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#i think he could really translate that rage into a more quiet smoldering sort of anger
sunflowerthiefsunny · 3 months
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Watching this episode made me think (no matter how much I hate it) that Porter has a point about Gorgug not properly utilizing his rage. Gorgug is constantly trying to distance himself from his anger, he doesn't enjoy being angry. We see this often, but especially during the frost festival when he's so mad at Ruben, his parents, and just the overall situation, but he just squashes it down. And of course, it's something that has become more prevalent with his foray into Artificer because it's a class that requires a lot of focus. I think he's seeing it as a disadvantage when it could be his greatest asset and motivator. I really think he could actually be using his rage in a similar direction and use it as a calming point of focus (kind of how Lydia has to constantly be in a rage but shes very chill) rather than an explosive violent rage.
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aminiatureworld · 3 years
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In My Dreams II
Characters: Diluc, fm!reader
Word Count: 3,273
Warnings: Depictions of a panic attack
Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.
In which the reader dreams of the past.
Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. The history nerd really came out this time around.  
Diluc
You knew that holding onto the past too much was a dangerous game to play. Yet you continued to chase it, desperately looking for something that might finally bridge your present self to the person you’d left behind.
You’d been mostly upfront to Diluc about this obsession of yours. Knowing that your partner also lost his family, it was easier in some ways to grasp onto this shared loss, and to use it as a way to continue on. Not that Diluc ever pushed you to forget your past, as other might have done. Instead he tried to help you, using his not inconsiderable connections to attempt to find as such land that matched the vague descriptions you could give. Though you knew the quest was most likely no more than a wild goose, you greatly appreciated his attempt to help.
However you knew that even someone as kind and understanding as Diluc would never be able to condone something like this.
You rubbed your arms, feeling every inch of the cold musty ruins around you. You’d heard that a sizeable group of Abyss members were gathering here and figured that these figures who boasted of civilizations long gone might be valuable pieces of information. Though sneaking into a gathering of the upper members of the Abyss was perhaps not the smartest thing you’d ever done. It was too late to turn back now however. Ducking into a corner you slowed your breathing, hoping that no one would care to look at the nook in which you were now curled up.
Listening to the slow creaking of the domain you suddenly felt the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as the air grew charged with magic. The room around you suddenly grew completely silent, as if even the walls were aware of something important. Not daring to sneak a peak at what was happening you closed your eyes, willing your senses to focus on your ears.
“My brethren, I’m glad to see you.”
Opening your eyes wide you gathered your control, willing yourself to not immediately turn around. The voice was familiar, its cadence smooth and soothing, polished as marble. It struck something within you, some deep hidden memory that you’d long ago forgotten. Now that memory struggled to the surface of your mind, the sketch of a long ago time.
“I know that our plans are continuing smoothly. Soon we will able to Khaenri’ah, and topple those who so callously left it to smolder, having lit the flame themselves. We will one more emerge into the world, no longer required to hide our faces.”
The words passed through you, intangible as air. What were they talking about? Nothing was making sense, not one word was something you could interpret. And yet the voice seemed almost an explanation in itself. If you knew who was talking then you’d find out the answers, or at least some of them. Vraning your head ever so slightly you looked up, jerking back slightly in shock as you found amber eyes staring right at you.
The person who was talking was immensely familiar, everything about them echoed with a long gone familiarity. Looking out of place amidst the rank and file members of the Abyss he exuded a cold sort of confidence, a determination to see his words realized. Staring at him you noticed the emblem which embellished the scarf he wore around his neck, a golden eagle which seemed to move with the fabric. A part of you was tempted to run, but you found yourself frozen, trying desperately to process the figure which danced before your eyes.
The young man said nothing, gaze shifting as he calmly began to speak again, though you couldn’t hear his words over the pounding of your heart. When his gaze once more passed yours he grinned an understanding sort of grin. It was as if you two were cohorts in some sort of pranks of scheme, rather than complete strangers who stood on opposites ends of an invisible struggle. The gesture confused you, and you found yourself sinking back to the ground. Putting your head in your arms you took a few deep breaths. You would figure out what was going on. It was alright, there was a logical explanation for this. Perhaps he just wanted to finish up this odd gathering before turning his minions upon you.
And yet the order to attack never came. After what must’ve been at least an hour the young man declared the gathering over. The air filled with the familiar mark of waypointing, and soon the ruin was once more deadly quiet. Straightening your back you studied the wall opposite of you, sure that you were dreaming a confusing sort of dream.
“You can come out now.”
You jumped, freezing as you wondered what to do. You thought that you were alone, yet he remained. Was this the moment, had you truly just been tricked.
“You don’t have to be so afraid.” Laughter drifted to your ears. “I promise the rest are gone.”
Slowly turning around you peered over the broken wall once more. True to the young man’s word there was no one left, only the two of you.  Standing up slowly you summoned your sword, still not trusting the person in front of you.
“What is it?”
“That’s the last thing I expect you to ask.” The young man was smirking now. “Surely there are more important things.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“You wound me! Have you truly forgotten the face of your family.”
The words felt jagged, almost accusatory. You stiffened, face twisting into a scowl as you moved your sword slightly forward.
“You’re a liar.”
“I assure you I’m not! Why, I cannot believe you truly have forgotten so much. Is it just me, or have we all been banished from your thoughts?”
Reaching into his pocket he threw something at you. Catching it you stared at the egg, mind full of half-incredulous questions. The egg was evidently a work of ambition and love, its outer shell the color of the night. Diamonds crept up the sides of the egg, embedded into gold that shone even in the dark of your current place. There were four portraits embedded into the sides, studded with diamonds and crowned with stars that seemed so bright and silverly you were almost afraid to run your fingers over them. Something that seemed to be monograms sat underneath the portraits, but the script evaded your understanding.
Shifting your gaze to the portraits you found an even greater surprise. The person staring back at you, a small smile on her face, was you – though you couldn’t recognize the complex dress in which you’d been painted. The portrait was such a good likeness it took your breath away, the miniscule brush strokes truly the work of a master painter. Rotating the egg slowly you recognized the young man in front of you as the next model. Sporting what could only be some sort of military uniform, small medals of red and blue lined up on top of a blue sash, he seemed to be joking with the artist, his cocky smile offset by the stark lighting of his eyes. Next was a woman, somewhat who could only be this boy’s mother. He face was set in a straight line, her expression one of regal aloofness, as if she was thinking of something very far away. She was wearing the same sort of dress as you, though hers was much more complex in nature. The clothing screamed importance, as if to confirm the expression on her face. Lastly you found yourself looking at the portrait of someone who was presumably the boy’s father. Surprisingly under dressed her wore the same uniform as the boy, the only distinction being the number of medals. No crown sat on his head, no sign of any particular regal bearing shone in the portrait; instead there was a tiredness about him, a cloud which betrayed the fact that he was ultimately quite unworthy of remembrance.
“Do you remember now?”
You looked up wildly, denial fighting with realization as you shook your head. This wasn’t remembering; remembering was something else entirely. Remembering wasn’t the feel of the world sinking around you, remembering wasn’t losing faith in the world around you.
“Are you telling me that this means nothing to you?” Accusation flooded the boy’s speech as he glared at you.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I, I don’t trust this.”
“Always the same sister.” The boy’s tone was mocking now. “You always were the suspicious one, and as unambitious as our poor father once was.”
“Was?”
“He’s changed his tune quite a bit. He had too, of course. How could anyone stay so weak after surviving what we survived?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about death. Or as close to it as one can get I suppose. You should know this, you were there when they stormed the place, when they took us away. You were there when we were ordered to the basement.”
A flash of memory danced in your vision, speeding up your breath as you were overtaken by sudden panic. Swaying slightly you screwed your eyes shut, letting out a cry of frustration when the memory only grew stronger. You were dancing for a moment, spinning around with the boy in front of you as a distant melody drifted upon the air. Then you were inside an unfamiliar place, the new space so claustrophobic it squeezed the air out of you, the windows, having been painted over, offered no reprise. Then it was midnight and you were shuffling outside. The stars seemed so distant; they’d stared cold and unfeeling down as you shuffled behind a familiar figure, entering a door which seemed so familiar.
You leaned against the stone wall, trying to find some sort of reprieve in the cold damp of it. Forcing your eyes open you stared once more at the strange boy in front of you. His expression was one of ill-concealed triumph, mixed with barely suppressed rage.
“Do you see now? Do you see what they did to us? A wonder any of us escaped at all, then again I suppose those wretched idiots had no sense of magic. They were after all a bunch of thugs.”
“Where… where was that place?” You heaved slightly, feeling as if the ground was floating underneath you.
“Somewhere long destroyed. No point in thinking of it now. There is only this world after all. This world and the destruction that seized it as well. Only this one can be saved.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Khaenri’ah! The city struck down by the gods who could contemplate no power except their own! Their people suffered the fate of ours, should they not get the revenge we will never be allowed?”
“You’re mad.”
“Am I? Or are you just the same coward as always?” The boy shook his head. Pointing to the egg in your hand he back away. “You can keep it. Think of it as a memento, a way to contact me. If you ever wish to see right, well, I’ll be waiting.”
And then he was gone, so fast it was as if he’d never existed, as if he’d suddenly turned to dust. Sinking to the ground you pushed scalding air into your lungs, watching helplessly as your vision spotted around you. What had you done, oh gods what had you done?
The return trip to the Winery was an excruciating one. At first panic had been your only sensation, as you half stumbled, half crawled your way out of the Abyss’ lair, stopping every few minutes to lay down as to not pass out. The moment you got into the open air you made your way towards the nearest stream, waterlogging yourself in your hurry to pour icy water down your throat. Collapsed on the back you stared up at the sky. It was still night, which meant Diluc was probably guarding Mondstadt. You prayed to Barbatos that he wouldn’t notice your absence, for how could you deal with your shame? You’d been so foolish. How could you have ever expected things to turn out well? Now you were simply paying the price for your arrogance.
Finally lifting yourself up from your position you stumbled the rest of the way to the Winery, careful to keep your mind blank, afraid of what might happen if you let panic once more set in. Tears pricked in your eyes as familiar vines appeared within your sight, and you could’ve cried for joy upon opening the sturdy oaken door and crossing the threshold of the place you’d learned to call home. Creeping upstairs, hoping desperately that you hadn’t managed to wake any of the other residents, you breathed a sigh of relief when you entered the familiar bedroom which you’d grown to call you own. Sinking down onto the coverlet you let out a soft sigh, finally letting tears fall as you drifted off to sleep.
 -------
Yet your dreams refused to offer you any sort of reprieve. Finding yourself in a darkened hall you silently passed a variety of rooms, their imposing grandeur a familiar one. Someone seemed to be whispering a song in your ear, though when you turned to see who it was no one appeared.
“How can I desert you, how to tell you why.”
Reaching a room even grandeur than the rest you stared at the chairs that sat on dais on the opposite side from where you entered. They shimmered as if a mirage, and when you went to approach them two figures seemed to appear out of thin air. The man and the woman that were painted into the egg gazed at you with sad eyes, each saying nothing as you continued to make your way towards them.
“Let me have a moment, let me say goodbye.”
“Who are you?” You called out to them. The woman turned her head, as if ashamed of your lapse of memory. The man stood up slowly, arms reaching towards you slightly. Hurrying your pace you moved to meet him, spurred on by some unrecognized emotion.
“Harsh and sweet and bitter to leave it all.”
You as you reached the man he vanished, red ash falling softly to the ground in his wake. Gasping in horror you watched as the woman did the same. Suddenly the dream began to crumble, burning itself away to reveal nothing but black. Dropping you into an eternal night you couldn’t escape.
“I’ll bless my homeland ‘til I die.”
You bolted up, mind struggling to place where you were. Looking around you, your eyes were met with the familiar comforts of your home. A soft light drifting through the crack in the curtains, the foretelling of the dawn.
Besides you Diluc stirred. Sitting up slowly, rubbing his eyes in a gesture which made your heart squeeze, he glanced at you through sleep eyes.
“Is there something wrong, my love?”
You meant to say no, to assure him that you’d just had a strange dream. Yet the softness of his voice was contrasted so with the venom of the young man and the silence of the people who seemed to have been your family that you found yourself cracking. The sobs were soft at first, but soon you found yourself wailing, not caring how your hoarse voice pierced through the quiet of the Winery.
“My love?”
Diluc immediately wrapped his arms around you, saying nothing as you continued to sob into his chest, staining his nightshirt with tears as you cried out all the tears you could possibly contain. You felt like the world around you was shattering, like nothing was real anymore. You felt as if all you had held to was suddenly gone, and nothing remained but searing contempt.
“It’s alright, it’s alright.”
Diluc carded his fingers through your hair, whispering soft words of comfort as your sobs diminished. Finally you felt completely spent, and as you relaxed in his arms you felt a sudden surge of tiredness, washing over you and calling you once more to the perilous depths of sleep.
“May I ask you what’s wrong?”
You fought your fatigue, disconnecting yourself slightly as to look Diluc in the face. Could you tell him what had occurred? Could you lay bare your weakness, your shame, your guilt? A part of you recoiled at the idea. And yet, as you stared at Diluc you found yourself recounting what happened, shaky breaths accompanying your soft confession. Lowering your gaze you spoke of your night, grateful that Diluc never let his arms leave you.
“I see.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“Why should you be sorry?” Lifting your gaze you found Diluc’s eyes raw, his expression one of surprising honesty.
“I was selfish, and I didn’t expect the consequences of my action. All I could think of was the past, of getting back what I’d once had.”
“And is that not a natural thing?” Diluc took a deep breath, hold on you tightening slightly. “If I could not remember what had happened to my father – if I woke up one day in an  unfamiliar place with nothing but a sense of loss – I would go to the ends of the world to find what I’d lost. There is no crime in wanting your loved ones home, even when you cannot recognize them.”
“And yet it seems the only survivor has turned into a monster.”
“Does that make your past love for him any less? Do the bonds of family immediately cut the moment our loved ones turn rotten?”
You thought back to the young man in the ruins, to his mockery and his impatience. You hated him, you hated what he was doing. And yet you missed him, you somehow missed him so much. Turnign towards the nightstand you opened the small drawer. Pulling out the egg you’d been given you examined it in the dim light. How beautiful it was, how different from the image that had been put in front of you.
“Do you wish to forget what you have remembered?” Diluc’s voice was filled with nothing but kindness.
“No.” Even if it embarrassed you to say, you knew it was the truth.
“Then don’t forget it.”
You smiled, placing the egg once more in your drawer. Though it had only been a few words, though this terrible night hadn’t been erased from your memory, you somehow found yourself much lighter. Turning to Diluc you pressed a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Thank you.”
Diluc said nothing, merely leaning down to kiss you as well. Cushioned in the familiar sanctuary of his arms you allowed the darkness of your encounter to drift from your mind.
 -----
Drifting off to sleep you found yourself once more in a corridor, face to face with the man who was once your father. You stared at him, wondering if he would disappear again.
“Are you truly happy as you are now?”
“Yes.” Somehow you knew it was the truth.
“I see,” the man nodded, a slight smile flashing across his face, “then we shall keep you no longer.”
Leaning over he kissed you softly on the forehead. Next to him now stood the woman who was one your mother. Smiling now, a smile which utterly transformed her melancholy aura, she wrapped you in a hug.
“Do not forget us.” She whispered.
Even as the words were spoken you knew that you never could.
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The egg that I used this time around is a reference to Faberge eggs. The tradition having been started by Alexander III giving an egg every Easter to Empress Maria Feodorovna, the tradition was continued by Nicholas the second - who gave an egg to his wife and his mother every year. Each egg is a masterpiece of innovation and creativity and is breathtaking in its aesthetic and in the mechanic of hiding its “surprise”. The two eggs I used as reference were the Alexander Palace Egg (1908) and the Twelve Monogram Egg (1896).
The song that I referenced this time around was “Stay I Pray You” from the Anastasia musical. Highly recommend.
The parents are based off of Nicholas II and Alexandra Feodorovna. I do not have time to go into them because we will be here for 300 years. The dresses I mentioned are traditional Russian court gowns. An image will be linked in the reblog.
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