affiliated arlecchino, 4th of the fatui harbingers. written by mel.
✖ blog info ✖ dossier ✖ talents ✖
updates!
dialogue color: #873333 soft thread cap: 11/10 snowswept stamp tracker.
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Janaina Medeiros

No title available
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

blake kathryn
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

★

Kaledo Art
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
taylor price

Product Placement

Kiana Khansmith
i don't do bad sauce passes
Show & Tell
Jules of Nature
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Sade Olutola

JBB: An Artblog!
h

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from Spain
seen from Poland

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Poland
seen from United States
@balemouns
affiliated arlecchino, 4th of the fatui harbingers. written by mel.
✖ blog info ✖ dossier ✖ talents ✖
updates!
dialogue color: #873333 soft thread cap: 11/10 snowswept stamp tracker.
crimson-stained snow.
elation commission: a body in the snow plains.
RARELY DOES SHE COME ACROSS SOMEONE 🕯 so easily forthcoming. the dahlia's enigmatic smile doesn't flinch or waver, dark eyes intent with curiosity lingering on the woman and her every movement. most——human, animate, or otherwise——tended to startle when she appeared without warning, but this one had hardly twitched a muscle ; rather, like a seasoned predator, she had lifted her head and scanned her surroundings, confident in her grounds and ready, though not anxious, to defend it.
she senses in that very woman's gaze the same interest returned, though hers is far more muted, couched carefully in the diamond of black crosses that smolder unleveled. there is the scent of blood here ; more than just the quiet rot of death and decaying onset, it's something else, something she can't quite put her finger on.
is it this curious individual that it comes from. . . ? she has a hard time believing ' mr. kough ' could have entangled himself in such a decadent trail.
will-o-wisp depths lower to the outstretched hand, black, mottled, and not without wear——that untraceable impression of memory deepens. "you can call me constance. . . but i should warn you: touching me may bring some effects you might not be fond of. you might be better off being careful with who you offer your hand to." her guidance is gentle, like that of a loved one folding a warm coat about the shoulders in winter ; yet a distinct fervor that cuts a pure note through it nevertheless: she would love nothing more than to take that hand.
instead, her attention returns to their unlucky third party. "as for what ' he ' is. . . maybe calling him a ' former friend ' would be the most accurate. but rather than coming here to talk to him, i had been hoping to see him die."
she smiles at arlecchino again. "knowing that, will you still go and tell the guards to take him away?"
marked eyes narrow in a way that is more curious than suspicious at her warning --- the darkened hand offered out to the strange woman named constance in a greeting curls sharp fingertips inward, but doesn't retreat completely to her side as attention turns back to the dead man laying face down in bloodstained snow. such a curious warning: what, if anything, could happen to a hand as cursed as this?...
"oh? you wanted him dead? and with the way you appeared just now, seemingly out of nowhere..." arlecchino's unused arm folds across her own ribs, and the hand she'd offered moments before comes to rest her elbow on top of it to prop the curled fingers close to her own chin as she walks back over to the dead man. "... that would make it entirely possible that you are to blame for his gruesome death, wouldn't it?" her tone stays even with the almost-accusation, wanting to leave the possibility of reporting the death to the guards firmly in the air.
a single thought recounts a flash of his pleading, bargaining, look of terror on the cliff overhead. it had almost felt as though he feared her far more than he should for someone who she had never met before --- why, exactly, did he act as though she was an assassin meant to end his life from the get? it couldn't be because of her appearance alone, even if the tone in which she'd asked him questions ( which yielded no useful answers ) was quite harsh.
was it because this woman was out here, looking for him and wanting him dead?
or, was her warning about her own touch related somehow, like the terror in his gaze had been a consequence of...
the hand propped under her chin drops abruptly as she cuts off the spinning thread weaving a web together on simple conjecture, and she turns back to constance once more. "tell me more about the effects related to your touch."
red stone, dyed byzantium.
tatarigami with welt + arlecchino.
PEOPLE HAVE A WAY OF REVEALING THEMSELVES WITH WORDS, and none have revealed themselves more than the woman that stands a few feet ahead of him. The information he has on the Fatui is best considered minimalist at best, and yet for the person before him to know just how many were meant to be here gives him all the information he needs for the put the pieces into place as to why he felt at odds with the person before him.
"The Knave, I presume?" There is no hostility in his tone as he turns the gem upwards, letting dying light shine through it's shell as something dark seems to lurk within. There is no maliciousness, and yet it seems to reject his touch, as if seeking to be reunited with its owner. "I admit I had my suspicions, of course, but your knowledge of where they were meant to be is what truly gave it away." A step-up and out of the dirt, walking towards the person that feels no more dangerous than they had moments ago, tossing the not quite fake vision twice in hand before holding it out akin to a peace offering. "The lightning, if once can call it that, seems more malicious than random in its strikes, and I doubt the bureaucracy of the Fatui would so easily allow for manipulation of divine remains without it becoming more widespread among their, or perhaps I should say your hierarchy."
It is not, nor has it ever been, his prerogative to interfere in the affairs of others, especially when a stelleron was not involved and neither the energy his life had been devoted to combating. "Worthy of concern, is it not? That both your own information and that of the Guild believed the Fatui to have been active here, and yet all that remains is little more than empty encampments and a continuing mystery as to why the remains have awoken once more?" The express does not expect him back soon, so instead he remains all the more content to continue his investigation.
"It would seem uou will have to contend with my presence for a time longer after all"
it is true that few other women bearing a snezhnayan vision would know so much and have cause to come to these islands while working with child informants... had mr. yang noticed that as well back in inazuma city? though all evidence so far had pointed to him being from elsewhere, as much as he knows of the workings and geopolitics of teyvat.
instead of confirming or denying outright, she simply takes the recovered delusion when it's offered, and looks it over a few times in her palm to try and guess how recently it was made, and the level of soldier who would typically wield it. a faint tint of warm violet swirls in faded obsidian: this was once the weapon of an experienced cicin mage. not quite the power and durability of a harbinger's, but not as deadly corrosive for visionless infantry as the ones that spread across these islands some time ago.
a thought circles back to his string of remarks as arlecchino makes a few quick deductions, and then mulls over what mr. yang has said. "though it would likely be unsanctioned, there are colleagues of mine who would doubtlessly dabble in experiments with godly remains, provided the opportunity..." after all, the production of delusions came from that exact kind of dabbling. and it's not merely the handful of researchers within their ranks that come to mind as she considers who would still have that sort of interest: the question of how to kill a god alone is one that the head of the harbingers seemed to concern himself with from time to time. finally, a sigh, and arlecchino gestures for mr. yang to accompany her over towards the camp. "this delusion you've found is of somewhat-decent quality, and is certainly not the kind that was poorly mass-manufactured in inazuma a few years ago... the camp we're looking at likely had experienced agents stationed here." as she speaks, she slides the stone into one pocket of her jacket.
"... I'll see to getting it where it belongs once we're done." continuing through the camp, arlecchino approaches a stack of supply crates with a worn, leather-bound journal sitting to one side, and quickly picks it up to flip through before holding out to the man accompanying her. nothing immediately jumped out as too classified to share. "field notes. want to take a look?"
crimson-stained snow.
elation commission: a body in the snow plains.
BY WHAT MEANS SHOULD SHE REFER TO HERSELF? 🕯 was she a being? a creature? an ' entity '? certainly she had been called all these and many more. whichever the case, for that which she was, traversing through the paths behind those which ordinary people walked, there were fewer places so easy to move through as the now snow-ridden little planet that went by jarilo-vi. here, memory grew fervent like a virus, not only covering the surface of its everyday life but burrowed so deeply through its very being that it bled out onto the exterior in myriad forms. it flowed and danced——colorful, jagged, and free, in corrugated scapes of black and ruddy gold ; and when she panned her fingers through it, it came away like film and burned so readily, eating up her fire like salvation.
jarilo-vi was a planet heavy and tired with its own memory. how she would love nothing more than to rejoice and lavish as it came down to ash all around her. her love for this place——for she truly, truly loved it——was the kiln for its end, for only because she loved it did she wish so ardently to see the light of it in embers.
extricating herself from the wine of her thoughts, she releases an earnest sigh and returns her attention to the snowy expanse to which she draws near. long before any of that could happen, there was one more thing she wanted to see to before taking her leave from this place for a little whileᅠ(ᅠit was as they said——exactly because she loved something so much did she have to let it goᅠ) ,ᅠand all clues about it had led her here, where the individual who now called himself mr. kough had fled. . .
only to find himself at a most unfortunate end.
"looks like i've arrived just a little too late, even after everything. . . " she emerges from the space between memories with the flickers of blue flame licking at the edges of reality before fading, drawing the attention of the searching woman around to her. gold-tipped fingers tap against a pale cheek as she gazes down at the body——pricking, thinking. "what a shame." the ambiguity of her tone suggests it may or may not be. "are you the one responsible?"
consideration for what else to do with the yet-warm corpse of mr. kough has to wait as the figure in her peripheries emerges in earnest, speaks, asks a question. arms fold across her chest as arlecchino turns to face the approaching figure, and marked eyes scan down over her once before swiveling back up. not dressed in any way that seems particularly familiar, but there are a few unusual details... hornlike growths at either cheek, a few hints of blue fire, a coolness in her voice that seems almost lackadaisical in the face of a dead man she seems was also looking for while alive.
from that alone... what good would it do to be forthright with someone like this?
she answers as she takes a few slow, gliding strides over to the peculiar stranger, still trying to determine more as she does so --- "no." a glance back to the body, then forward once more: "from what you've just said, I take it that you were hoping to speak to this man...? when I saw him laying here, I came over to try and see if I could assist, but... unfortunately, his head was quite crushed from the impact."
what would she want with a fraudster of a bureaucrat? a few possibilities come to mind, but the conjecture is too scant to dwell on without any kind of idea of who she is first. "I'm about to head off to see if there are any authorities in the vicinity so I may alert them of this poor man's passing. but... who is he to you, exactly?" then, one arm unfolds from where both rest across her ribs, and offers a dark hand outward with palm up to the sky: an offer of introduction, a place for a hand to rest. "I'm arlecchino."
a dream of katarina.
elation commission: the missing in the chasm.
THE JIANYU IN QUESTION MAKES A VISIBLE FACE ❄︎ of relief when the suggestion sounds over from the far side of camp, shoulders dropping and eyes rolling skyward. or maybe it'd be more accurate to call it a face of exasperated release. "about time. look, here's your chance now, kid——" the finger jabbed in his direction quickly swings over to the entrance to the "chasm" nearby, a gaping whorl in the earth that looked ready to leap up and swallow the sky. anywhere in the cosmos, he's never seen anything like it. "if you're really all that, get in there and show us your stuff."
yanqing knew this was less about giving him the opportunity to " show " anything, though, and more about jianyu being tired of his protests and eager to get him out of his hair and the rest of the real trainees back in order. if it wasn't such a bizarre situation for him, he'd be more sympathetic to the way the lieutenant must feel.
"i already said, i'm not a millelith trainee. . . "
but it's murmured hopelessly under his breath, and he's under few illusions that anyone would hear him, or care to start believing him now if they did.
"hey, yanqing-xiongdi——" a weight collides with him, an arm slung around his shoulders, and he looks back at the grinning face next to his own, speckled with near-invisible freckles. fuke, the boy with half mondstadt parentage. "can your flying swords take out all the bandits down there? i bet they can't, huh. those bandits are aggressive as hell."
tawny eyes blink. "what are y. . . of course my swords can handle some ordinary bandits. the problem is that i've been trying to tell you——"
but fuke is already laughing back to the others, not listening to a word. "what do you think? if yanqing can clear out just one of the bandit camps, then he can tell us his stories of the flying ship!"
a cheer goes up from the other gathered boys, filled with calls half-mocking, half-encouraging ; it's a sound he's too familiar with, and for a moment he could almost imagine this was the cloud knights. his smile turns into one of chagrin and some frustration: the luofu wasn't just some flying ship. but it's clear this was probably his only clear way out, and if there really was a vicious banditry problem, then he also didn't want to leave without even trying to help.
but he doesn't expect, when walking toward the chasm's entrance, for the woman standing there waiting for him to be someone he recognized. the surprise flickers plainly on his face. "you're. . . "
"this is. . . er," the officer standing guard looks briefly to her, "sorry, ma'am, i never got your name. anyway, yanqing, you're to escort her down through the chasm and make sure she finds her way back out safely. i don't know what everyone's joking about over there, but make sure to take this seriously."
her gaze is so unnerving, now that he's seeing her up close——two black crosses stare him down like chasms themselves gouged within her eyes. he decides to nod and figure the rest out later. "understood. my name is yanqing, a. . . new recruit to the force. it's my honor to accompany you."
when the young man starts to approach, a look of recognition crosses her brow: this was the same young man with honey-colored hair that she met in that frostbitten city. was he actually from liyue all this time?... but aside from her gaze, she does not draw attention to the familiarity just yet: instead, dark eyes marked with crimson narrow as they swivel towards the officer who tries to introduce her. though they hadn't recognized her by her face alone, the milileth and their officers would likely know of her titles, and make far more of this than necessary...
the silver casing that surrounds the red gemstone on her back would only serve to further confirm any suspicions upon hearing her introduce herself, too. making herself known as a snezhnayan by such an emblem was perhaps saying too much already.
so... instead of providing a name in front of the young man called over to escort her, arlecchino nods and smiles pleasantly, then gestures for yanqing to follow as she responds. "thank you, yanqing: I appreciate the escort. I'm in a bit of a hurry, so let us be on our way." and with that remark, heels click against stone, and she descends into the darkness away from the base camp.
the chasm is dark and deep, poisoned with abyssal rot seeping through some areas of the stone as little more than a trickle here on a main thoroughfare. mining operations still keep the darkness well-lit, despite mining being on-hold with the bandit concerns: for such an important source of natural resources to liyue, it seemed the chasm was constantly marred by new reasons to halt work. her pace slows, just slightly, once they're clear of the officers they've left behind: arlecchino turns partway next, inviting the young man to walk alongside her. "I'm pleased to see you are in good health, after all that had occurred in belobog." another pleasantry, perhaps, but not insincere: after considering it further, she decides to offer what it may have been clear she was avoiding in front of the officer. "arlecchino is fine as a name, if you need one: I realize I failed to provide one when we initially met there, too. I'm here searching for some of my family: whatever is going on with the bandits lost in the chasm is of little importance."
perhaps she should ask about the greatest mild curiosity in all of this as they walk, though. "what brought a young milileth trainee without a vision to belobog, anyway? it's quite curious to find you here."
#CORE VALUES. the bedrock that informs how we live and behave, and what we pursue. please repost, not reblog!
part one. bold the values that apply to your muse. you can also strikethrough the ones that absolutely don't apply.
achievement adventure authenticity balance beauty belonging career collaboration commitment community compassion competence competition courage creativity curiosity dignity empathy equality fairness faith family fame financial security flexibility freedom friendship fun generosity growth happiness harmony health honesty hope humor independence influence inner peace innovation integrity justice kindness knowledge leadership learning love loyalty meaningful work openness order passion patience perseverance pleasure power recognition relationships reliability spirituality respect responsibility security self-expression service simplicity stability success teamwork tolerance tradition trust truth wealth wisdom
part two. pick your muse's top 3 values from those bolded. list them below and say more. ( i.e. how they define it ; where does it come from ; how does it show up in them ; etc. ) similar values may be combined.
i. family / loyalty; arlecchino sees loyalty as family, and family as loyalty. it could be as simple as that, but... loyalty in particular is a complicated idea with arlecchino where her's can be boundless under the right conditions, and shoddy like poorly-constructed scaffolds under the wrong ones. and the right conditions are... to be like family to her. if you belong to her house, if you are loyal to her without question, you'll have a father who would never betray you... or, at least, one who'd rather you genuinely never knew her if you find yourself questioning your loyalty to even a small degree. is that a compassionate expectation? maybe, maybe not --- maybe it all depends on who you're asking.
related to these two values, I bolded and unbolded friendship like four times because I'm kinda going back and forth on how much it's a true core value for her, as opposed to her being especially amenable and responsive to collaboration and teamwork even in the face of opposing values and beliefs: ultimately, arlecchino can collaborate with anyone who shares her goals at the time of sharing work, be they friend, family, or foe. the boundary between treating people she cares about as just friendly collaborators or family can get a little fuzzy at times though, so... eh? just leaving it as the most important value being family for now.
ii. power; I don't know if there's a great big detailed explanation for this one: arlecchino wants to be stronger, so she values endeavors and opportunities that would increase her own personal power, be it in either a literal or a political sense. the more leverage she has, or the easier it is for her to kill you if she wants ahem, or the stronger she is physically, the better she can protect her house and those she cares for from those who'd like to take them away or cause them harm.
also hmmm... I guess I could've blended ₊˚✩ justice ✩˚₊ into this because she sees herself having more power as a just outcome, but heh. maybe I'll dig into that another day
iii. patience / reliability; honestly think I was scanning a lil too long to try and think about which of these values best encapsulate arlecchino's strong and sincerely held beliefs in austerity and self-control, and patience and reliability kinda cover it, if you view patience with oneself through a lens of self-regulation and reliability as the end result / outcome of said self-patience. I think this is a really neat facet of arlecchino's personality in general, how she insists upon teaching the children of the house to control strong negative emotions and keep themselves level-headed: patience with your own emotions means you can't let them make you reckless, can't let them make you lose your nerve. a reliable child is one who exhibits good judgement and completes their missions.
tagging. hi if ur seeing this within an hour of posting, ur up ok :gunhandpoint:
crimson-stained snow.
elation commission: a body in the snow plains.
against the freshly-fallen snow of this unforgivingly cold planet, the warm pool that spills out from the face-down man looks nearly black as it spreads wider, wider, wider: the fellow who had stood at the cliff overhead just minutes ago is not what he was when he had spoke, scowled, threatened, stammered, refused.
a pity, really: that fall wasn't exactly what she had planned on seeing to when she followed his trail out into this desolate and chilly wilderness. arlecchino's knees bend as she reaches down to pull a leather billfold out of his right pocket: at least he was the mr. kough she was looking for, despite all his denials. no family photos, just a few crumpled business cards --- both his own and crumpled ones that belong to others, and a punchcard for a food stand in the walled city that looms in the greywashed distance...
... what a pitiful way to live and to die.
arlecchino returns the billfold to the same pocket, then reaches up with the same blackened hand to feel at the bureaucrat's neck for any remaining pulse, despite the telltale crunch she'd heard from above. a hum as she waits, and nothing comes... his skin is still warm, but no life moves and flows beneath it. "hm..."
now what? besides his death, that still left the unresolved matter of...
... a barely discernible flash of warm black against the snow moves in the corner of her eye. arlecchino stands once more, then looks around quickly: was there someone else here, in that flash of black just now? "...?" one thought considers calling out to whoever else was nearby: another quickly subdues it, favoring a few sharp steps away from the body to look around a second, then third time.
@avahlia.
Father Daughter Bonding Time
Lynette & Arlecchino @balemouns
Currying favour with Pantalone was a good thing.
Lynette had been on a special trip to Mondstadt, accompanying the Knave, her Father, on some fairly routine business that Regrator couldn’t be bothered to take care of, something about being too busy.
Checking on agents for Project Stuzha, something that Father had unfortunately been roped into, and along with it, the rest of the House of the Hearth.
Fortunately they weren’t here to participate in that project, rather, to follow up on another matter. Agents residing in the Goth Grand Hotel had accrued an outrageous debt with room service, that the 9th Fatui Harbinger was none too pleased about.
Luckily that headache was over for now at least (though Lynette did catch some very interesting intel that was worth following up on). They walked through Mondstadt’s market district, stores shutting their fronts as the 4th harbinger strutted the streets openly, everyone run in terror! What sinister plots could this Harbinger and fatui member be discussing?
“So, I’ve heard there’s a cat cafe here in Mondstadt, Father.”
there is something about the streets of mondstadt --- perhaps the buildings of stucco-covered bricks that tower over narrow flagstone alleys, the scent of grilled saltwater fish, or even the sheer incompetence of the agents stationed here --- that never makes her want to remain for longer than necessary. to what end, exactly, would pantalone still want his personnel here? even the fair lady's former subordinates had long left the area, not even to follow her to her demise in inazuma, but to be sent across the continent...
still, with her colleagues' scheming and plotting all the ways to use the house in upcoming endeavors, perhaps it wasn't so bad to be owed a favor here or there.
( even if that favor was verifying if the local fatui personnel really ordered over thirty bottles of dandelion wine, nearly a hundred grilled fish skewers, and dozens of servings of goulash... and if it was true, deal with the agents accordingly. )
arlecchino sighs as the locals watch her and lynette with weariness as they walk down the main street, towards the easterly gate: seems some had gotten wind of how the agents had been dealt with, even if the disciplinary actions taken would hardly impact ordinary citizens of mondstadt. marked eyes scan slowly back towards lynette at her side when she hears the statement: perhaps they could make themselves seem a little more ordinary with a detour. "oh? a cat café... do you want to stop in while we're here?"
an unfortunate happenstance.
amber investigations with @crackshct.
”Ahahaha! ‘Man who says fudgehead’ or even just ‘fudgehead’’s alright by me.” What is a name, really? The only one that had ever mattered to him had been buried long ago, on a planet far from this one. All the others were just convenience.
”But if that don’t suit your refined sensibilities, then Boothill will do just fine.” Probably also an odd name, but what room did a woman named ‘Arlecchino’ have to judge, anyway? With introductions out of the way, a second body flops audibly out of another crystal and cuts short what might have soon just become blow-for-blow banter. For Boothill’s sake, it was better that his attention go to something less volatile.
Like identifying the captain of the missing expedition. Boothill recognized the red bandana tied around the unconscious man’s left arm, but when he was heaved over onto his back, the sand-colored moustache and prominent scar across his left eye sealed it. He didn’t move, and if he was breathing, then it was so shallow that his chest didn’t even rise.
”Well.” With a frown, Boothill approached the fatui agent and the body on the ground. For a moment, the word just hung in the air over the body.
”… Looks dead as a doornail to me.” Callous though the observation was, Boothill hadn’t exactly been close to these men, and he’d had a gut feeling that they were trespassing for illegal, if not downright sacrilegious goals. Still, he removed his hat and held it to his chest with one hand as he knelt to check vitals with his other.
”That’s one down. Unfortunately, this was the forker with the money.”
ah… unfortunate that the first victim of the adepti wrath has succumbed to the amber’s inhospitable environment. considering that the first man uncovered is the one mr. boothill needed for pay, arlecchino looks away and directs several more agents to smash the next few; then, with marked eyes still away, she offers a potential solution to someone who seemed a tad more foreign than most. “if what he promised you was payment in the form of mora, you may be able to check his pockets: the currency should usually manifest physically until spent in certain processes.” somehow, though, it seems possible that mr. boothill’s payment takes another form.
arlecchino continues walking checking where a few of the fatui research scientists have paused their sample collection to check on the victims of the next few amber outcroppings… one, two, three more victims, though at least one of the appears to be a dead wild boar. darkened arms cross as she gestures to the scientist checking the dead boar: “surely, collecting your scientific samples should take priority over checking an animal…” but, she barely finishes the thought before a different fatui researcher calls out to the rest of the group.
“hey! over here… she’s still breathing!” the agent who just freed the treasure hoarder kneels down next to the scientist to shake the victim, trying to stir her awake.
a glance back to mr. boothill: if he’s not finding what he’s looking for on the ringleader’s person… perhaps one of the few in this group that survived being captured in amber could have a valuable lead.
a lobby of tomes.
penacony novels with @hopetune.
Robin falls silent. There is a lot for her to take in and too little space in her heart for it. She did recall those children, those two, how tenderly they held each other in their seemingly eternal slumber—she recalls, then, how peacefully she would sleep in her brother's arms, lulled into rest by the hum of his song. It is telling to her that Arlecchino would find these themes in her copy of the book, and find them disturbing. For Robin had found similar things.
She takes in a breath, managing to compose herself enough to give the good madam an answer.
"There's a variety of them. Some identified themes of Harmony's fall, either through a literal fall of a protagonist or through the destruction of a country. Others saw tales of Destruction woven into the book, with chilling images and omens of end times. I..."
She stops for a moment, wondering if she should, perhaps, tell Arlecchino of her own visions, of her own troubles. Here, in the Dewlight Pavilion, there is no space for someone like her to share such things. Especially not to a guest, especially not to her. Yet there is something that slowly wakens within the Halovian, a feeling like kinship which then bleeds into trust. Eventually, she finds her voice again.
"I also read about a pair of siblings." she says softly, eyes glancing down toward the stack of books that towered over the table, "A pair of siblings doomed to eternal separation. One of them walked a path of goodness and righteousness, while the other walked his own path of absolutes. It... ruined him."
She pauses for a moment, before looking straight into Arlecchino's eyes. There is a hint of melancholy within her emerald gaze that cannot be denied, though she refuses to let it strain into her voice.
"What this tells me is that the book is showing us very personal images. I can't help but wonder: why would it send us messages that are so specific to us, and how?" A finger goes to tap on her chin, "How did you say you came to Penacony again?"
marked eyes watch intently as miss robin speaks. a practiced tone seems to subtly give way to something else as she shares a more personal account of what the story told: eternally separated siblings seems just as sad of an outcome as familial love had but abruptly lost. arlecchino hums, and arms fold: messages so specific to the reader is quite strange indeed.
but, when robin asks her to recount her arrival, arlecchino’s thoughts suspend: an exhale, and she tries to think on the answer once more. “my arrival has been involuntary each time. though, if I had to wager a guess…” the destruction and harmony miss robin spoke of moments prior raise a question of how such forces could manifest in her home: were these diametrically opposed concepts, or did they overlap? “it may have something to do with my blood, and it is hard to say if I’m truly here or not, with what I’ve learned thus far of how penacony works. doubtlessly, you’ve noticed my hands before… these are the mark of a curse of the abyss in teyvat, a force —- and place —- often associated with corruption and degradation. does that sound anything like this concept of destruction you know of?”
destruction… that was something that a different angelic woman had once referenced in a different time, a different place, where all of the dry earth around her had been the color of rust and demons and angels lived. strange how similar that situation felt to the time and place she had met miss robin, too. arlecchino turns away, then starts to head back over to where a few of the books were stacked, picking up a different one than the volume she had skimmed and opening the front cover. “if this destruction works like the abyss… perhaps the stories we see in these tomes are warnings of what could cause us to fall into some form of corruption?…” or, if one was already corrupted, arlecchino considers… perhaps the tales pointed to what was already your undoing. a sigh: she considers her words carefully before continuing, offering something personal to explain the thought. “long ago, I lost a sister, just as my tale’s protagonist had… and had to carry on alone. so, considering your personalized tale: have similar divided paths in your narrative already occurred?”
red stone, dyed byzantium.
tatarigami with welt + arlecchino.
HE CANNOT CLAIM TO BE ANYTHING BUT LOST IN THOUGHT, feeling the way lightning cackles in the air with every step taken. There's a viciousness here that reminds him of his brief experience with the core of thunder's power, and yet it feels almost empty, as if whatever being once fuelled the malice in the air has long since resigned themselves to oblivion. It's sad in a way, how this power feel feels so lacking in anything but raw instinct as the key in his hand whirls to life, attempting to rationalise the power that keeps striking at him like a bitter enemy,
Yet, Joachim pulls himself from his thoughts as the woman beside him, so full of interesting secrets and yet cloaked in an intimidation that feels only natural for whatever position was held. "Hmm? Oh, my weap--- Key..." A necessary correction, lest he give away too many of the cane's secrets. "... is made from the remains of a being that was the closest to being considered a god in my homeland's understanding, the process to do so is possible only to a select few." A white lie, if only to keep the true dangers of the divine key from attracting the attention of the world's so-called sustainers. He really should repay Neuvillette for that tidbit, a thought for another time, when the colossal snake head isn't looming overhead.
How odd, even the divine key seems to respond to the emptiness of the being, and yet he himself is wholly unfamiliar with the being of which the energy spills forth in almost malicious waves. Lightning curls underfoot, cascading like an endless torrent, as wildlife flees in self-preservation for the unending storm.
"How intriguing, the Commission had warned of Fatui and yet... the only thing to be found here is wildlife." A puzzled tone, even as his senses extend far and wide for any remnant of the items he's familiar with, pieces of an endless puzzle that would help to make sense of why the storm had returned to the island so abruptly, and yet there's little to be found that feels familiar to him. "It would seem my business here won't be nearly as straightforward as I'd hoped..." Absent words before he's kneeling into the blackened earth, scratching at the surface for whatever's seemed to have caught his attention. "Hmm... a gemstone of some sort, how odd..."
a key, a cane, a weapon: that last word was what he seemed to want to say at first, and the correction doesn't go unnoticed, but remains untouched in their conversation. a cane could be swung, or could conceal a blade: how was key a more fitting word?... a weapon imbued with an ancient god's remains seemed equally fitting, all sorts of weapons with power tied to ancient forces could be found across teyvat. a key unlocks something.
instead of sharing any of those thoughts of her's, arlecchino responds to the mention of fatui on the island. "the notice you received from the adventurer's guild was not inaccurate. there are meant to be a few squadrons stationed here, from the reports I've received. if they are not here, then something may have happened to them that would force them to abandon their field station..." a breeze from the sea and the occasional crackle of static, a call of a bird... it really does seem as though there's no sign of the squadrons meant to be patrolling the island. "perhaps little more than this lightning storm is the cause, however. the fatui are a tad bureaucratic, and one commander could see little purpose in staying to conduct research with that sort of threat, where another would see a new investigation entirely."
while mr. yang stops to inspect the gemstone in the ground he's found, she continues a little further along the path, passing under a brick-red natural archway worn into the inazuman stone. marked eyes scanning past the archway spy something not too far off: arlecchino turns back the next moment, trying to think on a potential connection between what she has spied and what he has found. "... does your gemstone appear to be an unusual elemental vision? if so, I think I know where it may have come from... there are several tents ahead of fatui design, but I see no infantry nor agents in its vicinity."
drowning in perspective
It was the light of the flame in her palm that drew his attention to it, something that he had not initially seen in his first examination of the area – perhaps deliberately, debris and brick dust kicked over to mask the trail of something large and ehavy dragged through by wheels.
Kevin did not immediately answer the question, dropping to one knee to press his fingers to the trails that now grew more visible the longer he looked, now certain that a cart of some kind had passed through here, with thin wheels, skittering over the uneven stone. Then, he rose, pressed his ear against the crumbling of stone, before he flattened his palms against the wall and gave a solid push.
It gave instantly, little resistance against the might of Deliverance, even without exertion – heavy patchwork brick tumbled and clattered backward, some sinking into the new divergent path of water that had been, apparently, hastily covered.
His eyes flicked upward, into the blackness that stretched out before them, waiting only a moment for his eyes to adjust to the new light, before he glanced over his shoulder, looking at Arlecchino for the first time.
Perfectly polite, just as she had been before, but pointed, more going on behind the benign expression than her mild questioning.
"If the other decaying places hold the answers I am looking for, then I will seek them out as well. But this one..." Faintly, he gestured with his chin to the tracks he had noticed, eyes tracing the trail they made farther inward. "Is where I believe I will find them."
It wasn't a direct answer to her question, and he knew that. A step forward brought little snakes of swirling dust spiraling about his feet, the chill of him dusting the surface of the water in delicate frost, filling the space with the oppression of himself, rather than the anticipation of the unknown.
"You know, don't you? About the children?"
having seen this man in battle before, she imagined pushing down an unstable, shoddily covered wall would be no issue for him --- but it gives with even less exertion than she predicts, perhaps the kind of firm shove you'd expect from a man working his way through a busy city crowd. she hums, acknowledging how the path before them now lays bare: then, at his final question, marked eyes turn back with a nod. "my own children are quite concerned about the... activity down here involving other young ones. so, here I am, seeing what can be done to ease their worries."
as he heads in, arlecchino moves to follow: mr. kaslana didn't exactly answer her question, but it seemed he was willing enough to hunt down the same trail she is on herself for now. just like last time, a comrade of convenience... she knew so little about him, aside from a name, a penchant for ice, and a seriousness about him that made even someone like her look a tad easygoing in comparison.
marked gaze turns back to the markings in the stone walkways of the sewer one last time before they step further in: a dark hand comes out in front of her, and sharp nails curl out to cup a small, blood-red flame with flickers of black to illuminate this new passage. "if you'd like, mr. kaslana, I'd be happy to take the lead as we walk and light the way." perhaps that would provide some small semblance of trust, to show she's confident that he'll have her back, whether or not is truly the case. as she steps ahead, red flame in her palm casts the stone corridor ahead of them in an eerie glow: still, it's enough to see a little better, note a small object up ahead of them as they head further in. "is this your first time in fontaine? the last time we met, we spoke so little of our own origins. this isn't the most sightly view of the nation I often call home..."
further down, the object grows clearer: arlecchino kneels down to pick it up with her free hand, then offers it up to the man accompanying her. "... a small shoe."
a dream of katarina.
elation commission: the missing in the chasm.
frayed, loose ends need attendance in the deepest, darkest parts of teyvat, be that in the form of tying together or burning away. for too long, official orders of fatui business have kept her away from the children in liyue... especially the ones trapped deep below in the chasm, doing reconnaissance where the boundary between reality and oblivion can be especially thin. but that mattered less now: fatui operations were distracted, fragmented as the whole of the organization made increasingly demanding preparations.
here in the chasm, arlecchino had intended to go straight in and search for a few key names that had been out of touch with the house for far too long: years, really, if records from the local house held true. incompetent management supply lines, a lack of clear communication about how things had changed with fatui relations... she wishes these could be the sole headaches to keep in mind.
instead, as she stands at the main entrance's base camp, before her is a uniformed milileth officer who blocks the way partially with his spear. "I'm sorry, ma'am --- we can't let you head further in alone with the current conditions in the chasm. there's people who have gone missing... bandits up to no good specifically, so even if they're found, we don't want anyone having to manage them on their own."
marked eyes stare the officer down, unblinking --- then, arms fold, and a slow sigh releases from lungs. "then send someone with me. I'm looking for my own people, and my search cannot wait any longer." assistance wasn't necessary, really... but accepting it would reduce the questions asked up-front. any other questions could be dealt with... later.
the officer before her blinks a few times, seemingly surprised. "oh. er... well, if you're amenable to that, then --- I guess we could find someone? haha, with the way you were walking so intently, it kinda seemed you were ready to head on in alone! uh... so you're not looking for the the bandits down there, then?..." then, he turns away, and shouts to another uniformed man with a slightly larger crowd gathered around him. "hey, jianyu! why don't you send over the new kid, hm? that trainee... could be a good learning opportunity, since this lady is looking for other folks further in."
@swordflown.
a reunion with death
comm. CRYSTALLLIZE⠀∶⠀four winds.
ARLECCHINO'S VOICE IS THE ONLY SOUND ♤ apart from the click of her footsteps in the moon-draped halls ; the scattered patches of light from cracks and corners where the ruined seams have caved in, overtaken by overgrowth, create a disorienting pattern across the stone and lights the way only just enough that a torch isn't needed. it's like this all throughout the structure at least as far as he's seen, and he's still not too sure whether it's a blessing or a curse in disguise——sometimes it hinders visibility just as much as it helps it.
to be honest, the sparing explanation about the knights doesn't shed much additional light on things either, and he wonders if that's because she doesn't know any more or just doesn't want to say. one thing she mentions does catch his attention though. "khaenri'ah. madame arlecchino, do you remember in the summer, when we had that encounter with those goddesses that'd been sealed away?"
without waiting for her, he continues with a gesture: "that name, ' khaenri'ah ', keeps coming up whenever i've happened to look more into it since then. i still don't understand much, but it'd be useful for me to hear what you know, as someone from around here, before we go too much further in."
an ancient civilization out of touch with the modern-day gods, something about a curse, and now knights——undead?——still patrolling around, driven by an instinct to guard something, if her guess was anything to go by. did that mean there was something to do with that old nation being kept here? is that what the murals he'd seen throughout the ruins meant? aventurine shakes his head ; it's a shame he's never had much of a real interest in archaeology.
anyway, ' before we go too much further in '——so he says, but the distance to the blockade his flaming friend had broken open earlier isn't far, and beyond it. . . "is it just my imagination, or does the air feel a lot colder?" as if something glacial was flowing toward them from the other side through the gap in the rubble. "he turned right just up. . . there." tone flattens on the last word, brow furrowing when the ' there ' he looks to now appears like any other flat wall. a dead end now.
"i swear that was a way forward before. he didn't just go through a wall." starting to feel like getting to the bottom of this place might be more trouble than it was worth, he begins to pick his way across the cave-in, hand bracing against the still-high walls of rubble on either side as he traverses the mounds of scattered boulders blown precariously loose. "could be some hidden mechanism."
khaenri'ah had relatively little to do with the temple, aside from being a potential explanation for the knights' appearance: head shakes as she follows, and gaze lowers to the floor in thought. perhaps the fatui intelligence on these creatures was outdated and inaccurate: perhaps they had more to do with the abyss than the eclipse dynasty. deeper thought delays any response, and by the time lips part to start to explain --- I know relatively little of khaenri'ah that you couldn't find in a fontanian bookstore, a well-prepared half-truth --- mr. aventurine draws attention to the chill in the room and the way he had seen the last monster go. "oh... how peculiar," it's a sincere remark: arlecchino sees no reason to not believe his assertion. still, she starts to climb up the rubble herself after him, eyes scanning for any potential explanations as she follows. "a hidden mechanism... I would imagine the knight would then have the awareness to think to block the path behind itself if so, which would also be peculiar for their documented behaviors."
finally, they arrive at where rubble rests against a stone wall: with no immediate, clear indicators of what could cause this, arlecchino reaches forward towards to try and touch it.
"hn --- !?" a scalding, corrosive heat immediately meets blackened palm -- she grunts, but can't seem to pull it away as something that looks to be a red-violet burn spreads outward at an accelerating pace from the point of contact. then, once the corrosion has spread wide enough to envelop her, the trapped hand starts to slide through --- "damn it, what is this..." arlecchino's head swivels back to aventurine quickly, and she grabs onto the collar of his jacket before the gravity of this strange force pulls them both through and hurdles them into darkness.
... and when the darkness ends, marked eyes open to an entirely different scene: a vibrant, busy, bustling underground city, inhabited by what seems to be echoes of souls in the same red-violet hue that had captured her hand. but these aren't ruins, they're... "... a memory?" the question mutters out loud, and the harbinger realizes she's still clinging onto the accompanying man's jacket; dark hand releases, and she turns back to him with a puzzled look. she should ask if aventurine is alright, she knows --- but this is more immediately pressing. "I... this does not appear to be part of the temple anymore, nor was that strange effect just now typical of the abyss. if I had to wager a guess... what just happened was something else."
from epiclese heights.
or: should fatui harbingers really be doing wind glider exams?
Leave it to the Knave to complicate things.
Childe’s frustration has nowhere to go, trapped in the whirlwind of their fast-approaching end. He wasn’t wrong – this kind of combat is exhilarating. A new challenge, where to win he’d need to be fast enough to catch his opponent and rip into them quickly.
It makes Arlecchino the last person he’d want to take on. Not for sheer strength but for- “Typical,” His huff is as much for dramatic effect as it is genuine disappointment, the sudden pull of an activated glider catching his weight. “If you’re not going to fight me head on, then this match is over.”
"is that a concession, childe? do you yield?" as his glider engages overhead, the weight of the motion against her own fall dislodges her from his grip. then, she's still falling, falling, falling --- a few brief moments remain for curt, shouted conversation as gravity pulls her down faster. the fight could continue below the water's surface, if need be... or it could end just at the surface before she breaks off in a different form of flight. "such a shame. I thought you'd appreciate an opportunity to learn a few more unorthodox techniques."
it feels like the bloodfire she'd marked him with is a tether, a string running slack and ready to be pulled --- perhaps now, the distance between them was great enough. one fist tightens suddenly as a blackened hand ignites, then sends a searing jolt of blackened flame up towards the other harbinger before a single burning wing whips out around her to catch her just above the lake.
[ FUEL ] / he hadn't packed appropriately for weather this severe ; that was the truth. as much as he knew he couldn't really be blamed for it, it still felt like an oversight worth scolding himself for——he should've planned for any possibility, especially considering belobog's unstable history ; he shouldn't have gotten careless and let himself get carried away on excitement. newly-reopened or not, it was still a recovering planet, and there were things bound to go wrong when supporting a massive infrastructural load like a festival inviting anyone and everyone from across the skies.
so of course he'd opted to do his part to help any way he could to make up for it. of all that had to be done, to be honest, he'd rather be out there fighting off the monsters of the ' fragmentum ', ghost-like abominations not too far away, he understood, from the endless waves of the abundance's legions, but no task was too small where survival was concerned. gathering fire. . . well, not really wood so much as just anything, even a little bit, meant that someone might be saved from a fate of frostbite or worse.
and it kept him moving, which helped with being underdressed himself.
so when he hears footsteps approaching in the otherwise silent street, he doesn't even look up from the towering pile of rubble and pipes that'd collapsed under the weight of the sudden snowfall the previous night. it'd be the third person in the last hour who'd come to offer to relieve him in his search or hand him a precious coat for weathering the brutal cold. but he can't accept that, not when there were plenty of others more in need. "thank you for thinking of me," he repeats the same words he'd said to the last two as he overturns a large stone with his foot, "but th——"
the large pipe leaning precariously above them both gives a grating moan ; head snaps up, eyes wide, to see it beginning to tip, and a hand flies out to the woman on the other side who's too far away for him to reach in time.
"watch out!!"
seems this city in crisis is not beneath accepting hard labor of any kind from anyone willing to provide it. she has little intention to actively volunteer herself for much of anything around here, but the harbinger does wonder if observations can yield interesting opportunities. a walk through a section of now-quiet, once chaos-stricken streets brings arlecchino to a young blond man who looks to be about the age of some of her children digging through snow-covered rubble. lyney, lynette, and freminet thinking to help their homeland without a second thought in a crisis come to mind as she watches wooden chair legs and pieces of shelving being set on a slow approach...
but at the same time, this lad looks underdressed, unlike the bundled locals that she's observed in other parts of belobog. and it seems he hears her heels even on snow-covered cobblestone... sharp hearing, too. her steps stop, and arlecchino folds her arms as lips part to wonder aloud what he thought she would have offered --- but marked eyes widen and glance up fast as he shouts a warning. own feet dart towards him in the same moment she sees an arm reaching out to her: a dark hand grabs on, and weight leans back almost instinctively to try and bring them both out of the way.
iron strikes stone with an ear-splitting clang just in front of feet the next moment --- arlecchino processes how hard she's gripping onto the young man's hand as she glances towards him again. in that moment, he had almost looked like... her voice cracks low as she tries to dismiss the thought: he is not one of her's. "... it would be wise, perhaps, to not work out here alone."
a tiny lil stamp tracker for arlecchino. ( counts for ❄️ )
snow plains: fischl. museum: yelan. yanqing. fight club: mydei. robot settlement: kosma, citlali. admin district: jing yuan.
claiming: crown.