#◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος η: Μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊twilight’s prologue.┊

[reginrokkr]

» @apocryphis asked: ❝ you don’t have to hide them around me. the scars are just part of who you are. and i like all of what i see. ❞ + [ TOUCH ] for sender to trace one of receiver’s scars (from neuvi!)

It is not an every day occurrence for the lunarescent seraph to peel off clothes that would incite recognition to any Khaenri'ahn denizen fortunate enough to have come this far with their consciousness intact —or marginally stable to reminisce olden days where Twilight Sword used to be a relevant figure in society—, like a second skin that bears what little identity Dáinsleif holds dear to his heart as one of his own prides before calamity struck, and a joke by fate in his darkest moments.

As opposed to skin-tight attire that fits like a glove, Bough Keeper opts for a looser attire for a chance to breathe, to feel lunar kissed skin exposed to the air as he reads with interest a book while he sits on a comfortable sofa, a glass of wine to his left for his perusal every time he reaches out for it blindly to wet his lips with the liquor some more.

Nevertheless, it is in light of the Iudex's interest on the exposed skin of his cleavage down part of his chest reflected within iridescent lavender eyes that rouses self-consciousness into hyper-awareness, not out of a meekness to show skin— Dáinsleif is cognizant that his body stands in perfect shape even after centuries of life and that this is a trait of interest in other individuals, but the knowledge that the touch of darkness and Ley Lines littering half of his body combined are on sight.

Reason why he's prompt to reach out with his free hand to tug at the fabric of the white poet shirt to cover himself some, only to stop midway at Neuvillette's words. Hesitance clouds crystalline blues for some moments before his hand falls reluctantly by his side on the plush of the sofa again. Needless to say, his heart drums within the confines of his chest at a more accelerated speed under the draconic gaze, body hair stands roused with the tremor of a sigh that abandons roseate lips at the first warm and soft contact of careful finger pads tracing night-touched skin and spirit veins both. ◜These marks of corruption are naught but a source of shame of what I am. Neither human or monster in full.◞ Laments stream in a thin mumble, too afraid to say aloud.

He cannot blame him for taking interest in new aspects of his physical appearance he just noticed, as Dáinsleif himself isn't any different with the attention he pays to pointed ears and blue filaments he bears doubts about being part of his hair.

Albescent lashes flutter close, preluding the coming of a few more tremulous exhales until the undesired spasms that come byproduct of lack of familiarity to something so vastly different to pain, thinking that it will be more of the same only to be proved otherwise subside. Amidst the strangeness and inner conflict this brings, Dáinsleif feels a tremor of liking that accentuates with the fleeting thought that he has found someone he would trust the beating of his heart under his palm without any concerns that whispers of the Abyss are so prone to provoke.

◜...Even knowing that. What they imply, what they are...◞ Astral pupils tremble within icy sapphire depths, anticipation settling on his fractured mind despite the nagging voice at the back of his head chastizing him for even entertaining to ask something so clear to him— yet so entirely strange when placed under the rex's different prism to see him. ◜Do you still like it all the same?◞

#apocryphis #◟༺✦༻◞ may your sorrow be washed away with tides deliverance; o' mighty dragon ┊neuvillette → apocryphis.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ let luminous feathers dance under sapphire rain of justice┊dáinsleif × neuvillette.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ what use has the veil of falsehood? ┊ask.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ sapphire flames in their wake ┊ic.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος η: Μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊twilight’s prologue.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ when reason to be shines through. ┊aria of the celestials┊ #he's so used to think himself as a monster #that he has a hard time to come to terms #with the fact that Neuvi sees him beautiful as is 😔 #it's not that he doubts him #as much as it's hard for him to remove that veil #of self-loathing and accept that he wouldn't have said it otherwise #that he needs to hear it again to make sure that he isn't dreaming #or that the echoes of the abyss aren't playing tricks on him #Neuvi you kind and genuine soul

[reginrokkr]

"are you okay ? you look worried ... or ... sad ?"

four-year-old kaeya tugs softly on the bough keeper's cloak, his brow furrowed with an adorable look of concern; a moment later, he's offering up the stuffed animal he's been carrying about ( his favorite, a kitten, soft and well-loved. )

"whenever i hug him, it makes it better. do you wanna try ?"

Passing by unnoticed by many despite what people may think of his looks has its benefits, such as not being sought after or being left alone when spotted. Spending time in the wilderness is more effective for that matter, as there are few and far in between whom are not allogenes that dare to traverse the open fields at the detriment of being attacked by some creature, lest they have been purposefully trained for their job as a defendant of their nation.

Dáinsleif was stationed in the vicinities of the Dawn Winery in Mondstadt this time, where he had noticed an increase of the Abyss Order activity around these areas. It also became a point of interest to him to visit if time isn't pressing enough to let him when he discovered that Kaeya Alberich, descendant of Chlothar Alberich and the founder of the Abyss Order was adopted by the current Ragnvindr aristocrat at the helm of the family.

Whether there exists a relation betwixt the founder's descendant location and the Abyss Order's place of choice to proceed with their operations or not remains to be seen.

To say that Dáinsleif was taken by surprise at the initial tug of his cloak is an understatement, sending his cyan eyes to open wide in shock for a brief moment before his attention is focused on the little boy. His eyes soften at the sight that it's just a child, albeit he is well cognizant of who this child is. He looks briefly to the right and to the left in search of anyone that must've been strolling with him around this cliff to no avail, deciding thereafter that perhaps they are nearby and the fact that it's daylight makes his presence so far home less dangerous.

Was he worried or sad? Only now the fallen seraph takes time to register Kaeya's question. He wouldn't say so necessarily, but perhaps it's his demeanor or his lonely presence here what might give away that. Though they have yet to mature their logical cognition and emotional intelligence, children are natural perceivers and speak the truth, he knows.

Before he has time to respond Dáinsleif is presented with a stuffed feline to him. His guard is let down in a situation that does not require his acute perception and vigil and so his body acts before his brain processes that he's reaching out to take the offered plushie in his hands. Curious sapphires inspect the stuffed animal as he holds it gently in his hands. How long has it been since the last time he held one like this? Did he hold a stuffed animal to begin with? He doesn't know, but he appreciates its soft texture for some moments before he places it on his lap.

❝Sometimes adults have more on their mind than they can allow themselves to let on.❞ Icy sapphires harbor a paradoxical warmth within them, a hand reaches out to pat the little boy's head. ❝You would offer something precious to you to a stranger you just met... hold on to that kindness. Its value is worth all the mora Liyue can mint.❞ His eyes smile what the wear and tear of centuries have caused roseate lips to forget, then he retreats his hand.

The call of the blue haired boy's name sparks Dáinsleif's attention to a red haired man, then back to him. ❝Here.❞ He extends his hands to give Kaeya his stuffed animal back and he rouses onto his feet thereafter, patting off the dust of his pants. ❝You should go to him, lest you worry him.❞ An encouraging nod is given to him to go, then he turns towards a different direction. A few steps are given forward, only to stop and look back at him. ❝Thank you, little one.❞ His hand rises to rest on his left pectoral. ❝May your heart remain warm as it is.❞

Thus he leaves and fades with the wind in the distance, his presence meant to be akin to that of a ghost's apparition: inconsequential, albeit lingering in those hearts who want to give it the importance it lacks.

@aalberich ✦

#aalberich #◟༺✦༻◞ what use has the veil of falsehood? ┊ask.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ sapphire flames in their wake ┊ic.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος η: Μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊twilight’s prologue.┊

[reginrokkr]

Tighnari had no idea how the stranger had ended up passed out near his home, all he knew was that the guy had been pretty heavy as he had carried him inside and was clearly feverish. Laying him upon the bed, the forest ranger observed a little while taking off on of his gloves, to place a gentle hand upon the male's forehead. Yeah, he was warm, it came as no surprise though as Tighnari had already felt some of that heat, while carrying him. Calmly grabbing a piece of clean fabric, nimble digits soaked it in cool water before he placed it, upon the stranger's forehead with utmost care. Grabbing a bottle filled with diluted oil, mixed with crushed chamomile flowers, Tignari gently poured a little into his palm before dipping a single digit in it, only to lightly grace the tip of the stranger's nose with it. Sometimes pleasant scents, such as this, could slowly pull people out of their sleep. The male being awake, would make it much easier for Tighnari to make sure he was okay. If he of course didn't wake up, then he would simply figure something else out. ( hope this soft-ishness is okay, dear! feel free to poke me if you want it changed c: )

■  ■  ■ In bygone times the luminary accustomed to tread foot in the Land of Dendro without facing signs and symptoms on his body as a consequence of the divine curse he’s been bearing for five hundred years. Long ago he has learned that this curse and the energy that precipitates everything to death —Marana— have certain aspects in common, thus it is safe to presume that they have a point of convergence in what they really are. Thus it would stand to reason that he would be able to smell the scent of the abyssal presence everywhere he went that was nearby a Withering zone.

Nonetheless, this time is different. Upon his arrival to Sumeru, a sense of physical discomfort rooted in him as it does when the curse’s effects hit the stronger and his chronic pain spikes— which he attributed to nighttime and thus a stronger influence over him as the abyssal presence grows in strength. Soon, he grew nauseous. Everything around him spun, the nocturne whispers stronger in volume and number. Though it is true that he has grown accustomed to the adverse effects of this curse, he had not felt anything like this ever in his life.

Reason why in his best judgement he decided to go to the closest location that houses human life: Gandharva Ville. By the time he arrived, he could barely hold himself onto his feet. No matter how much he strove to focus, it was useless. His head was spinning and he was hot and cold at the same time. Ultimately, he collapsed somewhere out of pain, due to the unbearable sensation of thousands of demons screeching and clawing their way out of his skin, devouring everything in their path.

Dáinsleif ignores how long has it been since he passed out, but he stirs awake to a floral smell and a belated startle at the feeling of physical contact. He shudders when the realization that he has a cold, damp towel resting on his forehead as albescent lashes flutter open sluggishly to reveal icy sapphires. Although the light that illuminates the chamber is dim, it feels insultingly strong to his eyes which have a hard time to stay open— let alone focus on the young man that must be whom touched him earlier. Perhaps the clash betwixt this light and the active darkness within him in synergy with whatever nearby Marana that must be lurking within their vicinities is the responsible one for his increasing pain.

Regardless, the Twilight Sword of old forces himself to keep his eyes open, to look around him as much as he could before focusing frozen astral pupils on the man once more— a Valuka Shuna, he notes in his exhaustion. ❝Is this... Gandharva Ville?❞ His voice is hoarse and frail, the physical effort required to speak alone suffices to render him into a coughing frenzy that thankfully to him doesn’t last too long. On a further examination of the place and judging by the size of this house, that seems to be the case. Good, that means that he made it to the ville before he fainted.

❝You shouldn’t... stay too close to me.❞ Even though Dáinsleif is well cognizant of the fact that no one else will suffer the symptoms of this curse or that his ailment isn’t contagious, such is Dáinsleif’s current vulnerability. His weakness slipping through any rational thought that defines him so. A short quiescence ensues, soon to be broken by his low, weak voice. ❝...Thank you, for taking care of me.❞

I am sorry.

@iiryoku ✦

#iiryoku #◟༺✦༻◞ What use has the veil of falsehood? ┊Ask.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ Sapphire flames in their wake ┊IC.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος η: Μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊Twilight’s prologue.┊ #thank you so much for sending this! #it's really sweet #loved it ♥︎ #it was a great exercise to me #to write about the symtoms #of Dain's chronic pain

[reginrokkr]

“There is so much light left in you.” Zhongli remarked, an observation as much as it might have been encouragement. "I see it in your eyes." (from the softer prompts, modified a bit!)

■  ■  ■ Encounters with divine entities always range from two descriptors, ever present in one way or another: uncomfortable or awkward in its peacefulness. Oft times it is the latter, for one is aware of the other’s presence whenever Dáinsleif sets foot in the Land of Geo albeit none disrupt the other’s peace. Not without holding this tension betwixt one another regardless, for the two of them both are well cognizant of what they represent. Dáinsleif is the former royal guard of the last Regent, maximum exponent within the human military faction in Khaenri’ah and Rex Lapis is... a god. One that knows too much yet at times does so little.

Not that Dáinsleif doesn’t understand him. For all he knows, mighty as the God of War as Morax may be, in essence he is naught by a pawn to the divine entities of Celestia. One wrong move suffices to be snuffed out of the map like he never existed. Such is the power of the Heavenly Principles, they can and will make it happen, so that his existence never was in this world.

What the luminary has not anticipated is that this time, the quiescent consensus that one is not to disturb the other is broken. Not for a bad reason, no. If anything, the Twilight Sword of old is genuinely shocked, surprised by the god’s statement. It is impressing enough to make his heart skip a beat, to feel his throat dry and for roseate lips to part ajar for a fraction before he presses them shut. Over 400 years has it been since he was plunged into uttermost darkness to rot and lament as he was forced to watch the people he sword to protect become fiends... and there is still light in him?

He must be mocking him.

Uncertain to what to say as he may be, albescent lashes flutter to a close as his face turns away, soon after to reveal narrowed icy sapphires. He’s conflicted between believing that he’s jesting or that he’s serious in his statement, but even more importantly— he cannot do anything to avoid the turmoil of sentiments he feels within. The curse laid on him by the gods has grown worse with the years, his health deteriorated alongside Irminsul’s due to the poisonous abyssal presence that was stirred once again when it was almost swallowed by the earth to completion. The physical pain worsened too, so did Death’s whispers— ever threatening to impersonate him were he be so weak to allow it.

Weak, he is not. Albeit the passages of time cause tear and wear that not even immortality can stop.

But then, why is Rex Lapis so sure that there is still much light within him despite everything? Reluctantly does Dáinsleif turn his face anew to look at him, fair brows knitted in a subtle frown. ❝I hope that this is not you trying to be hopeful in the face of danger, Morax.❞ Do it and the star’s blight will eat you whole before you realize it. Nevertheless, despite the biting warning the Bough Keeper throws, a new flame of hope springs within him. If there is still light in him, that means that there are still means to drive the darkness within him away. He still has time— no matter if often times he feels like his existence is fading away. He still has time.

@galactia ✦

#galactia #◟༺✦༻◞ What use has the veil of falsehood? ┊Ask.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ Sapphire flames in their wake ┊IC.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος η: Μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊Twilight’s prologue.┊

[reginrokkr]

‘ i am strong enough for anything ’

[ he's ready to defend his homeland however he must ... ]

❝Even the most capable of mortals aren’t exempt of their weaknesses.❞ It is not a bluff to the rejection he suffered that ultimately impulsed him into the usage of an arcane and poisonous power, merely a reminder that regardless of how strong one may be, moments of vulnerability are prone to occur. ❝Your willpower is strong, let it be no doubt about it. Alas, how long will it be until your body stops being able to keep up with your mind’s fortitude?❞

Specially when he has family that depends on him— be it financially or emotionally as any would seek a father’s love, it is undeniable.

Dáinsleif graciously lifts the cup of tea to wet his lips with its amber contents first, then a longer sip follows thereafter to taste its honeyed delight. Truth be told, Crepus himself represents that which is one of the most saddening sights to the Twilight Sword of old: it is sufficient that the gods above discriminate humans and treat as dregs those whom aren’t chosen by their criteria, but it is far worse when humans discriminate each other following the same stipulations.

❝You ought to remember that human quality cannot be measured by physical strength. There are other values much more important than that.❞ To Crepus’ knowledge or lack of awareness on the matter, he’s in the possession of such.

@ccrepus ✦

#ccrepus #◟༺✦༻◞ What use has the veil of falsehood? ┊Ask.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ Sapphire flames in their wake ┊IC.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος η: Μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊Twilight’s prologue.┊ #take Dain's advice Crepus #he might be a fossil #but he's a reasonable fossil 🔪 #take care of your sons :||

[reginrokkr]

Tag dump #2:

◟༺✦༻◞ echoes of a fallen star ┊drabble.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ memories are all but forgotten in the river of time ┊queue.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος α: αναμνήσεις από μια χαμένη ζωή┊kingdom of celestia.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος β: descensus in regnum tenebram┊kingdom of khaenri’ah.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος γ: αγκασμένος στην αθανασία ┊aftermath of disaster.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος δ: ψάχνοντας τη χαμένη μοίρα┊to the journey’s end.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος ε: ανακαλύπτοντας την αλήθεια┊100 years of penance.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος ζ: ενδιάμεση της ανθοφορίας┊way of the prophet.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος η: μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊twilight’s prologue.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος θ: λυκόφως οι θεοί που πέφτουν┊advent of ragnarök.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ κατάσταση α: λυκόφως οι θεοί που πέφτουν ┊stellar doom.┊ ◟༺✦༻◞ chasing luminous river of stars ┊noctilucent crossroads.┊

#◟༺✦༻◞ Echoes of a fallen star ┊Drabble.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ Memories are all but forgotten in the river of time ┊Queue.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος α: Αναμνήσεις από μια χαμένη ζωή┊Kingdom of Celestia.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος β: Descensus in regnum tenebram┊Kingdom of Khaenri’ah.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος γ: Aγκασμένος στην αθανασία ┊Aftermath of disaster.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος δ: Ψάχνοντας τη χαμένη μοίρα┊To the journey’s end.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος ε: Ανακαλύπτοντας την αλήθεια┊100 years of penance.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος ζ: Ενδιάμεση της ανθοφορίας┊Way of the prophet.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος η: Μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊Twilight’s prologue.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος θ: Λυκόφως οι θεοί που πέφτουν┊Advent of Ragnarök.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ κατάσταση α: Λυκόφως οι θεοί που πέφτουν ┊Stellar doom.┊

[reginrokkr]

moonichor asked: “  the stars do not tell you where to go, only how to get there ”

Luminescent flowers glow brighter with every slow step, bright blue illuminating and cutting through the darkness to reveal a path further on the north— a beckoning not to fear obscurity with the promise of a protection that has always been cradling Dáinsleif to safety. Once upon a time he firmly believed that the acquisition of Ley Line scars on a significant portion of his body was one more penitence to suffer for the sins he committed —he did not—. How could he forget the agonizing feeling that all the monsters within him born from the corruption that took over him sought naught but to crawl out of his skin? Even five centuries later, that sentiment persists to this day.

Ley Line veins visible at plain sight react with the flowers and glow in synchrony with every beat of his heart, flora increasing in number the further the man advances towards his destination. Alas, it was far from yet another curse cast upon his disgraced existence— it was a blessing, a chance for a new opportunity to be reborn in life, a plea not to give up for even if the gods may not recognize his valiant efforts to make of this world a better place, it does.

As if patiently awaiting for him does the silver tree reveal itself in all its splendor, basking under the moonlight that seemingly adores it so. Moon and tree inseparable as two fated lovers, yet perpetually cursed by distance, death and grief. Every Ley Line covering Irminsul glows in response to his arrival and so do the ones that cover his body, which causes a wave of warmth like one mother would offer to her child. This warmth— this warmth lulled him every single time back into Morpheus’ arms whenever Dáinsleif’s mind was plunged into despair and sorrow with vivid dreams of a past he is condemned to relive one time after another.

If there is something that helped me go through the heartache of loneliness, that is you.

Unhurriedly does Dáinsleif close all remaining distance between him and Irminsul, right hand touching its pristine trunk in a slow and gentle caress seconds before pressing his forehead against it, moonlight kissed eyelids fluttering close. ❝I have returned.❞ As if sentient and aware of his voice does Irminsul respond with a beat of its glow, sending a welcoming warmth to its dear and accidental companion for centuries bygone— this was but a small welcome back ritual whenever Dáinsleif deigned to descend to the very core of this world and pay a visit, an unnecessary action per se when he can establish a contact with it through his dreams as one more extension of this lonely tree.

An unusual increase in moonlight’s brightness that makes Irminsul completely white with strikes of blue that adorn it beautifully so catches Dáinsleif’s attention in a phenomenon that preluded the sound of a delicate voice echoing in this lone and hidden Eden.

❝The stars do not tell you where to go, only how to get there.❞

For the briefest of moments, azure irises register the presence of flowing hair, a visage and a feminine-like body within its light. An angel descending from the hall of angels? Or perhaps— It mattered not what the source of the voice is, for in the blink of an eye it faded as fast as it revealed itself to him. ❝Even though stars are a faux construct of the gods?❞ He questions in a calm voice, expecting no answer to be given in turn as it has always been whenever an inquiry materialized within his mind, in no different manner than a child would despite carrying the weight of five centuries on his back. For even if he has knowledge at his disposition and hovering at the tips of his fingers, there are still so many questions that he only manages to conclude himself with a comprehensive analysis of everything he was given.

Roseate lips curl in a ghost of a smile that has long been forgotten how to born anew on porcelain features, hand slipping to his side from the trunk as cyan gaze lingers to the full moon above. ❝I know. And I will not rest until I find that place— where all sins begin and shall not spread further to the core of this world.❞

#moonichor #◟༺✦༻◞ Should this farce cease; may you all reunite┊Lunafreyja → moonichor.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ What use has the veil of falsehood? ┊Ask.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ Sapphire flames in their wake ┊IC.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος η: Μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊Twilight’s prologue.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ Aria of the Luminaries ┊Dimming eternity.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ Memories are all but forgotten in the river of time ┊Queue.┊

[reginrokkr]

nnazar asked: all that’s left of a civilization’s past were the sinners and the sin — the inherited god-challenging hubris sleeping in the survivors and their children. the little one’s who’d bear no understanding of the severe ruin, the catastrophe lodged into a transmitted memory of parental hearsay. this boy was merely six, had a broken image of ‘home’, neither here nor there, difficulties to adjust to a tongue different from what had been most familiar, and he sat under a tree with its shadow’s protection against the scorching, terribly blinding sun that threatened to melt him. “ how did you manage— ” the question slipped so suddenly that the extension of it was repressed for a gnawing second or two. he then tilted his head, and his attention with it, up to the only relic from an era long passed, still able to talk, still able to mourn. “ … wasn’t it lonely all this time? ”

I do not have home to return to. Nor do I know if I have any parents waiting for me somewhere to begin with. However, I am moving on. If an old soul like mine could reach to this very day— so can yours. Were a sin that would be Dáinsleif’s to pay penance for that was born recently, that would be the sin of sharing words of such magnitude with naught but a child, a young spirit yet to discover the world and take fate in his own hands. Alas, perhaps vexation took hold of his long ago scarred heart and thus an impulsive behavior took place in an attempt to spare a child from the claws and fangs of a darkness he ought to never in his life meet— nor anyone.

Opting to work from the shadows as opposed to allow his actions see the light, Dáinsleif was much content to be hold a passive stance in everything that did not concern the Abyss Order. For he is well cognizant that all things in this world have their course, most of their fate already been chosen since the seeds germinated and flourished. Nevertheless, be it coincidence or fate, he had to cross paths with an abandoned child to his fortune in a country that is not his own— a fate that no child should ever face.

Tell me, child. How did the remnants of a once glorious nation fared? Did it learn from bygone mistakes of its forebears, or was it too blinded by sorrow and despair that it made set the same course as 500 years ago once more? Does it still celebrate the luminous blessing of the moon above or did it grow past that after even the crimson moon swallowed the onyx sun?

Questions aplenty about his once homeland resurface within the confines of a jarred mind and yet, Dáinsleif dared not inquiry a single one. As for the reason? Well, what rights has a sinner whom was useless to protect the kingdom that was entrusted to him? Whatever sorrowful sentiments that arise within his heart are immediately pushed to one side in favor to give his undivided attention to the lost child sitting beside him. So foreign to this land yet perhaps it may be for his best interest to stay away from the tragedy of the foerbears that now lies heavy on his small shoulders.

❝Not even the most seasoned and strongest of hearts are exempt of loneliness’ lament, child.❞ Dáinsleif chastizes himself for his word choice anew, yet ultimately opted to believe that the best remedy against the Abyss Order’s lure is a heartfelt frankness that only the purest of hearts dare not question— perhaps that is what permitted him to retrieve him from their grasp. ❝Nonetheless,❞ He continues in the child’s mother tongue to give him some relief of familiarity in a foreign land such as Mondstadt. ❝Should your will to live burn bright within your heart, you learn ways to fight back such feelings as loneliness.❞

In a world where the hearts that bleed the most are in danger to be coaxed into that which is easier —submitting to the negative emotions—, one had to harden oneself in order to press on. No matter what the struggle may be, the most humble wish one can have is to not allow others suffer the same fate— and act upon it. ❝There are those with a strong heart that can take the lust for vengeance bequeathed to them by fate and channel it into a force for self-advancement, to make light of darkness.❞ Azure irises soften as his eyes lands on Kaeya once more, a daring hand rising to find a temporary homage atop the small size of his head in what he hopes to be a comforting touch. ❝It is by no means coincidental that you will become a beacon of light to people, for the strongest of lights were not without knowing the meaning of sorrow or despair. As for whom that will be, only future will tell.❞

When all is said and done, there is but a pressing matter to touch with care as the following root of this child’s escape. ❝Onto a more pressing matter now…❞ Slowly does Dáinsleif rouse onto his feet, hand extending for Kaeya to take. ❝Let us return to your new home, shall we? I have no doubt that you will be loved as if you were one of their own. Perhaps your loneliness may take time to disappear, but let it not blind you to external sources that may be positive to you. So, how about you start by letting your father know that you appreciate him? At this moment of time, he may be chastizing himself for thinking that he may not have been good enough for you so far. If you let him know that it is not the case, he may find repose in his heart no matter what the true motives of your little escape may have been. For there is only one thing that would matter: that you are safe and sound.❞

#nnazar #◟༺✦༻◞ What use has the veil of falsehood? ┊Ask.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ Sapphire flames in their wake ┊IC.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος η: Μαρασμός της αφάνειας┊Twilight’s prologue.┊ #◟༺✦༻◞ Memories are all but forgotten in the river of time ┊Queue.┊