#* ANSWERED ASKS / what are you all up in my kequssy for ?

[royalstorm]

you look very human today.

" ... I feel like — now that we live in the age of mankind's rule, it's time for the legendary boy-adeptus to be released from duty. "

[royalstorm]

xiao had been studying her for a while. they should have been studying their textbook but honestly? keqing’s mannerisms, her eyes, the arch of her brows - they were more interesting than the fall of the qing dynasty. after a few minutes they lowered their gaze and began to play with the pen in their hands. with their usual curt delivery, they finally asked, “...when did you first realise you were in love with me?”  /  unprompted  (always accepting) .

Keqing almost laughs aloud. Of course Xiao decides to question her now, in this very kitchen (even the lighting — the strangely comforting ambience — mirrors that of that fateful night). They ask her like it’s an idle request, spoken with an air of ease ... like they hadn’t regretted it the second it left their mouth.  

She supposes the two of them are past that point, anyway ... or rather, they should be. When Keqing casts her gaze toward her companion, she finds that their eyes refuse to meet hers. Instead, they fixate on the pen they twirl in their fingers. 

It’s fine, Keqing thinks, and it is, it really is. Xiao had mastered being distant as an art form — even claimed themselves to be its maker. But underneath that, she knows, and she’s seen, a heart of peerless softness. 

Sometimes, that heart of theirs so soft she thinks she were in a dream, touched by a phantom feeling.

“Here,” There’s a harmless humor to her voice, stark against the shallow breath she takes shortly thereafter.  “Last semester, eventually, with all of the run-ins and coincidences ... with Mr. Zhongli becoming my mentor, all those late-night library encounters ...”

Now, it’s Keqing’s turn to shy away. Her hands shake, and her cheeks redden. Violet eyes stoop down, practically boring a hole into her lap. Chest heaving into another sigh, she draws a hand upward to shut her laptop closed. “ ... And then, naturally ... coming up with excuses to spend time with you on purpose — and, well, okay, I can’t —” Another pause. She shakes her head. "It’s difficult to explain.”

She coerces her gaze to return to where it last rested: on Xiao, on their own wayfaring eyes. Her hand flits from her laptop to seize hold of the hydroflask beside it. Inclining her head, she downs its remains, letting the fluid sit in her mouth for perhaps a fraction too long — stalling, stalling ... since when is Keqing privy to beating around the bush? 

Discarding her now empty hydroflask, Keqing then pulls a knee up and slings her arm over it. Her other leg dangles freely from the seat of her chair, feet barely scraping the floor beneath her.

"After that ... party —” Here, one hand balls into a taut fist. She squeezes her eyes shut and blinks — once, twice — upon reopening them. “ — This was the only place I could go. And it — it was hard. For the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do.” Keqing uncurls her fingers and allows her hand to slay slack against her thigh. ”But you had contacted me ... accidentally, sure …but contacted me nevertheless, and ... it led me here. Several times. More times than I would’ve ever thought possible or ... appropriate.”

Language failing her, Keqing concedes to silence ... though, her gaze would still hover over her companion. Their eyes unite with hers at last, like a compromise. They glint like stars, pool her vision, until the color gold tints everything, until she unwittingly sways closer to them.

Xiao may have been brazen in character, but their features, she found, almost always contradicted that. There’s a murkiness to their expression; the perpetual crinkle in their brow is tempting to smooth away ... yet time after time, it refused to relent against her touch. 

Even now, as Keqing’s hand moves to cup their face, caution dictating the tip of her thumb as it skims their skin, the crinkle stays — a harsh note against an otherwise immaculate backdrop. When Xiao flinches, she stops, and when they don’t pull away, she circles it and leans her whole body forth to press their foreheads to one another’s. Her heartbeat thrums behind her ribs, against her temple, in her ears.

"What we ... share — it’s surreal,” she admits, dumbstruck.  “It — there was always this energy, these omens, and this — this feeling. It’s as if I’ve ... known you for an unusually long time, as if we met before we were even born.” At this, Keqing actually laughs, the mirthful sound reverberating against the kitchen’s walls. “You are both familiar and unknown to me ... you and ... that feeling you stir within me. For a while, I thought it was all meant to lead me to Mr. Zhongli — which, it did, in a sense, but …”

Keqing is at a loss for how to put the rest together — how to explain this feeling, or is it that feeling, the sheer vagueness of it all.  How it makes sense to her, that it was Xiao. That they found one another numerous times, under numerous circumstances; that now, they are here, reliving their once-in-a-lifetime yet again, to where it all truly began. 

Consider a compass needle that flickers back and forth, ever erratic, wanting and searching until it stops at its mark.

Then, consider the meaning of certainty — of a love that lets her stay. A love that is fixed, a love that snuffs the lifelong urge to run right at the root.

“It led me to you.”  Keqing breathes, and it’s all she can do to focus on the rise and fall of her chest — to refrain from twisting her body, tucking her hand behind Xiao’s neck and converging at a point she always returns to. The needle at point. The unspoken “more than” to “once-in-a-lifetime”.

@guardianyaksha​ .

[royalstorm]

@scarletooyoroi​ : ‘  it  cannot  be  a  mistake  to  have  cared .  it  cannot  be  an  error  to  have  tried .  it  cannot  be  incorrect  to  have  loved .  ’

Keqing is stunned into a silence to start with, as evidenced by the furrow of her brows and the frown contorting her lips. She relinquishes whatever pride a delayed response would beget in favor of contemplating her companion’s statements.

“ Thank you. ” To almost anyone else, her response would have constituted something offhanded, if not completely dismissive. But she could tell that Thoma was different. Thoma knew better.

“ Admittedly, I occasionally struggle to remember that ... softness is a strength. Had I been nothing but edges, I wouldn’t have invested nearly as much energy into ensuring Liyue’s prosperity as I have, and ... “ A chuckle trills her lips. “ ... Forget it. Long story short, I needed to hear that. ”

* MISCELLANEOUS STARTERS  /  accepting .

[royalstorm]

xiao stared at the door to keqing’s apartment nervously, like they were afraid to be swallowed whole by it.their gaze lowered to examine the “gift” in their hands. a bountiful flower bouquet. they hadn’t intended for it to be so massive but with the knowing that keqing loved flowers, they were unable to help themself. xiao sighed before placing the bouquet at the foot of her door. they knocked twice, taking to the sky instantly after to begin their retreat. yet even as they flew away, they couldn’t help but look back. what else would it take for her to forgive them? what else could xiao do to unbreak her heart?  /  unprompted .

She hates that it is a gorgeous floral arrangement, not her Wanmin takeout order, that greets her when she answers the door.

She hates the inner knowing of who sent them ... or rather, who bid her apartment a physical visit only to hurry away quickly thereafter.

She doubly hates how happy? relieved? she is that they still think of her — perhaps even as much as she still thinks of them.

Keqing leans forth to pluck the bouquet from where it lay, cursing herself for the way her hand trembled upon grazing its (freshly-trimmed) stems. Both of her arms are full once she’s claimed the bouquet in its entirety ... too full, in fact. 

Inwardly, Keqing would admit that she’s impressed on account of three dozen or so flowers being as weighty as they are. She examines this thought several times over as she shimmies, slowly but surely, back into her apartment.

It is then — and only then — that the bouquet is suddenly feather light in her grasp. What weighs her down more, in that moment, is the descent of her whole heart — the heavy pitter patter she’s roused by as it drops to her stomach. Why this? Why now? Why? Why, why why, why?

She lodges herself in the crevasse separating her front door from the partition beside it. Lurching forward, her arms relinquish their hold of the bouquet. It falls, but unlike her heart, lands gently — harmlessly — on the floor she’s standing on.

A scowl unwittingly curls on Keqing’s lips at the sight. Pristinely picked qingxin flowers return her stare, but mockingly so. Still posed in a squat, her newly-empty hands settle atop her kneecaps, aiming to steady her as she crouches lower.

Then, her lips part, breath hot in her throat as she says, “I hate you.” She says it again and again ... one, two, three, eight more times. Her throat is scorched earth by the time the words become clumsy and muddled on her tongue.

Keqing had omitted a word, and an important one at that. 

I WANT to hate you. 

Want. To do so is not something to be taken lightly. Something in her chest stirs, asserting that she remain keen-eyed and ravenous — that she pursue this “want” and turn it into a “reality”.

An ironic chuckle catches in her throat. The warmth pervading it dissipates, though at a cost —

— To her dismay, tears had begun to leak from her eyes. They stream down her face, dribble down her chin, and either stained her sweatshirt or pooled at her collarbone. 

When her squat form falters and she collapses onto the floor, her tears follow suit. They now graze her thighs, her shorts, her knees ... the flower bouquet she’d inadvertently crushed upon falling.

It’s the panic that strikes her at this revelation — the looming fact that she’d ruined their gift — that ultimately humbles her. Quavering hands slam themselves against the floor, scouring their vicinity for leaves and thorns and qingxins, qingxins, qingxins ...

I (don’t) want to hate you.

I want you.

I (still) want you.

Keqing’s fingers seize a singular qixing, unblemished by her fall. She coasts a thumb over its silken petals and is, all of a sudden, brought back to scaling cliffs, back to laughter imbuing cool mountain air, back to half-smiles and stolen glances, back to golden hour and eyes more gold than that, her name voiced in a kind whisper, her fingertips skimming coarseness and cuts and callouses, her fingertips marveling at the surprisingly gentle grasp they meet halfway ...

She brings the qingxin to her lips and shuts her eyes.

I want you (to come back for me). I want you (to stay).

@guardianyaksha .

[royalstorm]

@finalyaksha​ :  ‘ there are days where i am morbidly in love with you , and this is one of those days . ’

“ Ugh, Xiao ... really? ” Consider this a study in poorly concealing her heart suddenly in bloom, unraveling petal by petal. One part of her hopes that he can overlook the pink tint of her cheeks, while another insists that he marvel in how shy and girlish and absolutely smitten she is for him and only him —

— Not that she could articulate any of that properly.

Instead, Keqing, in her flabbergasted ingloriousness, punches him in the arm ... only to wrap that same arm around her waist shortly thereafter. “ You already know how I feel. “ An endeared sigh imbues her breath as she burrows her head in his chest. Her dialogue is muffled as she says, “ I’m morbidly in love with you, too. “

* MISCELLANEOUS STARTERS  /  accepting .

[royalstorm]

@finalyaksha​ :  ‘ and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be . ’

“ How dare you  — reading my mind like that. At this point, I bet it’s as automatic as breathing, huh? ” The remark curls snidely on her tongue — in half-jest, half-dread. Since when was she so easy to figure out?

That’s what she gets, Keqing chastises herself, for wearing her rabbit heart on her sleeve.

Still, she further entertains the yaksha’s sentiment with a smile that she would’ve found too soft to be hers a mere five months ago. “ Anyway ... you’re right. “

Here, the thrum of her heart resounds loudly, almost menacingly, in her ears, much more akin to a stampede than the pitter patter of rabbit feet. “ And I normally don’t like conceding defeat, but sometimes, it feels good to be proven wrong.” Keqing reaches a gloved hand forth toward one of his, a hot flush pervading her cheeks once she intertwines their fingers. “ This is one of those times. ”

* MISCELLANEOUS STARTERS  /  accepting .

[royalstorm]

"your boobies look scrumptious"

" That's high praise coming from the cutie who's stacked in the back. "

[royalstorm]

Howdy how! I've been enjoying your vibes from afar for a while and I'm glad I can now enjoy them on main! So, if you would like, here's an excuse to talk about any brain worms you currently have regarding Keqing (it can be literally anything - speak your mind, friend, speak your mind)

aw, thank you so much, josh!! this is high praise coming from someone who is just as passionate about their muse. it’s been very fun seeing you on my dash these past few days we’ve been mutuals, so thanks for making it a brighter place!! i look forward to interacting with you more soon!!!

as of today, my keqing brain worms have been specifically fixated on her character archetype. i love how she’s depicted as that token blunt, outspoken, non-conformist asian girl BUT, in that same breath, isn’t given that same emo / alternative appearance most characters following a similar trope do (e.g. nico minoru from runaways, gogo tomago from big hero six, nikki from 6teen, juniper lee, mako mori from pacific rim, etc.). it’s as if creators assume that, for an asian womxn to have any sort of “agency”, she has to “look” tougher than other asian women. she has to be that “unique and different” bitch with unnaturally colored hair to be seen as some revolutionary. that’s? boring?? and this is coming from someone who’s pretty into alternative fashion themselves.

in other words, the fact that keqing looks like a goody goody, prim and proper lady but, in reality, is defiant and sharp-tongued and subservient to no one ... that’s some gxrlboss shit. and i think asian wxmen deserve more of that validation — that we are able to be unconventional in personality without adhering to unconventional appearances.

[royalstorm]

‘ are you in love with me yet? ’  /  question starters (accepting) .

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Voila ... a coy response from a coy girl ... nothing that the bard wouldn’t have expected himself. Yet, even as she punctuates it with a playful scoff, its overall delivery had been lacking in spunk and conviction. 

It’s half-assed teasing at best, and Keqing is known to never do things in halves.

She wrings her hands behind her back and keeps her gaze pointed on the ground. It’s all she could hope to do if she wishes to temper the deafening bray of her heart. “Tell me, Venti ... is love a sensation that is effortful? Or should it feel as automatic as breathing?”

@windbards​ .

[royalstorm]

maybe they were too eager upon seeing keqing exit the harbor and walk onto the grass. in retrospect the yaksha would have done better - thought of something remarkable to say or done something worth her while. instead, they succumbed to their regret and the other hard feelings that came with missing her. leaping from their tree branch perch, xiao took the air for a few seconds before landing neatly just behind her. "keqing,” they called out. when she made no indication of turning around, they followed after her, catching up so that they were now side by side - the closest they had been to her in almost a month. “keqing, i...understand that you're busy, but if i may i ask for just one moment of your time..?”

To swallow forgiveness — a concept not unlike swallowing one’s pride, foreign and indigestible. 

The thing is, forgiveness is often expected but hardly ever deserved. And Keqing has come to find that this expectation is usually fulfilled ... not based on that “deserving-ness”, but rather on ... affection. 

To swallow forgiveness is to entertain the risk of getting hurt once again. It’s to trust that they will either not turn the knife they’d driven into you, or to trust that they will be worth any scarring that inevitably follows suit.

It hadn’t been a matter of worth when it came to Xiao — or rather, not at first. She would’ve done anything for them without question, without regard for what may befall her, if it meant introducing them to a compassion they’d been deprived of for too long.

What was once an idealist’s expression of love had evolved into a bitter knowing — that all she did was chase after what could never be attained. Utopia. Dignity. Peace of mind. Xiao.

Their voice falls on stinging ears. The Yuheng foolishly hoped that minding her business would be enough to discourage them, if not for the rest of her life then, at the very least, for the rest of that month. 

Her negligence is met with the sound of approaching footfalls, of her name resounding in the air a second time. She’s sick. She’s confused. She’s ... relieved?

But above all of that, amidst her own hard feelings, she does not want to get hurt (again). She does not deem them good enough reason to bleed (again).

So, naturally, Keqing continues her walk, jaw clenched and head held high. “I’m afraid I can’t afford to offer you even one moment ... or anything else, really.” Not bothering to glance their way, she compels herself to walk faster. Half-lidded eyes and pursed lips tell a tale of somebody unfazed, stripped of all feeling toward the thorn stuck at her side. “Leave me be. I mean it.” Her gait quickens even moreso. “I don’t care for whatever it is you wish to say to me, nor do I care for the residual feelings you may still have. Just ... move on. I already have.”

But little did the yaksha realize how loudly her heart beat, how much heavier each step away from them felt, how she’s yet to lie to someone that willingly, yet unwillingly, all the same.

@guardianyaksha​ .

[royalstorm]

“ this morning i was imagining making soup with all my friends and everybody was laughing and smiling, and some of us were chopping vegetables and some of us were stirring and we were all sharing spoons to see what it needed and everybody was happy. yeah. love is real i think. ”

“Do you really think so? Hmmm ...”

There’s an endearing smile that captures Keqing’s lips as she looks up from her paperwork, gaze softening as it meets the younger girl’s. Xiangling’s heart had always been a monster of tenderness — soft and well-meaning, yet unorthodox — sometimes whelming — in expressing that. 

Not that Keqing ever minded ... or at least, not for quite some time now. Sure, she may have misjudged her at first blush, turning the other cheek at the thought of indulging slime-coated anything, but it’s usually only that first leap of faith that’s difficult to land. After that, it’s easier to free yourself; you aren’t so worried about being a flight risk.

The Yuheng rises from her chair and sees herself to her office’s lounge. She then settles into the couch Xiangling occupied — right beside her, within arm’s reach.

“Why imagine a world like that when we could make it a reality?” Her smile loosens more prominently as she takes the other’s hands in hers. “We both know that happiness doesn’t come as easily for some of the very people we’re close to ... but if there’s any way for us to expedite that process, we may as well, right?” Keqing interlocks their fingers. “If love is real, let’s be the ones to prove it.”

@wanmins​ .

[royalstorm]

“i think you may have to add culinary arts to your list of occupations i can’t ever hope to succeed in.” the yaksha offered her a plate with something unusual on it. they don’t even remember what it was supposed to be.

Keqing is neck deep in scribbling calculations into at least five different notebooks when her “personal assistant” approaches her. Naturally, she doesn’t take note of their presence until they begin talking ... or, she supposes in Xiao’s case specifically, murmuring.

Her lips trill into a (purposely) audible sigh the instant the they finished saying their piece. “Maybe, maybe not. I’m almost certain that whatever you have concocted is not as unsavory as you think it.” There’s some effort on her end to sound resigned ... but with the stiff curvature of her shoulders, it’s evident that her patience is hanging by a thread.

Another sigh. Still, Keqing relinquishes her hold on her pencil and its corresponding notebook in favor of accommodating the yaksha ... though once her gaze caught sight of the platter in their hands, she sorely wished, from the bottom of her heart, that she’d sent them out of her office on sight.

“It would seem that I ... spoke too soon.” She swallows thickly, inclining her head to the right ... to the left ... as if taking stock of the alleged “food item” from different angles would remedy anything. What exactly Xiao had attempted to cook up is beyond her ... and most likely, beyond even the most renowned culinary artists.

Clamping a gloved hand over her mouth, the Yuheng coerces her eyes upward, daring themselves to meet theirs. “Perhaps we can start anew with a simpler dish ... assuming whatever's on this platter is more complicated to make than ... eggs on toast.”

@soulcontracts​ .

[royalstorm]

[text; to starlight] Have you any plans this weekend? Everyone else seems to be busy... Anyways. I need someone to come by and tell me how this piece I've been practicing sounds.  /  unprompted .

↪️ imessage : flaming hot cheetos🔥  /  how does saturday evening sound? i’ll be busy at the firm on saturday morning and out on a daytrip sunday ... but you know me. i will ALWAYS find a way to squeeze my favorite prodigy into my itinerary.

@abyssaldrains​ .

[royalstorm]

Pretty sure mun is Keqing irl

the way i’m blushing during this conference call ...

[royalstorm]

‘ what did you dream of? ‘  /  question starters (accepting) .

His voice is the sound that prompts her to stir — eyes fluttering open, her lips abuzz with a confused hum. Even amidst her grogginess, it isn’t all that difficult for her to figure out where she is.

Mondstadt. Keqing spends what little free time she has strolling down its quaint cobblestone streets. At that moment, however, she’s curled up in a patch of grass ... likely somewhere on the outskirts of the city. 

She’s also quick to register that she isn’t alone ... but fortunately, the doe-like, blueish-green gaze gaping at her is a comfort, as is the lap she’d inadvertently used as a pillow. 

“Hey.” Hoarse is the voice that resounds in the air ... something that Keqing remedies with a faint cough. She props her head up off of her companion’s lap and takes to sitting upright beside him instead. “Sorry that I knocked out like that ... again.” An apologetic smile flickers on her lips, as she tends to tangled, wayfaring strands of her bedhead. Venti’s probably caught onto her slipping back into her workaholic ways — the habit that she could never seem to break.

Yet, that isn’t what he addresses once she’s regained all her bearings. He instead asks her, in that awed, gentle voice the Yuheng had grown fond of ...

“What did you dream of?”

At first, all she can do is laugh. It’s free and clear, like a tinkering of bells — a mannerism that came by easily in Venti’s presence. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” begins her teasing reply ... but of course, of course, of course, she would tell him. He’s the only one who would listen and the only one she’d want listening, anyway.

“The dream I had ... it’s almost as if it'd come out of the pages of a fantasy book. I was exploring Liyue Harbor, but ... everything was different —” Violet eyes widen, winsome and bordering childlike. “ — Everything was ... how I want it to be. My new vision of Liyue.” Here, her once dopey grin grows in size and in sincerity. “In this new vision of mine, nobody hurt. I figure that may sound foolish coming from a skeptic such as myself, but ... it’s as if everyone was bright and beaming. Every merchant met their quota, every child and family was fed ... no longer did people loiter on the streets without shelter or money. And —” 

The enthralled expression upon Keqing’s features softens here. Her eyes grow mild. “ — Your adeptus allies ... they roamed free among the people — people like me. They were not isolated from the ones they’d protected for a millennia, nor were they regarded as beings beyond our humane understanding. Each of them had a new purpose. Each of them had a home. None of them had to suffer anymore. We were united by a sense of togetherness. We all coexisted ... happily.” 

Tenderness continued to adorn her visage for a few more moments, as she savored each last detail of the dream she’d just shared. Had Keqing been alone or in the company of another mortal such as herself ... it would have been impossible to divulge these sentiments. It’s as she had just verbalized: skepticism was a defining part of her character ... for her to outright condemn the Qixing’s divine, adepti predecessors and then, all of a sudden, welcome their existence with open arms — it would ruin her credibility. 

The Liyuen people had already been divisive with their perspective of her. There’s still so much more she had to accomplish before this new vision of her could be realized.

For now, however, Keqing would relish in her mirth — raw with no rhyme or reason. She could cherish the fact that her vision is no longer confined to the chambers of her mind; someone else — someone special — had access to it now, as well. 

That’s what she resigns herself with, as this impression is stowed away ... for now. She flexes her hand and gingerly intertwines her fingers with Venti’s. 

Keqing could dream all night. But the dream she’s living now, in the form of a soul that’s sweet and soft to the touch, couldn’t wait any longer.

@windbards​ .

[royalstorm]

“tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.”  /   lines from richard siken poems prompt .

Embedded in those sentiments is a viscerality that softens the edge normally found in Xiao’s tone, one that is noticeable enough to humble the Yuheng into a silence. In fact, it’s as if their environment had grown quiet, as well — the sharp hum of the stratosphere but white noise, the singsong of birds migrating farther and farther north. 

She tears her eyes away from his, opting to study the newfound tremble of her hands instead. “Why would I be miserable?” It is a query intended for him but one that did not quite reach ... not while it’s something she’s yet to answer for herself. 

Something in her heart of hearts tells her she should do that soon.

In her mind, she’s worked out the basis of it: they had been spending an inordinate amount of time together. 

That couldn’t be helped. Now that the Qixing played a bigger role in Liyue’s safekeeping, Keqing had devoted even more of her life to working her days away. Most of the adepti had acknowledged that and acted accordingly, growing more and more absent by the minute ... that is, all but one.

When Xiao wasn’t tethered to Wangshu Inn’s rooftop, he was hovering over the Yuheng — closer to her than her own shadow. He would make it known some days, manifesting in the Jade Chamber with a plate of almond tofu sat in his lap and Ningguang at his side, notifying him of the Qixing’s current developments. Then, there were days when his presence was but a passing thing — something she would catch wind of during her lunch break or on her walk home. He’d deemed it his obligation as a guardian Yaksha, and as unnecessary as Keqing felt it was, she’d coerced herself into accepting it.

After that is when she’d draw a blank. 

Keqing tends to the nape of her neck, head still dipped and eyes hanging low. Her days off had normally been spent in solitude. All she’d ever known was loneliness, which she’d curbed by working clandestinely even off the clock. Spending time with other people, or rather an adeptus, had been a tossup in her routine. Normally, she would accompany him aboard his favorite rooftop, almond tofu and shrimp balls in tow — and if not that, then he was fixed in a lotus pose upon her kitchen counter ... watching her cook, listening to her read, toying with her belongings (to her chagrin).

Today, when she posited that nothing could compare to a mountaintop view, Xiao had sought to prove otherwise. Cue the pair perched atop a cloud several hundreds of feet above said “mountaintop view”. She’d been up in arms to start, critical of the pressure ringing in her ears and the goosebumps invading her skin ... but it wasn’t long before a vibrant, streak of orange permeated her line of sight. Following suit was a mosaic of purples and reds and pinks that scraped every corner of the sky — some but a backdrop to the other clouds surrounding them, others caressing layer upon layer of Liyue’s stone forests.

The past few hours they’d spent there, Keqing had wanted to speak — to say something more profound than “It’s so beautiful up here”. To be speechless is all she seemed capable of nowadays, or at least where Xiao was concerned. 

Until he’d severed the silence himself just moments ago, she was under the impression that he had not noticed.

That’s also when she noticed something crucial about the answer to what she’d been thinking circles around: it could be helped, after all.

Slowly lifting her head, the Yuheng dares her eyes to return to where Xiao is sitting. Given his age, he had never struck her as somebody who appreciated the magic of a view. 

It’s only when she really — really, really — drinks in the golden flecks gleaning his amber eyes and the contrast of his teals and greens and blues to the setting sun that she realizes how utterly wrong she was.

“No, I don’t think I can be miserable.” Keqing lifts her legs and hugs them close to her chest, both arms draping themselves over her kneecaps. She feels a warm light engulf her as the sun begins its descent into the night.

“Why, I’m up here sitting on a cloud ... having spent several hours reminded of just how beautiful Liyue is — ” The warmth stretches past her, casting itself onto Xiao next. 

Her eyes widen. Her heart skips a beat ... several beats.

" — And I’m up here sitting on a cloud ... ” The faintest of laughs spills from Keqing’s lips. She averts her gaze once more, cheeks a rosy red. “ ... With you.”

@reviledstorm​ .