#it must be the mental illness but alas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xxanaduwrites · 2 months

Text

much ado about nothing, major

i. bubbles & battle scars

gif creds @sakuragifs !

pairing: john “bucky” egan x (ofc) maude “blue” bluell

warnings: this story will contain mature themes, descriptions of injury, blood, sexual content, swearing, as well as, physical and mental illness. proceed with caution.

— i: mentions of injury, death, & puking. (pretty much just maude, bubbles, & croz being a dynamic trio, total bestie vibes — & then there’s john. he’s just there haha)

word count: 3.4k

there must be something or nothing at all

July 24, 1943 was the date — a date marked in the history books as the start of the Hamburg attacks, and in the journal of Nurse Maude Bluell, an inclusion of her very first introduction to one Major John Egan.

It was just past 0900 hours when the doors swung open to the infirmary rather unexpectedly. Bluell was organizing a new shipment of supplies, placing gauze, bandages, and wraps alike in their respective places, Lottie wa re-evaluating the health passes for the men who were flying today — confirming that they has passed inspection so to speak, and Q — well Q was reading newspaper cutouts of her favorite gossip columns, courtesy of her girlfriends back home. A red cherry sucker laid limply in her mouth as she took in the recent excepades of the Hollywood starlets she fawned over.

For Q, it was better for her to dive her nose into the latest gossip than worry about a certain Lieutenant she had tethered a liking too. A certain Lieutenant Curtis Biddick — "Curt" for short — who was scheduled to fly today. Q would deny the prospect of liking the New Yorker with the heavy accent, but it wasn't deniable to Lottie and Maude who had seen the Lieutenant saunter in every morning just to talk to her at the nurse's station. He used the need for a sucker to subside his "apparent" drops in blood sugar as his excuse of choice.

Lottie reprimanded her every time, claiming that they were only for the patients, not for the healthy airmen — hiding the sugary sweet lollipops from her colleague.

But, Lottie's attempts proved to be fruitless as Q would find them at every turn in every single hiding spot, opening a sucker of her own just to push Lottie's buttons.

And, she was doing that just now — not just to bother the blonde, but to also hold some sort of reminder of Biddick, that he was here with her as much as she was there with him — the cherry red sucker that mirrored the very same shade of her hair — tucked safely in the pocket of his flight uniform for a victory treat.

Alas — in other words — there wasn't much to do until their men came flooding back in waves.

Until there was.

The sound of a door swinging open broke the dead silence that pervaded the medical unit. The three women immediately dropped everything they were doing once they saw the sight of Colonel Harding sauntering in with Lieutenant Payne following suit — under the haven of a thick blanket, accompanied by the the arm of one of his fellow airmen.

Or well — Maude and Lottie did.

Susan was trying to consume the last line of the article in front of her as fast as she could. She didn't want to be left wondering what Bettie Davis was doing nowadays in the middle of assessing what was to come.

Lottie, being under the wing of Doctor Stover longer than the two nurses beside her, did not hesitate to meet Harding half way. "Good morning, Colonel'' she greeted, pressing her clip board of names close to her chest as a means of suppressing the shock of it all. It was rather unusual to see any of the airmen, let alone the Colonel until the conclusion of a mission, especially when every health pass had been confirmed and processed.

"Morning. Ladies," Harding replied to the three nurses present respectfully as he always did, curt, and to the point. "Lieutenant Payne is coming down with something and will no longer be navigating today's mission," he explained. "You ladies mind checking up on him?"

"Oh not at all, sir!" Lottie chirped, setting her clipboard down and immediately swinging into action. She nodded over at her colleagues, urging them to take the clearly pale and ill Lieutenant from the hold of the corporal present.

It didn't take long for Bluell and Q to get the Lieutenant situated and comfortable in a bed with brand new sheets — pressed and floral scented. Maude felt lucky and rather grateful that they had completed that task in time for such a situation to occur. Q was still quite busy with her cherry sucker while simultaneously taking the man's blood pressure, so Bluell decided to do the evaluating — not that she minded anyways. It was refreshing to see a man in front of her who wasn't bleeding out and barely coherent. She could already tell without really knowing that Payne would be just fine. That she wouldn't be losing another one of their men just yet, and that made the weight in her chest subside with the sweetest relief.

"Lieutenant Payne," Maude enunciated carefully, smiling fondly at the poor man in front of her. It was obvious from the sight in front of her that illness had racked his bones. The color was draining from his skin, a dull gray taking over, a line of sweat was creasing his brow, and his eyes drooped heavily doused with a glossy sheen. "Please, if you could tell me what seems to be going on. How are you feeling?"

"Well, quite shitty," he laughed dryly, yet a smile still managed to grace his features and prove to be rather contagious to Maude's expression in seconds flat. "I was fine. I mean, I thought I was. 'Twas until I was propped up ready to fly, feeling like I could hurl if I even moved a muscle. Major Egan shut that down real quick though. Got me a sub with Croz."

And there it was, a title attached to the name of a man Maude Bluell would have scorched into the back of her mind soon enough. Yet, now – now in that very moment, her unfamiliarity with that very same man would simply fly over her head. Instead, she would find a tying point to her patient in the traces of his explanation, one that made her eyes light up in genuine interest. "Lieutenant Crosby?" She asked while dropping the back of her hand to Payne's forehead, inspecting the extent of his temperature."

"Yuh-huh," he nodded

At the same time as Q announced "one-nineteen over seventy," but it really sounded like, "nun-eye-dee ova even-yee," with that sucker still tucked dedicatedly in her mouth.

Maude's hand dropped from Payne's forehead then, seeming pleased to know that he wasn't burning up as bad as she expected – definitely warm but more mildly speaking – and his blood pressure was relatively normal. The wheels were already turning in her head, coming to the conclusion that he merely had some sort of bug. But, she couldn't really come to one until Doctor Stover came to access the man himself.

"Lemme guess," Payne began, getting Maude's attention after she instructed Q to get the Lieutenant a glass of water. If she got his prognosis right, he would need to remain hydrated to subside the urge to vomit. "He's here quite often ain't –" Payne's words seemed to lodge in his throat then, his features twisting just the same.

The clear indication of his illness brought Nurse Bluell to flight mode and she picked up the bucket adjacent to his bed in mere seconds. "Let it out, Lieutenant," she urged as she situated it on his lap just in time for him to spill out the contents into the bin instead of his bed. He did just that, and Bluell did not hesitate to keep the bucket steady and rub his back in a soothing motion, hoping to ease the strain in his back from achy muscles.

Once he was done, he slumped back against the headboard – his eyes appearing glossier than they had before. He was spent, but that did not stop him from mumbling out his appreciation. "Thank you Nurse – Nurse?" He trailed off, a crease forming on his sweaty forehead with a curious sort of confusion.

"Bluell. Nurse Bluell," she introduced herself, moving the bucket off the bed, tying up the old one, and replacing it with a brand new one. "But you can just call me Maude."

"Maude. The powerful battler," a droopy smile spanned across his face, recalling the meaning behind the name of the nurse in front of him.

"Yes, but –" her cheeks dusted pink, and she looked away from him as she got rid of the previous trash close by. "Not me. All you – All you boys."

"Doubt that." Q brought over the water then and he thanked her kindly before taking a gentle sip. "Call me Bubbles."

"Pardon, Lieutenant?" Bluell stood straight then, completely taken aback by his sudden admission. She took a deep breath and sucked back the urge to laugh.

It wasn't uncommon by any means for nicknames to be a staple pass of courtesy and comradely around base. It served as an attempt to distinguish the tension of a deeply set reality and also comouflague identity to foreign forces. Like Charolette and Susan who replied to Lottie and Susie Q or just plain old Q. It was common knowledge. And she had found herself giving into such knowledge as she adjusted to the shortened form of her surname — replying to Blue more often than not. But, Bubbles. Bubbles? She hadn't heard something quite like that before.

"Bubbles. That's what they call me. Ain't heroic by any means. You can ask Croz the next time he's here, 'M sure he'll tell yuh," he elaborated.

A chuckle escaped her then, a genuine smile enveloping in her cheeks in a way that almost felt foreign. She couldn't remember the last time she smiled – really smiled since she'd arrived on base. "Quite heroic to me,." She flattened her hands across the edges of the mattress, making sure he was tucked into the sheets comfortably and then she fluffed up the back of his pillow for me good measure. "Should rest up now, Lieutenant. I'll be here if you need anything. Please don't hesitate to call us over," She affirmed, and in a sudden newfound sense of confidence or maybe it was simply just the comradery, she found herself adding, "that's an order, Bubbles."

Bubbles – still poorly, shivering, and pale as a ghost – managed a light laugh from his strained throat as Maude left the man be. "You got it, Maude"

Maude's spirits appeared to be more pleasant than usual as she busied herself in the next coming hours. Her conversation with Lieutenant Payne – or Bubbles if you will – subsided the nerves that usually rattled her in deep anticipation of what was to come. However, knowing that Lieutenant Crosby was navigating today still kept her worried.

Would his stomach be okay?

Would the natural herbs she recommended to brew in his tea ease him?

Those thoughts did not fail to plague her mind throughout the day, but she was grateful to have some distraction in the task of caring for Bubbles. She made sure to keep an eye on him as much as she could, so much so, that it started to concern Nurse Charlotte Reign and Susan Quinn who felt as if previous patterns from the young nurse were resurfacing. Patterns that were brought into light the very same day an airmen died in her arms for the very first time.

Yet, Maude felt fine – well, as fine as one could be in the circumstances placed upon her. She felt like she could breathe again the moment the boys returned from the Trondheim mission in the later afternoon. It had proved to be successful – and even more so in the hands of one Lieutenant Crosby who was currently at Bubble's bedside. With a chair situated over, he not only came to check on his best friend, but also report on the mission.

Maude was finishing up wrapping a flier's burn wounds adjacent to Lieutenant Payne when she unintentionally overheard the conversation at hand. "I mean the flak, it came in so hot. I didn't even think about it when I put it on. It – It must of froze, but then these chunks, they start rolling down my forehead, I think 'holy mackerel crosby, holy mackerel, you've been hit!"

"Of course you would narrate your own death." Bubbles laughed lightly at his friend's retelling.

She secured the wrap tightly and comfortably and practically repeated the earlier lines she had said to Bubbles. She was starting to become more and more accustomed to her script, finding it more and more natural as she annunciated each word within passing days.

"Well, I mean I could make overthinking into an Olympic sport." Lieutenant Crosby joked just as Maude appeared at Bubbles bedside. She smiled at the two men, acknowledging them as she refilled Payne's water cup without interrupting their conversation.

"I've been puking so much today, I'm starting to catch up to you. Ask Maude." He nodded to the nurse next to them.

"Evening Maude." Crosby greeted the nurse. "Hope Bubbles here ain't giving you too much flak.”

"No more than you have." She just about pulled the man's chain with that one, making Bubbles erupt in laughter.

"Hey, 'snot my fault, Nurse." Crosby held a hand to his chest as if she had wounded him with his words, but the knowing smirk on his face proved otherwise.

"Did you try the tea?" She asked Croz, handing the cup of water over to Bubbles. His color was starting to come back. He looked better than this morning but he still needed to stay hydrated if he was gonna get back in the skies anytime soon.

"Nah. Next time when I actually know I'm flying I will," he sent a look over to Bubbles, only pushing his friend's buttons for fun. "Thanks Bubbles."

"Anytime." He said laughing against the rim of his cup. He took one last sip before Maude placed it back on the side table for him.

It seemed like Croz wasn't gonna let that one slide so easily. "You know I washed my hair twice, I still can't get the smell out." He leaned over his friend, practically shoving his hair in the fellow Lieutenant's face."You wanna smell? Yeah, jump in."

"No. No!" Bubbles tensed up then.

"Yeah, Come on." Croz pushed on.

Maude couldn't help but laugh at the playful side of these men. Men who still managed to let their inner kid shine through all the horror and terror they had ensued in the skies.

"Get – get away. I will puke on you! Yuh gonna have to wash it out." Bubbles threatened, trying to push Croz away.

And then like a burst of unexpected flax, everything shifted.

For not only Croz who immediately stiffened back in his seat – putting on a serious and professional front, but for Maude who – for lack of her own sense of understanding – found herself freezing just the same, but for a whole other reason.

"There he is," a deep, firm, yet some-what carefree voice broke the ice within her. And there he was, one Major Egan looking and sounding like one of those Hollywood starlets in Q's paper clipping — just stepping out of a film in the cinema. And if he hadn't had a small cut just under his right eye, he could have passed as a man who hadn't just returned from an intense mission across the skies. Clean cut, pressed in his uniform, curls styled and gelled back to perfection, with his flight jacket wrapped around his arms. Arms that held a strong hand planted against the edge of the foot of Bubbles bed. "How you doing Bubbles?" He asked.

Maude hadn't realized she was staring at the six foot two bulk of a man in front of her until Bubbles spoke up. "Never better, sir."

"That's good." And then his eyes landed on her, so intense, she suddenly wondered if he had become even taller than he was a minute ago. Feeling caught, she looked away and busied herself with the water cup on Bubbles nightstand to give herself something to do. Would the Major report back to Doctor Stover that she was incompetent and unfit to take care of his men? Lucky for Maude, his gaze broke away from hers the moment she turned around. "And I was looking for you," He said to Croz.

The chair beneath Croz creaked in protest as he stood up to be at the Major's level. "I'm sorry, Major."

"What for?" Major Egan inquired loosely.

"I – I didn't give PRs the whole flight back, I messed up the rendezvous – "

"I know. I know. The radio silence really threw off those Jerries. It's that and hitting the deck." Egan affirmed. With the conversation becoming more detailed, Maude felt out of place and rather rude for overhearing. Yet, the next words that came out of the Major's mouth not only took Croz and Bubbles by surprise, but Maude too. Any previous contemplations seemed to dissipate the moment Egan said, “Now, Harding, he couldn't be more impressed by you so, I'm transferring you to Blakely's crew full time," and then, " Bubbles, you get better, we'll find you a new fort. And Croz, we gotta give you an actual nickname."

"They call him Bing back home." Bubbles added into the conversation just as Maude urged him to take another sip. "More?" He asked, and she simply nodded as she turned back into her previous position– her view of all three men near her resurfacing.

"Bing Crosby? That's just lazy, unless you can sing." Major Egan put in his two cents, and his eyes gleamed when he asked, "Can you sing?"

"I–I ca –" Croz tethered.

"Like a donkey." Bubbles confirmed with zero ounces of hesitation, truly on a roll at deflating Croz's ego today without letting an ounce of illness ruin the fun.

"No, no – not a note, sir."

"Ah, I'm no good either, but I'm loud and hell if you can commit with enough enthusiasm, it really don't matter." And this was when Maude would come to learn of the singing shenanigans that came with one Major Egan. If only she knew then that those shenanigans would very well start up something alright.

The shorter Lieutenant and the taller Major clapped hands then in parting – a shake of sealed establishments and confirmations, proving that they were on the same page. "I'll see you at the Club Croz. I'm buying," the one with height told him, referring to the same exact club Lottie and Q would be dragging Bluell against her will in just a few short hours. "Goodnight Bubbles."

"Sir."He croaked between sips and finally handed the cup back to Maude for good.

"Goodnight, sir." Croz bid farewell. When the Major was out of earshot could Maude breathe, and Croz seemed to be too because he was back to bantering as he commented, "He thinks my nickname is lazy."

Another patient called her over then, stealing her away from the two men she had found herself laughing along with, yet a part of her felt grateful for the sudden diversion – especially now, after the Major's interruption. She couldn't explain it – couldn't even compartmentalize it exactly, but something had shifted inside her the moment he had stepped foot into the infirmary. An instinctive feeling of sorts — awfully hard to pinpoint. It hurt her head too much trying to think about it, so much so, she momentarily wondered if she was coming down with the same exact virus as Bubbles.

She wasn't.

But, she knew it was something, but what was it?

That — she didn't know.

Yet, something deep inside her – against her better judgment – told her that she needed to know. So as Croz passed by and bid her a farewell of his own, she knew what she had to do. And when the girls pitched going out to the Club again tonight, practically begging her in their shared quarters — Lottie using Q's obvious need for a distraction with Curt's lack of a return — did she give into their demise.

Was there really much ado about one night on the town?

Lottie and Q wouldn't think so, and Major Egan – well he wouldn't think so either.

the way in which she is already whipped without "knowing" is so real.

+ Q — curt and susie got me giggling & kicking my feeties !!!

also, for important context purposes, the gifs in the beginning is how i imagine bucky diverting his gaze from eyeing miss. maude ;) sir, we all know you were LOOKING — respectfully!

p.s.: i love bubbles & croz so bad, ugh my HEART <3

ANYWAYS.....

more to come sooner than you think. lemme know what ya think so far? feedback is much appreciated as this is BRAND NEW. this is also my very FIRST historical-esce fic so my apologies if there is any inaccuracies, but it do be my own fiction twist anyways haha.

love ya'll a mil, smoochies!

— xanadu

tag list:

@rubberpsyche

@precious-little-scoundrel

@major-mads

@luminouslywriting

@justheretoreadthxxs

@karmasloverrr

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seelestia · 1 year

Text

A Blessed Imperfection [1/3]

(submitted by: @/hermosacolibri. all credits go to them, this work isn't mine!)

SYNOPSIS: Many consider your disability as a burden, but he finds a way to make it a blessing in disguise. What makes us flawed is what makes us unique, and that is what he considers the most beautiful thing about you—an imperfection he dearly adores. Nevertheless, he knows of your lingering sorrows and thus seeks a way to support you in the best way he could.

WARNING(S): symptoms of chronic/terminal illness, implications of mental instability, mentions of past trauma resulting to severe injury, possible triggers, panic attacks, sleep paralysis, hallucinations, etc…

CHARACTER(S):

Aether (as Traveler & Abyss Prince), Albedo, Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, Dainsleif

NOTE: I copy-pasted this from my Quotev so if the format turns bad, that’s why lmao. Part 2 will have the Zhongli and Ayato version I submitted with some other characters from the same nations. Part 3 will be Sumeru boys and Harbingers. I will submit them at a later date lol. Anyway, I would like to leave a shameless promo here for those interested in my writing. HERE is my Quotev. For those who wish to read about my collab story here on Tumblr, it is posted by my co-writer: @intothegenshinworld

•

AETHER is like a star in the abyssal sky, constantly in sight yet far out of mortal reach. He carries the wishes of others, granting them in acts of what shall be seen as miracles or blessings. When time arrives for departure, he shoots across the cosmos with a trail of light that leaves witnesses mesmerized. Alas, he whom was born half of a whole, the name of this Traveler is forever bound to that of another—his dear sister, Lumine. Due to these same ties, he undergoes a quest across Teyvat to find her. The promise of a reunion always uttered by his lips, hopeful and eager yet never taking for granted the steps he took.

The lonely young man is at odds with the world. He could barely trust anyone after some god caused him to separate from his younger sibling. However, this humble Viator continues to treat others amiably in hopes to be treated the same way. From nation to nation, the blond adolescent sought answers from this peculiar world that felt so nostalgic yet still so foreign to him. There are trying moments of grief and frustration, but also blissful days of celebration.

Throughout this path, it was entirely unexpected for him to develop an intimate attachment.

Aether was not a stranger to bittersweet partings, as someone whom has always hopped from one world to another. For this same reason, he and Lumine try not to get too invested in any realm they visit. It was better for them as well as for everyone else that welcome them so affectionately. There must always be a particular distance to maintain, since there can be no guarantee of their stay or return. A deeper tragedy is the knowledge they can easily outlive the dwellers of any world. Witnessing the birth and death of many stars since their youth, the twins have grown rather desensitized to friendships that would not last as long as their lifespan.

That is why this separation hits them where it hurts enough to leave a scar.

Then, there was you.

As a mere mortal in a world governed by gods, you are content to live your life the best way you know. It is a lifestyle that can change at your will. One day, you can be exploring as an adventurer. The next, you are a seamstress earning your keep for the week you plan to stay with the spinsters. Every other month, you do a variety of odd jobs that you have learned throughout your lifetime. As a human, you are most hyperaware that everything can be ephemeral…

…and someday, even your soul shall be relinquished to the judgment of Celestia.

Until then, it is yours to do as you see fit.

For this reason, you felt torn by the Pyro Vision that had been bestowed upon you. While most of your peers seek the blessing of the divine gaze, you have subconsciously sought to avoid it. Many saw it as a gift but you were raised under the notion that most presents come with strings. Earning the “eye of god” meant that you are under Celestia’s watchful gaze, thus binding you to the Heavenly Principles. Their elemental blessings taunt mortals to dare reaching for the stars, and gain a place amongst the divine if they are deemed worthy of it.

Well, you personally believe that only thineself can determine one’s worth—no other, not even the gods.

Nevertheless, you move forward. Keep going on a quest without a destination, as you always do, until this fleeting life comes to its inevitable end.

Needless to say, there is one thing you genuinely did not see coming—

“I am so sorry, Miss!”

—and that was meeting your soulmate.

“It’s fine.” You replied.

Aether scrambles to collect your things while you do the same at a more relaxed pace. Your satchel had become so worn that it took a small bump to finally snap the strap. Now, all your possessions have been scattered across the ground. Fortunately, the blond stranger is a very kind and considerate young man.

Once you got everything, said stranger wasted no time apologizing profusely again.

“I should have been looking where I was walking! It was my fault.”

You tilt your head, “You could just make it up to me and we can call it even.”

His aureate eyes beamed as he nodded with an eager smile. At that moment, you wonder if he is the personification of the sun.

You smiled serenely, “I’m [Name].”

He pauses, a flicker of doubt passing through his gaze. Quick as it came, it disappeared as he smiled back—a tad softer.

“Just call me Aether.”

That day, he bought you a new satchel.

When you were younger, your parents always said that one moment is the same as a thousand—you only need one. It was a proverb that both confused and unnerved you. After they died together due to sickness, the words were haunting as you buried them before leaving your village. Every moment was cherished by you, each one unique in the best and worst of ways. However, as both you and Aether keep crossing each other’s paths after one meeting, a part of you finally thrums to life in understanding.

At one point, Aether even sought you out for a joint commission together.

“Don’t you have a travelling partner?” You asked.

He laughs sheepishly, “He’s a bit busy doing other things. Also…”

A light blush colored his cheeks, looking away as he scratched his nape lightly.

“…I wanted to spend some time with you.”

You found him cute so you agreed.

On that particular day, Aether learned something new about you. It was the little things he had been noting every time you met. The way you sometimes slur even though not a drop of alcohol can be traced from your scent, how you try so hard to keep your emotions under a certain level of control, how your eyes randomly droop even when you always look so adequately well-rested, and the pills he saw you sneak into your meals/drinks—you were ill. Perhaps, it was not the traditional ailment that left you weak and bedridden. The scariest symptom has been the occasional hallucinations that distract you, since the more vivid ones tend to set off your Vision. Anything within a meter radius is either set aflame, or rises up in temperature. It is why you always remind him to keep a certain distance whenever you tend to space out. He never prodded because you gave him the same respect of privacy by never prying into his life, even if he saw the incessant curiosity he adored about you. Still, he looks after you because he had to admit he truly grew fond of you.

Then, on your way home, you just abruptly collapsed as if your entire body went boneless.

“[Name]—!!!”

Aether caught you just in time before your head hit the ground. He checks your temperature for a fever, and then searches for some wounds you might have missed. You have a high pain tolerance, which can sometimes be a disadvantage whenever an injury goes unnoticed. There was a time a scratch almost got infected, or even when you nearly bled out because a poison prevented coagulation.

When he saw no signs, the outlander lifts you up in his arms and calls for the nearest doctor.

Thankfully, nothing was amiss and you just needed to rest while adjusting your diet.

Aether witnessed the true horror of your condition when you abruptly woke up half past midnight. He was already passed out on your bedside, sat on the ground and his head resting on his forearms. The chaise lounge would have been practical, but the blond felt the urge to be near you. At some point, he just dozed off.

On the other hand, you jolted awake with a choked gasp and widened eyes of terror. It was not due to any frightening nightmare. This is just how it always goes every time you wake up: frozen stiff, terrified, and barely breathing. Your pupils dilate as your iris moved wildly to make sense of your surroundings, pointedly ignoring the shadows manifesting into something monstrous. The candle on the nightstand was unfortunately almost fully spent, flickering to its last embers of light. With every dance, the shadows seem to get closer and slithering to get their clawed hands on you.

Alas, the candlelight spares you one last hope of salvation amidst this merciless night.

Sunshine golden hair glowed, emitting a silver halo as moonlight peeked from the half-open blinds. As much as you are able, you desperately crane your neck to see your companion. Tears blur your sight but the silhouette is unmistakable to you. His warm breath blew against your fingers, centimeters away from his lips as he breathed. Chilling goosebumps ran across your skin yet you welcomed it, hoping to regain mobility from this nightmarish paralysis. Your hand twitched, wishing to get ahold of this precious little sun—uncaring if it burns.

If you are to be like Icarus, then you would prefer an end embraced by warmth and light…

…instead of ice and darkness.

Perhaps, pyro suited you for this reason.

Your lips purse, crying in anguish to speak.

“A…Ae…A-Aether…”

To your relief, that seems to be enough to awaken the young man. However, respite is all to brief as your chest seizes up. The mere act of breathing gets difficult, and your heartbeat grew alarmingly slow as it echoed alongside the tinnitus in your ears.

Aether blinks awake, expecting the grace of morning light. Instead, he was met with your agonized gaze in a darkening room. In an instant, he snaps into full attention as he cups your face. You cannot hear him but you can guess that he must be firing questions out of concern.

“[Name], what’s wrong?! Are you in pain? What can I do? How can I help?” He exclaimed.

You gasped and hoarsely coughed.

“C-Can’t…breathe…I…”

The blond quickly thinks back to whenever Lumine experienced minor panic attacks. He assumes this is relatively similar, so he hopes his next actions will help rather than harm. Gently and carefully, he takes you into his arms. Back against the headboard, the new position situates you comfortably on his lap as one arm is secured around your waist. He takes both of your trembling hands with his free one, directing them to rest against his sternum.

“[Name],” he says softly yet firmly, “I need you to focus on me, okay? Focus for me. Hey—”

He catches your frantic gaze around the room and mindfully tilts your head back to meet his stare. They are brimming with steadfast reassurance, not at all deterred by the dark beasts. Your head rests against his shoulder, as you do as he told—closing your eyes to only relish his warmth, consume his scent, and listen to his voice.

“Breathe with me. Inhale, exhale…”

His chest rises and falls, to which you mimic the rhythm in return.

“Feel my pulse, and use it as your center.”

One hand keeps hold of his and the other seeks his heart, obeying the instructions.

The hand connected to the arm securing your back drift to your hair. At that moment, you realize that Aether’s hands are ungloved. Wandering fingers comb through your strands, calming you down with a soothing pet. Little by little, you regain movement in your limbs yet you rest limply—content.

“That’s it.” Aether whispered, “You’re doing great. Just keep repeating the exercise with me.”

“Aether…”

“I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You wept and sobbed, “Aether…”

“I know.” He murmurs as he cries with you, “You’ve been so strong, [Name]. Everything’s fine. You’re not alone anymore.”

You look up, “Promise?”

He looks back, “I promise.”

The hand on his chest reaches for his white scarf as you pull him down. He obliges as his grip on you tightened, holding you close while your free hands adjust to interlace with each other.

That was the first kiss of many.

Day or night, Aether stood by you. Every battle was fought together. Every quest was finished together, sometimes with his elusive partner named Dainsleif whom was later introduced to you. On the journey to search for his sister, he even renewed his vows.

“When we find her, you can come with us.”

You smile teasingly, “I don’t have world-hopping powers.”

He narrows his eyes at you, unyieldingly headstrong and determined.

“I’ll find a way to bring you with us anyway.”

He raises your hand to his lips with a sly grin.

“You’re not getting rid of me~!”

Aether cradled you in adoration as if you were an endless summer amidst the cold loneliness of his sister’s absence. You beheld him as if he was the sun bringing life to the paradise of your evanescent mortality. The pair of you were thriving happily, hand in hand, even after discovering the truth of this world—and dictating the journey’s end.

Then, your Vision broke mysteriously, and you were condemned to an enchanted sleep.

Aether cursed the divine and all of Teyvat for it. He figured this was his price for learning the truth, but taking you will be their gravest mistake. He severes his ties with Dainsleif, whom tried to console him into taking the righteous path. He viewed you as his friend as well, and he knew you would not want this for your lover.

Now, the Abyss Prince sits by your bed—waiting in forlorn hope. His ungloved knuckles caress your cheek lovingly. You were dressed in a nightgown with abyss colors, outlined by satin ribbons of silver and gold. A crown of inteyvat rested on your head, petals scattered across your spread locks draped over silk pillows. They have grown after the past centuries but he dutifully trims them to an acceptable length.

“Your Highness,” the Abyss Herald called, “it is time.”

Aether paused. His honey gaze hardens and his aura turns cold. He breathes deeply, eyes closed to lean down and leave a chaste kiss on your brow.

“I will return shortly, my love.”

He puts on his gloves, taking leave resolutely.

Even if the sun turns black, you will both find your way back to each other. Even as the moon is painted red, goodbye shall never be an option. Every star in the sky—false or otherwise—shall bear witness to a union that even the Heavenly Principles would dare not destroy. Should this world be torn asunder, the reckoning cannot spell departure for either you or Aether. This is the eclipse that will pave the way to a new world, as the Abyss Order entails.

For if fate can only be accepted, thy vows shath be sworn by royal decree—

“You are my predestined person, the one I will always choose.”

ALBEDO discovered that there is beauty in what the heart perceives which the eyes cannot see. As an artist, he can grasp onto the concept yet is unable to truly understand it since he heavily relies upon his sight. As an alchemist, whatever eludes him may come into being by his own hands and thus enable him to attain it. The pursuit of truth is a mere matter of time and place, preordained even if hidden. As the most prized creation of Rhinedottir, he was given the task of uncovering the truth of this world for himself as a purpose in life. Even if to exist is a sin in the eyes of Celestia, he must endure and keep moving forward to reach his answers.

Amidst such dedicated research, there was little time and effort to be spared for attachments. The Chief Alchemist of Ordo Favonius finds it much too difficult to maintain. Of course, exceptions has been made throughout the years. Aside from his master, he had bonded with Alice and Klee as family. He had also made friendships with his colleagues amongst the Knights of Favonius and his subordinates, whom he taught the art of alchemy. Alas, as an artificial human created by a sinner, he feels as if he can never belong anywhere. Regardless of these bonds, the Kreideprinz feels as if a part of his heart remains hollow.

It came to him that this place was reserved for you, the apple of his eye.

Ever since Albedo met you, a new muse began to live within his heart. People consider it as seeing the world through rosy lenses; but for him, it felt as if everything appeared clearer than facts…

…and it was beautiful.

The sun shines brighter. The wind blows cooler. The grass looks greener. Therefore, life is that much greater and sweeter. He is still in pursuit of truth, yet he felt as if the magnum opus was already in his hands—molded in the shape of you.

His only lament was that you could not see it alongside him.

You were not born blind. It happened from an act of jealousy and unkindness. Before you came to the City of Freedom, you were a noblewoman dwelling in Fontaine and worked as an artist. Much like him, you love to paint and draw but Albedo always argues that you were better at it. He had seen your works long ago, and every single piece has never failed to inspire him. It was as if each painting can bequeath aspirations, letting it blossom from the hearts of the people that view it.

Then, news spread that your entire atelier was set on fire while you were still in it…

…and then, you lost your eyes.

The Hydro Vision in your hand may have been the sole reason you even survived. Many speculated that you can never make art the same way again.

You came to Mondstadt, wishing to break free from the suffocating experience. You struggled to regain your passion, overcome your sorrows.

Then, you met Albedo; and one thing led to another.

It started when you were taking a stroll in Springvale with your guide dog, Vincent. He is a very spirited Golden Retriever, protective and responsible. You both stumble upon a young girl named Klee, whom was busy fighting a bunch of hilichurls. You opted to stand aside and calm your snarling canine friend, petting his head. When your keen hearing detected irregular breathing and racing heartbeat, you realize that the little girl was getting overwhelmed. She must have fought other hoards before your arrival, and now you hear slimes joining the fray. Thus, you order Vincent to keep his distance and engaged.

Sword unsheathed from your walking cane, you attack the ones behind Klee. Her bombs startled you when they exploded too close, but your hydro shield easily deflected any friendly fire. Vapor damage is then redirected to the monsters, tempering the girl’s mines and lasers so your skin will not be singed by the building heat. Vincent was barking wildly like a supportive cheerleader, growling whenever you get nicked or whenever the other girl yelped.

Soon, the fight was over.

The pitter-patters of tiny feet went towards you, and stopped at an arm’s length. You look down, smiling kindly yet not sheathing your blade.

“Thank you for helping Klee!” She chirped.

You chuckle, “You’re welcome.”

Vincent came running towards you, shamelessly nuzzling your legs. He then licks Klee’s hand in his own way of befriending her, causing the girl to giggle from the ticklish sensation. She hugs him around the neck, and you can only tilt your head in amusement.

“What’s your name, Miss?”

“You may call me [Name].”

The hairs at your nape rose. Although you can see nothing else but darkness, your eyes also snapped open with a dark glower. By instinct, you swung your sword to strike whomever snuck behind you.

A resounding clang echoed in your ears, as metal struck against metal. Another sword has parried yours skillfully yet makes no move to counter.

“Brother Albedo…!” Klee exclaims.

Upon realization that this is no stranger, you swiftly disengaged with a soft apology. The gesture was returned as the man apologized for startling you. To your amazement, Vincent did not seem to be wary of this newcomer. The dog merely barked gruffly, a bit admonishing, instead of growling defensively like he always did.

“You dropped this.” Albedo said.

You hesitantly presented your hand to receive whatever he was giving. A familiar cloth is placed on your palm. You belatedly realized that it was your blindfold. It is a durable silk fabric that kept your burn scars from showing. Your disfigured face has been exposed all this time for Klee to see.

It must have been a horrifying sight—

“Your eyes are very pretty, Miss [Name]!”

Your breath hitched at the unexpected compliment, turning away shyly. As you wore the blindfold again, Klee notices Albedo smiling in awe at you. She put up her hands to cover her mouth and muffle her mischievous giggles.

“I agree.” He murmured.

You nodded, “Many thanks.”

Albedo never told you, but for him, it was love at first sight the moment his eyes met yours. There have been solitary days spent in Dragonspine where he wondered tirelessly:

Would it have been a mutual feeling if you could have seen him back then too?

From then onwards, the mysterious alchemist had turned into a close friend. He acted as a personal pillar of support in unexpected ways. The little ball of sunshine that is Klee turned into a source of lighthearted joy for you as well. They tend to visit your home in the city together, offering gifts and knick-knacks. The habitual meetings resulted into some new friends who helped you settle down in Mondstadt, especially Eula. Her own aristocratic lineage helped you two bond about a lot of things, even when she vehemently rejects hers—which is frankly for understandable reasons. You both share the sentiment that genuine nobility upholds the belief of noblesse oblige above all.

Albedo, most of all, enabled you to regain the love you thought had been lost forever with your sight.

Although life still hit hard with how you struggle to create art, your appreciation for it was reborn and you are experiencing everything all over again as something new. Regardless of the burns and scars that made you insecure, the Kreideprinz made you feel nothing less than desirable and deserving of love. Though the blankness of your gaze saddens him, and sometimes even angers him due to the injustice you were dealt—he saw beauty in all that is you, and everything that blossoms from your hands.

Just for a moment, he wanted to show you what he sees the only way he knew: to create.

Vincent guided you into Albedo’s personal art studio in Mondstadt. The canine looked more excited than you. He nipped at the alchemist's white coat, tail wagging as he sat by your feet but paid attention to your lover. Charming eyes swept between you two as if awaiting praise and treats for a job well done.

For a moment, Albedo was reminded of Klee and it made him smile. He kneels down before the dog, patting his head. After a few minutes of petting, he relinquishes the promised treat.

Vincent then ran to his corner, satisfied. Usually, he is very protective and ends up hovering next to you; but with Albedo, he knows you are safe.

You giggled amusedly.

“Sometimes,” your lover sighed, “I think he only likes me to get treats and headpats. He also only comes to me by whining to play.”

You smirked teasingly, “Sounds familiar.”

Albedo paused before giving you a scolding look, yet the twitching smile betrayed him. He was then taken aback when you presented him a small gift bag and a bouquet of cecilia flowers.

“Happy Anniversary~!” You said.

He smiles, accepting your gifts to greet you back.

“Happy Anniversary, [Name].”

Per usual greeting, Albedo takes your hands in his to let them settle. Then, you let go to just feel as they glide across his skin. He closes his eyes to relish your caresses, nuzzling when you reach his face and touched his cheeks. From there, you felt his smile and it spurned yours.

However, as the alchemist opened his eyes, he had witnessed the spark of sadness in yours.

On your first anniversary together, Albedo crafted a special gift. A wooden easel held a blank canvas, or so it seems. If not for the colorful palette and wet brushes, nobody would spare it any glance or even thought. He guides you in front of him, encasing you in his arms and pressing his chest to your back. His lips whispered instructions almost seductively, soft and sensual as he lifted your hands to move them forward.

“Go ahead.” He implored your touch.

Fingertips make contact with what seems to be a canvas, but with bumps on it that definitely felt like braille. Your brows furrowed in confusion, unable to interpret it as anything. You can decipher some sort of pattern, but nothing in the braille alphabet comes to mind that makes sense.

“Don’t think in words, love.” Albedo advised, “Imagine it as you would paint a landscape.”

He is familiar with your art technique. After all, he has always been a fan since he first purchased your work at an auction. His keen observation noticed that the colors bloom from the center. Then, multiple layers come to refine the structure and control the shades. Once the painting is complete, the basic foundations are harder to notice but details never escape Albedo. To him, it felt like he was seeing two images in a single painting: one perceived by sight, and another perceived by heart—dual masterpieces for the price of one.

You follow his words and thus you begin to deduce a work of something.

The braille patterns made you think of Mondstadt’s flower meadows, petals of cecilia and seedheads of dandelions fluttering in the breeze. An orb that seems to be the sun is raised eastward with what appeared to be outlines of birds, aflight in the cloudy horizon. There are faint marks connoting mountains in the distance, and flowing swirls that felt like wave patterns along the coast. To further understand his message, you sought the center much like how you used to paint.

Albedo detects your newfound focus, aware that an image has been imprinted upon your mind.

“[Name],” he murmured tenderly, “I need you to keep your hands on the canvas. I will guide you in this next step. Do you trust me?”

You smiled meaningfully, “Always.”

A loving caress upon your skin is accompanied by a chaste kiss on your crown.

“I cannot give you the world—”

Then, the brailles moved.

“—but I can leave a piece of it in your hands.”

You quickly realize that the brailles were not made of ordinary material. Days and nights of listening to your lover’s random alchemy ramblings allowed you to learn a thing or two. This braille painting has been constructed with special elemental crystals. From the feel of it, they respond strongly to elemental energy—particularly yours and Albedo’s combined, both currently being channeled. Depending on the crystal, it can resonate with other elements.

Beneath your hands, the patterns moved in looping motion to signify that it was animated. Furthermore, the energy that resonated from every shard is almost alive. Anemo can be felt from the swaying of the dandelions, and dendro amplified the scent of the scattered cecilia across the grassland. Even the painted sun emits a comforting warmth due to hints of pyro, as if bathing the scenery with its light. The waves along the shoreline felt moist due to hydro, which resonated strongly with you—and for a short second, you actually miss Fontaine. The mountains are the familiar cold of cryo, which then registered for you that it was likely a reference of Dragonspine.

Just from this, your mind’s eyes can almost envision the outline of a city—one founded by Barbatos.

In Albedo’s eyes, the special formula for the paint which Sucrose helped him concoct had finally revealed itself. To outsiders, the canvas is nothing more but a lumpy surface. In truth, the blind will see its true form; and when given life via elemental energy, the rest will be unveiled. To you whom once knew the colors of the world, the simple animations of the image form a kaleidoscope that provides you melancholic nostalgia. By your fingertips, it certainly felt as if Albedo had given you a piece of the world that only you can see.

For this one moment, he and you can perceive the same world.

Tears gathered in your eyes yet a heartfelt smile radiantly shone upon your face. A sob of genuine happiness wracked your throat. As your knees begin to weaken, you leaned on the man that helped you see again—

—even if only a few seconds.

Albedo also smiled in relief, fully embracing you around the shoulders in support. He let you take in the moment while he basked under the blessing of your presence.

“If there is anything else you wish to see again,” he solemnly swore, “I will be your eyes and shall piously present its sights to you.”

At his oath, you abruptly let go of the painting and turned. Cupping his face in your hands, your lips eagerly meet his. Albedo returns your passionate amor with fervor, ever delighted to please you. He wishes to someday discover the truth of this world, as his master bade him to do. His one desire is that you would be there beside him when he does.

Even if destruction came by his hand, he already knows one truth by heart—

“The beauty of this world forever pales in comparison to you.”

DILUC RAGNVINDR is an uncrowned king raised as a noble gentleman of chivalry and gallantry. From the fiery red of his hair to his stern crimson glare, he upholds his aristocratic lineage with dignity. The cumbersome title of lord dictates the gravity of his obligations to Mondstadt. Whether as a nocturnal vigilante or as master of Dawn Winery, those who dare to threaten his home will face the wrath of his flames. Sinners who refuse penance shall have their blood paint the mighty blade of his claymore, as a furious firebird sends the wicked to retribution.

As a man coveted by many, he keeps his circle small and tightly knit. An outsider’s only chance to ever earn his favor is to either make themselves useful to Mondstadt, or by earning the approval of his more compassionate wife.

That woman is none other than you.

Diluc met you as a playmate in his childhood. His father, Master Crepus, was both a close friend and trusted business partner of your parents. Like the Ragnvindrs, your family specializes in the wine industry—specifically the medicinal values that are incorporated in liquor. Although your own father is from Mondstadt, he settled down in Liyue upon marrying your mother. Secretly, you and Diluc were arranged to be married. Everything worked out well since you both actually liked each other a lot. He was a very protective yet supportive friend, while you were a tactful and encouraging listener. When Kaeya had joined the family, the three of you became quite the inseparable trio.

Then, Crepus Ragnvindr died.

Everything happened so fast. Before you knew it, your fiancé chose to disappear and left only a single note for you as goodbye. It was not even a proper farewell, at least not the kind he made sure to give you every time. Even if there was little to no sincere romance in your engagement, you both respected each other as equals. However, his final note had completely staggered you.

“Don’t wait for me.” It said.

Such a heavy message in merely four words…

You understand what he means by it. He has made a decision wherein he would prefer to not involve you, and thus opting to let you go. The contract regarding the engagement was never too binding. Crepus had assured that either of you can break it off if you both reach such a consensus. However, the former head of the Ragnvindr Clan did not just choose any girl to be paired with his son. He specifically took interest in you because he always knew—if any woman can ever match his son and heir in terms of headstrong stubbornness, it can only be you.

With the patience of a saint, you graciously accepted Diluc’s decision. However, it did not mean you would back down so easily.

Honestly, you see it as poor manners to just leave things with a note. You have to just wait in the Dawn Winery so you can give him a proper scolding upon his inevitable return. Until then, you were more than willing to manage everything else on his behalf. The servants are ecstatic to find out you meant to stay despite their young master’s wishes. Your parents are also very considerate, only ever wishing for your happiness since then and now.

Under your supervision, Dawn Winery flourished and maintained dignity after the loss of its masters. You hold the cunning and integrity of any businessman worth their salt. Adelinde, Elzer, and the entire staff can attest that you are more strict than even the late Lady Ragnvindr—wife of Master Crepus.

Kaeya never confided to you whatever caused the fallout between him and his brother. However, he seemed so relieved and touched when you did not treat him differently. If anything, you seem to dote on him even more now—like a real older sister. He thus returns your kind and loving care equally, a bout of protectiveness that rivals your absent fiancé.

Years later, tragedy struck once again.

You were mistaken as the official Lady Ragnvindr by whichever enemies Diluc had made. They aimed to lure him out by means of threatening his supposed wife, taking you hostage. Despite being Visionless, you were far from a pushover. You did not go down without a fight and worked to plan your escape.

In the end, your captors thought you to be more trouble than your worth…

…and so, they aimed to kill you.

It is only due to Kaeya’s timely arrival this instance that you did not follow Crepus.

However, you did not get out of the incident perfectly unscathed. The brutality you suffered had caused a critical and permanent injury on your spine. It is with heavy hearts that the doctors informed you of the grim situation: you can never walk again.

Diluc promptly returned to Mondstadt when Kaeya relayed the news to him via letter. He had been so devastated to realize that you almost died because of him. He wanted to protect you by letting you go, but he underestimated your resolve. In his mind, he knew the only way to truly get you far away from him is to make you hate him. Upon finding courage to visit you, he doubled down on his determination when he left you years ago. You deserve better, and the life he could give you as Lady Ragnvindr will only be a disappointment. You deserve so much better than waking up to a cold, empty bed and waiting on late nights.

He opened the door to your room in his manor, ready to break your heart so you can leave him.

However, his hardened goal fell short.

You sat by the window, as beautiful as the day he last saw you. Even confined to a wheelchair, you remain smiling so warmly. Your enchanting gaze meets his crimson pair, and he melted at the sheer adoration you bestowed upon him. Your cheeks took a rosy glow, and your smile widened—lips moving to utter words of welcoming him back home, yet he cannot hear a thing. His only thoughts revolved on how badly he wanted to kiss you right now.

Diluc missed you so much, and hence he realized that he really is a fool.

How can he ever survive if he truly broke your heart, the most precious thing you entrusted to him?

“Marry me.” He said.

Much to his surprise, you only laughed and accepted—as if you always believed he would return to you.

It was truly laughable how easily you can weaken his resolve with a mere smile.

“It took you long enough, Master Diluc~!”

You winked at him as you laughed. Despite your lighthearted cheer, the redhead can see that the years apart took a toll on you. He crossed the room in graceful strides and he saw you more vividly. The bags under your eyes did little to dull their sparkle; the hollowness of your cheeks worried him but the rosy hue amplified their glamor; and your pallor was a little too pale for his liking, yet the freckles across your nose reassured him that you get enough sun on a daily basis.

Then, he bends down to hold you close and buries his face at the crook of your neck.

Your heart skipped lightly.

Then, you hugged him back—more tightly.

Diluc said nothing as he felt his shoulder get wet, and you did not make a sound as yours trembled.

“Welcome home.” You whispered.

He grits his teeth to fight against the tears.

“I’m home.” He murmurs.

The marriage started a little awkwardly. Three years had been a long time, and you both had changed in ways that put a strain on your dynamic. However, as you both learned to trust each other the way you did as kids, everything else flowed smoothly. You relied on him as he relied on you. Thanks to your endless patience, you managed to help your dear husband in anything that troubled his heart. At times, it is only by your gentle interventions that his overprotective tendencies can be quelled. It had become norm for the people of Mondstadt to see you at a cozy corner of Angel’s Share—beside the bar, whenever your husband took a shift. Any shenanigans are put to a stop by a warning glare that seemed more scathing than any other nights. None of the patrons—drunk or otherwise—dare to start any ruckus as long as you were present in the tavern.

There is nothing that Diluc kept from you anymore, as he claimed no more secrets. Although, he was curious when you steered clear if the topic is Kaeya.

“It’s not just your secret to share.” You reasoned.

The redhead felt his love and respect for you deepen at the claim.

Now, you sat in your husband’s office. While he was busy doing paperwork, you did embroidery on a silk pillow that got torn. However, there was a stifling air in the room that bothered him.

“What is it?” Diluc asked.

You raise a brow, “What do you mean?”

He stared back knowingly, “You have been redoing the same stitch for the past half hour. That only happens when you’re distracted; and you’re only ever distracted when something is troubling you.”

The redhead leans back on his chair, dropping his quill to cross his arms.

“So,” he continued, “what is it?”

You blushed at the fact you were caught so easily, but also flattered by how he is so attentive to you.

Diluc is then worried by your prolonged hesitance, gradually standing up from his chair. He walks up to you leisurely, kneeling by your side. His gloved hands take yours, mindful of your needlework as he placed it on the table. His vibrant eyes implore you to share your burdens, waiting and encouraging.

“I lied to you.”

He frowns at your blunt confession but said nothing, tilting his head to let you continue.

“On our wedding,” you reminisced, “you asked me what I wanted most so you could provide it. I replied that there was nothing more I could ever want since you asked me to marry you for real.”

Your right hand carefully broke free from his, rising to tuck his fringe away. Your palm rests on his cheek and your husband savored it with fondness. He then recalls being ready to arrange a grandiose wedding that day, remembering how much you rambled about being like a princess in your shared childhood. As a young boy, it used to grate on his nerves; but as your fiancé, Diluc found it necessary to pay attention.

Back then, he did not question it when you asked for a simpler celebration. After all, a lot has changed between him and you—for better and for worse.

“However,” you murmured, “there was one thing I had truly wished to experience with you.”

Your eyes stray away from his, drifting towards the unfinished embroidery pillow. His own eyes follow, and he immediately understands. The picture’s basic design depicts a pair of lovers dancing under the moonlit night. A gazebo frames their silhouettes while lampgrass grew around its base structure.

A wedding dance.

Diluc looks back up to you, smiling in exasperated affection. He then leans forward, taking you into his arms as he stood up. A mild squeak escapes your lips as your own arms clung to his neck, caught off guard by his sudden movement. Your husband steps out of the room while carrying you, yet offers no explanation whatsoever. Although you felt confused, it did not stop you from relaxing in his embrace and just leaning against him.

The redhead took you to the main foyer, and headed straight towards a small library corner. He dismisses the maid stationed to clean it, leaving you both in privacy. First, you were placed on the recliner near the fireplace. Then, he walked towards the old yet pristine gramophone. It belonged to his mother, he vaguely remembers. His father told him that she always loved to collect vinyls, a bittersweet sheen of unconditional love shining in his eyes.

The young lord wonders if the two of you would also remain as in love when you get older together.

“Diluc, what is this all about—”

You trailed off as waltz music began to play.

“When my wife wishes to dance,” he says, “what kind of husband am I to refuse?”

A suave smirk on his handsome face leaves you so utterly breathless. Your heart races, bursting with an unspeakable joy to call this man yours. Captivated by the sight of him, you can only watch as he strides back to you—charming as a prince straight out of a fairy tale book. His gloved hand is presented with a chivalrous bow, his rare theatric side being shown only for you—always only for you.

“May I have this dance, Milady?” He asks.

You gape speechlessly for a minute. A part of you was reluctant. How can you possibly dance in this circumstance? Nonetheless, you trust Diluc more than anything so you accepted.

“You may.”

Diluc gives a dazzling smile at your faith in him, and gently pulls you up. He expertly places your feet on his shoes, carrying your weight as you swayed. One of your hands is on his shoulder while one of his arms is wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you close. Your respective free hands are entwined, inseparable and perfectly at ease.

The marital couple moved fluidly and gracefully. You entrusted your body completely, to be moved in this dance he led confidently. Your patience and trust are returned by his warmth and protection, cradling you in a chrysalis that hopes to let you flourish. He even dares to help you twirl, making the skirt of your dress flutter like the petals of a wild rose in bloom.

The dreamlike sequence ends as he dips you into an intimate position. Heartbeats skip in sync, never of fear but of exhilaration.

Your hands leave his, believing he would never let you fall even if you let go. His grip transferred to your back and your nape, eager to be your support. You caress his face and pull him down for a searingly passionate kiss. He indulges you wholly, taking all that you have willingly given him. Your fingers shook as they entangle with his red mane. With the ease of a man who wields a claymore, he lifts you up. Your arms held tight around his neck, tilting into a new angle to not break the kiss. The fervor is returned a hundred fold, as if Diluc wishes nothing more than to fuse his soul with yours.

You are the one who empowers his flames, igniting his heart as your chosen Ifrit.

He made a vow at the altar, and not even death can do you part anymore—

“The privilege to call you mine is an honor I cannot surrender to fate.”

KAEYA ALBERICH is someone painfully aware of the power in words, and uses it to his advantage. He is as mysterious as he is efficient at being the Cavalry Captain of Ordo Favonius. The charisma he exudes can be as menacing as the frigid coldness of his Cryo Vision. The swiftness of his blade can be more merciful than the secrets he ruthlessly exploits. As much as he is admired by his peers, everyone can unanimously agree that his enigmatic ways leave them a little wary to trust him entirely. Nevertheless, the cunning of a flightless bird is just as deadly as the venom of a pit viper. A reluctance to comply is merely a sign to delve deeper.

In the carefree city of Mondstadt, only one has squared up to his level and defeated him—

—in every sense of the word.

You are the dainty little assistant of Lisa Minci, the resident librarian of Mondstadt. She slyly evades all attempts of divulging how and from where she met you. It is rumored she just found you sewing some of her worn books one day, and then decided that she has to have you as her assistant. The only other thing known about your relationship with her is that she can be extremely protective to the point of territorial. Similarly, nobody can fully understand the eccentricities demonstrated by the Witch of Purple Rose as much as you do. Since your employment, a peaceful synergy can be observed in the workings of the library and even the Knights of Favonius HQ.

The most notable thing about you is how you never limit your goodwill to work. Anyone you can reach is always on the receiving end of compassion. As such examples, Lisa has proudly introduced you to many of her prestigious friends. Since then, it had become a norm for them to see you.

Jean always ends up a little more relaxed with the cups of coffee you brew for her. You serve her tea as a silent insistence when it was time to rest. Albedo and Sucrose now have a habit of asking your referral in finding the best locations for any ingredients they would need. At random times, you appear around the corner to help Noelle in the most menial tasks and labors. Whenever Amber returns from her daily outriding, she would find you welcoming her by the gates with some food and water. Lastly, even Eula has begun picking you up to join her for lunch on weekends. You are the only civilian that never treats her differently, and actually seems to like her very much as a friend.

In a bout of poetic irony, the only one that seems to rarely receive your kindness was Kaeya.

Of course, you were far from unkind or cruel. You still greet him amicably every time you cross paths in the hallways or city streets. However, his shrewd gaze can detect your hesitance to interact with him for prolonged periods of time. Politely asking you about it did him no good as well. You only stared at him skeptically before shrugging, as if he should know the answer. A part of him questioned why it even bothered him so much, but perhaps it was a matter of ego. He knows himself well enough to be aware that it could be the reason he kept persisting on gaining your favor.

When Kaeya decided to tell Lisa about his situation, she had the gall to laugh at him.

“It’s because she sees right through you.”

Kaeya raises a brow, “I beg your pardon?”

Lisa smiles sharply, “My darling [Name] is an astute judge of character. It’s one of the reasons I adore her so much. Like you, she also knows her way with words. The more you talk while she listens, the more she compares the character she sees in your eyes and the persona that speaks with your lips. If they don’t match up, she will consider you to be too dangerous.”

For a moment, the Cavalry Captain felt his eyes darken defensively. A second later, they return to being detachedly bemused.

The Witch of Purple Rose catches the slip but does not comment about it. In fact, she willingly closes her eyes to let the man have his moment. However, she did continue to speak her piece.

“You’re not a bad guy,” she states, “and she knows that well. However, [Name] is the type who does not like to converse with people that refuse to respect the weight of the words they speak.”

A beaming smile is given by the librarian as she pats her colleague on his shoulder.

“Try speaking a little more honestly! It might earn you some brownie points.” She said.

Kaeya wanted to claim he is not going to bother and that he will just leave it at that. Alas, it seems he had found his match and could not resist your allure. In the end, he nodded before taking his leave.

To Lisa’s credit, her advice worked.

Obviously, Kaeya did not lay everything out in the open; but he became more sincere in his efforts to befriend you. To his pleasant surprise, you may be taciturn and reserved but it did not make you shy at all. If anything, you were quite bold for a pretty little damsel. He playfully flirted with you a few times and you were barely fazed. You even flirted back with teasing glances and fleeting touches that—he was impressed to admit—flustered him in shock. Your dollface can be deceiving as well. He had seen you pettily tattle to Lisa about patrons that give you a hard time. In turn, the mage trusts you to be the one to remind her of anyone who is late on their book returns. Thus, he watched you just peacefully sip tea while your employer terrorized the poor souls that earned her wrath with an innocent smile.

You rewarded the Cavalry Captain’s honest efforts by opening up to him a little.

It is here that Kaeya learned you were mute.

The cause was a very unfortunate birth defect when you were born prematurely. Your vocal chords did not grow correctly and almost suffocated you. The doctors were forced to remove it entirely via surgery so you can survive. Growing up, you became quite the bookworm because of this disability. You found solace in the immersion of reading the words you can never speak. It gradually turned you into a very talented scholar worthy of Lisa’s attention. Your nurturing ways with books and your preservation of comfort amidst the silence certainly gained merits.

Of course, your reserved nature did not mean you are to be underestimated.

The Witch of Purple Rose chose you as her personal assistant and sole substitute for a reason. It can be argued that you are potentially more frightening. You are the calm before the storm; and when you strike, no one ever sees it coming. Whenever hooligans think they can just steal books from the restricted section, every single one will be found hogtied and gagged on the Knights of Favonius’ doorsteps. A damsel you may appear but the only distress that can be felt is by the drunkards, who think they can harrass you without direct consequences. In fact, you made it your personal vendetta to discipline every member of Barbara’s fanclub and their stalker tendencies. A failure to comply forces them into public humiliation by wearing nun attires, and then prostrating themselves in front of Barbatos to beg for forgiveness.

Venti had an interesting view when he woke up from his nap on the statue’s hands.

The job of Cavalry Captain became that much more entertaining, and easier too.

Public ordinance is now easy to handle for all the patrolling knights, whom often need to tread lightly just to appease the common folks. Although the Acting Grandmaster would never say it outloud due to her soft nature, she was thankful for this subtle measures you have been making—especially in regards to her sister’s privacy and safety. Even the stoic Master Diluc seems to respect you since he actually makes effort to greet you more than he does any other stranger in the streets. Your drinks in Angel’s Share are discounted too, which is always a plus after a long day of work. Lisa took advantage of this perk just to tease.

As he got to know you, Kaeya finally arrived to a profoundly frightening conclusion.

He was falling in love with you.

No, he may have already fallen the moment you had turned into his newest fixation. The icy captain can recall Lisa’s words—how you judge people based on the character in their eyes, if it matches the persona that speaks. You actually looked at him and saw him with just a single glance; and when his words blurred the truth, his facade was already unraveling before your piercing gaze. You rejected him because he was denying the lost boy you see, and you embraced him when the charismatic captain found felicity in your companionship. You accepted both sides even if you knew nothing about either of them.

However, for all his clever ways in manipulating the feelings of others, Kaeya is powerless at the face of his own emotions.

Hence, the reasonable thing in his perspective is to simply run away from you.

It hurt you but it was something you also understood quite well. As mentioned, you were aware of Kaeya’s true character from the get-go. It was fine if this is really what he wants. You both lived your lives just fine when keeping your respective secrets. That should not change just because romantic feelings are now involved.

Lisa and your friends firmly believed otherwise.

Your doting older sister figure tells you one day that the elusive captain left a message. He says to meet him in Windrise, where Jean had put him on patrol for suspicious activity of the Abyss Order. In a twist of fate nobody expected, they even managed to get Diluc involved to make the information appear to be legitimate. The redhead claims he was getting sick of Kaeya's face brooding over you in Angel’s Share.

All else, as they say, was history when you were both given a chance to confront the truth together.

Now, Kaeya watches over your sleeping form on his bed—tuckered out from today’s work.

You are curled up to his chest, nuzzling his clavicle like a kitten. A delightful shiver ran through his spine every time your warm breaths hit his skin. Your left arm is draped over his waist while your right hand rested over his chest. His own arm cushions your head, bent by the elbow to poise himself up while he ran his fingers through your hair. The other one holds you close by the waist, legs intertwined so no space remains. The moonlight peeks through the curtains, basking you in afterglow that left him mesmerized every night. Leaning down, his lips tenderly kissed your brow as his embrace tightened possessively.

He grins as he felt your fingers move drowsily on his back, crumpling the blouse.

“Why are you watching me sleep?”

You drew special patterns to speak, blinking your eyes open to stare blankly at your lover.

He chuckles, bending down to give you an eskimo kiss while tracing words on your back as well.

“You look too beautiful to be true.”

You hummed in the form of a soft exhale, observing your beloved closely. Your hand leaves his back and reached up to his face, tucking his fringe behind his ear to see both of his eyes. It no longer concerns him to let you see his normally hidden eye, which flickered for a fraction of a second. He disclosed everything long ago. He has nothing else to hide, not from you at least—never again from you.

In fact, the language you were both using to silently communicate is from Khaenri'ah.

Kaeya invented the sign language of it and taught it to you. In public, people think it is just a cute secret between couples; but you knew better. There is a power in words, and Kaeya had entrusted you this in particular—a piece of his true self that only you can keep. Not even Diluc knew this much about him, as their bond of brotherhood shattered before he could make an attempt. Henceforth, you use this sign to talk with him privately and send messages only for your dear captain to decipher.

As you caressed his cheek, Kaeya sighed in perfect bliss. He leans towards your touch, turning his head to press a loving kiss on your palm. His own hand reached up to keep it in place. Delicately, his index finger traces another message on your knuckles.

“You’re not just a sweet dream, are you?”

Your eyes softened in understanding, smiling in hopes to alleviate his insecurities. Your hand directs his to your heart, much like how your other one stays above his own. Two hearts beat as one, delivering a mutual confession beknownst only to you and him.

Your lips moved and his unique eyes read them as if they held the meaning of life.

“I’m real, and I’m yours.”

Unable to help himself, Kaeya changes positions to loom over you. He pins your hands by the wrist on either sides of your head. You let him, locking eyes to wait until he regains his anchor to reality. As he straddles you, he leans down and his scarred eye glows with an unknown power. For a moment, the star in his misty blue orb sharpened into a slit. Then, his grip eventually loosens. Your arms soon take the chance to slither around his neck. You pull him down to your level, sensually slow to leave him in intense anticipation. Once he is a mere breath away, you lean up and forward.

Kaeya never fails to find sanctuary in your embrace, and salvation in your kiss. The taste of ambrosia is as addictive as the first time. He wanted more—needed more, even if it meant unequivocal demise.

One of his hands seeks one of yours, pressing against the mattress to interweave. A final message is traced as you both succumb to the passion that has waged wars since the dawn of creation.

“I love you.”

If the day of reckoning ever comes for him, the last hope of Khaenri'ah knows he does not stand alone.

Kaeya will always remember to seek out your light, and savor the hour of respite in your shadow. He holds faith in no god nor archon; but before you, he shall bend the knee in devoted worship.

This lost prince of sinners may be predestined for damnation, but he prays in your name—

“You are my northern star, the light that guides me back home.”

VENTI is a bard whose secrets are guarded by the lullabies of yesteryore and evermorrow. He holds the face of jubilant youth, yet his eyes tell a tale as old as time. While his voice mellifluously sings of tunes so spirited and free, his heart weighs heavy with the burden of an untold sacrilege. A couple thousand years can be a long time, yet the agony remains as fresh as the memories of a lucid dream. As he dons a smile that hopes to brighten the days and luminate the nights of Mondstadt, his soul belies the image of a nameless friend long gone. At times when the winds blew too coldly, he relies on the burning heat that drips down his throat—a taste so fine yet so bitter, like the freedom he idolizes.

Memories remind people what matters most, a life’s purpose to never forsake. However, more often than not, they come with the cruel regrets of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Henceforth, in tiresome days, the expense of living gets a little too much; and in sleepless nights, the weight of existing gets a little heavier.

Alas, when stars align just right, the wind will lead a pair of soulmates to find one another.

In Venti’s case, you found him.

It is actually very difficult to get him drunk, even if he acts otherwise. To be precise, he recovers quicker by getting sober minutes after he felt tipsy—and then, he would be downing another bottle. It is annoying for someone who just wants to forget his problems, but that is partially why he became accustomed to binge drinking. His rate of alcohol consumption would kill an average human, via alcohol poisoning, by the time he actually blacks out.

Amidst this cold and lonely night, the windborn bard was spared an ounce of warmth by a kind muse.

Venti woke up in a peculiar cottage that smelled of pollen and varnished wood. He heard the chirping of bluebirds, rousing him further away from his drowsy haze. A ray of sunshine peeks through the hanging cheap fabric used as curtains. He sits up, braids all messy with a very entangled bedhead.

As he stumbled out of the bedroom, the familiar sounds of Der Frühling beckoned him to the front porch. His veteran ears can attest that the notes are undoubtedly produced by a musician's hands, but a mere novice in the ways of the lyre. There was a harmonious flow in melody, yet the tone and pitch held little to no finesse in-between transitions. A sense of sheepish uncertainty distorts the song, but there was a certain charm in its dissonance.

He turns a corner, and there he saw you—

—a young dame sat upon a rickety swing, taming the bluebirds that sang for her strings.

The amused bard leaned against the doorway to watch the free show. His gleaming teal eyes stared blatantly, mesmerized by his supposed hostess. You wore an outfit that resembled his, but more modest and somewhat mismatched in color palette—an odd choice for a fellow bard. The only flashy thing about you is the Anemo Vision pinned onto your hair as it tied up your headband braid. It functioned as a hair ornament surrounded with cecilia and windwheel aster petals. A teal silk ribbon was mixed into your braid as its curled tail fluttered under your Vision ornament.

You seem to be inexperienced with the lyre, as Venti had confirmed upon seeing your performance; but you are still quite precise in your play. In theory, you hold enough knowledge to figure out which note works for a particular measure. Before he realized it, his own voice begins humming alongside the chirps of the gathered songbirds.

Alas, joining your small choir of avian creatures had startled them into flying away.

You also stiffened with a surprised jolt, practically snapping your head to look back at him. He does note that it was the birds’ exit that had shocked you, and not his soundly abrupt entrance.

“Ehe~!” Venti giggled nervously, “Sorry about that.”

You fumbled for a moment yet held the lyre firmly, careful to keep it steady. Standing up, you then walk over to him even though you shook in anxiety. Ever so tenderly, you returned his dearest Der Frühling as if handing over a precious baby.

Venti finds this heartwarming and endearing, having not met a fellow bard as considerate as you. He thus receives his lyre with gratitude, tracing its frame and plucking the strings. He marvels at the fact you even polished the instrument and retuned the strings.

“Many thanks, fellow bard~!” He chirped, “My name is Venti. May I know yours?”

You stared blankly at him for a moment, as if taking a few minutes to decipher his words. He spoke a little too quickly on purpose, patiently observing if you would prove his suspicions. As soon as you finally understood, you replied with some stutters in-between your syllables. It seemed more like a sound of uncertainty rather than a speech impediment.

“I-I am…[Name].”

A deaf virtuoso—the windborn bard believes you will make an interesting friend.

Ever since that day, Venti developed a habit of either visiting your abode or seeking you to hang out in the city. His consistent presence helped you be more comfortable in conversations. There was little to no stutters in-between your sentences now. As a bard whom prided himself in knowing all music of the past and future, the art of sign language is a helpful skill he utilized to pleasantly astound you.

The bard had never seen any mortal beam so bright when you smiled at him that day.

While you have gotten comfortable with him, Venti has also grown comfortable with you. There have been many incidents wherein his smiling mask just naturally came down around you. By your side, he felt more freedom than he has ever experienced in the past centuries. He knew it was dangerous to let this continue. The god in disguise has always been meticulously aware of his own feelings; and he was more than aware that he is falling for a mortal he will someday outlive.

However, he found you hard to resist.

Neither Venti nor Barbatos can hope to deny your profoundly unconditional love. What kind of god could reject such a heartfelt offering?

Despite your penchant for playing any available instrument, you preferred not to take center stage. In fact, your hidden knack for taming avian creatures is how you earn a daily living. Every songbird in the City of Freedom knows your tunes and can chirp them on command. This is due to your Anemo Vision, which has a unique ability that enables you to interact with the birds by means of frequency. Depending on how you control the vibrations in the breeze, they will follow like a choir does with a maestro.

You once dedicated a performance to Barbatos and the Four Winds. On that day, Venti heard his wisp brethren amongst the thousand winds croon at you in delight. He witnessed the silhouette of Vennessa’s falcon form hovering above you appraisingly, and a resounding roar can also be heard from Dvalin in his proclaimed lair. There were even the echoing howls of Andrius and his pack in Wolvendom.

This leads him to discover that your true talent lies in writing music. He had seen and read your musical compositions, grinning at every single one. With your permission, he even played a few in your home as payment for your gracious hospitality.

“You can negotiate with bards for this, you know.” He proposed, “I’m no businessman; but even I know letting other musicians play this will earn you a hefty sum of mora.”

You smiled sadly, “N-Nobody…w-would acknowledge music…composed by a deaf girl.” You confessed.

Venti turned solemn as he gazed at you. Although intimidating in its rarity, you are not perturbed by this abrupt change of mood. Your darling bard wears a mask on a daily basis that blurs truth and deceit.

You have become acquainted with them all.

He hummed playfully, “Now that just won’t do.”

You tilt your head confusedly, blinking in surprise when he suddenly takes hold of your hands.

“Ehe~!” He giggled, “Let me play…all of your music, [Name]. In fact, I’ll write…a lyrical ballad…for each of them. We’ll be the best duo…in Mondstadt!”

He had to slow down his speech a bit since he could not use his hands to help you keep up.

Thus, a new routine began for you two.

Venti kept his word. For the next few months, he only sang of the tunes you composed. A few of his regular listeners heard the slightest change in his playstyle. A part of him wished to smile bitterly as other bards and occasional playwrights praised his talent. He pettily made sure to charge thrice from them when he was requested for encores. These fools had rejected you just because of your disability yet they literally sing praises when he played your creations. Any artist worth their salt should have been able to see your potential at a glance.

Nevertheless, he ensured to always come home to you with bags full of mora whenever he plays your music in particular. You deserve nothing less than that, and he refuses to settle for anything else.

Regardless of this success, Venti recognized the melancholy in your eyes. You used to smile radiantly every time you watched him play. Your ears cannot hear the notes but you can feel the vibrations in the air. Your beguiling eyes relished the perfection of just watching Venti play to his heart’s content.

However, he was not blind to your inner turmoil and thus sought to relieve it.

“What’s wrong, Windblume?” He asked.

You hesitate, looking down at your feet. Gently, he props a finger under your chin to raise your head. A tender smile of encouragement implored you to speak your thoughts freely.

“I’m…frustrated.” You replied.

He says nothing but his smile does falter to a glaze of concern, waiting patiently to let you finish.

“I feel…so happy and grateful…when you play my songs.” You confided, “It’s finally being heard…and not just through the songbirds. People are now listening…to how it is supposed to be heard, and how I envisioned it to be played.”

Tears gather in your lovely eyes, overflowing with emotions too much for your heart. Your darling bard does not waver. He raises a hand to cup your cheek in his palm while his fingertips swept your sorrows.

“I want to…” you sobbed, “I want to hear you too!”

Venti held you protectively close, wishing more than anything else to shield you from this wild tempest of emotions. Alas, he was more than aware of the truth that the loveliest of rainbows can only come after the harshest storm. These are the feelings that must have festered for so long within you. People who can hear cruelly turn deaf to the ones whose worlds have been rendered silent. It was as if they do not deserve a voice if they knew not how it sounds. The thought infuriates the bard, reminding him of your beautiful songs discarded as nothing more than the passing chirps of songbirds.

He used his talents to let your ballads be heard.

Perhaps, he can use a different set of talents to let you hear his own?

You gripped onto Venti as if he was your lifeline, a part of you crumbling in sheer relief. He has always encouraged you to never be ashamed of what and how you feel. Whether it be deemed good or bad, all of it belonged to you. They make you human, the reason why he adores you above all. His gentle hand carded through your hair, skillful as when he plucks and strums the strings of Der Frühling. Pulling away slightly, his lips rested upon your temple and then your forehead. They stray towards your cheeks, a taste of salt from your tears.

Lastly, they hover above your own lips—centimeters apart, just a breath before they touch.

Teal eyes glow a shimmering green, both of you becoming enraptured by each other.

Venti needed you to say no more.

He takes you in his arms and spreads his wings. He delivers you to Windrise and its special tree, trusting him so wholly that you did not question him. Instead, you melted in his arms and enjoyed the warm breeze that wrapped around you like a blanket.

Once he sits you down beneath the tree, Venti sits in front of you to place one of your hands right above his heart. It beats steadily yet faintly, present yet not quite—like the wind he controls. He summons Der Frühling and smiles lovingly at you. The crystalflies illuminate his youthful features, providing a mystical glow that enthralls his dearest muse.

“Eyes on me, meine liebe.” He mouths.

Closing his eyes, he begins his private performance.

You frown, wondering what he means to prove with this. Still, you obliged his wishes and kept your eyes solely on him. Your hand remained where he placed it, right over the constant beating of his heart.

Then, you finally noticed the gathering streams of energy around yourself and your lover.

Your Anemo Vision began to glow alongside Venti’s iconic braids. The winds hummed together with him, united under his influence. It is an enchanting image, dazzling you into stunned admiration.

Then, you finally hear him—vocalizing the precious melody you dedicated to him alone. He sang of his past, his present, and his future which are now all intertwined by the whispers of you.

/Gales of song, please stay by my side/

He opens his eyes and releases his lyre. It plays as it floats, and you are mesmerized by how you can hear it all. By power of anemo, he merges your heart with his while enabling your psalm to be immortalized amongst the winds. He reaches up a hand to keep yours on his chest while its pair entangles with the other. His forehead leans on yours, gaze softening as you wept in bliss.

White feathers rained down on the landscape of green and blue. Floating lights illuminated the dark, be they stars or crystalflies. The Statue of the Seven sung in accompaniment to the intimate confessions of Barbatos—to you and for you.

/Winds of love, breathe into my life/

You can hear him so clearly—his regrets, his woes, his dreams, and his love. You hear it all through the song you composed at the thought of him, which he plays at the memory of you.

A fated parting shall occur someday, but he will love no other the way he loves you.

Therefore, with a passionate kiss, he makes you a promise—

“Come what may, you are the melody my heart will always sing.”

DAINSLEIF perseveres as a maverick shaped by his resolutions and driven by conviction. After enduring five centuries, he has earned a fair few titles as his new names. However, these remnants can never piece together his whole existence. As the Twilight Sword, there is no longer a Khaenri'ah to consider as his homeland to protect. As the Bough Keeper, there is no true grace to his purpose while burdened by a curse that shall someday rob him of his own mind and soul. In the eyes of Celestia, he is no more than a sinner doomed to a fate which can be argued as worse than death. As for the rest of the world, he is no more than a listless wanderer whom holds an obsession with stopping a disgrace known as the Abyss Order.

To honor those he had failed in his homeland, he can only move forward in the best way he knew—even if it is against those he had formerly served. Souls of the condemned hold no genuine hope of ascending to Celestia, for they amount to nothing more than heretics that do not worship any god. Therefore, for those who dare to remember, erosion will befall upon them as a final kiss of damnation. Before that day comes for him, this foolish score must be settled so he can meet his demise without regrets.

There is no genuine reward at the end of this tedious and lonesome quest. He is aware.

Nonetheless, the accursed immortal human refuses to falter under the taunt of judgment. If damnation is what shall meet him at the end of this quest, then he shall do it on his own terms. For if he must also end without his resolve, then there will truly be nothing left of him and Khaenri'ah.

There had been instances aplenty wherein the divine is likened to the flowers blossoming across Teyvat; and as a lonesome wanderer, he has grown accustomed to these tragic folklores.

The God of Dust named Guizhong left behind a quiet legacy amongst the glaze lilies. Songs which keep them abloom become tributes to her name.

The Goddess of Flowers known as Nabu Malikata had left her remnants within the padisarahs. Even if not as they were anymore, they serve as a memoir.

Godless they may have been, the glorious nation of Khaenri'ah also held pride over a particular flower—the Inteyvat. Alas, nobody but the former Twilight Sword retains the awareness to recall whom they represent the most.

“My memory has all but faded completely,” a voice murmurs piously, “but I will always remember how much she too loved these flowers.”

Dainsleif spoke not of Lumine here, although she does remind him of the one he reminisces. He dares say travelling with her had been the closest to home, a feeling of warm comfort. However, it never was the same exact happiness he sought in another—a mere ghost in his past. The lost historical relics in Sumeru speak of her as the last Eclipse Princess, whom was hailed as the Heretic Saintess. However, to him, she was the woman he dearly cherishes to this day…

…and the one he laments most for failing to protect in the bout of cataclysmic calamity.

Indeed, the Bough Keeper realizes; this accursed immortality is a fitting punishment for what Celestia deems a sinner. For he can forsake everything, but anything he has left of her will vividly linger. The doomsday of his own reckoning shall be when that too is ripped away from him.

Until then, he will dream of her. Until then, he will foolishly hope for the day they meet again.

Then, like a prayer to a nonexistent god, answers came in the ethereal form of you.

You met Dainsleif on a stormy night. In fact, he just found your cabin in the woods to seek a temporary shelter—injured and knocked unconscious. He was already half-delirious from a high fever, and it did not take a genius to know the man had a rough week. It is not out of kindness that you nursed him back to health, but due to a selfish motive to figure him out.

“Who are you?” You mumbled.

It seems he was not entirely out of it since he still managed to respond clearly.

“Dain…sleif…”

As soon as he muttered back, he eventually fell limp in your arms. For those brief seconds, there was a swelling ache upon your chest—nostalgia. A chilling tingle ran through your spine, like the touch of an invasive ghost on your skin—melancholy. Then, it spreads as smoldering heat to your veins as if to ignite your bloodstream—passion.

“Dainsleif, huh?”

The name felt like velvet on your tongue. His clothes and features were all too familiar to you—a fellow kinsman from Khaenri'ah. However, your eidetic memory never once brought you to a conclusion about this man’s identity. Regardless, your body reacts as if begging for your mind to catch up in recognition.

Even as you tended to him, nothing clicked.

“Your Highness…”

His voice weakly called, raspy and strained as if to choke it out. Your star-shaped pupils dilate as they meet his own hazy glare. His hand was reaching out to you, looking yet not truly seeing.

Alas, you made no move to truly stop him and remained awkwardly staring back.

“You’re dreaming, Sir Dainsleif.”

As if hearing his name from you brought comfort, he settles down again. His eyes start to close but now his hand found yours resting by his bedside. You recoiled yet his grip was oddly firm for a deeply ill patient. Perhaps, you can allow this until he gets some real rest.

When he recovered, Dainsleif vanished as abruptly as he barged into your life.

The next time you met again, it was your turn to be the one in need.

Dainsleif finds you in a clearing of soot and frost, holding a young man desperately. It was as if a clash of fire and ice had occurred under the rain. You look up to him, stars in your eyes shimmering with panic and sorrow. Without a word, he aids you by carrying the unconscious male and leading you back to the cabin. You made no reaction other than grasping onto his cloak tightly, like a lost child.

Despite not wishing to overstay his welcome, the Bough Keeper chose to stay for the night. You were unresponsive to him, as if your mind had shut down completely. A vague memory of a person so similar to you made Dainsleif familiar to the situation. Thus, the task of healing your patient fell to him until you could regain your composure.

“Please be well, Kaeya.” You murmured.

Dainsleif did not pry about your business, giving you the same respect you had done for his privacy. It did, however, astonish him when you took hold of his wrist and dragged him outside with you the next day.

The man named Kaeya stirred awake.

Befuddled, the former Twilight Sword kept silent as he watched from afar with you. Kaeya ate the warm meal you prepared on the table, and mixed emotions flickered in his eyes as he did. His head turned to observe everything in the cabin, searching almost as desperately as you appeared last night. Numerous dreamcatchers and embroideries decorate the walls in a contradictingly systematic manner. The more he analyzed, the more he remembered his childhood—as if your crafts gave him pieces of long forgotten memories. Then, he slowly stood up and made his way to a periwinkle dreamcatcher designed with a pavo ocellus constellation.

A single silver-blue eye gazed out the window, nearly catching your own gaze—

—but you ducked down behind the huge boulders and pulled Dainsleif with you to hide.

Kaeya got his things back and left a small note of gratitude for your care. Wordlessly, he left the cabin with the dreamcatcher now hanging on his belt—right beside his Cryo Vision. He looked back over his shoulder only once to give a bittersweet smile.

“Farewell, sis.” He whispered.

A humming zephyr delivered his message, and then he went back to Mondstadt.

Dainsleif sat down beside you for an entire hour, a mix of pity and empathy. When clarity returned to your eyes, he rose to take his leave. Once again, he was halted on his tracks by your hand grabbing onto his own gloved one.

“Hey,” you said, “do you mind if I go with you?”

Against his better judgment, the cursed immortal agreed after a minute of contemplation.

This newfound journey together has a very tedious beginning, mostly attributed to you. Everything was strange and nothing felt safe, which was expected because you both never stayed in one place. You, whom sought solace in consistency, were always forced to adapt to something new. Sleeping became a chore because you felt every small pebble and thin blade of grass pressing against you. It is by the mere thoughtfulness of your companion that you got a semblance of rest. Dainsleif always covered you in his cape and was willing to hold you soothingly, as if he knows just how to calm you down. There has been moments wherein you had tantrums, and some meltdowns that delayed some plans. Other days, you shut down completely and only wake back up to reality after a day or two.

Dainsleif was shockingly very patient with you, never berating and ready to soothe whenever you are in distress. He never once pushed you to go back. Only once, he offered to take you somewhere to settle after a very bad episode.

“No, I can’t!” You exclaimed, “I have to keep moving. I have to…keep going. Make sure…nobody finds me.”

It was unspoken that you were specifically running away from the City of Freedom, all for avoiding your your younger brother. There is a destiny that kept you both apart even when you mutually wish to be reunited. As children of Khaenri'ah, the former knight can take a guess what that sort of fate presents.

Since then, your travel companion did not question your decision anymore.

Without prompting, Dainsleif seemed used to your symptoms. It was almost eerie how he knew exactly what to say and do in every situation that involved your condition. He makes effort to prepare the same meals that you wish to have every day, and only light fruit snacks at night because you get very restless otherwise. At times he wanted to keep going, he stops himself to make camp for you first on the same evening hour before scouting ahead. He only allows himself to be gone for exactly 45 minutes, which was your limit to being alone whenever you both decide to camp out rather than checking into an inn or hotel. Whenever a wave of unease hits, he keeps a bag of materials that either lets you weave dreamcatchers or tinker an antique you scavenged in the ruins you passed. Every time your mind begins to close off, he sits down with you and holds your hands to meditate. When you need space, he keeps his distance; and when you need companionship, he keeps you close.

“How?” You ask.

Dainsleif raises a brow as he looks down at you. It was in the middle of Lantern Rite as you both watch the festivities from a nearby hill. After indulging in a few stalls, you calmed by playing with his fingers as your head rested on his lap. He knows the meaning to your one-worded inquiry, and he wonders how to answer you truthfully.

“I knew someone similar to you.” He said.

You sat up before blankly staring into his eyes, stars meeting stars. Tilting your head, a flash of curiosity brought light to your emotionless gaze.

“The princess…?” You asked.

The Bough Keeper blinked in surprise.

“You dreamed of her a lot when we first met.”

Your statement made him look away bashfully, a bit embarrassed to be reminded.

“Was she important to you?” You asked.

At this, he looks at you in the eyes. His star-shaped pupils practically gleam with an emotion you could not read—or perhaps, could not comprehend.

“She is my dearest one.” He declared.

Normal people probably would have felt jealous at that confession. He even used a present tense to show that his feelings have not wavered.

You and Dainsleif never gave a label to this peculiar relationship, but you hold a mutual understanding that it had grown to more than just friends. It was a development nurtured by meaningful exchanges and secretive affections. The sentiments are far from platonic or familial, that much is sure.

That night, when you released a lantern, you made a fleeting wish—

—not to the gods, but to the princess.

“Please look after Dainsleif.”

Meanwhile, the Twilight Sword fondly gazes upon your form. The image of your past self overlaps with the present. He recalls the ever sleepless nights of guarding you in the tower. Starlight showered upon your figure leaning by the windowframe. Delicate hands reach out to set free artificial crystalflies that glow as wisps of moonlight. A breath of laughter is echoed in the lonely room, and then he is blessed by a smile more divine than Celestia.

The memory flickers as the silver starlights are replaced by golden lanterns, and your humble self stood in place of the estranged saintess—

—but that smile remains.

Morning welcomed Dainsleif with the strange sight of you looming over him. With practiced ease, he resumes calm as he let you do as you please like it was nothing unusual. He knows of your quirks just as you are aware of his boundaries. There is mutual trust of consent that tells which actions would be acceptable anytime. He did gulp a little nervously as his drowsy eyes analyzed you. His hands twitched but he willed them to stay in place despite his inner yearning.

Disheveled, you were straddling him while still in your nightgown. Your hair was messily draped over your shoulders, creating a curtain around the blond man beneath you. A glazed veil engulfs your eyes like a dreamy countenance of a faraway reverie.

“Dain…”

“What is it, [Name]?”

“I had a dream last night.”

“A dream, you say?”

You nod, leaning down almost conspirationally yet the expression on your face remains unreadable. A gasp hitched in his throat as your lips strayed to his ear, whispering shakily—

“I remember, Dain.”

Realization struck him.

Dainsleif switches positions with you yet he receives no protest. His ungloved hands cup your face in order to meet your eyes with his own beseeching pair. You see his visage, unmasked and vulnerable, that longingly wish for your approval.

You nodded.

Dainsleif claims your lips in ardent greed, and you responded in eager devotion.

Intertwined, redamancy is bliss for the reunited knight and his only princess—

“Your heart is the only other half that can ever complete mine.”

#REMINDER: this is a submission from starlight anon (not mine)!#please support them and their glorious writing <3 #genshin x reader #genshin x fem!reader #genshin x female reader #aether x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #venti x reader #dainsleif x reader

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starlightshore · 5 months

Text

i think enough time has happened that i can talk freely about Undertale Event...2! if you haven't watched it, uhm. Please do!

youtube

Undertale Event

I voiced Dr. Alphys and I did all the artwork.

The only two real fangames were:

Sans the Game

and

Giga Sans

Everything else was made by a couple of friends (and a guest submission, GTA Sans) and me.

Here's my 4 trailers if you just want to see them isolated.

youtube

for an explanation to what the hell this even is under the cut:

This is a parody of UnderEvent, a yearly Nintendo-Direct like showcase of Undertale Projects. I know people/have particpated in this since the first year.

While I try my best to keep to myself in the fandom, I do talke with people and dive a little bit into what's going on. I know the words "dust-trust" and "last breath" but i could not tell you what specifc AU they are each. I'm not good at video games so I only really play the big ones (UTY, TS, and most recently Delta-traveler). So like, I'd say i'm halfway there to knowing the basics of whatever the hell is going on in this fandom lmao!

I love how weird and silly this fandom is. I've got my own gripes about different aspects (cough, Sans Therapy: sans has mental illness the fangame was made in part with my extreme frustration with how the fandom handles the topic of mental illness. Like, seriously, cut that crap out...)

but anywayz off my rant for the day, there's a lot of this fandom I can admire from an, admittedly, confused distance.

I'll actually refrain from talking too in-depth about my thought process on the trailers as we plan on doing a commentary edition for the video. That'll be fun!

As for if we'll have a sequel...?

We have no idea yet if we are. I'd only want to make one if we can justify its existence. If you're in the fan-project community and want to be involved, please reach out to me! I can't guarantee we'll let you in as, as I said, I don't even know if we're making a sequel yet. But I love the idea of making a bigger, badder, and more ambitious sequel!

Alas for now I must go...... I'm writing this the night before and i'm sleepy lmao. Hope you enjoyed the video!

#undertale #deltarune #gaster #sans #undertale event 2 #personal stuff #Youtube

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anniflamma · 4 months

Note

Hello! I adore your Epic animations. Your ruthlessness animation literally brought me into fandom!

I've stumbled upon your beloved king animations, and as a non religious person I have some questions, if you don't mind answering.

Is Saul in love with David? Lyrics imply it, but I'm not sure.

And why did Saul off himself?

Your animations are top tier❤❤❤❤❤

Ah, thank you! 💛 It's so fun to know that my work introduce people to Epic and heck… even Beloved King!

So a lot of stuff is going on with Saul. Buckle up, this is going to be long! (I think)

Is Saul in love with David? Yes and no! In the musical, Saul lusts after David because he is desperate for control, which then manifests in his inappropriate behavior. I would say that Saul doesn't really love David, but he wants him for himself.

That part of the musical is based on the discourse surrounding David and Saul's relationship as possibly a pederastic relationship (before David became the giant slayer). One of the main arguments is the altercation between Jonathan and Saul (which is the song "Shame" is based on). In the Bible, Saul accuses Jonathan of having an improper relationship with David, causing Jonathan to shame his mother for witnessing her nakedness. "Witness someone's nakedness" is a euphemism, which means it's the aftermath of a sexual act. And that it can pass to other partners. So for example, you are not allowed to be intimate with someone who has been with a family member of yours, because doing so will "witness that person's nakedness" as well. So if we take Saul's words literally, that means that Jonathan must have had a sexual relationship with David, which then David had a relationship with Saul for that accusation to make sense. Then again, there are other people who say that Saul is just crazy, says insane stuff, and we should not take his words seriously. 😅

And why did Saul off himself? (trigger warning)

This one is also a can of worms. When God abandons Saul, he sends "evil spirits" to torment the king. This is possibly a representation that someone suffering from mental illnesses, perhaps depression or schizophrenia. I don't want to add any labels, but we do know that in the Bible, Saul becomes very suicidal and exhibits behavior indicative of deep depression. He never leaves his room, doesn't want to leave his bed, and stops eating. He recovers when David comes into the picture and helps him. But alas, Saul then becomes paranoid, and drama ensues.

His suicide wasn't viewed as something weak, but instead, something courageous. He ended his life because he didn't want to be captured by the enemies on the battlefield. But we, the readers, and Saul too, know that he has lost EVERYTHING. His sons are dead, he has lost his entire army, God has abandoned him, and Samuel, his father figure, even after death in the form of a ghost, has disowned him. He has chased away David. Even before the last battle, he fell into his depressive state again, and the only one showing some form of compassion was the witch of Endor, who gave him food before he left for battle.

Saul is a very complicated man! Very sympathetic, but he has done some horrible stuff. Like mass murdering... 😬 I think that the Beloved King musical makes a very good depiction of Saul. At least with the songs we have now.

#tw sui talk #beloved king: a queer bible musical #anniasks #long post?#annirambles #I actually recommend the book Jacob's Wound by Theodore Jennings!#That book goes in much more detail of Saul and David's relationship

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starlightlacrimosazpsff · 1 year

Text

◇ 𝓐 𝓑𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓘𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ◇ [1]

SYNOPSIS:

Many consider your disability as a burden, but he finds a way to make it a blessing in disguise. What makes us flawed is what makes us unique, and that is what he considers the most beautiful thing about you—an imperfection he dearly adores. Nevertheless, he knows of your lingering sorrows and seeks a way to support you in the best way he could.

ENTRY TYPE: Submission, F!Reader

WARNING(S): slightly suggestive scenes, symptoms of chronic/terminal illness, implications of mental instability, mentions of past trauma resulting to severe injury, scenes of past abuse/violence, possible triggers, panic attacks, sleep paralysis, visual/auditory hallucinations, etc...

CHARACTER(S):

Aether (as Traveler & Abyss Prince), Albedo, Diluc Ragnvindr, Kaeya Alberich, Venti, Dainsleif

•

•☆••☆••☆•

Throughout this path, it was entirely unexpected for him to develop an intimate attachment.

That is why this separation hits them where it hurts enough to leave a scar.

Then, there was you.

...and someday, even your soul shall be relinquished to the judgment of Celestia.

Until then, it is yours to do as you see fit.

For this reason, you felt torn by the Pyro Vision that had been bestowed upon you. While most of your peers seek the blessing of the divine gaze, you have subconsciously sought to avoid it. Many saw it as a gift but you were raised under the notion that most presents come with strings. Earning the "eye of god" meant that you are under Celestia's watchful gaze, thus binding you to the Heavenly Principles. Their elemental blessings taunt mortals to dare reach for the stars, and gain a place amongst the divine if they are deemed worthy of it.

Well, you personally believe that only thineself can determine one's worth—no other, not even the gods.

Nevertheless, you move forward. Keep going on a quest without a destination, as you always do, until this fleeting life comes to its inevitable end.

Needless to say, there is one thing you genuinely did not see coming—

"I am so sorry, Miss!"

—and that was meeting your soulmate.

"It's fine." You replied.

Once you got everything, said stranger wasted no time apologizing profusely again.

"I should have been looking where I was walking! It was my fault."

You tilt your head, "You could just make it up to me and we can call it even."

His aureate eyes beamed as he nodded with an eager smile. At that moment, you wonder if he is the personification of the sun.

You smiled serenely, "I'm [Name]."

He pauses, a flicker of doubt passing through his gaze. Quick as it came, it disappeared as he smiled back—a tad softer.

"Just call me Aether."

That day, he bought you a new satchel.

When you were younger, your parents always said that one moment is the same as a thousand—you only need one. It was a proverb that both confused and unnerved you. After they died together due to sickness, the words were haunting as you buried them before leaving your village. Every moment was cherished by you, each one unique in the best and worst of ways. However, as both you and Aether keep crossing each other's paths after one meeting, a part of you finally thrums to life in understanding.

At one point, Aether even sought you out for a joint commission together.

"Don't you have a travelling partner?" You asked.

He laughs sheepishly, "He's a bit busy doing other things. Also..."

A light blush colored his cheeks, looking away as he scratched his nape lightly.

"...I wanted to spend some time with you."

You found him cute so you agreed.

Then, on your way home, you just abruptly collapsed as if your entire body went boneless.

"[Name]—!!!"

When he saw no signs, the outlander lifts you up in his arms and calls for the nearest doctor.

Thankfully, nothing was amiss and you just needed to rest while adjusting your diet.

Alas, the candlelight spares you one last hope of salvation amidst this merciless night.

If you are to be like Icarus, then you would prefer an end embraced by warmth and light...

...instead of ice and darkness.

Perhaps, pyro suited you for this reason.

Your lips purse, crying in anguish to speak.

"A...Ae...A-Aether..."

To your relief, that seems to be enough to awaken the young man. However, respite is all too brief as your chest seizes up. The mere act of breathing gets difficult, and your heartbeat grew alarmingly slow as it echoed alongside the tinnitus in your ears.

"[Name], what's wrong?! Are you in pain? What can I do? How can I help?" He exclaimed.

You gasped and hoarsely coughed.

"C-Can't...breathe...I..."

"[Name]," he says softly yet firmly, "I need you to focus on me, okay? Focus for me. Hey—"

He catches your frantic gaze around the room and mindfully tilts your head back to meet his stare. They are brimming with steadfast reassurance, not at all deterred by the dark beasts. Your head rests against his shoulder while you do as he told—closing your eyes to only relish his warmth, consume his scent, and listen to his voice.

"Breathe with me. Inhale, exhale..."

His chest rises and falls, to which you mimic the rhythm in return.

"Feel my pulse, and use it as your center."

One hand keeps hold of his and the other seeks his heart, obeying the instructions.

The hand connected to the arm securing your back drift to your hair. At that moment, you realize that Aether's hands are ungloved. Wandering fingers comb through your strands, calming you down with a soothing pet. Little by little, you regain movement in your limbs yet you rest limply—content.

"That's it." Aether whispered, "You're doing great. Just keep repeating the exercise with me."

"Aether..."

"I'm here. I'll always be here."

You wept and sobbed, "Aether..."

"I know." He murmurs as he cries with you, "You've been so strong, [Name]. Everything's fine. You're not alone anymore."

You look up, "Promise?"

He looks back, "I promise."

The hand on his chest reaches for his white scarf as you pull him down. He obliges as his grip on you tightened, holding you close while your free hands adjust to interlace with each other.

That was the first kiss of many.

"When we find her, you can come with us."

You smile teasingly, "I don't have world-hopping powers."

He narrows his eyes at you, unyieldingly headstrong and determined.

"I'll find a way to bring you with us anyway."

He raises your hand to his lips with a sly grin.

"You're not getting rid of me~!"

Aether cradled you in adoration as if you were an endless summer amidst the cold loneliness of his sister's absence. You beheld him as if he was the sun bringing life to the paradise of your evanescent mortality. The pair of you were thriving happily, hand in hand, even after discovering the truth of this world—and dictating the journey's end.

Then, your Vision broke mysteriously, and you were condemned to an enchanted sleep.

Aether cursed the divine and all of Teyvat for it. He figured this was his price for learning the truth, but taking you will be their gravest mistake. He severs his ties with Dainsleif, whom tried to console him into taking the righteous path. He viewed you as his friend as well, and he knew you would not want this for your lover.

"Your Highness," the Abyss Herald called, "it is time."

Aether paused. His honey gaze hardens and his aura turns cold. He breathes deeply, eyes closed to lean down and leave a chaste kiss on your brow.

"I will return shortly, my love."

He puts on his gloves, taking leave resolutely.

Even if the sun turns black, you will both find your way back to each other. Even as the moon is painted red, goodbye will never be an option. Every star in the sky—false or otherwise—shall bear witness to a union that even the Heavenly Principles would dare not destroy. Should this world be torn asunder, the reckoning cannot spell departure for either you or Aether. This is the eclipse that will pave the way to a new world, as the Abyss Order entails.

For if fate can only be accepted, thy vows shath be sworn by royal decree—

"You are my predestined person, the one I will always choose."

•☆••☆••☆•

It came to him that this place was reserved for you, the apple of his eye.

Ever since Albedo met you, a new muse began to live within his heart. People consider it as seeing the world through rosy lenses; but for him, it felt as if everything appeared clearer than facts...

...and it was beautiful.

His only lament was that you could not see it alongside him.

Then, news spread that your entire atelier was set on fire while you were still in it...

...and then, you lost your eyes.

The Hydro Vision in your hand may have been the sole reason you even survived. Many speculated that you can never make art the same way again.

You came to Mondstadt, wishing to break free from the suffocating experience. You struggled to regain your passion, overcome your sorrows.

Then, you met Albedo; and one thing led to another.

Sword unsheathed from your walking cane, you attack the ones behind Klee. Her bombs startled you when they exploded too close, but your hydro shield easily deflected any friendly fire. Vapor damage is then redirected to the monsters, tempering the girl's mines and lasers so your skin will not be singed by the building heat. Vincent was barking wildly like a supportive cheerleader, growling whenever you get nicked or whenever the other girl yelped.

Soon, the fight was over.

The pitter-patters of tiny feet went towards you, and stopped at an arm's length. You look down, smiling kindly yet not sheathing your blade.

"Thank you for helping Klee!" She chirped.

You chuckle, "You're welcome."

Vincent came running towards you, shamelessly nuzzling your legs. He then licks Klee's hand in his own way of befriending her, causing the girl to giggle from the ticklish sensation. She hugs him around the neck, and you can only tilt your head in amusement.

"What's your name, Miss?"

"You may call me [Name]."

The hairs at your nape rose. Although you can see nothing else but darkness, your eyes also snapped open with a dark glower. By instinct, you swung your sword to strike whomever snuck behind you.

A resounding clang echoed in your ears, as metal struck against metal. Another sword has parried yours skillfully yet makes no move to counter.

"Brother Albedo...!" Klee exclaims.

"You dropped this." Albedo said.

It must have been a horrifying sight—

"Your eyes are very pretty, Miss [Name]!"

"I agree." He murmured.

You nodded, "Many thanks."

Albedo never told you, but for him, it was love at first sight the moment his eyes met yours. There have been solitary days spent in Dragonspine where he wondered tirelessly:

Would it have been a mutual feeling if you could have seen him back then too?

Albedo, most of all, enabled you to regain the love you thought had been lost forever with your sight.

Just for a moment, he wanted to show you what he sees the only way he knew: to create.

Vincent guided you into Albedo's personal art studio in Mondstadt. The canine looked more excited than you. He nipped at the alchemist's white coat, tail wagging as he sat by your feet but paid attention to your lover. Charming eyes swept between you two as if awaiting praise and treats for a job well done.

For a moment, Albedo was reminded of Klee and it made him smile. He kneels down before the dog, patting his head. After a few minutes of petting, he relinquishes the promised treat.

Vincent then ran to his corner, satisfied. Usually, he is very protective and ends up hovering next to you; but with Albedo, he knows you are safe.

You giggled amusedly.

"Sometimes," your lover sighed, "I think he only likes me to get treats and headpats. He also only comes to me by whining to play."

You smirked teasingly, "Sounds familiar."

Albedo paused before giving you a scolding look, yet the twitching smile betrayed him. He was then taken aback when you presented him a small gift bag and a bouquet of cecilia flowers.

"Happy Anniversary~!" You said.

He smiles, accepting your gifts to greet you back.

"Happy Anniversary, [Name]."

However, as the alchemist opened his eyes, he had witnessed the spark of sadness in yours.

"Go ahead." He implored your touch.

"Don't think in words, love." Albedo advised, "Imagine it as you would paint a landscape."

You follow his words and thus you begin to deduce a work of something.

The braille patterns made you think of Mondstadt's flower meadows, petals of cecilia and seedheads of dandelions fluttering in the breeze. An orb that seems to be the sun is raised eastward with what appeared to be outlines of birds, aflight in the cloudy horizon. There are faint marks connoting mountains in the distance, and flowing swirls that felt like wave patterns along the coast. To further understand his message, you sought the center much like how you used to paint.

Albedo detects your newfound focus, aware that an image has been imprinted upon your mind.

"[Name]," he murmured tenderly, "I need you to keep your hands on the canvas. I will guide you in this next step. Do you trust me?"

You smiled meaningfully, "Always."

A loving caress upon your skin is accompanied by a chaste kiss on your crown.

"I cannot give you the world—"

Then, the brailles moved.

"—but I can leave a piece of it in your hands."

You quickly realize that the brailles were not made of ordinary material. Days and nights of listening to your lover's random alchemy ramblings allowed you to learn a thing or two. This braille painting has been constructed with special elemental crystals. From the feel of it, they respond strongly to elemental energy—particularly yours and Albedo's combined, both currently being channeled. Depending on the crystal, it can resonate with other elements.

Just from this, your mind's eyes can almost envision the outline of a city—one founded by Barbatos.

In Albedo's eyes, the special formula for the paint which Sucrose helped him concoct had finally revealed itself. To outsiders, the canvas is nothing more but a lumpy surface. In truth, the blind will see its true form; and when given life via elemental energy, the rest will be unveiled. To you whom once knew the colors of the world, the simple animations of the image form a kaleidoscope that provides you melancholic nostalgia. By your fingertips, it certainly felt as if Albedo had given you a piece of the world that only you can see.

For this one moment, he and you can perceive the same world.

—even if only a few seconds.

Albedo also smiled in relief, fully embracing you around the shoulders in support. He let you take in the moment while he basked under the blessing of your presence.

"If there is anything else you wish to see again," he solemnly swore, "I will be your eyes and shall piously present its sights to you."

Even if destruction came by his hand, he already knows one truth by heart—

"The beauty of this world forever pales in comparison to you."

•☆••☆••☆•

As a man coveted by many, he keeps his circle small and tightly knit. An outsider's only chance to ever earn his favor is to either make themselves useful to Mondstadt, or by earning the approval of his more compassionate wife.

That woman is none other than you.

Then, Crepus Ragnvindr died.

"Don't wait for me." It said.

Such a heavy message in merely four words...

With the patience of a saint, you graciously accepted Diluc's decision. However, it did not mean you would back down so easily.

Honestly, you see it as poor manners to just leave things with a note. You have to just wait in the Dawn Winery so you can give him a proper scolding upon his inevitable return. Until then, you were more than willing to manage everything else on his behalf. The servants were ecstatic to find out you meant to stay despite their young master's wishes. Your parents were also very considerate, only ever wishing for your happiness since then and now.

Years later, tragedy struck once again.

In the end, your captors thought you to be more trouble than your worth...

...and so, they aimed to kill you.

It is only due to Kaeya's timely arrival this instance that you did not follow Crepus.

He opened the door to your room in his manor, ready to break your heart so you can leave him.

However, his hardened goal fell short.

Diluc missed you so much, and hence he realized that he really is a fool.

How can he ever survive if he truly broke your heart, the most precious thing you entrusted to him?

"Marry me." He said.

Much to his surprise, you only laughed and accepted—as if you always believed he would return to you.

It was truly laughable how easily you can weaken his resolve with a mere smile.

"It took you long enough, Master Diluc~!"

Then, he bends down to hold you close and buries his face at the crook of your neck.

Your heart skipped lightly.

Then, you hugged him back—more tightly.

Diluc said nothing as he felt his shoulder get wet, and you did not make a sound as yours trembled.

"Welcome home." You whispered.

He grits his teeth to fight against the tears.

"I'm home." He murmurs.

The marriage started a little awkwardly. Three years had been a long time, and you both had changed in ways that put a strain on your dynamic. However, as you both learned to trust each other the way you did as kids, everything else flowed smoothly. You relied on him as he relied on you. Thanks to your endless patience, you managed to help your dear husband in anything that troubled his heart. At times, it is only by your gentle interventions that his overprotective tendencies can be quelled. It had become norm for the people of Mondstadt to see you at a cozy corner of Angel's Share—beside the bar, whenever your husband took a shift. Any shenanigans are put to a stop by a warning glare that seemed more scathing than any other nights. None of the patrons—drunk or otherwise—dare to start any ruckus as long as you were present in the tavern.

There is nothing that Diluc kept from you anymore, as he claimed no more secrets. Although, he was curious when you steered clear if the topic is Kaeya.

"It's not just your secret to share." You reasoned.

The redhead felt his love and respect for you deepen at the claim.

Now, you sat in your husband's office. While he was busy doing paperwork, you did embroidery on a silk pillow that got torn. However, there was a stifling air in the room that bothered him.

"What is it?" Diluc asked.

You raise a brow, "What do you mean?"

He stared back knowingly, "You have been redoing the same stitch for the past half hour. That only happens when you're distracted; and you're only ever distracted when something is troubling you."

The redhead leans back on his chair, dropping his quill to cross his arms.

"So," he continued, "what is it?"

You blushed at the fact you were caught so easily, but also flattered by how he is so attentive to you.

"I lied to you."

He frowns at your blunt confession but said nothing, tilting his head to let you continue.

"On our wedding," you reminisced, "you asked me what I wanted most so you could provide it. I replied that there was nothing more I could ever want since you asked me to marry you for real."

Back then, he did not question it when you asked for a simpler celebration. After all, a lot has changed between him and you—for better and for worse.

"However," you murmured, "there was one thing I had truly wished to experience with you."

Your eyes stray away from his, drifting towards the unfinished embroidery pillow. His own eyes follow, and he immediately understands. The picture's basic design depicts a pair of lovers dancing under the moonlit night. A gazebo frames their silhouettes while lampgrass grew around its base structure.

A wedding dance.

The young lord wonders if the two of you would also remain as in love when you get older together.

"Diluc, what is this all about—"

You trailed off as waltz music began to play.

"When my wife wishes to dance," he says, "what kind of husband am I to refuse?"

"May I have this dance, Milady?" He asks.

You gape speechlessly for a minute. A part of you was reluctant. How can you possibly dance in this circumstance? Nonetheless, you trust Diluc more than anything so you accepted.

"You may."

The dreamlike sequence ends as he dips you into an intimate position. Heartbeats skip in sync, never of fear but of exhilaration.

You are the one who empowers his flames, igniting his heart as your chosen Ifrit.

He made a vow at the altar, and not even death can do you part anymore—

"The privilege to call you mine is an honor I cannot surrender to fate."

•☆••☆••☆•

KAEYA ALBERICH is someone painfully aware of the power in words and uses it to his advantage. He is as mysterious as he is efficient at being the Cavalry Captain of Ordo Favonius. The charisma he exudes can be as menacing as the frigid coldness of his Cryo Vision. The swiftness of his blade can be more merciful than the secrets he ruthlessly exploits. As much as he is admired by his peers, everyone can unanimously agree that his enigmatic ways leave them a little wary to trust him entirely. Nevertheless, the cunning of a flightless bird is just as deadly as the venom of a pit viper. A reluctance to comply is merely a sign to delve deeper.

In the carefree city of Mondstadt, only one has squared up to his level and defeated him—

—in every sense of the word.

In a bout of poetic irony, the only one that seems to rarely receive your kindness was Kaeya.

Of course, you were far from unkind or cruel. You still greet him amicably every time you cross paths in the hallways or city streets. However, his shrewd gaze can detect your hesitance to interact with him for prolonged periods of time. Politely asking you about it did him no good as well. You only stared at him skeptically before shrugging, as if he should know the answer. A part of him questioned why it even bothered him so much, but it was perhaps a matter of ego. He knows himself well enough to be aware that it could be the reason he kept persisting on gaining your favor.

When Kaeya decided to tell Lisa about his situation, she had the gall to laugh at him.

"It's because she sees right through you."

Kaeya raises a brow, "I beg your pardon?"

Lisa smiles sharply, "My darling [Name] is an astute judge of character. It's one of the reasons I adore her so much. Like you, she also knows her way with words. The more you talk while she listens, the more she compares the character she sees in your eyes and the persona that speaks with your lips. If they don't match up, she will consider you to be too dangerous."

For a moment, the Cavalry Captain felt his eyes darken defensively. A second later, they return to being detachedly bemused.

The Witch of Purple Rose catches the slip but does not comment on it. In fact, she willingly closes her eyes to let the man have his moment. However, she did continue to speak her piece.

"You're not a bad guy," she states, "and she knows that well. However, [Name] is the type who does not like to converse with people that refuse to respect the weight of the words they speak."

A beaming smile is given by the librarian as she pats her colleague on his shoulder.

"Try speaking a little more honestly! It might earn you some brownie points." She said.

To Lisa's credit, her advice worked.

You rewarded the Cavalry Captain's honest efforts by opening up to him a little.

It is here that Kaeya learned you were mute.

The cause was a very unfortunate birth defect when you were born prematurely. Your vocal chords did not grow correctly and almost suffocated you. The doctors were forced to remove it entirely via surgery so you can survive. Growing up, you became quite the bookworm because of this disability. You found solace in the immersion of reading the words you can never speak. It gradually turned you into a very talented scholar worthy of Lisa's attention. Your nurturing ways with books and your preservation of comfort amidst the silence certainly gained merits.

Of course, your reserved nature did not mean you are to be underestimated.

The Witch of Purple Rose chose you as her personal assistant and sole substitute for a reason. It can be argued that you are potentially more frightening. You are the calm before the storm; and when you strike, no one ever sees it coming. Whenever hooligans think they can just steal books from the restricted section, every single one will be found hogtied and gagged on the Knights of Favonius' doorsteps. A damsel you may appear but the only distress that can be felt is by the drunkards, who think they can harrass you without direct consequences. In fact, you made it your personal vendetta to discipline every member of Barbara's fanclub and their stalker tendencies. A failure to comply forces them into public humiliation by wearing nun attires, and then prostrating themselves in front of Barbatos to beg for forgiveness.

Venti had��an interesting view when he woke up from his nap on the statue's hands.

The job of Cavalry Captain became that much more entertaining, and easier too.

Public ordinance is now easy to handle for all the patrolling knights, whom often need to tread lightly just to appease the common folks. Although the Acting Grandmaster would never say it outloud due to her soft nature, she was thankful for this subtle measures you have been making—especially in regards to her sister's privacy and safety. Even the stoic Master Diluc seems to respect you since he actually makes effort to greet you more than he does any other stranger in the streets. Your drinks in Angel's Share are discounted too, which is always a plus after a long day of work. Lisa took advantage of this perk just to tease.

As he got to know you, Kaeya finally arrived to a profoundly frightening conclusion.

He was falling in love with you.

No, he may have already fallen the moment you had turned into his newest fixation. The icy captain can recall Lisa's words—how you judge people based on the character in their eyes, if it matches the persona that speaks. You actually looked at him and saw him with just a single glance; and when his words blurred the truth, his facade was already unraveling before your piercing gaze. You rejected him because he was denying the lost boy you see, and you embraced him when the charismatic captain found felicity in your companionship. You accepted both sides even if you knew nothing about either of them.

However, for all his clever ways in manipulating the feelings of others, Kaeya is powerless at the face of his own emotions.

Hence, the reasonable thing in his perspective is to simply run away from you.

It hurt you but it was something you also understood quite well. As mentioned, you were aware of Kaeya's true character from the get-go. It was fine if this is really what he wants. You both lived your lives just fine when keeping your respective secrets. That should not change just because romantic feelings are now involved.

Lisa and your friends firmly believed otherwise.

All else, as they say, was history when you were both given a chance to confront the truth together.

Now, Kaeya watches over your sleeping form on his bed—tuckered out from today's work.

He grins as he felt your fingers move drowsily on his back, crumpling the blouse.

"Why are you watching me sleep?"

You drew special patterns to speak, blinking your eyes open to stare blankly at your lover.

He chuckles, bending down to give you an eskimo kiss while tracing words on your back as well.

"You look too beautiful to be true."

In fact, the language you were both using to silently communicate is from Khaenri'ah.

Kaeya modernized the sign language of it and taught it to you. In public, people think it is just a cute secret between couples; but you knew better. There is a power in words, and Kaeya had entrusted you this in particular—a piece of his true self that only you can keep. Not even Diluc knew this much about him, as their bond of brotherhood shattered before he could make an attempt. Henceforth, you use this sign to talk with him privately and send messages only for your dear captain to decipher.

"You're not just a sweet dream, are you?"

Your lips moved and his unique eyes read them as if they held the meaning of life.

"I'm real, and I'm yours."

One of his hands seeks one of yours, pressing against the mattress to interweave. A final message is traced as you both succumb to the passion that has waged wars since the dawn of creation.

"I love you."

If the day of reckoning ever comes for him, the last hope of Khaenri'ah knows he does not stand alone.

Kaeya will always remember to seek out your light, and savor the hour of respite in your shadow. He holds faith in no god nor archon; but before you, he shall bend the knee in devoted worship.

This lost prince of sinners may be predestined for damnation, but he prays in your name—

"You are my northern star, the light that guides me back home."

•☆••☆••☆•

Memories remind people what matters most, a life's purpose to never forsake. However, more often than not, they come with the cruel regrets of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Henceforth, in tiresome days, the expense of living gets a little too much; and in sleepless nights, the weight of existing gets a little heavier.

Alas, when stars align just right, the wind will lead a pair of soulmates to find one another.

In Venti's case, you found him.

Amidst this cold and lonely night, the windborn bard was spared an ounce of warmth by a kind muse.

He turns a corner, and there he saw you—

—a young dame sat upon a rickety swing, taming the bluebirds that sang for her strings.

Alas, joining your small choir of avian creatures had startled them into flying away.

You also stiffened with a surprised jolt, practically snapping your head to look back at him. He does note that it was the birds' exit that had shocked you, and not his soundly abrupt entrance.

"Ehe~!" Venti giggled nervously, "Sorry about that."

"Many thanks, fellow bard~!" He chirped, "My name is Venti. May I know yours?"

"I-I am...[Name]."

A deaf virtuoso—the windborn bard believes you will make an interesting friend.

The bard had never seen any mortal beam so bright when you smiled at him that day.

However, he found you hard to resist.

Neither Venti nor Barbatos can hope to deny your profoundly unconditional love. What kind of god could reject such a heartfelt offering?

You once dedicated a performance to Barbatos and the Four Winds. On that day, Venti heard his wisp brethren amongst the thousand winds croon at you in delight. He witnessed the silhouette of Vennessa's falcon form hovering above you appraisingly, and a resounding roar can also be heard from Dvalin in his proclaimed lair. There were even the echoing howls of Andrius and his pack in Wolvendom.

"You can negotiate with bards for this, you know." He proposed, "I'm no businessman; but even I know letting other musicians play this will earn you a hefty sum of mora."

You smiled sadly, "N-Nobody...w-would acknowledge music...composed by a deaf girl." You confessed.

You have become acquainted with them all.

He hummed playfully, "Now that just won't do."

You tilt your head confusedly, blinking in surprise when he suddenly takes hold of your hands.

"Ehe~!" He giggled, "Let me play...all of your music, [Name]. In fact, I'll write...a lyrical ballad...for each of them. We'll be the best duo...in Mondstadt!"

He had to slow down his speech a bit since he could not use his hands to help you keep up.

Thus, a new routine began for you two.

Nevertheless, he ensured to always come home to you with bags full of mora whenever he plays your music in particular. You deserve nothing less than that, and he refuses to settle for anything else.

However, he was not blind to your inner turmoil and thus sought to relieve it.

"What's wrong, windblume?" He asked.

You hesitate, looking down at your feet. Gently, he props a finger under your chin to raise your head. A tender smile of encouragement implored you to speak your thoughts freely.

"I'm...frustrated." You replied.

He says nothing but his smile does falter to a glaze of concern, waiting patiently to let you finish.

"I feel...so happy and grateful...when you play my songs." You confided, "It's finally being heard...and not just through the songbirds. People are now listening...to how it is supposed to be heard, and how I envisioned it to be played."

"I want to..." you sobbed, "I want to hear you too!"

He used his talents to let your ballads be heard.

Perhaps, he can use a different set of talents to let you hear his own?

Lastly, they hover above your own lips—centimeters apart, just a breath before they touch.

Teal eyes glow a shimmering green, both of you becoming enraptured by each other.

Venti needed you to say no more.

"Eyes on me, meine liebe." He mouths.

Closing his eyes, he begins his private performance.

Then, you finally noticed the gathering streams of energy around yourself and your lover.

Your Anemo Vision began to glow alongside Venti's iconic braids. The winds hummed together with him, united under his influence. It is an enchanting image, dazzling you into stunned admiration.

Then, you finally hear him—vocalizing the precious melody you dedicated to him alone. He sang of his past, his present, and his future which are now all intertwined by the whispers of you.

/Gales of song, please stay by my side/

/Winds of love, breathe into my life/

You can hear him so clearly—his regrets, his woes, his dreams, and his love. You hear it all through the song you composed at the thought of him, which he plays at the memory of you.

A fated parting shall occur someday, but he will love no other the way he loves you.

Therefore, with a passionate kiss, he makes you a promise—

"Come what may, you are the melody my heart will always sing."

•☆••☆••☆•

There is no genuine reward at the end of this tedious and lonesome quest. He is aware.

There had been instances aplenty wherein the divine is likened to the flowers blossoming across Teyvat; and as a lonesome wanderer, he has grown accustomed to these tragic folklores.

The God of Dust named Guizhong left behind a quiet legacy amongst the glaze lilies. Songs which keep them abloom become tributes to her name.

The Goddess of Flowers known as Nabu Malikata had left her remnants within the padisarahs. Even if not as they were anymore, they serve as a memoir.

"My memory has all but faded completely," a voice murmurs piously, "but I will always remember how much she too loved these flowers."

...and the one he laments most for failing to protect in the bout of cataclysmic calamity.

Until then, he will dream of her. Until then, he will foolishly hope for the day they meet again.

Then, like a prayer to a nonexistent god, answers came in the ethereal form of you.

"Who are you?" You mumbled.

It seems he was not entirely out of it since he still managed to respond clearly.

"Dain...sleif..."

"Dainsleif, huh?"

The name felt like velvet on your tongue. His clothes and features were all too familiar to you—a fellow kinsman from Khaenri'ah. However, your eidetic memory never once brought you to a conclusion about this man's identity. Regardless, your body reacts as if begging for your mind to catch up in recognition.

Even as you tended to him, nothing clicked.

"Your Highness..."

His voice weakly called, raspy and strained as if to choke it out. Your star-shaped pupils dilate as they meet his own hazy glare. His hand was reaching out to you, looking yet not truly seeing.

Alas, you made no move to truly stop him and remained awkwardly staring back.

"You're dreaming, Sir Dainsleif."

When he recovered, Dainsleif vanished as abruptly as he barged into your life.

The next time you met again, it was your turn to be the one in need.

"Please be well, Kaeya." You murmured.

The man named Kaeya stirred awake.

A single silver-blue eye gazed out the window, nearly catching your own gaze—

—but you ducked down behind the huge boulders and pulled Dainsleif with you to hide.

"Farewell, sis." He whispered.

A humming zephyr delivered his message, and then he went back to Mondstadt.

"Hey," you said, "do you mind if I go with you?"

Against his better judgment, the cursed immortal agreed after a minute of contemplation.

This newfound journey together has a very tedious beginning, mostly attributed to you. Everything was strange and nothing felt safe, which was expected because you both never stayed in one place. You, whom sought solace in consistency, were always forced to adapt to something new. Sleeping became a chore because you felt every small pebble and thin blade of grass pressing against you. It is by the mere thoughtfulness of your companion that you got a semblance of rest. Dainsleif always covered you in his cape and was willing to hold you soothingly, as if he knows just how to calm you down. There has been moments wherein you had tantrums, and some meltdowns that delayed a few plans. Other days, you shut down completely and only wake back up to reality after a day or two.

"No, I can't!" You exclaimed, "I have to keep moving. I have to...keep going. Make sure...nobody finds me."

It was unspoken that you were specifically running away from the City of Freedom, all for avoiding your younger brother. There is a destiny that kept you both apart even when you mutually wish to be reunited. As children of Khaenri'ah, the former knight can take a guess what that sort of fate presents.

Since then, your travel companion did not question your decision anymore.

"How?" You ask.

"I knew someone similar to you." He said.

You sat up before blankly staring into his eyes, stars meeting stars. Tilting your head, a flash of curiosity brought light to your emotionless gaze.

"The princess...?" You asked.

The Bough Keeper blinked in surprise.

"You dreamed of her a lot when we first met."

Your statement made him look away bashfully, a bit embarrassed to be reminded.

"Was she important to you?" You asked.

At this, he looks at you in the eyes. His star-shaped pupils practically gleam with an emotion you could not read—or perhaps, could not comprehend.

"She is my dearest one." He declared.

Normal people probably would have felt jealous at that confession. He even used a present tense to show that his feelings have not wavered.

That night, when you released a lantern, you made a fleeting wish—

—not to the gods, but to the princess.

"Please look after Dainsleif."

Meanwhile, the Twilight Sword fondly gazes upon your form. The image of your past self overlaps with the present. He recalls the ever sleepless nights of guarding you in the tower. Starlight showered upon your figure leaning by the window frame. Delicate hands reach out to set free artificial crystalflies that glow as wisps of moonlight. A breath of laughter is echoed in the lonely room before he is blessed by a smile more divine than Celestia.

The memory flickers as the silver starlights are replaced by golden lanterns, and your humble self stood in place of the estranged saintess—

—but that smile remains.

Morning welcomed Dainsleif with the strange sight of you looming over him. With practiced ease, he resumes calm by letting you do as you please like it was nothing unusual. He knows of your quirks just as you are aware of his boundaries. There is mutual trust of consent that tells which actions would be acceptable anytime. He did gulp a little nervously as his drowsy eyes analyzed you. His hands twitched but he willed them to stay in place despite his inner yearning.

"Dain..."

"What is it, [Name]?"

"I had a dream last night."

"A dream, you say?"

You nod, leaning down almost conspiratorially yet the expression on your face remains unreadable. A gasp hitched in his throat as your lips strayed to his ear, whispering shakily—

"I remember now, Dain."

Realization struck him.

Dainsleif switches positions with you yet he receives no protest. His ungloved hands cup your face in order to meet your eyes with his own beseeching pair. You see his visage that, unmasked and vulnerable, longingly wish for your approval.

You nodded.

Dainsleif claims your lips in ardent greed, and you respond in eager devotion.

Intertwined, redamancy is bliss for the reunited knight and his only princess—

"Your heart is the only other half that can ever complete mine."

•☆••☆••☆•

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