluding to—— spanning quite literally over three events!—— the fact that everything ended in less than 3 hours, for me, just feels so... meh. sparky said it best when she said they paced this like an event. i just think we could have added more weight to things.

there were such convenient loopholes in order to make things work out and i think the writers knew that a lot of their current fanbase wasn't around for the first two albedo centric events, so a lot of things were sort of hamfisted in. (like... the traveler conveniently forgot that subject two existed until the second trial???) this is more centered around my problem with genshin not having an event backlog like honkai star rail, but i feel like it's important enough to mention now as well.

again, though, i'm really happy with what's been revealed, i just wish they executed it better.

[heavenlyprinciples]

her affection is always, always, always welcome; tartaglia leans down, ever hungry for it. ❝ not as much as you, ❞ they say, ever the doting lover. she asks for praise—— who are they to deny it? ( she could ask for their heart—— they'd rip it out themself. ) ❝ you're like a dream. i was half tempted to step back and let you handle everyone all on your own. ❞ a hand curls, possessively, around her waist, pressed into the dip of it. ❝ i couldn't let this slide, though. ❞

how dare they? attack when she's his. ( his, aika, or his, to maim? ) his fingers play with the tattered fabric—— yes, how could he let it go unpunished? his, his, his. the proof is all around them; the broken bones, the fading lives, the blood that stains. ❝ don't worry, sweet thing, i'll order you a new one. ❞ or two, or twenty. ❝ shall we get you some new jewelry as well? i can ask my men to bring me some catalogues. ❞

The glamour falls from her flesh as the last one dies; only her killer gets to see the scars, only her killer ever gets to see her anything other than perfect. ( her killer, HER LOVER, or her killer, AIKA'S MURDERER? ) But — "My dress!" It's a petulant, spoiled whine — her lovely pink dress, once skating just below her thigh ( a paragon of modesty, compared to the rest of her wardrobe ) is ripped at the hem, stealing a few precious inches — worse, there's a tear through the fabric that should cover her stomach and the right sleeve, once billowing and delicate, is ruined entirely. It's her fault for being sloppy, playing with her food, but STILL! "Ugh! This was custom - ordered!"

His praise soothes most of her annoyance, and blue eyes raise to meet its — they move closer to it, stepping over bodies, pouting at the reach him. "Keep praising me, it'll distract me from my grief." She tugs it down, going up on her tiptoes for a kiss, lingering, tasting the blood on his mouth. It tastes sweet, like their shared obsession. It's a whisper against his mouth, "You were beautiful, too."