#◟༺✦༻◞ Lament of a fallen seraph ┊Thread.┊

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

                         A Story in Spring : Renewal {1/3} 

"I have a proposition for you."

The walls of the fallen seraph's humble hut had so far been something of a passive comfort, yet Lithirill found no sense of ease.  Her host, and fellow Tel'lmaltath could certainly tell, eyeing her with some hint of concern, slowly rising to his full height, turning to face her once the fire had suitably caught. "Go on."

The encouraging mannerism was commonplace in their interactions thus far, but it didn't do much to make her desirous of speaking her mind, as images played in her head of all she had been plotting in secret, only thinking to bring the matter to him when she -knew- beyond a doubt she could -achieve- her goals. "It is a...personal matter, to you specifically.  I hesitate to even ask, truthfully." At that notion, her company raised  a sculpted brow. How he might've read her words differed from what she seemed to mean by her body language; a normally stood straight, confident woman now half hunched and barely maintaining eye contact.  He simply watched, resting a hand along his hip. It was the only prompt to continue she was going to get. "...Right.  -Arkt-.  I will speak plainly." even then she hesitated, a sigh accompanying an expression of complete honesty, "...I want to reconstruct your wings. I would see you fly again."  

There weren't many things reality could offer him that still surprised, but that had done it, the gentle carefulness in her tone most of all. It wasn't just an offer, but a plea. Arkt's gaze fell to his floorboards, called back to the moment she had seen the tattered remnants, and the conversation that followed where he learned much and more about the individual he chose to champion. Her perseverance in the face of impossible odds had ensured his second chance at freedom from past mistakes, yet here she was still giving. It was not debt fueling her either, but desire, leading him to a thought forgotten sensation; confoundment.

Lithirill only fidgeted in the quiet, narrowing her eyes in passive calculation, half braced for some kind of impact. It took him some several moments to recover, clearing his throat. The ever-present ache at his back he'd still struggled with flared up. Even to this day, the injury pained him, centuries "dead" had been his only reprieve.

"You are firmly familiar with the reasons I lost them in the first place..." he began, watching his company instinctively tense, ready for rejection; instead he would give her a question, "Knowing that, I must ask -why-? To what end would you go to such efforts?" Asked with genuine curiosity, over any manner of accusation; he suspected her of nothing.

Lithirill nodded, crossing her arms and easing her weight onto one leg. "History was one among a few reasons I have debated asking. As for why, well. I feel there are certain wrongs afflicted to those I’ve come to care for, and it is within my power to unravel those wrongs.”

Arkt watched her carefully crafted mask slipping, the woman ever at odds with herself. He wondered if there would ever be a time where she did not engage in the practice, and simply felt at home in his company.

"As you did with Arantheal?"  he questioned, curious to see if he could keep her at that boundary.

Lithirill puzzled over the question for a moment, pondering if it was harmless comparison or an accusation. Foolish to think it the latter, knowing Arkt had no history of resisting her intent.

"...Yes. As I did -for- Narathzul." She corrected, offering a sideways nod and a shrug, "Know I don't need an answer -today-. I only wanted you to know that the idea lingered in mind long enough to...plan for.”

Ultimately, Arkt was touched. Shock still kept a whirlwind of emotions at bay at the mere hint of taking to the skies again, permitting the warmth of the smile behind his veil to only grow as he watched her. She was not having so easy a time, clearly having wrestled with herself on the matter for awhile.

"Is this what has kept you from your usual visits of late?" he wondered, gesturing with a hand in a motion pushing down from his midsection;  'Relax.' he said silently.

Her eyes followed his hand, flicking up to his face like the lash of a serpent's tongue before she took in a breath and let it out, chuckling to herself.  

"In part. Alongside the politicking and the visits somewhere warmer. Thoughts?"

He sighed through his nose as he partly answered with the considering tilt of his head and a prolonged shutting of his eyes, continuing to chew on the notion.

"Too many to rightly voice in a manner composed or remotely understandable. Would you mind returning to Castle Darlan for the moment? I'll have an answer for you come the evening."

"Of course.~"

The professional manner in which she pulled herself together and turned from him showed a wall climbing between them that he had no patience for, the old seraph chuckling when she moved to open the door.

"Lithirill."  

She twitched, shoulders bunching as her fingers fumbled at the doorknob, before she straightened again and smiled a familiar, shy curve over her shoulder. Her eyes lit up a touch when she saw he’d pulled down his veil.

"Yes?"  

"...Thank you."  he spoke, genuine appreciation clear in his expression.

A hint of color, and the wall scattered; his only goal in the moment. She departed with an amused, "See you soon.", quickly on her way.

                                                   ~~~ As promised, Arkt had arrived that evening, uncharacteristically anxious, but Lithirill could hardly blame him. She could not imagine the weight of what her offer truly meant to him.

In times long gone, the loss of his wings, however deeply traumatic, had served a purpose; symbols had power, as much in their creation as their destruction and his fall signaled the end of an era where the Lightborn could rule without fear of repercussion. Yet now that all his battles were over, and this new life lay before him...

It was not long before the old seraph was waxing poetic, teetering back and forth in his words, as was his way. He all but danced between every sentence- whilst Lithirill only offered more wine when his glass neared empty. She refused to rush him in coming to a decision, simply enjoying his company, equal parts devilishly curious and genuinely empathetic.

Such camaraderie came to it's end at the dawn of the following day, Arkt admitting in the quiet of the morning fog that he accepted her offer; even with her many warnings of risk and pain, he had seen firsthand what she was capable of; he knew he was in good hands, even if a fair few of her achievements were with his shadowed aid.

Two weeks had passed since he agreed to her offer, wasting no time in getting started. The first bout had been the hardest thus far- having not yet known just how -much- it took to render a seraph numb, and having the unfortunate task of plucking the feathers he still had. A meticulous, painful, unexpectedly bloody process...but it was safer to start with a clean slate than try to rebuild all that was under them when half the limb had been shorn down to bare bone.

Trippling the dosages from there made things much easier, at least for Arkt. His struggle was not with pain in the familiar sense now, it came instead from a nameless sensation;  the agonizingly slow return of what should never be, able to sense every -tiny- thread of what was lost reconnect. It was as torturous as it was euphoric, and it could only be overcome by sheer force of will.

Tonight would be no different. Lithirill had learned his tells after a few sessions. When in the throes of her spell work, she could spare little attention for observance, but awareness returned as she dialed back, murmuring gentle nothings mostly for her own comfort; though it signaled to Arkt he could stop taking such measured breaths.

The touch of the Sea crept away like the retreating tide, Arkt opening hazy eyes, idly stretching his fingers.  He knew well enough not to move until his companion told him to do so, watching her over his shoulder. There was a slight notion of fear that kept him from immediately looking upon his wings, naked and ghastly as they were. He only had eyes for Lithirill's face, noting the knitted brow and how she clicked her tongue when observing progress, pondering how to proceed.

"I'd hoped to have had bone completely covered by now..." she lamented, drawing again the magicked circles that held his wings in subtle regeneration between sessions, "I've underestimated how deeply the burns go. I should’ve-”

"You need not fret, Lithirill."  Arkt spoke up, a look of assurance crossing fair features, "This shall take as long as it will take, and you have plenty to grapple with without adding the unnecessary elements of haste and worry.~"

"...Perhaps. Still, I don't savor putting you through further pain I could have avoided." she spoke idly, glad he could not feel it as she undid the slings above, gently moving the humble beginnings to rest on cushions whilst she worked tension from developing musculature.

"We went into this knowing it would be difficult. We will endure." he replied, his tone as much an attempt to comfort as it was a statement of fact; she was far too deep in it now to safely -stop-.  "Which for you to manage, requires heady use of those flasks behind you, as I recall."

It was a gentle, but earnest jab to not neglect her own health whilst taking care of him. She might have been Tel'lmaltath, but healing at -this- level for such prolonged bouts tested the limits of even legendary resolves, and Arkt did not fancy the idea of a Shadow God turned Oorbaya.

Satisfied with her ministrations, she sighed and nodded, letting her hand trail down his back as she turned and gingerly stepped away to pluck a flask of Ambrosia from a stockpile. The edges of a smirk tugged at his lips as she made a show of drinking half the vial like it didn't taste awful, raising both brows at him in a silent 'satisfied?'.

"...-Thank- you." he muttered, humming a chuckle, "Do not lose sight of your own well being in concern for me. I must stress, we have nothing but time."

Lithirill tilted her head at him as her eyelids drooped, well accustomed now to the odd heated popping in her ears as the Ambrosia did its work, blanketing the red pressure in her head and quieting the skittering under her skin.

"-Now- whose fretting?" she teased, setting down the flask so she could help him to stand, not letting his wings droop as she supported them from the base, "I don't intend to go hurrying into the arms of the Blue Death, I promise. Come now.~"

Twas a short jaunt to the spare bedroom within her personal quarters, Arkt leading the way and Lithirill matching his steps. The seraph counted his blessings that his pride could not be so easily wounded as she settled his wings into yet another set of slings, these ones arranged to allow them to safely hang whilst he rested. He knew -she- worried about such mental troubles, but he was far too old and that much more taken by fascination in all she insisted upon doing for him to care for foolish things like shame.

"Tell me something, Lithirill." he said, eyes on her as she arranged the vials that would help him sleep, and come the morn, ease his pain,  "What do you suppose I'm meant to do in return for all of this?"  

The question was laced with an undertone of playfulness that reminded her of when the seraph had taken an almost catty tone in Arktwend, all but making -gossip- of the infatuation between those who'd brought Narathzul into the world. She could only raise a brow at him in plain curiosity, willfully stepping into whatever trap this might have been.

"That is hardly a matter to burden the likely recipient, don't you think?  Or am I -supposed- to be reading between some manner of line here?" The teasingly scrutinizing gaze she leveled upon him was nothing to the coy look he gave her beneath the messy strands of his hair, the two locked in a quiet contest before she relented; as she always did where he was concerned. "...ponder and plot all you like, my friend. But hold to that patience you've assured me with. I would say it is early yet to be planning anything more than recovery."  she offered.

Arkt sighed through his nose at that, uncapping the cork to her sleeping drought and drinking it down with a quick chaser of water. Her answer was as good as any. Ponder and plot indeed then.

"Fair enough. Rest well, when you find it."  he bid gently, offering only a smile. For a would be God according to most's definition, who had seen millennia pass and returned even from -death-, he seemed to be handling the life of a crippled patient quite well.

Lithirill could only take that profound patience and trust in her ability to heart; ensure no matter her doubts that she'd finish the job.

She returned the evening farewell and meandered to her own bed, falling upon it like a stone. All too swiftly would the sun rise, and the pair would be again until their great task of renewal was complete.   Lithirill could only hope she'd be done by Spring.

                                                   ~Fin~

[reginrokkr]

Footprints are left in their wake one by one on the blanket of snow, step by step as Dáinsleif treads the grounds of unknown lands. No sight of humankind nor of any shape or form of any civilization left behind or human activity whatsoever. Only monsters he hasn't seen before, while they are reminiscent of Abyss-affiliated fiends judging by the powers they draw and sometimes the anthropomorphic form they have. As star beasts in Teyvat, these are no laughing matter nor deserve to let one's guard down no matter how skilled one may be.

The sheer cold and snow that never seems to melt begets curiosity within the seraph's mind, ever wondering about the ecosystem of this world and if that is the reason why there is no human life here— or perhaps there may be none at all to be had if humans don't exist in this place. Dáinsleif is cognizant of the fact that inhospitable lands can be incompatible with other forms of life, too.

Not long before he decides to rest does he see from afar metallic fences and machinery that he opts for walking some more and have a look, albeit never intruding into territory he doesn't know. Whoever or whatever created this, he cannot be sure whether they will act kindly within his presence. Where creations lay so must loom nearby their creators and ere long does Dáinsleif find out that said creators are humans. Good, so long as mankind exists in this star, so his possibilities to learn about this vast universe will increase.

Rubescent lips part to heave a content sigh for such pleasant discovery and so Dáinsleif turns on his heels to leave. His aching muscles beg for rest, so does his mind after an undetermined amount of time walking and seeing little more than a vast albor ocean of snow. Somewhere discreet where he cannot be found yet not too far from the settlement is the chosen location to rest until a fox's cry causes his guard to be up once more, trained eyes in search of any presence that must've caused the tundra animal to be in distress.

Against his aching muscle's will, he rouses on his feet and searches for any living being activity within his vicinities. The source of the cry is found with immediacy as soon as a man's figure —judging by his muscular-looking back and broad shoulders— crouching catches his attention. With one hand he holds the poor fox in place while it struggles to thrash about in order to break free from his grasp and with the other snow is grabbed and brought to his lips. Despite the oddity of eating or drinking snow, stellar pupils take notice of a patch of blood making itself evident through the fabric of his top-wear on his arm.

❝You are hurt.❞ Only after these words abandon his lips does the seraph berate himself mentally at the prospect that the man may not understand the language. Even so, his voice stands low and gentle, tone does wonders to communicate feelings when language cannot establish a bridge of understanding. Dáinsleif ignores if what little fauna that lives in these snowy plains may be drawn to blood and thus put the man in danger, or if his life is endangered depending on the amount of blood that was spilled. His index finger points towards his own arm, pointing to the location of the other's injury to make himself clearer through signals. ❝Blood loss is detrimental in a place like this and I happen to have some medical knowledge.❞ One step brings him closer to the man, slow and measured to not generate hostility. His hand stretches towards him, an invitation. ❝Do you need help?❞

@longzhua ✦

[reginrokkr]

Chapter II: Act IV — Requiem of the Echoing Depths.

[reginrokkr]

Onyx heavens augur tempests of sins only to be washed away should one bend to unjust and divine Heavenly Principles. Iron scent accompanies crimson deluge, the celestial law warns of promises of death if anyone dares trespass the limits betwixt humane and divine unprompted. Before this fallen heavenly envoy lies the end a beginning of a life branded as sinful since the commencement of its very existence. Nigh deaf ears ring with spiritual cries of struggling Ley Lines to reject that which threatens to permeate the earth of this star with its malady.

A new set of voices chant in the back of the seraph's head: a requiem for the fallen by the hands of the gods, a hymn to let this land rot as the destroyed kingdom did and a siren's call to end that life with his bare hands. Temptation for vengeance is high, alas regret and fervent wish to not see one more human soul witness this Calamity on repeat once more are even higher.

Nonetheless, here stands Dáinsleif as others mourn the loss of a goddess, unable to move nor to speak. Tempestuous astrals fixed on Sumeru's Grand Conservator holding the tiny new life in his strong arms before sapphire and dichromatic emerald-scarlets meet fleetingly. All sentiments this luminary may harbor for that man numbed and buried underneath millions of other emotions born from the befallen catastrophe in the reign of Khaenri'ah, still too recent even if it's been years since the incident.

「You whom barely hesitated to jump to the assistance of others in time of dire necessity, what makes you so paralyzed now that the event is essentially the same? Is it the sight of a fallen god and birth of a new one in this new samsara? Do you still hold at heart the wishes of the masses you hoped to change their minds from even after you slew countless of them en route to the Land of Wisdom?」

@samyavastha ✦

[reginrokkr]

Dáinsleif has never been one to let his knights do everything on their own, from doing simple tasks of guardianship within the kingdom's borders and recurrent training all of them are expected to perform in a regular basis down to being on the frontlines against the forces of the Abyss. As the captain of the Black Serpent Knights, he's expected to take more administrative duties personal affairs when someone from high social spheres require his presence in certain events as the maximum exponent within the royal guards.

Everyone agrees on the fact that he does more than he's expected, and he takes these susurrations with pride. For in his mind, nothing is too little or too much in the face of the undying struggle Khaenri'ah is bound to face against the Abyss.

Its increase of activity sufficed to make Twilight Sword suspicious that something is amiss, their efforts to keep it at bay from the populace nigh existent when so many outbreaks have been occurring in a brief time. Thunders roar in the distance to demand everyone's attention like a king marching in the middle of his people would, what would be otherwise harmless zephyrs now howling winds bringing the pestilence and illness of the Abyss. And an even more intimate sentience of his own warns him of a disturbance within the Ley Lines that permeate even these parts of this world in all their mercy.

Reason why he has made it a personal mission to oversee his knights' training for the past weeks in person, causing an uprise in their motivation to come more often than it's demanded of them in order to keep their position. The strict requirements are far from an unfair method to weed out from their numbers with unreachable expectations despite what some of them may believe. In reality, and the main reason why Dáinsleif is there is for the sole motif of perceiving those who aren't cut out from being on the frontlines against the Abyss as a result of any indisposition they may have as a result of its heightened influence.

Surely, Khaenri'ah counts with advanced medicine to palliate most of the signs and symptoms may bring as a means to combat the impeding corruption that people may experience if not treated properly or due to extended periods of time within abyssal clutches. But even so... as of lately, the lunarescent knight had felt a feeling of unrest hard to shake off that makes him doubt how genuine is the will to hold themselves far from the chaotic influence and not do the exact opposite.

◜I believe that many of you have been wondering why I'm spending more time overseeing your training regime than what's believed to be necessary.◞ As he wouldn't have it any other way, the necessity to be sincere with his knights has come. Strong arms cross over his chest as glacial sapphires look at each of them with an air of solemnity, the corners of his eyes soften minutely. ◜It is a reality that the Abyss has become more vicious lately, and with there has been a rise of illnesses that we cannot afford to ignore. For that reason, I took it a personal mission to study all your medical condition and how you fare under harsher extremes. Those who cannot be up to the challenge will no longer fight on the frontlines.◞ For everyone knows that the Abyss forgives no one.

His arms fall by his sides as he walks to one side, stellar gaze fixed on the unknown beyond the smoke of darkness. ◜Know that this is no punishment nor your title as Black Serpent Knights will be lost. It's merely for the sake of not risking the safety of those of you who needn't struggle more than the others, no matter your origins. In our endless fight against the Abyss, victory belongs to both the weak and the strong.◞ And it's precisely because they are the strongest within the army that they have to defend the weak, even if they're currently standing against them. Ultimately, Dáinsleif lifts his closed hand to the spot over his heart, the Black Serpent Knight salute. ◜May glory be with us.◞

The other knights' reciprocated salute marks the conclusion of the Twilight Sword's speech, punctuated by his leave from everyone else's spotlight. Nevertheless, he lingers in the usual spot from where he oversees his men's training until the end of today's course to be at the service of anyone who desires to ask him any questions or may need help.

@guhamun ✧

[reginrokkr]

Suspicion runs rampant at its highest within Twilight Sword's mind since the arrival of an outworlder that people wasted no time to revere as the kingdom's princess when, in reality, royalty has fallen with King Irmin as the last king. It was sufficiently bad when awareness that he was rocking the foundations of this world with his deeds made itself manifest, and ultimately it fell into Dáinsleif's hands to do something to remedy it when the other five carriers of Khaenri'ah's hope didn't lift a finger for the cause. Let alone when the primary reason of crowning that girl that came like a fallen star as a princess out of a sick belief that she embodies the abyss.

Reason why Dáinsleif has always made everything in his power to stay away from her, for he's never wanted to partake in anything remotely dangerous that is interwoven with the Abyss— as many seem to have forgotten, it's their enemy that has been breathing at their neck and lurking at their doorstep since the very foundation of Khaenri'ah. So in view of the reasoning of the nobility turning her into the kingdom's princess, it is the easiest to believe that she would agree with their ways.

Or perhaps that is his own prejudice speaking and the reality is different.

His maneuvers could bring him so far until he was appointed as her personal guard —mainly for events, thankfully— by the regent. Such as tonight's, in which he was pushed to start as early as he was told by visiting the residence she inhabits to guide her towards the royal palace, where the event is bound to take place. And so he dips his head, his hand balled in a weak fist over the spot of his heart as per the Black Serpent Knight chosen salute to show respect —perhaps he could've shown more than that, he has seen many kneel before her presence—. ◜Regent Alberich has appointed me as your personal guard effective immediately. So from now on, I may protect you as the Twilight Sword.◞

@lunaetis ✧

[reginrokkr]

To be in someone else's home means to respect their rules. Dáinsleif is no stranger to this truth that seems to be universal since the moments it applies beyond his homeworld, nor he seeks to act otherwise. In bygone times, among his duties as Twilight Sword —captain of the royal guards— was to ensure that rules are respected and followed for pure-blooded and not, locals and travelers from afar, rich and poor all the same.

Indisputable respect is extended to the general now standing before him for ensuring the same, even when the other end of the tale affects him directly. Many centuries may pass but never once did he forget what it entails to act in favor of the citizens from the military nor failed to give credit where is due at the acknowledgement that the orders from up high are reasonable.

If by offering devotion to a path the general speaks of the pathstriders which apparently are recognizable, he's none indeed. Perhaps because it hasn't been a considerable amount of time yet for him to get used to the laws all worlds follow that Teyvat —by some isolation created by its gods— doesn't. Perhaps because he has entered in an era where he doesn't hold any allegiance for anyone that isn't himself. Too wary is this living soul after everything he has experienced in his quincentennial life to bother to care about others' business. Including this world's.

That is not something for him to know, of course. Unless there is something beyond his own control that will reveal it to him sooner or later.

◜Your kindness is appreciated, General. But essentially ineffective to my freedom, as it seems.◞ Feigned or not, it doesn't truly matter nor he cares. ◜My years of service as a knight have long since ended. I do not intend to act as one again now to a world that hasn't my allegiance.◞ You whom know about the personal and emotional involvement it takes to serve should know it better than anyone.

Nevertheless. whether it was left purposefully hanging in the air or unknowingly entirely, there is an opening that can play in Dáinsleif's favor. ◜What favor may be that which you would benefit from this, I wager? For all I know, it is in your best interest to keep me under watch now that you have me in your crosshairs. Moreover, you must already know that I have no interest in acting against you or your people.◞ Neither seems to be the case that the General needs him strictly as a knight under his watch so long as he gets his approval and his deeds are perceived by the Sky-Faring Commission. He won't draw this card, however. Not yet.

@havfayth

[reginrokkr]

Today the activity will be likely almost non-existent as I have a bad boy of an anatomy partial tomorrow that I need to study for. It’s also probable that I won’t have more partials until post-Easter vacations, so I’ll be able to start being more active little by little after tomorrow!

[reginrokkr]

❝You needn't invite me to anything. I can take care of my expenses, thank you.❞ Dáinsleif takes a sit on the table in front of him nonetheless, a brief silence ensues before he continues. ❝I trust that you did not say that for the sake of getting me a drink, now did you? What is it you want from me?❞

@cryoniic ♥︎ed for a smol!

[reginrokkr]

❝Has the concept of this nation rubbed off on you yet?❞ Freedom. Ugly as fate was in abandoning him in this country when he was barely a young soul, left to his fortune… that is what he ought to feel the deepest. Free from the shackles of the past that one day will bite him. ❝It makes a tranquil place to live in, all things considered.❞

@nnazar ✦

[reginrokkr]

freedom: if you were blessed with a vision, which one would you want to have (and which one do you think you’d actually get)? / from mugiwarao

This is a hard question, as I’ve never considered this before. Mainly because I can’t see myself reflected on the Traveler for the life of me despite that being the scope Mihoyo wants to go for with them in order to give that level of immersion from the players’ perspective. I think I would go for Cryo in my case, partly because I love colder seasons and everything that you can do for as long as they last. Also from an aesthetic perspective which I adore that comes with ice, but also the properties it can have. With ice you can go both in offensive stances as you can go in defensive ones. And while you wouldn’t expect it to have remotely healing properties like one would think of Dendro and Hydro, Pyro too if we’re stretching it a lil bit, Cryo has the cryogenesis properties that allows you to preserve life within its permafrost which is pretty neat to me.

As for what I’d actually get, this is another roadblock to me that I’d need to think harder. Mainly because I’m not a fan of the theories going around that allogenes take after their respective Archon’s element after Ei debunked that Archon don’t hand over Visions like it’s commonly believed. So the whole ordeal of “this allogene got x Vision, so they share characteristics with x Archon of the same element” doesn’t fit to me as that’s not how it works to begin with. I don’t know exactly the requirements to get a Vision, so I can’t truly provide a good answer on this one. Let’s... just say that I’d like to get Cryo? lol

Genshin ask redux → Accepting! || @mugiwarao ✦

[reginrokkr]

❝What does it feel like to live in an era that does not correspond to your lifespan as a human?❞ Color him most intrigued as soon as he has learned this new information about Madame Faruzan. It is not entirely curiosity that brings him to ask as it is a genuine wish to see another's feelings on the matter, even if not entirely under the same circumstances.

@windtome ♥︎ed for a smol!

[reginrokkr]

Inteyvat anthers glow in the dead of the night, an announcement of their detachment from the shackles of their filaments to fly towards the nocturne dome specked with their companions-to-be: the stars, and the lonely moon that sheds its frigid, albescent light in the kingdom of darkness. Ever since his arrival to Khaenri'ah, this is the first time Dáinsleif has the opportunity to be on a vantage point like this with an even better company than his own solitude.

Glacial sapphires turn to look at the angelic figure beside him, what little and natural light that reaches Khaenri'ah imprinted on her like she's the source of this luminescence. ❝Many moons has it been since you witnessed this view, yes? Has it ever changed since then?❞

@moonichor ✦

[reginrokkr]

☾ Thoma is taking the moment to place a crescent shape charm in the form of a necklace around the Twilight Sword's neck. Embellished in gold while the charm itself holds a silver crescent similar to the moon, he draws a content smile at the sight before allowing his hand to settle along Dainsleif's shoulder. "While it isn't much, I do hope this empowered charm serves well on your journeys to come. I've had it blessed by the Shrine Maidens to be a ward from malicious energies. Not to mention with a touch of my own will for additional protections." "I believe in your strength, but I'd like to always keep in mind that in one way or another, I intend to walk the path along with you."

■  ■  ■ Crystal clear surprise reflects within icy sapphire depths since the first moment Thoma braved to ask his permission to step closer to him, with the promise that he has something for him. Out of respect to let the suspense and the giddy stirring of his heart with anticipation does Dáinsleif keep his gaze to the front, stilling himself to not let curiosity get the best of him and look to the small item that comes with the necklace. He takes the lingering hand atop his hand as a gesture of conclusion and so he looks downward at long last. Azure irises widen in a subtle manner as he rises a hand to cup gently the golden white crescent moon that lays atop the palm of his hand, soon to soften with fondness for the gesture born from selfless kindness.

For a moment, he wonders about his charm shape choice when he occupied his mind to decide what may suit him best. Does he remind him of a crescent moon? The thought, though tentative, leaves his mind as soon as it entered. No— that would be too flattering to him were that true.

But deep down in his heart, he rejoices at one line of thought: Were he able to be like the moon, shining the way to the lost in the darkness, then his quincentennial life would be for naught.

Platinum blond locks sway gently with the soft shake of his head to the protector’s words in disagreement. ❝Perish the thought. It is more meaningful than you can imagine.❞ His gaze peels off jade irises to look at the charm once again, his cool eyes softening some more the more he thinks about all the thought Thoma must’ve put on this simple gesture, albeit deep in meaning as the vastest sea. ❝...It’s beautiful.❞

So he had it blessed by the shrine maidens at the Grand Narukami Shrine to ward off malicious energies. For all their journeys are worth, he must have noticed certain tendencies in the relevance of his presence in specific places that contain such energy. To think that despite everything he has seen from his capabilities— from fighting to curative ones... even if that would invite the logic that he would not need any blessing, he still insisted that he is protected when his next objectives lead him far from Inazuma.

The onyx gloved hand encapsulates the silver crescent moon in his gentle fist as albescent lashes flutter to a momentary close to feel its energy. The might of pyro is recognizable to its fullest as Thoma’s essence, especially after witnessing a nigh fall for chasing that tempting power were it not for his guiding voice to remain grounded lest he burned himself to completion. Their journey from the far south in Tsurumi Island to the depths of Arami... all of these memories are engraved in this tiny charm alongside the defender’s will within it. ❝Thank you.❞

So that’s what it is. Even in the distance, you want to be with me.

He almost chuckles at his own jest, better kept in his mind rather than offer it as a gentle tease to the man after he has just gifted him something this precious. Cyan eyes open anew in time to see a single electro sakura blossom landing on his strawberry blond hair, and a new line of thought crosses his mind. The corners of his lips lift in a gentle smile as he reaches out his free hand forward. Unbeknownst to Thoma, a nigh invisible sapphire flame illuminates his hand when it is out of the other’s field of vision to touch one of the forehead protector’s horns with the tip of a finger, thus imbuing it with curative, purifying and fortifying might of a lunar aura in the guise of Irminsul ether that, unbeknownst to Dáinsleif himself, was never lost to him even after several centuries. Ultimately, he removes the soft pink blossom— the forehead protector glistening in response to the now encapsulated energy he gifted to him.

❝So long as petals still fall like snow upon this island, we will surely meet again. Our fates shall be forever entwined like those of the sakura bloom.❞

@scarletooyoroi ✦

[reginrokkr]

Tag dump repost #1 wish me luck that this time Tumblr saves my tags after 38478 years missing many of them—

◟༺✧༻◞ memories are all but forgotten in the river of time ┊queue.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ glimpses in the past of a shattered spirit ┊headcanon.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ events to be remembered in blue veins ┊addendum.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ fragments of light from the roots of truth ┊reference.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ what use has the veil of falsehood? ┊ask.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ sapphire flames in their wake ┊ic.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ lament of a fallen seraph ┊thread.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ searching for a long lost fate ┊meme.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ what lays behind the mantle of faux stars ┊ooc.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ fear not the long night if malice is to fade ┊musings.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ ethereal moon dust sunken in ripples of light ┊reflection.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ moon on the sky as a trembling heart ┊aesthetic.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ requiem of the echoing depths ┊music.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ crystalline traces splattered with stardust ┊open.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ chaos is hardly different to poison ┊dash comment.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ shall fair divination be imparted ┊dash game.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ trust not the gods; nor overthrow them ┊psa.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ connections of an ancient twilight sword ┊promotions.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ forgo that which is cursed by the gods ┊self promo.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ gifts to prevail into eternity ┊keepsake.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ echoes of a fallen star ┊drabble.┊

◟༺✧༻◞ nascent dreams of fading twilight ┊wishlist.┊

[reginrokkr]

Not long ago, Dáinsleif has learned that those who experience abyssal poisoning may have symptoms akin to being immersed in a dream. Dreams should be as natural as breathing to human beings, yet the primary reason why they're considered a symptom is because the people who live in Khaenri'ah had lost that ability for unknown reasons, thus earning the kingdom's location the descriptor as a «dreamless land». That would be a good explanation why the noctilucent knight is in a state he can only describe as dreaming, if it weren't because he hasn't partaken in any actions that would lead him to said poisoning.

In an even closer event than learning about poison-induced dreams, Twilight Sword reminisces one of his brother's ceaseless rambles about Irminsul, about how that tree may be an emanation of an even bigger tree somewhere in the universe just like there are multiple emanations of the Axis Mundi scattered across Teyvat. Given that the conversation strayed into topics that only those who Dáinsleif would consider to be abyss lunatics, he never paid too much attention to that, nor he necessarily believes that statement to be true to his current state of affairs. If anything, because it doesn't matter in the face of the predicament he's facing.

He doesn't know for how long he's treaded this new city, so unlike what he's heard of other nations, so distant from what could anyone imagine civilizations to grow into by the time humanity reaches such level of advancement. His concern, none other than the suggestion he was made just a few days ago: a chance for receiving the power of the abyss within him. And an even more worrisome premise is that Vedrfolnir himself was the one to ask.

If it is true that he bears a connection to Irminsul as his brother had claimed, perhaps this dream could be an answer from the almighty tree to help him come to a decision. Somewhere far away where the weight of his decision-making won't affect his daily life, somewhere inconsequential to what he does. Not that Dáinsleif has any interest in doing anything— actually, he couldn't even said he had walked down the streets long enough to acquaint himself with this city. Only enough until it's reached his ears the location of a confessional. The notion of attending one heavily foreign to a non-believer like him, if his understanding of the workings of one is correct according to what he had heard from others who came to Khaenri'ah after losing their faith in their god.

But perhaps... it is worth it a shot.

Reason why he's currently waiting on line, hesitant and nervous all the same to such extent that he kept offering his turn to another when he was close enough to be the next to confess. Dáinsleif could procrastinate as much his turn until he was the last and final individual of the day to step forward, his mind too far adrift thinking about his brother and all the signs under the crimson moon he could find that indicated a certain obsession with the abyss to notice.

@halothes ✧