#eikal

[cinnamonchaos]

“Life is a wonderful, mesmerizing, magical, fun, silly thing. And humans are astounding. We all know we’re going to die, and yet we still live. We shout and curse and care when the full bin bag breaks, yet with every minute that passes we edge closer to the end. We marvel at a nectarine sunset over the M25 or the smell of a baby’s head or the efficiency of flat-pack furniture, even though we know that everyone we love will cease to exist one day. I don’t know how we do it.”

- Dolly Alderton, Everything I Know About Love (twenty-eight lessons learnt in twenty-eight years)

[wereallywere-timeless]

throwback pic from newport jazz last year i love laufey sm ✨

[laufeyland]

laufey playing ‘hi’ in denver (10.18.2023)

[ivorysyrniki]

chapter two: in the flesh (venti)

pairing: venti/reader

title: Everything I Know About Love

summary: Barbatos, or Venti, manages to lure you with the promise of Dandelion Wine.

tags: fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, love confessions

notes: biweekly updates. also posted on ao3. fridays.

parts: chapter one - chapter three

He was indeed the Anemo Archon. How can it not be? It seems strange to think otherwise—for the aura he exudes only gives holiness, divinity, and a sense of peace from the lyre that he strums and the voice he uses to present himself. The form that he takes now is enchanting, enough to tie you down—indeed enough to make you kneel. 

“My Lord… Lord Barbatos,” you recite, a tremble in your voice as you do. “I am deeply honoured to be in your presence. I apologize if I may not be in the best condition to be of service to you, but I will try my utmost to give you my all—”

“W.. wait! Hold on!” he ceases floating and comes to kneel in front of you, trying to pry your head from the soil, but eventually gives up when you do not budge. “I didn’t come to you for you to worship me. I came to you for friendship!”

“Friendship?” you snap your head towards him, faltering in the respectful exterior you don. “What?

You look at his face, eager for explanations. He bends down to look at you with a closed-eye grin, the ends of his mouth stretching towards his ears. You begin to examine his features. You notice the faint teal colours on the ends of his braids. His form resembles a boy, with a brown corset, a green cape, a white shirt, and some other garments finally accessorized with an Anemo vision. You assume that it must be a fake. Archons do not need primitive things like visions.  

‘But friendship… why?’ you muster all the courage to look at his eyes directly, drowning in those green eyes that seem to pull you towards him, engulfing your person with images of tall standing boulders amidst blue-green waters, or wind-washed mountains growing fields of white pristine Cecilias. It brings you comfort, almost as if you can breathe again. But with utter confusion about his objective in meeting you, you scoot away from him. His statement truly baffles you. Still, on your knees, you level yourself with his kneeling figure. 

“I think it is quite easy to understand, you see,” he puts down his lyre on the ground. “I’m awfully curious about the rest of the world now that I have finished guiding my children and fashioning the lands for them. Thus my soul yearns to see the world!”

‘Do archons even have souls? Well, I suppose they do…’ you look at him quizically, your eyebrows furrowing. You answer, “May I ask, why me, specifically?”

An archon out of nowhere says he wants to be friends, and he wants you to be his travel guide. An archon! Archons usually keep to themselves, tending to their nations! 

Before he could answer, you add, “With all due respect, Anemo Archon of the Seven, I am under no obligation to obey your… er… commands. My form is weary from the war, and I need ample slumber to consider myself of use again to any god, much less an archon.” 

“Awww, really?” he pouts, lips caressing the skin above. Suddenly he stares at you, with a mischievous smirk, “What if you do it for something in return?” 

Perhaps Rex Lapis is right. The God of Freedom does have a penchant for mischief. You reply, all too aware of the rising moon in the sky and how you would soon need to find a place to sleep, “May we talk about this in another place? I am afraid that it is getting dark. I need some place to rest. I would rather not deal with the remains of dead gods here in the Guili plains.”

“All right then, as you wish! I also believe we shouldn’t impede the work of a certain someone!” he says in that telltale sing-song voice, before placing a hand on your shoulder, “Hold on to me, fair Adeptus.” 

‘How does he know?’

You do as you are told, placing both hands on his shoulders, as this is your best guess of what he means. He whispers, “Good, now close your eyes.”

You close them. Suddenly your frame is awash with the wind, your ears blocked by the rush of wind hitting you gently yet loudly. You still close your eyes firmly, a warm feeling in your core—singing that you should trust him and everything will be all right, that there is no such thing as anguish nor pain in this world. A weightless sensation spreads throughout your body, and you fight the urge to scream. Then, you lose the feeling of the grass that digs through your skin. You feel nothing, and then you feel the grass again. 

“Open your eyes,” he whispers. If you were a human, you would not be able to hear his voice. 

You open your eyes to the new environment that seems to manifest itself around you as the dark spots that obstruct your vision clear. You look away from the archon, turning your attention to the place around you. Ah, it seems you are under a great oak tree, different from the likes you have seen. It bathes in the everlasting winds that dwell in here, and when you listen to the tree—you hear the gentle notes of a lyre silently being plucked. A Statue of the Seven keeps the tree company. True to this archon’s claims, the Statue of the Seven now erects itself proudly, bearing the face and form of its nation’s ruler. 

Mondstadt is beautiful. The winds suit your aching soul. Its beauty attests to the care of its archon. 

Speaking of him, he tries to get your attention by waving his hands around, “Hey! Give me some attention!” 

You turn your attention to him, breathing in the fresh air. The fresh air did not seem to exist in the plains you were in less than five minutes ago. 

“I want a travelling companion, and I think you would be the perfect person for that role! Buuuut! You do not want to do it, and that is understandable. Who would willingly go with someone they just met, even if that person is an archon? So… what if we get to know each other first, huh?” he blurts out in a single breath, astonishing you.

He continues, “My name is Barbatos, but I go by Venti as I roam the world under his guise. A travelling bard!” And as if evidence to his claims, he strums his lyre. 

After a while, you speak, “We do not have to know each other, Lord Barbatos. It is best that you only know me as an Adeptus, which I do not know where you procured such information—and that I only know you as the God of Freedom, the Anemo Archon of the Seven. Anyway, such formalities like these are unimportant given I have to refuse your request.”

He gapes, “But! But! Refusing?!” 

He is not surprised by your refusal but is rather confused why you would refuse such a great request. In truth, you have surprised yourself too. Such an endeavour of travelling with one of the Seven is already a great honour, to human or illuminated beast or youkai, or really—any race, but you steadfastly refuse it just like that, without contemplation! What has become of me, you think solemnly. You were sure you had immense respect for Gods, especially those stronger than you and that has naturally extended to the newly seated Archons, but now… you are not so sure. 

Is it because of what the war did to you? Fed you cold apathy and a worn down body—a body you are sure you drag as you go about your days. It left you with such a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. You want to get out of your skin. 

“Yes. I refuse,” you stand up from your kneeling position and clutch your bag close to your chest, before turning your back on him and adding, “I do not wish to meddle any more in the mortal world, or any of the worlds Teyvat boasts, I wish to rest. I wish to sleep. And I wish to taste some Dandelion Wine before I get on with it.”

“How on earth have you not tasted Dandelion Wine!” he gasps, placing a hand over his mouth as if this fact was the most unbelievable one he has heard in his long life. “Well fear not, I will take you to the best tavern in all of Mondstadt!” 

You whirl around, turning to face him once again. You raise an eyebrow at his claims. Of course, this is his nation. He knows where everything is. 

“On one condition,” he laughs, raising a finger. “You must promise me that you will think about my request!”

Oh. Right. 

It seems you have no choice. You give in. 

“Fine.”

But the bard stops, almost as if he is realizing something. He looks at you again, this time with a sheepish smile, “Buuuut... I think I may not be allowed in the city…”

“What?!” 

[asmallcafethatslove]

laufey concert tickets... to get or not to get.....

[spookyshoosh]

Say hello my first Starfleet OC! Her name is Amaryntha.

She is from a planet called Eikal IV and is apart of Starfleet’s Science Division, working in atmospheric and biological science.

[whenthegoldrays]

Always thinking about the progression from “Hi” in EIKAL to “California and Me” in Bewitched

[lesbianjennette]

i should change my titlr to a new set of laufey lyrics... its been i wish you love for so long... like so so so long.. like quite a bit before eikal was released.....

[kiiraes]

laufey really had to release eikal deluxe edition during hell week

[klara-konka]

My favourite parts of Dolly Alderton’s Twenty-eight Lessons Learnt in Twentyeight Years

You are the sum total of everything that has happened to you up until that last slurp of that cup of tea you just put down. How your parents hugged you, that thing your first boyfriend once said about your thighs – these are all bricks that have been laid from the soles of your feet up. Your eccentricities, foibles and fuck-ups are a butterfly effect of things you saw on telly, things teachers said to you and the way people have looked at you since the first moment you opened your eyes. Being a detective for your past – tracing back through all of it to get to the source with the help of a professional – can be incredibly useful and freeing.

Don’t eat sugar every day. Sugar turns everything on the outside and inside of your body to shit. Three litres of water makes everything work properly. A glass of red wine is medicinal.

It is futile and knackering to try and make all your tiny choices representative of your moral compass then beat yourself up when this plan inevitably fails. Feminists can get waxed. Priests can swear. Vegetarians can wear leather shoes. Do as much good as you can. The weighty representation of the world cannot rest on every decision you make.

Let people laugh at you. Let yourself be a tit. Pronounce things wrong. Spill yoghurt down your shirt. It is the greatest relief to finally let it happen.

It’s completely OK to focus on yourself. You’re allowed to travel and live on your own and spend all your money on yourself and flirt with whoever you like and be as consumed with your work as you want. You don’t have to get married and you don’t have to have children. It doesn’t make you shallow if you don’t want to open up and share your life with a partner. But it’s also completely not OK to be in a relationship if you know that you want to be on your own.

Gender, age and size regardless: everyone looks good in a white shirt or a thick polo neck or brown leather boots or a denim jacket or a navy pea coat.

Try to pretend Wi-Fi on the tube doesn’t exist. It’s completely shit anyway. Always have a book in your bag.

If you’re feeling wildly overwhelmed with everything, try this: clean your room, answer all your unanswered emails, listen to a podcast, have a bath, go to bed before eleven.

Swim naked in the sea at every possible opportunity. Go out of your way to do it. If you are driving somewhere faintly near the coast and you smell the salty lick of the sea in the air, park the car, take off your clothes and don’t stop running until you’re titsdeep in icy ocean.

Dolly Alderton’s Everything I Know about Love is a great book, especially if you’re having a quarter life crisis and I can’t recommend it enoug, even though I couldn’t really relate to the first few chapters.

[chainofbeing]

Having been sent by the explosion created by Ovig Nadal to a strange land, Adam comes across an old friend and learns of a dangerous new enemy

Might-Upon-Serentity: Frances Gillard

The Scales of Nemesis: Mary-Anne Stanek

Adam Delta 5, Writing, Sound design: Cai Gwilym Pritchard

email us at chainofbeingofficial@gmail.com

follow the podcast on twitter

Subscribe to the patreon for exclusive content and rewards!

The possessed body of Ghost-of-Sunken-Dawn explodes in a flash of polychromatic light, instantly filling the room with dust and chunks of the facility. Eikal and Inspiration are vapourized and I am sent flying backwards towards the back wall of the detainment building and then, when I subconsciously expect to land against, or crash through the wall, I continue to fall. Still surrounded by streaks of multicoloured energy and dust, I begin to sail through the air falling for a few seconds before I land in a large, algae filled pond. The water is shallow and does little to cushion my fall and so I am heavily winded, I drag myself to the edge of the pond, bombarded by falling chunks of concrete and construction plastic and I lay there sprawled out, trying my best to catch my breath. I look above me and see a cloud of dust in the sky, slowly sinking downwards to the surface. The two suns beat down above me, the stagnant pond water soaking my thick coat already starting to evaporate. My visu-link is offline and so I remove it from my eye and toss it away. The floor around me is not covered in grass or mounds of black soil but is instead carpeted in a complex net of small vines which sprawl outwards. It grows so thick that I can't see the soil beneath it. I roll over and sit up, my body from my torso down still submerged in the pond. The gravity here is much stronger than that of Dhāra jamīna which makes it much harder to move and the sudden change accentuates the pain in my joints. There’s a sharp pain on my back on the left side when I breathe as well as a constant dull ache. I reach for my spear and find it no longer there, frantically I begin to search, getting up from my half submerged resting place I see the wide, flat horizon interrupted in the far distance by huge mesas, and equally large sloping hills. Occasionally a bank will rise out of the terrain or what I assume to be a fallen tree, covered in vines and moss protruding outwards. I begin to search for my weapon when very suddenly the spear lands and lodges itself in the ground where I was just sitting. I stare at it, the blade sunken into the marshy stinking mud at the edge of the pool of stagnant water. I return it to my side and pick a direction.

[the sounds of a swamp, insects, some animals makes noises, but overall it is quite peaceful]

The march is slow, so as not to strain my very obviously broken ribs, the two suns reach the apex in the sky and the heat forces the limited oxygen from the air out of my chest and singes my nostrils when I try to drag it back in, my sleeves are rolled up and my winter coat is tied around my waist but the scorching heat continues to relentlessly beat down on me. As I get closer to what I previously thought was a dead tree, overgrown with moss and vines, turned out to be an old starship, a very old starship sunken downward into the mud, the engines pointing up to the sky. The thing had basically been gutted, wiring, panels everything except for the frame and outer shell had been stripped clean, clearly the work of some very dedicated scavengers, which meant there were people here and the fact that whoever did this decided not to just live in it meant that they took their scrap somewhere. Somewhere I intend to find.

This planet is littered with wrecks, some are small fighters like Ehedydd, others are huge, not supercruiser huge but a few haulers here and there. All of them stripped clean. I guess for whoever lives here this is the only source of materials and supplies. I continue to walk, I don't stop for a break once in what I estimate to have been a 36 hour journey in the baking heat. The two suns mercifully begin to set and the moonless night falls on the swamp. In the darkness, it’s hard to see, however I eventually make it to a long, thin, luxury yacht. It lays on its side. The left wing pointing straight up and so I have to scramble up to enter the dead ship. The pain in my side is too great for me to be able to focus on not focusing, and just fall asleep so instead I just lay back on a window and close my eyes. Throughout the night I hear strange wailing and moaning coming from outside, the whole night seems to come to life as what I can only assume is a horde of many different creatures perform their nightly routine. Through it all though I can faintly hear the sound of what must be a voice. I pull myself up and out of the side door on top of my shelter, wincing as I roll up and onto the mossy carpet that spills across the fallen ship and jerkily push myself up into a crouching position. I draw my spear, leaving it unextended. For now. There’s a culture Veatorians name their weapons, every single knife, bow, or firearm gets given a name. The idea being that you’ll take care of it better, there's some deep philosophy behind it that I can't properly convey. The practice later got adopted into the military as a whole later on. I might do the same, maybe it will make me feel less solitary surrounded by the shrieking night. Hunched down, I look out into the darkness and see nothing. And then, a bump into the side of the ship. Startled, I extend my spear to its full length, refraining from flicking the switch to electrify the blade, and peer over the side of the ship. In the deep night I can just just about discern a shape hugging close to the angled roof of the ship, completely still. “Hey!” I call out, but it doesn't respond. It looks like a person swaddled in heaps of dirty cloth, so much that no features can be made out.

[it mumbles, the words inaudible]

I slide down the roof of the ship and cautiously approach the figure, spear held in both hands “excuse me,” I say, still no response, I hold the spear in one hand and get closer to it, my eyes follow the fabric down to the floor and I see that behind it is one long uninterrupted stretch of cloth that sprawls outwards for what must be miles miles. I circle round, now standing close to the wall as well, I try to peer into the clump of material where I assume a face would be but see nothing, just more fabric. I go to touch it, and the instant I make contact it collapses to the ground, its journey now ending here, with me. I lift up a few rags with the tip of my spear but find nothing. I clamber up and into the ship and try my best to ignore the pain for the rest of the night.

I must have managed sleep, because instantly it’s daytime, the light peering through the vines that cover the windowless gaps in the ceiling. I go to check where the creature had been but there’s no sign of it, no depression in the ground, no mile long cloth stretching into the horizon  to suggest it had gotten up and continued its journey, nothing. I march for another 14 hours before, in the distance, I spot something, not a ship, or a withering tree, in the shivering heat and from this distance it's nothing more than a white blur, but as I draw closer, I see that it is the ribcage of some long dead, long-dead beast, 20 metres in all with about 13 sets of ribs, arcing up into the sky. In between each individual rib were strung up small huts, made of scrap metal and animal skins, although from what animal they possibly could have come from is a mystery.

As I approach the town my gait becomes irregular and my head begins to pound with a heavy thud, the vines writhe and wriggle violently beneath me and I crouch down to inspect them, they move chaotically and as I stare the notice a pattern, amongst all the chaos there emerges order and regularity. I hear a woman's voice

"Hello Adam" she says

I stand, and sat at the edge of the town is a malgaric woman, she sits on the edge of a wide flat rock, the sun shines between the ribs, casting half of her shadow, she has a set of metal spheres hovering below each ear and a fan of metal shards splaying outwards from the back of her head. Half delirious from the lack of food and water after walking for what felt like 3 days in the sun I wobble slightly in place

"Might?" I ask, my voice trembling with sunstroke and uncertainty

"The one and only," she says, as I fall unconscious to the floor

[a strange ambience, muffled, stretched out, an embodiment of delirium]

Drifting in and out of consciousness I try to wake up, to move, to do anything. Instead I struggle to open my eyes, and when I do I am met with various images that would normally be strange to me but in my current state I am in no place to currently contemplate: I am picked up and carried through the settlement, the pointed ends of the ribs arcing outwards like a pale hand closing around me. Something large circles above us, winged I think. The blazing sun disappears and I’m carried inside a hut.

I finally awake and face to face with some furred multi-jawed creature, I start and knock over a cup next to me, spilling its contents over the tarpaulin floor. I glance back at the beast. Having regained my senses in panic I quickly realise it's simply the skin of a multi- jawed creature, patched together with other materials to make up the inside wall of the hut I'm in. A blue glow appears under the front flaps of the shelter.

"I'm guessing you're awake?" A voice calls from outside. I sit up and cross my legs.

"Uh-yeah,"

She opens the left flap and steps through. We look at each other and she kneels by the entrance, her legs crossed at the ankles.

"Been awhile" she says "when was the last time we saw each other?" I say nothing "it was definitely after Fréwern right? Or- sorry," she puts her fingers to her mouth in a Malgaric physical tick, typical when trying to remember something "Eden! That's what you call it right? It's been so long since I've actually had a conversation," I still say nothing. And we both sit there in silence for a moment "look at the two of us eh? The first Malgaric and the first human just- sitting here."

"One of the first," I say bitterly "or have you forgotten the rest so quickly?"

She leans back, clearly hurt. Might is one of the first Malgaric, dropped from the first mother factory; as mysterious then as it is today. The early Malgaric didn't have facial expressions, they hadn't developed articulated faces for their organic interiors until the last 100 millenia, and so the language developed around gesture and body language, as well as imperceptible (at least to everyone else) fluctuations in the light on their bodies. Her face is a passive expression: the mouth open to allow her voice to escape in muffled and to intake food and water, something else left behind by the Malgaric a long time ago. She leans forward to speak again "the horns are new, I like them,"

"Let's not do this,"

"What do you mean? I'm just saying I like your-"

"We could have gotten away with it! We had it in our grasp, we gained the knowledge! And you couldn't bear the consequences of your actions so you repented to the gods!"

"You want to talk to me about not being able to accept the consequences? You speak of it like it was a good thing! Even if we hadn't been discovered and by some miracle we weren't accused of it anyway, Eden still would have collapsed and everyone still would have been destroyed, we were never meant to have that knowledge"

"But we would have been free! We would have the understanding of things even the gods do not know and we would be free!"

"But you didn't understand did you? How could you have possibly hoped to understand?" She laughs a short bitter laugh "how naïve we were to think that we could comprehend what even the gods could not. If we hadn't been cursed and banished from Eden what do you think would have happened? You'd have died in some corner somewhere, mourning her death with a head full of knowledge that means nothing to you," it's my turn to lean back now,

"you don't want to admit it but it was all for nothing, you were selfish, you couldn't bear the thought of something being kept from you and so you sacrificed everything for it on our behalf and you have the audacity to be angry at me?" The swamp festers silently around us

"All five of us are to blame, I accept that, we all got cursed and banished, but it was you who led us," I lean forward and place my head in my hands.

"What if- we could understand?" I say looking up at her. She pauses and shifts her weight slightly

"You're talking about that thing that came out of the sun right?"

"How did you know?" She taps her forehead

"Visions, remember?"

"But I always assumed they were so vague? What was that analogy you used to use? About the bird or something?"

"Recently my visions have become… clearer. My last few have made more sense, before and after its perfect clarity, I truly understand it all. and then… it doesn't any more and I can no longer parse the information and instead it just sits there in my mind. Its like these thoughts don't belong to me, I'm just mimicking the thought process of something much more complex than myself"

"When did this all start?" I ask

"I think when this creature came through the portal,"

"Do you know what it is?"

"It's from before the beginning, or something like that, it's angry and lost. It doesn't belong" she takes a rag and mops up the spilt water off of the tarpaulin floor. "How much do you know about it?"

"I- I think I spoke to it." She pauses but doesn't look at me

"What did it say?"

"It, or he, or something, told me this story about a woman in a savannah, and some cycle in which new rules get placed on the new creations and, they simply have to create, and those that do get- kept. I’m not really doing it justice. Then he stood up, and shouted ‘I am Ovig Nadal, I have returned, rejoice For you shall soon be unbound’ after which he exploded and I ended up here, where ever that is” Might finishes cleaning up the spilled water and sits up, it’s only now I notice the short sword at her side "Adam... my visions, the change in their quality, I think I-"

[a gunshot rings out]

gunfire, we both rise to our feet “come with me," I follow her outside into the midday sunlight. The spine of whatever creature we’re standing in  is buried in the earth but there’s a slight defined bump in the ground, I can tell that the creature didn’t just die of old age, some of the upper ribs are snapped as if the chest had been caved in. All around us are various species of people, dressed in religious clothing, standing outside of their homes, not looking as panicked as I would have expected.  “Who are all these people?” I ask as I follow Might-upon-Serenity through the collection of shelters toward the source of the noise. “Mystics, philosophers, sorcerers, pretty much anyone who spends their time thinking instead of doing,” we pass a Veatorian woman covered in red lines tattooed all over her body, she sits cross legged outside her shelter, small rocks and dust sit suspended around her and a strong red glow shines through her blue eyelids and a few other of the town's people try to rouse her from her trance “People practice magic here then?”

“Vitamancy, thanatology, energy manipulation. Some things I can't properly explain” she says distractedly.  We stop at the end of the ribs. Marching towards us from an aggressive looking four-wheeled vehicle is a trio of humans, one marches forward confidently with her rifle held to her chest while the other two stay low to the ground as they move, scanning the area for potential threats. The rifle that the masked leader carries is like none I've ever seen before. Where one would expect the firing mechanism to be there is instead a series of overlapping rings which spin around a luminescent core that emanates a bright golden light which can be seen even in the daylight, it seems as if it had been constructed, not from the debris found scattered around the planet, but from actual parts designed specifically for this purpose. The two next to her carry electrified rifles, dx-70’s if I had to guess, not new models, but certainly now old ones either. My hand goes to my spear as they draw closer and I glance over to see that Might has also placed a palm on the pommel of her short, wide sword. If neither of us were immortal it would be a pitiful match up, instead it was just meagre. They stop about 20 feet away from us. The two next to the ringleader keep their rifles raised but stand, more relaxed than before, they are dressed in light combat mould, each with a utility belt and long cape, their gloved hands resting comfortably around the handle and foregrip. Both have short, waist length capes which wrap around their throats and over their noses, concealing their faces. The leader is dressed correspondingly, but with a high collared much longer, more ornate cloak with bronze trims at the edges, similarly ornate elbow and knee pads carved in the classical acanthus pattern of intricate swirling leaves, her small pauldrons affixed to her shoulders are carved in the same way. What is most striking about her though, as she stands, her rifle illuminating her lightly decorated combat mould is her lifelike bronze mask that she wears. The billowing metal acanthus leaf pattern arcs up symmetrically and around the back of her head, forming a sort of crown. The mask is one of exceptional quality, carved to resemble a human woman, so precise I can only imagine it was based off of a real person.

“People of vestak-cry,” she calls to the town through an amplifier in her mask, her voice booms outwards. “This is a call to action, one of great import! You have until tomorrow to relinquish your supplies and weapons to us or we will be forced to take them by force. Some of the more courageous of you may be considering other possibilities, I urge you to reconsider. Such actions are careless and will only result in your demise” she pauses and despite there being no eye holes by which I could possibly tell, I feel her stare at me. For a moment I feel so small, like an insect under a magnifying glass soon to be pinned down, in another moment her gaze drifts off of me and she calls out again “any humans among you are welcome to join our ranks, everyone else…” she pauses and makes a gesture you know what to do. The sound of the swamp is the only thing that breaks the rigid silence. Might draws her sword, and points it toward the masked figure, “This town is under the protection of Might-Upon-Serenity, I don’t know who you are or what your whole deal is and honestly I don’t care. This is a town of philosophers, whatever treasures you think we hold, are intellectual and hold no value to you. Leave.” The masked woman tilts her head “Philosophers? Mystics as well I imagine. a sorcerer or two I’m sure. Interesting. You think us mere bandits? I assure you, you are quite mistaken. We are the Anthronesians, but it is of no relevance to you, a Malgaric. Just know we are much, much stronger than you, and our wrath is irresistible, in the truest sense of the word” She turns to leave and as she does, Might grabs the hilt of her sword with both of hands and charges toward The masked woman who turns, calmly raises her rifle, and pulls the trigger.

[the rifle charges up and fires, laser-like]

A beam of golden light instantly appears and closes the distance between her and might, who calls out and collapses to the ground, a large part of the side of her body missing. I rush over to Might who writhes on the floor in pain, the two unmasked Anthonesians get back in the vehicle, the leader looks at me one last time before she too enters and drives off. I open a pocket on my bandolier and take from it a small vial of an olive green powdery substance, I scoop up some water from a nearby puddle and mix the two into a viscous paste, the vial goes incredibly cold in my hand and I draw a symbol in the paste onto Mights chest and she goes limp, already I can see the wound starting to glow as the spell does its job, funnelling her lifeforce into healing her wound. She is immortal, but this would have killed anyone else, we’re very resistant, but not immune to damage. I struggle to lift her, and the Veatorian woman who was previously in a deep meditative state groggily ambles over and, with a slight and precise motion of her hands, lifts Might off of the ground, and carries her into the town. I turn from the procession and watch the vehicle disappear into the distance, obscured by the heat haze of the midday sun.  

[giuseppecerro]

#rural_love #luganoregion #lakelife #lakescape #luganolake #ticino ​#visitticino ​#cantonticino #lugano ​#igersswitzerland #beautifulworld #wonderfulplaces #wonderfulplacestogo #bestpicturesgallery #awesome_photographers (presso Lugano, Switzerland) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByPD6-eiKAl/?igshid=bvxjd63ruggy

[itshicarl]

Ini kawan aku,tak kira ke mana mesti ada dua orang nielah...aku kenal dia orang nie time sek sampai ke sekarang..

Amin(yg bgi kaki) - dia perangai memang mcm sial kerja membahan dan tak reti ddk diam,kdg2 aku pun pening ngn but bila aku susah or ada masalah confirm dia buat aku senyum walaupun benda tu tak masuk akal.

Iqbal(control macho) - haa yang mcm india nie pun perangai lebih kurang,tapi dia boleh lah dikatakan smartboy bila keluar or bertutur kata..persamaan dia dengan amin tak jauh beza..

Dan last eikal(mulut awat gitu) - okay aku ,aku dikirakan abang kepada dua kawan aku nie,jenis aku nie memang straight bila dia orang nie buat benda bukan2 ..lagi2 bila keluar bertiga salah sorang confirm akan kena sawan babi tertibaa ,time tu bila aku dah bersuara terus diam..

Aku memang tak ramai kawan sebaya yang boleh berhuha-huha sana sini.. 2 orang nie lah kawan dan tempat aku mengadu.. lagi2 bila aku sorang2 confirm aku cari dia orang sebb bila aku sorang ,aku akan sedih sendiri..

Sedih sebb apa? Okay next pic aku up tengok situ

Thanks brother

[ivorysyrniki]

chapter one: a chance encounter (venti)

pairing: venti/reader

title: Everything I Know About Love

summary: The Archon War has ended, your contract with the Lord of Geo fulfilled, so where shall you go now? You think going to Mondstadt to have a taste of their specialty, Dandelion Wine, serves as a good farewell to Teyvat now that you have no purpose to be here. All plans seemingly change as this bard clad in green manages to entice you to submit to his whims.

tags: fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, love confessions

notes: biweekly updates. also posted on ao3. fridays.

parts: chapter one - chapter two

In a clearing in the yellow-green plains of Liyue wanders a lonesome Adeptus. This Adeptus is you, walking away from Liyue Harbor and all its troublesome matters–including your fulfilled contract with the Lord of Geo, the currently seated Geo Archon. The Archon War had already finished its assault on Teyvat a fortnight ago, and the seven divine seats of Celestia taken, forming The Seven. 

'How foolish,' you think as you stop your trek, your foot nudging gently at the plants that surrounded the clearing. It is a pleasant clearing to take a break in, for it is–as you put it to the best of your muddled mind to decide what it is–secluded, quiet, isolated, yet brimming with new life from the wounds that it suffered from during a long dreadful war of Gods and creatures from both Teyvat and other parts. It serves as a reminder that perhaps even those hit by the strife of life may continue to live and breathe again. While you believe they can never be themselves again compared to what they were prior to the war, a brand new start may indicate that this life was perhaps even better. 

‘Maybe Teyvat would be better off under The Seven’s divine rule,’ you muse, setting down your worn bag on the sharp grass. A long sigh escapes your mouth as you try to focus on your surroundings, but to no avail–your mind is simply too distracted, your body worn from past battles. The fact that it may never truly heal upsets you, with Cloud Retainer’s voice ringing inside your head. The voices that ring in your head are not the tormentors–it was the words.

Another sigh.

Then another. 

Until you fall asleep. 

You open your eyes after a few hours and slowly realize the deathly silence the world engulfs you in. Stars are beginning to appear on the blanket of the false sky, clouds shielding them from the horrid appearance of Teyvat’s landscape, and the Moon looks as if it is hiding from everything as well, peaking only momentarily from the heavy clouds. 

It is going to rain soon. 

And it is time to go. You pick up your belongings, organize them in a suspended fashion in the worn bag to not experience any material loss, and set out on your journey once again to Mondstadt, where you can have a taste of their Dandelion Wine, and forget the ailments that plague your mind and body all at once, all based from the suggestion of Ganyu. It is constant torture, how the Archon War fashioned by Celestia themselves injured even the depths of your soul. You are tired. You want to rest and be done with this world, despite your curiosity of life pronounced anew because of the victorious, The Seven. 

You walk again, the sun hiding behind Liyue’s proud and tall mountains of old. The wind caresses your face and hair as it moves clouds away from the ransacked Guili plains, and onto the West, where Minlin’s peaking mountains stand, eyeing mortals who dare to gaze upon them. A little disoriented from the nap, you rub your hands, blowing onto them gently. Until something catches the corner of your eye. An untrained eye would have merely dismissed it as some speck of dust that just happened to be too shiny under the lonesome clouds up in the sky. 

It makes a noise. 

A noise! 

You jump back slightly, fully eyeing the ‘speck of dust’ your eyes feed your mind. Kneeling, you hear the sing-song whispers of winds caressing the leaves of trees and the soft twinkling of birdsong. A little hooded figure comes out from the thick leaves of a Liyue plant, shuffling from common sweet flowers that emit a scent so sweet you would think they were truly blessed by The Seven. 

You stumble on your backside, feet feeling the pressure of your body; your mind becoming even more disoriented. Surely, you are hallucinating for you are certainly not seeing a wisp. It must just be magical dust. But no, indeed it was a wisp, those who were born from the branches of time, possibly Istaroth’s rumored offspring. 

Can wisps talk? You have never encountered one before. Hasn’t the Lord of Geo told you that the neighboring nation of Mondstadt is ruled by a wisp who takes on the form of a bard? What if this was the Anemo Archon himself? 

It shows its thoughts about the situation by hiding once again behind the dark green leaves and neighboring sweet flowers. 

“Wait, sorry!” you scramble to your feet, startling yourself with the loudness of your voice, before lowering your tone to a less frightened one, “Please come back, I didn’t mean it!”

It peeks, releasing a sweet sound before gliding towards you and pushing you back on your backside. It is a soft landing, so you are not hurt, only releasing a soft sound from your mouth. It nods and stomps slightly on your shoulder as if telling you to stay there. It glides once again before landing on the floor. 

It was a blur, your mind barely making out the overwhelming light coming from the ground, the howling wind surprising birds, foxes, boars–running away from the scene. Quiet sounds of a harp ring in your ears pleasantly, almost rocking you to a peaceful slumber. Flakes of translucent geometric shapes appear, and within the blink of an eye–a young boy clad in green and brown appears. 

“Terribly sorry for not having the most flamboyant entrance for a beautiful maiden such as yourself!” the young boy smiles at you, almost cheekily, his eyes twinkling and his throat hoarse as if he has not spoken for a long time. “Can you give me another chance, young lady?”

“Eh?!”

“Oh. . . I apologize, fair maiden, for it appears I have startled you to the point of no words!” he pulls something out from behind him, a lyre appearing out from the wind. He strums it, forming a beautiful melody that eases your internal and external wounds, and slows your breath, and if not for his next confirmation, you would have to consider him as some sort of wolf in sheep’s clothing who intends to entice you to follow his every command, whether it brings you danger or not. 

“Your eyes do not deceive you, it is I, the Anemo Archon!” 

[xdzftr-blog]

Pria Hujan,

Adalah Pria Hujan.

Pria yang mampu, Redakan hujan.

Setelahnya, Yang ia tawarkan Bukan hanya pelangi.

Aku menyimpan sisa hujan itu, Didalam sini.

Jejak airnya perlahan surut. Tapi, tidak untuk Harum mu.

Pria Hujan, Datanglah esok hari, Kembali ukir rintik air,

Agar kau pahami Bahwa, jejak ini Tercipta untuk Sang Pria Hujan.

-

💭: Sdz Fitri, 04 Mei 2017.

-

Behind this Story:

ini rangkaian huruf yang ada di otak gue setelah bertemu si ‘Pria Hujan,’ waktu pulang ngampus. Gue pulang naik bis dan sampai rumah sekitar jam setengah 8 malem.

Harusnya gue sampai rumah jam 6 sore. Tapi kemarin gue lagi uts akuntansi, ngitung sampe keder dan Alhamdulillah balance HAHAHAHAHA!! (karna gue jarang bisa balance saat ngitung akuntansi, kalaupun bisa, itu butuh waktu 2,5 jam😐)

Beres akuntansi jam 5 lewat, ternyata diluar udah hujan besar dan banyak petir. Maka, gue dkk neduh dulu daripada auh.

Bukannya reda, malah makin deres plus gledek dimana-mana. Meminimalisir kemungkinan untuk kesamber petir, jadilah nunggu sekitar 30 menit. Dan kamvret, listrik di kampus mati coy!!!

GUE DKK GELAP-GELAPAN DI KELAS DONG, JADINYA. APESNYA PAS MALEM JUMAT. SEHARUSNYA GUA UDAH DIRUMAH. HIKS.

Singkat cerita, akhirnya jam 7 malam gue balik dan memutuskan untuk naik bis karna lebih aman.

Nah, gue sebangku nih sama Pria Hujan, gue menamai dia dengan sebutan itu. Berkat hujan dan gledek tadi, gue bisa sebangku sama doi.

Kayaknya doi dari Jakarta gitu deh, lagi balik ke rumah ortunya (mungkin), di bis dia pake slayer buat nutupin muka. Tapi dari samping gue sangat bisa meng-scan seperti apa doi ini.

Kalau ada anak Restone yang baca ini, si Pria Hujan tampak sedikit mirip sama Eikal Halim. 7/10 lah miripnya.

Sepanjang jalan gua risih banget, asli. Banyak laki-laki yg sengaja ‘nempel’ ke gue, kan pengen gua tabok banget jadinya!

Pria Hujan ngeh kalau gue risih, yang tadinya dia cuma 'ekhm-ekhm’ sepanjang jalan, akhirnya dia mengeluarkan suara. “Teh, teh, mau tukeran duduknya?”

Lah. Kok bola matanya coklat, ya?! Mancung amat?!! LAH ANJIR KOK DOI TIBA-TIBA WANGI GINI?!?! #GAGALFOKUS!

“nggak usah, saya sebentar lagi nyampe,” good. Jaim gue terkoneksi aktif.

Jangan sampe gue malu-maluin.

Akhirnya bis ini mendekati arah rumah Q, dengan sangat amat berat hati, aku sudahi pertemuan singkat ini. Gue pamitan sama doi kalau gue udah mau nyampe, dan pas gue mau turun dari bis..

Doi ngejar gue. Nyautin gue sampe nubruk penumpang lain. Trus dia bilang,

“Teh, ini uangnya jatuh di kursi bis,” daripada dicocotin supir bis karna kelamaan turun, akhirnya gue turun.

Tapi gue inget, semua duit gue ada di tas dan nggak mungkin ada dikantong karna duit pecahan udah abis buat beli somay. Pria Hujan ngeliatin dari kaca jendela, sambil pake slayernya.

Karna gue yakin duit ini bukan duit gue, iseng aja tuh gue buka lipetan duitnya, siapa tau ada id line. Etaunya nggak ada. Wak.

Trus, gue endus duitnya. Dan benar, duitnya bukan punya gue. Karna duitnya wangi parfum si Pria Hujan.