ā Far From Home. Kazuha (romantic), fluff, short fic
ā Lovers, Lore, and Loss. Kazuha (romantic), angst, major character death, short fic
ā Of Petrichor and Decay. Death! Aether, horsemen of the apocalypse, mild angst
ā Existence. Rukkhadevata, angst, no relationships, character-centered
TAGS
ā #written ! ā general works
ā #received ! ā answered asks
ā #musings ! ā random chats
ā #assemblage ! ā masterlists
MISC
ā ao3 account: CountessofWisdom
āŖ i have other works here, i sometimes write cxc
I do not claim any of the mentioned fictional characters in this blog; all Genshin Impact characters rightfully belong to Hoyoverse (Mihoyo). This blog is non-profit and aims to provide entertainment only. Do not repost/steal my works. Taking inspiration is alright.
tags: mild angst, character death, horseman of the apocalypse, death! aether
ā in which death followed you. and somehow, the scent of home was wherever he was.
***
You saw them every day. The people of this village were all familiar faces.
The village had been quaint, barely populated, and settled on a pine forest at the far outskirts of a gilded empire. It reeked of petrichor on most daysāit rained as often as the overgrown greenery caused housing problems (no, we will not talk about that one day you awoke to a bunch of insects on your bed). The other days were suffused with the stench of decaying wood and pine resin.
The forest land was barren, unable to procure vegetation, for all its deceptively rich-colored plains. And even in the presence of the sun, the cold never wavered. You had the trees and grass to thank, or maybe curse, for it all.
"Weāre like a gathering of exiled citizens," you once joked over a fireplace assembly. Flames crackling tinder to the hearth. Its warmth had been salvation to your iced hands kissed by the neverending cold.
It elicited a laugh from some, mainly the younger adults and older teens, but the elders glared at you in mild bemusement.
āOh shut up, [Name].ā
āLeave them all alone, theyāre telling the truth. Just admit that the empire only cares for us when the other kingdoms covet the land we walk on.ā
"Shh, enough of that! Let's all eat in peace and quiet please."
āKlee doesnāt understand what that means, butā¦ā a little girl ā Klee, she had been named ā enthusiastically placed her hands on your leg in curiosity andā¦ regrettably, trust. ā[Name], is it true that His Majesty doesnāt care about us anymore?ā
The answer you gave her that day faded in recesses of memories. All you remember were the illuminated stars in her adorably round eyes as she listened, and when she saidā
āIt doesnāt matter. We have each other! Weāll be the rulers of this land and fight off the bad guys on our own!ā
You clapped, whooed and laughed it off, letting the child inside you run amuck. She whooed back and stretched her hands in the air. The village people, your family, couldn't help but join in on your contagious joy.
āIāll have to do my best to protect this lovely princess then.ā
You were carefree like this, running your hand through the tresses of a young girl you considered to be your own daughter, for what she saw in you was a family she could depend on and you accepted it without requisite.
This was all you ever wanted. She did not want it to end either.
But you were no longer young. Not like her.
Your mind held the kind of wisdom unbefitting for such wishful thinking.
In the depths of your soul, you knew, it was imminent.
You wished upon the stars it would happen when she was old enough to know it had been something ordained by fate, and neither you nor her should hold anyone accountable for the anguish of whatās to come.
Perhapsā
You should have also wished it happened when you were strong enough to endure the pain it left in its wake.
Because this was it. This was divine punishment if you had ever felt it.
āKlee?ā
Her hand went limp in your hold. The plague stole her away.
Your mind barely registered the screaming, the crying, and the panic, and onslaught of medics.
A knife twisted itself deep and you could not bring yourself to remove it, for all the pain it came with remembering her, the thought of her fading from your memories had been akin to blood leaving your body.
It hurt even more.
And it hurt even more to know your soul would never heal from such a meteor strike. She had been that, color to a bleak world, and she would never set the world alight again.
Death watched as your soul perished that day.
You must have been delirious. You were, truthfully. It was a wonder how you hadnāt been put in an ethylic coma for all the bottles youāve downed.
It had been a hazy recollection of a tavern visit, of the stench of alcohol and hard gin burning your throat until the owner sweatdropped upon seeing your wretched state. You brought it upon yourself to be thrown out.
Then, you ambled wobbly through the throng, and the people cared not for the drunkard wallowing in their midst.
There were all kinds of people that night, all unfamiliar faces of people who lived inside the kingdom. Some boasted lavish jewelry, some were draped in ragged cloth, but in honesty, it was difficult to tell which of them were real and which werenāt.
One person looked familiar, in a red dress and pearl accessories. You swore it was Grandmother Tang from home who used to scold you for making unfunny, borderline worrying jokes. You almost approached her, had you not been overcome with memories of her passing out next to a river, and the next thing, she had been dead not long after showing symptoms of the plague, and the stranger in front appraised you with a scathing look.
You walked away, hand clutching your heart and with ragged breaths.
Haā¦ just stop beating already.
When you finally gathered the strength to look up once more, you concluded that the person across you must also be a part of your ongoing delusion. Everyone passed him by as though he was a ghost. But he was not, because you could see him.
It was startling. He seemed familiar in a way youād know him without sightāfrom the overwhelming scent that came from him, of petrichor and decaying wood.
Curiously, he smelled like the pine trees from home. You longed, ached to inch closer.
Youād caught him watching over you many times, all encounters after she passed away. You'd joke he was death biding his time to take you away, but his presence had been too comforting, too much like an immovable object in a world that moved on too fast.
He, who wore a long white robe, tattered at the bottom and discolored as though heād walked the ends of the earth. His head was enshrouded by a large hood. A white veil covered the bottom half of his face, and a fog shrouded the upper half with two glowing circles that gave the impression of eyes, perfectly complementing his flowing blonde braid.
In his right hand was always a rope tied to an intimidating, almost looming pale stallion horse.
And you stared at him for the longest time.
People walked past in a blur. Their idle chatter barely registered in your mind.
Then he looked back at you.
With his hand slowly reaching out.
Until you blinked once, the world resumed its flow and everything was as it was. And he was gone.
You met him again sooner than you expected. Or perhaps, you had already lost track of the flow of time. Either way, it had been outside of your realm of possibilitiesāhaving already accepted he was a mere figment of your imagination, born from gnawing loneliness.
The last you saw him had been at a night market swarming with people coming out for leisure and shopping. The next, it had been this, with your back against the bark of a tree, hand calloused from wielding a blade, and blood dripping from your side.
An unparalleled entity who went by the alias Horseman of Conquest raided the lands. You had become a warrior outside of your will. They had all said it was necessary for the protection of this empireās people.
Do it for honor, do it to protect.
But you had no one to protect. Not anymore.
āWhy do you live on?ā he asked, coldly. The first time he spoke to you. It reminded you of the frigid weather of a pine forest. Once again, you shivered at the way he brought you the feeling of home so easily.
āI donāt know,ā you answered, truthfully. āI am still searching for an answer to that question myself.ā
āIs seeking the meaning of life worth the anguish brought by the lack of it?ā
āMaybe it does. Maybe it will, for me, or it won'tā¦ā
You paused, breathing heavily as you remembered Kleeās words.
āEven if it does not, I must live, even just for the sake of fulfilling the promise I made to a little girl decades ago.ā
"At the cost of your decay?"
"At the cost of my decay and future incarnations."
Silence followed in a deafening echo.
He chuckled. "A noble will, of course, how befitting," was what he said. It was hard to find a smile in a face so shrouded, but your instincts told you he wore one, for his voice softened as if he recalled a fond memory.
"You never told me your name. You haveā¦ been watching me all this time. It almost feels paramount that I at least know your name, wouldn't you agree?"
"No, that is not necessary, howeverā¦"
He stared at you for a time, as though contemplating on an act. Then he knelt until your foreheads leveled. Your hands curled up in a fist.
It was utterly confounding. You had a sudden urge to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close until you wore his smell, engraved it into your mind. He was so close and the prospect was so, so tempting. He smelled like an oasis for a dehydrated man. He seemed so warm, so divine in white that you wondered if he bled, would ichor spill?
What was this feeling?
"You will know in due time."
Hoping was setting yourself up for the worse, you uttered to yourself once upon a time. You couldn't force yourself to believe that, not this time, however. Your feelings were reciprocated the moment he lifted his hand, hesitating, until he solidified the courage to lift your arm by the wrist.
Archons, his gloved hands were rough from the teared leather. It felt so right to be held like this. Temptation's whispers exacerbated each second that passed by.
"This One will wait for you. To the ends of earth, until the end of time."
A kiss through veiled lips reached your bloodied palm.
And just like that, the warmth vanished once more. He was gone.
You couldn't wait to see him again.
In the next encounter, you swore you would not hold back. You had no reason to.
You just weren't expecting yourself to find him, rather than he found you.
You had condemned your life and future incarnations the moment you prayed to the heavens you'd lay your life to give the people you loved a second chance at life out of grief, never again will you live on as a human.
Death watched from the sidelines, waiting and waiting and waiting, if you would change your mind. You never did. Death eventually found you in a cave suffering from blood loss, cursing the divine.
He ended your despair with a single thrust of his blade.
And nowā¦
"Let us get moving. There is no more time left to waste."
You turned your head to look at his face. He looked as divine as you envisioned, with eyes that could rival the sun.
It was just the two of you traveling across a grassy plain, long had he foregone the shrouds of his face in your presence.
You sighed. "This One is following."
"This One knows you are, although you should maintain a pace closer to This One's periphery," he said. "The world might turn upside down if you disappeared from This One's sight."
You heaved a bigger sigh, letting a laugh break through. This guyā¦ he can never gather the courage to tell you what you already know, can't he?
You pulled the reins until your black horse caught up with his own.
The sun set for the silhouettes of two horse riders that day.
No one will ever live to tell their tale, nor will they know the tale of how Death waited for Famine.
Perhaps he did not, perhaps he found them by chance. The only time he had been pitied by the divine.
Perhaps, Famine faded as time went on. They would be reborn again and he would wait once more for their return. Maybe they disappeared forever, leaving Death in his own eventual oblivion.
Maybe they never died, and for all eternity, they remained by Death's side.
That would make a happy ending, wouldn't it?
this is my apology post for the people who are still waiting for the abyss aether fic sequel TT i've been falling out from the genshin fandom for months and only recently did i have an influx of ideas for it. i'm at 3k word count and still nowhere near the end. but something's happening!! and i am getting bolder!! (hehe)
tags: mild angst, character death, horseman of the apocalypse, death! aether
ā in which death followed you. and somehow, the scent of home was wherever he was.
***
You saw them every day. The people of this village were all familiar faces.
The village had been quaint, barely populated, and settled on a pine forest at the far outskirts of a gilded empire. It reeked of petrichor on most daysāit rained as often as the overgrown greenery caused housing problems (no, we will not talk about that one day you awoke to a bunch of insects on your bed). The other days were suffused with the stench of decaying wood and pine resin.
The forest land was barren, unable to procure vegetation, for all its deceptively rich-colored plains. And even in the presence of the sun, the cold never wavered. You had the trees and grass to thank, or maybe curse, for it all.
"Weāre like a gathering of exiled citizens," you once joked over a fireplace assembly. Flames crackling tinder to the hearth. Its warmth had been salvation to your iced hands kissed by the neverending cold.
It elicited a laugh from some, mainly the younger adults and older teens, but the elders glared at you in mild bemusement.
āOh shut up, [Name].ā
āLeave them all alone, theyāre telling the truth. Just admit that the empire only cares for us when the other kingdoms covet the land we walk on.ā
"Shh, enough of that! Let's all eat in peace and quiet please."
āKlee doesnāt understand what that means, butā¦ā a little girl ā Klee, she had been named ā enthusiastically placed her hands on your leg in curiosity andā¦ regrettably, trust. ā[Name], is it true that His Majesty doesnāt care about us anymore?ā
The answer you gave her that day faded in recesses of memories. All you remember were the illuminated stars in her adorably round eyes as she listened, and when she saidā
āIt doesnāt matter. We have each other! Weāll be the rulers of this land and fight off the bad guys on our own!ā
You clapped, whooed and laughed it off, letting the child inside you run amuck. She whooed back and stretched her hands in the air. The village people, your family, couldn't help but join in on your contagious joy.
āIāll have to do my best to protect this lovely princess then.ā
You were carefree like this, running your hand through the tresses of a young girl you considered to be your own daughter, for what she saw in you was a family she could depend on and you accepted it without requisite.
This was all you ever wanted. She did not want it to end either.
But you were no longer young. Not like her.
Your mind held the kind of wisdom unbefitting for such wishful thinking.
In the depths of your soul, you knew, it was imminent.
You wished upon the stars it would happen when she was old enough to know it had been something ordained by fate, and neither you nor her should hold anyone accountable for the anguish of whatās to come.
Perhapsā
You should have also wished it happened when you were strong enough to endure the pain it left in its wake.
Because this was it. This was divine punishment if you had ever felt it.
āKlee?ā
Her hand went limp in your hold. The plague stole her away.
Your mind barely registered the screaming, the crying, and the panic, and onslaught of medics.
A knife twisted itself deep and you could not bring yourself to remove it, for all the pain it came with remembering her, the thought of her fading from your memories had been akin to blood leaving your body.
It hurt even more.
And it hurt even more to know your soul would never heal from such a meteor strike. She had been that, color to a bleak world, and she would never set the world alight again.
Death watched as your soul perished that day.
You must have been delirious. You were, truthfully. It was a wonder how you hadnāt been put in an ethylic coma for all the bottles youāve downed.
It had been a hazy recollection of a tavern visit, of the stench of alcohol and hard gin burning your throat until the owner sweatdropped upon seeing your wretched state. You brought it upon yourself to be thrown out.
Then, you ambled wobbly through the throng, and the people cared not for the drunkard wallowing in their midst.
There were all kinds of people that night, all unfamiliar faces of people who lived inside the kingdom. Some boasted lavish jewelry, some were draped in ragged cloth, but in honesty, it was difficult to tell which of them were real and which werenāt.
One person looked familiar, in a red dress and pearl accessories. You swore it was Grandmother Tang from home who used to scold you for making unfunny, borderline worrying jokes. You almost approached her, had you not been overcome with memories of her passing out next to a river, and the next thing, she had been dead not long after showing symptoms of the plague, and the stranger in front appraised you with a scathing look.
You walked away, hand clutching your heart and with ragged breaths.
Haā¦ just stop beating already.
When you finally gathered the strength to look up once more, you concluded that the person across you must also be a part of your ongoing delusion. Everyone passed him by as though he was a ghost. But he was not, because you could see him.
It was startling. He seemed familiar in a way youād know him without sightāfrom the overwhelming scent that came from him, of petrichor and decaying wood.
Curiously, he smelled like the pine trees from home. You longed, ached to inch closer.
Youād caught him watching over you many times, all encounters after she passed away. You'd joke he was death biding his time to take you away, but his presence had been too comforting, too much like an immovable object in a world that moved on too fast.
He, who wore a long white robe, tattered at the bottom and discolored as though heād walked the ends of the earth. His head was enshrouded by a large hood. A white veil covered the bottom half of his face, and a fog shrouded the upper half with two glowing circles that gave the impression of eyes, perfectly complementing his flowing blonde braid.
In his right hand was always a rope tied to an intimidating, almost looming pale stallion horse.
And you stared at him for the longest time.
People walked past in a blur. Their idle chatter barely registered in your mind.
Then he looked back at you.
With his hand slowly reaching out.
Until you blinked once, the world resumed its flow and everything was as it was. And he was gone.
You met him again sooner than you expected. Or perhaps, you had already lost track of the flow of time. Either way, it had been outside of your realm of possibilitiesāhaving already accepted he was a mere figment of your imagination, born from gnawing loneliness.
The last you saw him had been at a night market swarming with people coming out for leisure and shopping. The next, it had been this, with your back against the bark of a tree, hand calloused from wielding a blade, and blood dripping from your side.
An unparalleled entity who went by the alias Horseman of Conquest raided the lands. You had become a warrior outside of your will. They had all said it was necessary for the protection of this empireās people.
Do it for honor, do it to protect.
But you had no one to protect. Not anymore.
āWhy do you live on?ā he asked, coldly. The first time he spoke to you. It reminded you of the frigid weather of a pine forest. Once again, you shivered at the way he brought you the feeling of home so easily.
āI donāt know,ā you answered, truthfully. āI am still searching for an answer to that question myself.ā
āIs seeking the meaning of life worth the anguish brought by the lack of it?ā
āMaybe it does. Maybe it will, for me, or it won'tā¦ā
You paused, breathing heavily as you remembered Kleeās words.
āEven if it does not, I must live, even just for the sake of fulfilling the promise I made to a little girl decades ago.ā
"At the cost of your decay?"
"At the cost of my decay and future incarnations."
Silence followed in a deafening echo.
He chuckled. "A noble will, of course, how befitting," was what he said. It was hard to find a smile in a face so shrouded, but your instincts told you he wore one, for his voice softened as if he recalled a fond memory.
"You never told me your name. You haveā¦ been watching me all this time. It almost feels paramount that I at least know your name, wouldn't you agree?"
"No, that is not necessary, howeverā¦"
He stared at you for a time, as though contemplating on an act. Then he knelt until your foreheads leveled. Your hands curled up in a fist.
It was utterly confounding. You had a sudden urge to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close until you wore his smell, engraved it into your mind. He was so close and the prospect was so, so tempting. He smelled like an oasis for a dehydrated man. He seemed so warm, so divine in white that you wondered if he bled, would ichor spill?
What was this feeling?
"You will know in due time."
Hoping was setting yourself up for the worse, you uttered to yourself once upon a time. You couldn't force yourself to believe that, not this time, however. Your feelings were reciprocated the moment he lifted his hand, hesitating, until he solidified the courage to lift your arm by the wrist.
Archons, his gloved hands were rough from the teared leather. It felt so right to be held like this. Temptation's whispers exacerbated each second that passed by.
"This One will wait for you. To the ends of earth, until the end of time."
A kiss through veiled lips reached your bloodied palm.
And just like that, the warmth vanished once more. He was gone.
You couldn't wait to see him again.
In the next encounter, you swore you would not hold back. You had no reason to.
You just weren't expecting yourself to find him, rather than he found you.
You had condemned your life and future incarnations the moment you prayed to the heavens you'd lay your life to give the people you loved a second chance at life out of grief, never again will you live on as a human.
Death watched from the sidelines, waiting and waiting and waiting, if you would change your mind. You never did. Death eventually found you in a cave suffering from blood loss, cursing the divine.
He ended your despair with a single thrust of his blade.
And nowā¦
"Let us get moving. There is no more time left to waste."
You turned your head to look at his face. He looked as divine as you envisioned, with eyes that could rival the sun.
It was just the two of you traveling across a grassy plain, long had he foregone the shrouds of his face in your presence.
You sighed. "This One is following."
"This One knows you are, although you should maintain a pace closer to This One's periphery," he said. "The world might turn upside down if you disappeared from This One's sight."
You heaved a bigger sigh, letting a laugh break through. This guyā¦ he can never gather the courage to tell you what you already know, can't he?
You pulled the reins until your black horse caught up with his own.
The sun set for the silhouettes of two horse riders that day.
No one will ever live to tell their tale, nor will they know the tale of how Death waited for Famine.
Perhaps he did not, perhaps he found them by chance. The only time he had been pitied by the divine.
Perhaps, Famine faded as time went on. They would be reborn again and he would wait once more for their return. Maybe they disappeared forever, leaving Death in his own eventual oblivion.
Maybe they never died, and for all eternity, they remained by Death's side.
That would make a happy ending, wouldn't it?
this is my apology post for the people who are still waiting for the abyss aether fic sequel TT i've been falling out from the genshin fandom for months and only recently did i have an influx of ideas for it. i'm at 3k word count and still nowhere near the end. but something's happening!! and i am getting bolder!! (hehe)
: In which you do not condone Venti's detrimental drinking habits one bit. However, with the way he touches and showers you with ardent affection after every drinking sessions, you just can't help but to forgive his propensity.
And just like how you easily find reasons to forgive his flaws, he too finds it easy to love you under moonlit nights.
Venti/Reader (Romantic)
No pronouns are used in this ficlet. (Though there is the use of "beautiful" to describe the reader.)
Tags: kisses, established relationship, domestic fluff, midnight conversations, drunken conversations (venti), love confessions, words of affirmation, physical touch.
"You have no idea how much I love you."
You stare curiously at Venti who lays beside you. He is positioned on his side, fervorly gazing into your eyes, cheek puffed on the pillow.
His eyes are half-lidded, intoxicated in drowsiness and a barrel's worth of dandelion wine.
"Even I love you fails to convey how I truly feel at this point. For me to be so smitten, you must be love itself."
You try your best to obscure your smileāand your laugh. Ah, there he goes again.
He notices your struggle and turns into a laughing mess himself, covering his eyes with the back of his palm. You break, following suit with his laughter.
"Oh, come on! I was being honest." He looks at you accusingly.
"I know. You do this every time, Ven."
"How can I not?" he whines. "My mind doesn't let me rest for the night until I've ensured that I've said everything that needs to be said that day."
"But you do this every time you get drunk," you say. "And you're drunk about ninety percent of the time."
"Ten percent sobriety is a lot!"
"For a wine goblin like you."
He huffs through his nose, annoyed, but does not debate with you any further. Instead, he buries his face on your collarbone. His breaths feel warm on the skin.
His hand finds its way to your upper back, his fingers atop to frame your shoulder. You can't help but giggle at his drunken antics.
"Whatever you say, wine goblin lover," he mumbles. Then he remains motionless and silent for the longest time.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Tick.
You think he's finally fallen asleep. How very Venti of him.
You attempt to rise from your bed to change his sleeping position to a more comfortable one, but you yelp as you are pulled back the moment you rise an inch.
He moves his face closer to your shoulder and plants a kiss. Oh, so he wasn't sleeping.
"Let's stay like this. Please bear with my drunken state a little longer, love."
You laugh again, devoid of prior playfulness and instead filled with adoration. "No matter how long you want me to stay, I will."
He stays still once again, aside from the rise and descent of his chest.
The curtains flutter with the outside wind, allowing the moonlight to peek through the window grilles.
The bedroom is entirely illuminated in silver and blue, from the photo frame that contains your wedding photo to the discarded pouch near the door that you could not keep due to how busy you were tending to your lover priorly.
Your gaze falls beyond the window towards the expanse of the night sky.
Is it just you, or do night skies always look brighter when your lover is beside you?
Venti opens his eyes to see your face basked in the moon, and he could have sworn all the wind left his lungs.
The first time Venti witnessed the moon in its full glory was when he was but a tiny spirit lost in the woods. He had yet to even understand the concept of beauty, nor did he have a clue on what the name of the mysterious glowing ball was.
and yet, as if it was nature to his soulāthe way he was easily drawn to how the moon unleashed the acme of beauty in all things.
You are no exception. In truth, Venti thinks you are the most beautiful person to ever exist under the moonlight.
"You are so beautiful."
You turn back to him. His fingers tuck a stray hair to the back of your ear then let his palm rest on your cheek.
"The more we share eventide moments like this, the more I am inclined to believe I am not just in love with you anymore. You are love itself."
He slowly reduces the space between your faces until your noses touch in the proximity.
Heavens, how he could stare into your eyes and drown in them alone. That would make a merciful way to die.
"You have completely, irreversibly rewritten my definition of love."
He closes the space in-between and kisses you ever-so-gently. Venti's way of affection is an ardent procedure;
It is evident in the way he is gentle as he caresses your cheek, the way he lets out a soft moan when your hand feels the skin underneath his shirt, and the way he does not want to part from your lips, leaving you wanting more.
There are countless things he wishes he could say, before the imminent comes to take you away from him.
"My definition of love is the way your eyes reflect the moonlight. I'm holding you like this, and you're looking at me as if I'm the only person in this world."
"I think we should close the windows."
"My definition of love is the way my heart sunders into smithereens when tears fall on your face. You have been through so much, you cried alone too many times and no one even noticed."
"Haa... you're closer to it anyway, just shut it already."
"I wish I could have your pain, so then you would not need to feel as if you are alone in this world. I do not want you to feel as if you have no one to turn to in times when you need a shoulder to cry on the most."
"Wow, so bossy. When and where did you pick up such a displeasing attitude?"
"When you spoil me so much, you should have already expected this."
So just know, if I ever love again,
He huffs, smiling regardless.
"I love you. I hope the wind continues to tell you how much I do when I am no longer able to."
my definition of love is always you.
A/N: I did it. It's 5am. I'm passing out (ā ļ¼ ā _ā ļ¼ ā ;ā )
Edit (3:14PM): I fixed the grammar mistakes. Thank you for reading :DD
: in which losing him was grief like you've never known.
angst drabble
Losing Kazuha is seeing the world devoid of a particular color.
The orange sky blends with blues as the sun descends, the white avains flap their wings in flight overhead, and the onyx of your lone shadow is cast upon the grey cobblestone road.
Your world holds the colors of the galaxy, a neverending array of vibrant and dull circumstances.
You would survive, you would live on; it was just one color faded away, after all.
The universe was still illuminated by countless stars, the ocean was as blue as ever, Cecilias never lost their white, and... and...
as crystalline tears fell from the firmament itself, only then did it dawn how incomplete the rainbow is without its red.
To live without those kind vermillion eyes, nor the sight of crimson fabric bedecked with a maple leaf, or the carmine streak in his hair,
is to live without the heat rushing to your cheeks, blood rushing from the pace of your bating heart, the warmth of his arms that embraces everything you areāparts of you that was loved and died and was rectified,
and it is to live every moment seeing only the ghost of what should have been him growing old by your side.
Losing Kazuha is hearing a faint whisper in the wind.
With hopeful eyes, you turn abruptly, searching for his presence with bated breath. A sight that's oddly lacking for your liking.
He is nowhere to be seen.
And then your world shatters once moreāyou are left standing, holding not his warm palms but your own sorrow.
He isn't there.
He will never come back.
Losing Kazuha is an every day loss.
You thought the grief would dwindle in each passing day like a time-skip in light novels: a smooth-sailing from dangerous tides to safe shores.
How wrong you were.
Ever since you lost Kazuha, you lost him forever and you are forced to live with that fact until your skin is crinkled and you can't separate truth from delusion anymore.
You lose him when you open your eyes and his space in the bed is nothing but a crinkled mattress.
You lose him when you prepare a meal for two in a house inhabited by one.
You lose him when the sunlight hits a stone and he isn't there snoring away under the heat.
You lose him when you touch your own skin and the feel of his kiss is lost to time.
And you lose him, because losing Kazuha is only ever loss when you loved him until the death of stars.
Jk jk okay greetings to whoever you are reading this! It's lovely to have your dazzling self here.
The main purpose of this blog is to serve as an archive for my Genshin fanworks. It contains character x reader and occasional character-centric content.
I plan to expand my repertoire by creating fanfics that are usually outside of my comfort zone to write, so expect some (very rare) borderline dark content. If I actually find the time to write them that is lol. I mostly write fluff though.
My works will not contain heavy dead dove tropes such as incest, non-consensual sex (my works will not contain smut at all, suggestive is the closest you can get), pedophilia, and so on.
Rest assured that my fanfics will be properly tagged! (unless it's a short brainrot with no heavy plot such as this).
I'm a very busy person who does not have a scheduled writing timeāthe most you'll get is one work a month. Still, I will answer any interactions!
Please do not send asks or private messages asking me for updates on my works.
: in which losing him was grief like you've never known.
angst drabble
Losing Kazuha is seeing the world devoid of a particular color.
The orange sky blends with blues as the sun descends, the white avians flap their wings in flight overhead, and the onyx of your lone shadow is cast upon the grey cobblestone road.
Your world holds the colors of the galaxy, a neverending array of vibrant and dull circumstances.
You would survive, you would live on; it was just one color faded away, after all.
The universe was still illuminated by countless stars, the ocean was as blue as ever, Cecilias never lost their white, and... and...
as crystalline tears fell from the firmament itself, only then did it dawn how incomplete the rainbow is without its red.
To live without those kind vermillion eyes, nor the sight of crimson fabric bedecked with a maple leaf, or the carmine streak in his hair,
is to live without heat rushing to your cheeks, blood cursing through from the pace of a racing heart, the warmth of his arms that embraces everythingāparts of you that was loved and died and was rectified,
and it is to live every moment seeing only the ghost of what should have been him growing old by your side.
Losing Kazuha is hearing a faint whisper in the wind.
With hopeful eyes, you turn abruptly, searching for his presence with bated breath. A sight that's oddly lacking for your liking.
He is nowhere to be seen.
And then your world shatters once moreāyou are left standing, holding not his warm palms but your own sorrow.
He isn't there.
He will never come back.
Losing Kazuha is an every day loss.
You thought the grief would dwindle in each passing day like a time-skip in light novels: a smooth-sailing from dangerous tides to safe shores.
How wrong you were.
Ever since you lost Kazuha, you lost him forever and you are forced to live with that fact until your skin is crinkled and you can't separate truth from delusion anymore.
You lose him when you open your eyes and his space in the bed is nothing but a crinkled mattress.
You lose him when you prepare a meal for two in a house inhabited by one.
You lose him when the sunlight hits a stone and he isn't there snoring away under the heat.
You lose him when you touch your own skin and the feel of his kiss is lost to time.
And you lost him, because losing Kazuha is only ever loss when you loved him until the death of stars.
: In which Greater Lord Rukkhadevata fulfills her final duty as the Dendro Archon.
Nahida & Rukkhadevata (platonic)
Warnings: spoilers for Sumeru archon quest, death
Tags: light angst, an attempt at a short novelization
Existence is brittle, it is as true as it is cruel.
Its entire foundation is built on the memories of fleeting creatures, even gods are able to forget other gods.
Existence, too, is built on the marks it left on the earthātraces which hold no power against the inhumation of sand and breeze.
On the other hand, the existence of gods tend to linger longer. Their existences are bound to longevity even after death.
Marked in ancient wars, instilled in the undying.
Their spirits forever haunt in the wake of their death bed, spreading karma.
Gods are not supposed to die,
yet their existences can be as brittle as human life when its foundation is built solely on the memories of humans and dead immortals.
"How can we just forget you like this?"
Gods are not supposed to be forgotten.
"Is there really no other way? There must be something else I can do!" Nahida's composure shatters, seethed from blazing desperation.
Rukkhadevata's avatar stares with a somber look at the tearful Dendro Archon.
She closes her eyes, acknowledging how painful the ordeal must be for she who posseses an empathetic heart.
Had her former companionsāthe Goddess of Flowers, King Deschret, or even the Grand Priest Kusalaāasked this of her, she would have never come to terms with it herself.
But the past is long gone.
Nahida's tears are futile against the walls of somebody who upheld their will until the end.
On the contrary, all it did was invigorate her remaining consciousness's convection.
To leave Sumeru in the hands of a god who feels for people, she could not have hoped for anything better.
"You are the god of wisdom, Buer. You should know that there is no other way."
"But this is just too cruel...!" Nahida chokes on her sobs. "I don't want to forget you!"
The Greater Lord's lips stretch into a cryptic smile. She does not know what she is smiling for. In pity of herself, perhaps, or happiness that the denouement is nearing.
Forget me, huh...
As the former god of wisdom, she knows all too well what that entails.
That in the next hour, stretching into the unknown expanse of Teyvat's future, no one will mourn nor celebrate her again in-between.
To never hear anyone speak of Rukkhadevata when it was she who bore witness to the Goddess of Flowers's dance,
shared drinks with The Scarlet King,
seen and loved by Kusala,
it was Rukkhadevata who fought the forbidden knowledge despite the burning inner turmoil it brought in her being.
And ultimately, it was Rukkhadevata who perished five hundred years ago in the honor and safety of her people.
To live an eventful life only to be reduced to a state of non-existence, to be devalued smaller than even a speck of dust in the wind,
To hear no one speak of Rukkhadevata as if she never lived...how deathly terrifying.
It is akin to being caged eternally in the Abyss.
Had it been any other god, they never would have done it.
But for a god who cherishes her people unconditionally, Rukkhadevata deems it a fair price.
"There is no need to feel sad, Buer. As someone who delights in wisdom, what you should be feeling at this very moment is joy because you've finally found the answer."
Rukkhadevata's avatar turns to face Irminsul. "These are the words in their entirety. The answer you've been seeking for all along."
"Let the world completely forget me."
World... Forget me...
"Let the world completely forget me." Rukkhadevata whispers for no one to hear.
She stands in the midst of barren sand, unable to discern the crimson skies from the bright green glow her palms are emanating.
"Are you listening to my final wish, Irminsul?" She chuckles though her laughter holds no mirth.
"I am already missing my friends in Sumeru so painfully."
Sumeru.
"But I am exhausted..."
My greatest hiraeth.
"And I have come to realize that my existence is one giant paradox." She continues, green glow gradually tapering, "Here I stand, fending off forbidden knowledge, yet all the same, I am the reason why it has come to existence."
For the sake of Sumeru, this sacrifice needs to be done.
"I have long been corrupted by the forbidden knowledge as well, anyway."
Hence why I humbly beg to have my being be lost, buried in no casket of time, nor existed in any samsara.
The desert sand loses the coruscated green sheen. A loud thud reverberates afterwards.
The god's chest rises and descends as how her remaining life clings from the force of death.
Her eyelids grow heavier than a millenia's worth of memories.
The Dendro Archon is dying.
"I won't... allow it... not yet... at least, let me leave this...!"
The last step of her final duty.
Before her consciousness completely slips, she shifts it to Irminsul, sprinting to climb the humongous tree upon landing.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
She tears a branch from Irminsul, one so untainted and pure, and let it fall into the into the depth of soil where it will flourish overtime.
With this, she feels her lungs breathe its last breath.
"I'm sorry... It seems I can't fulfill my promise in this timeline after all. I leave the next Dendro Archon in your care in the next samsara..."
The body of the Dendro Archon begins to dissolve into tiny lime particles, translucent and fading.
This is it, my last obligation as the forgotten Dendro Archon
"Goodbye, people of Sumeru."
concluded at long last.
Goodbye, I wrote this while sleep-deprived. Gonna edit it tomorrow morning. ą²„ā āæā ą²„
Something I need to address. Tumblr isn't letting me reply to comments for some reason, but please do know that I am seeing everyone's comments and tags on reblogs.
Thank you for all your kind words. I'll make sure to update my taglist for Redamancy! (ā ļ¼¾ā āā ļ¼¾ā )ā ļ¾ā āŖ
: In which you do not condone Venti's detrimental drinking habits one bit. However, with the way he touches and showers you with ardent affection after every drinking sessions, you just can't help but to forgive his propensity.
And just like how you easily find reasons to forgive his flaws, he too finds it easy to love you under moonlit nights.
Venti/Reader (Romantic)
No pronouns are used in this ficlet. (Though there is the use of "beautiful" to describe the reader.)
Tags: kisses, established relationship, domestic fluff, midnight conversations, drunken conversations (venti), love confessions, words of affirmation, physical touch.
"You have no idea how much I love you."
You stare curiously at Venti who lays beside you. He is positioned on his side, fervorly gazing into your eyes, cheek puffed on the pillow.
His eyes are half-lidded, intoxicated in drowsiness and a barrel's worth of dandelion wine.
"Even I love you fails to convey how I truly feel at this point. For me to be so smitten, you must be love itself."
You try your best to obscure your smileāand your laugh. Ah, there he goes again.
He notices your struggle and turns into a laughing mess himself, covering his eyes with the back of his palm. You break, following suit with his laughter.
"Oh, come on! I was being honest." He looks at you accusingly.
"I know. You do this every time, Ven."
"How can I not?" he whines. "My mind doesn't let me rest for the night until I've ensured that I've said everything that needs to be said that day."
"But you do this every time you get drunk," you say. "And you're drunk about ninety percent of the time."
"Ten percent sobriety is a lot!"
"For a wine goblin like you."
He huffs through his nose, annoyed, but does not debate with you any further. Instead, he buries his face on your collarbone. His breaths feel warm on the skin.
His hand finds its way to your upper back, his fingers atop to frame your shoulder. You can't help but giggle at his drunken antics.
"Whatever you say, wine goblin lover," he mumbles. Then he remains motionless and silent for the longest time.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Tick.
You think he's finally fallen asleep. How very Venti of him.
You attempt to rise from your bed to change his sleeping position to a more comfortable one, but you yelp as you are pulled back the moment you rise an inch.
He moves his face closer to your shoulder and plants a kiss. Oh, so he wasn't sleeping.
"Let's stay like this. Please bear with my drunken state a little longer, love."
You laugh again, devoid of prior playfulness and instead filled with adoration. "No matter how long you want me to stay, I will."
He stays still once again, aside from the rise and descent of his chest.
The curtains flutter with the outside wind, allowing the moonlight to peek through the window grilles.
The bedroom is entirely illuminated in silver and blue, from the photo frame that contains your wedding photo to the discarded pouch near the door that you could not keep due to how busy you were tending to your lover priorly.
Your gaze falls beyond the window towards the expanse of the night sky.
Is it just you, or do night skies always look brighter when your lover is beside you?
Venti opens his eyes to see your face basked in the moon, and he could have sworn all the wind left his lungs.
The first time Venti witnessed the moon in its full glory was when he was but a tiny spirit lost in the woods. He had yet to even understand the concept of beauty, nor did he have a clue on what the name of the mysterious glowing ball was.
and yet, as if it was nature to his soulāthe way he was easily drawn to how the moon unleashed the acme of beauty in all things.
You are no exception. In truth, Venti thinks you are the most beautiful person to ever exist under the moonlight.
"You are so beautiful."
You turn back to him. His fingers tuck a stray hair to the back of your ear then let his palm rest on your cheek.
"The more we share eventide moments like this, the more I am inclined to believe I am not just in love with you anymore. You are love itself."
He slowly reduces the space between your faces until your noses touch in the proximity.
Heavens, how he could stare into your eyes and drown in them alone. That would make a merciful way to die.
"You have completely, irreversibly rewritten my definition of love."
He closes the space in-between and kisses you ever-so-gently. Venti's way of affection is an ardent procedure;
It is evident in the way he is gentle as he caresses your cheek, the way he lets out a soft moan when your hand feels the skin underneath his shirt, and the way he does not want to part from your lips, leaving you wanting more.
There are countless things he wishes he could say, before the imminent comes to take you away from him.
"My definition of love is the way your eyes reflect the moonlight. I'm holding you like this, and you're looking at me as if I'm the only person in this world."
"I think we should close the windows."
"My definition of love is the way my heart sunders into smithereens when tears fall on your face. You have been through so much, you cried alone too many times and no one even noticed."
"Haa... you're closer to it anyway, just shut it already."
"I wish I could have your pain, so then you would not need to feel as if you are alone in this world. I do not want you to feel as if you have no one to turn to in times when you need a shoulder to cry on the most."
"Wow, so bossy. When and where did you pick up such a displeasing attitude?"
"When you spoil me so much, you should have already expected this."
So just know, if I ever love again,
He huffs, smiling regardless.
"I love you. I hope the wind continues to tell you how much I do when I am no longer able to."
my definition of love is always you.
A/N: I did it. It's 5am. I'm passing out (ā ļ¼ ā _ā ļ¼ ā ;ā )
Edit (3:14PM): I fixed the grammar mistakes. Thank you for reading :DD
: It has been a long time since Kaedehara Kazuha first traversed beyond Inazuma's borders. He is now far from Inazuma, far from home. With you.
Kaedehara Kazuha/Reader (Romantic)
No reader pronouns are used in this ficlet.
Word Count: 322
The perpetual echo of sea water crashing on summat is a melody Kazuha is all too familiar with. It follows him in every excursions, like a friend he's known since exhaling his first breath.
The splashes resound in his ears even when he is out on an escapade, overpowering prior thoughts pondered on.
The splashes continuously allure him towards the precipice, snatching his attention completely away towards the beauty of Teyvat, towards everything the faraway horizon is willing to offer.
Well, there's nothing wrong taking just a tiny break...
And for the nth time, Kazuha finds himself breathlessly taking in the ethereal sight.
The sky is split in hues of blue and orange. The silhouette of faraway mountains and sea is hazy, coated with the shade of sunset while the side opposite foliage basks in moonlight.
His mind comes crashing down along with the tide's ebb.
Inazumaā his land of birthā is nowhere to be seen from where he is.
But it is alright.
"Kazuha, it's getting dark. It's best we return to the city now."
Because he has come so far, hasn't he.
"I'll be right there."
Far from home. And it is alright.
"Finding inspiration for your haiku again?" you muse.
He chuckles. "As always."
"Is it done? May I hear it?"
He stares into your eyes, a slight pause commences before he interlocks his slender fingers with yours. You two carry in with your walk.
"Hues of blue and peach, come frigid snow and hot suns..."
Suddenly, a sheen seems to illuminate from his free hand.
He levels it up to your line of vision.
Sure enough, a tiny ring rests amidst his palm.
Ah, so this was what he was pondering about earlier.
"...will you marry me?"
Far from home is always fine, because the hearth of your presence is enough to keep him warm anywhere he wishes to traverse, for all time.
In the end, the haiku was just an excuse for him to smoothly propose lolol.
Anyways, I'm very sorry for the constant change of themes. I'm inexperienced with this theme stuff and I'm also still undecided. Hopefully, I get to choose one soon.
: In which the abyss prince visits you on a quiet midnight, after years of you waiting for his presence in vain.
Sequel: Redamancy (to be written)
Relationship(s): abyss prince! aether x reader (romantic)
Tags: angst, secret balcony meetings, reunion after years, established relationship.
The rise of eventide moon,
When all dwellers come to swoon,
The phonograph sweeps your heart attune,
The disk pirouettes to Clair De Lune,
A peaceful evening ensued,
Until a pair of stranger's steps on your balcony tuned,
Sneaking up to that scheming buffoon,
Unaware of fate's plan that takes place soon,
The door swivels open.
The stranger's cape flutters with the wind.
**
"You areā!"
The stranger's harsh eyes shift to bewilderment upon descrying your figure. It was unclear why, whether it was because they have been caught, or was it because they were caught by you, especially.
A closer look was all it took for you to know the answer. Your eyes widen.
"Aether?"
Shock slowly simmers down to indifference. His golden eyes narrow, devoid of any sheen.
His lips part, closes, till he speaks again. His voice is hushed as he says, "I'māI'm terribly sorry, did I wake you?"
Your heartbeat races, bating out of your ribcage in desperateness to grasp the elusive memory his voice allures.
Memories of that enchanting evening flooded your vision.
A man sat at the balcony's balustrade, clutching your palm and looking intently into your eyes.
You found your heart putty in his hands with every word he let go.
"I will cherish you until all the stars cease to glow."
With your thumb caressing his cheek and him feeling the skin of your waist after admitting you loved him back, the promise he made was sealed with a sloppy kiss.
You met him every midnight thereafter. He would knock gently on your balcony door, a handsome smile etched on his face whilst taking your hand to plant a kiss and whispering, "good evening, my love" before inquiring about your day.
He'd bring a bouquet of flowers with him sometimes. Often, he'd bring a music disk to play on the phonograph for you two to slow dance to as you both stumble, laughter erupting afterwards.
Some nights, he'd simply hold you close.
"Thank you for letting me to love you like this," he'd whisper, brushing his fingers along your hair, a warm kiss making its mark on your forehead.
"I'll see you tomorrow night once more, so please, wait for me."
Simple gestures they were, and yet they had you floating on cloud nine, believing that these secret midnight meetings were tailor made by the kismetāthreads of every fleeting moment for sewing memories that would last for eternity.
You loved each other every night as if you would never get to love again by daylight.
Until it was true.
The clock's hand ticked three, mockingly signifying the three hours of waiting you've done in vain.
"How unusual, he's not usually this late." Holding your now-cold drink between palms, you whispered to yourself, "I suppose waiting a little longer won't hurt."
Perhaps it didn't.
One night without him didn't forebode the end of the world. You carried on with your daily life, ambling over the same balcony every moonrise, like a never ending loop.
However, after a month of seeing the sun rise above the mountains and never seeing his blonde hair, you realized something was amiss.
Maybe this time, you would always say. Maybe this time...
But nothing.
The turmoil in your heart grew.
"Aether..."
Winter eventually came around.
Frigid clouds spilled from your breaths, falling snow crystals bedecked your hairāyou wished it was his gloved hand draping over your hair instead.
You wished he was here, long finished the hot drink you've prepared that had now gone cold, while telling you of the lovely sights he had seen in his ventures.
You wished he was here greeting you with "good evening, my love" once more, ambling to the comfort of your bed and lips meeting yours.
"He's not here again tonight," you muttered, disappointed, nothing out of the ordinary, looking down the empty road beneath your lonely terrace.
You supposed you had long been aware of it anyway, of the troubles that could possibly arise because you had made your adoration for the Prince of the Abyss known.
Perhaps you were simply in denial, stubbornly refusing to accept the reality laid right before you; or perhaps, it was him that kept you from fully embracing it.
"I will cherish you until all the stars cease to glow."
His promise had never sounded so shallow, senseless and untrue.
You tried to understand. Making enemy of the whole world, you were cognizant of the prospect that he may never return.
But even so, you waited, and waited, and waited again. The morning breeze grew cold after years of disappointment, but the midnight breeze was even colder without his presence gracing your balcony.
You waited nonetheless.
But he never returned.
You lived without him for several years, yet you never managed to fully immerse yourself in that foreign lifestyle. You awaited his arrival every night, but he never came.
But now that he's genuinely in front of you, you're perplexed, your defenses non-existent.
Why just now?
"N-not at all," is all you manage, stricken by incredulity. "Truthfully, I haven't gone to bed yet."
Where have you been?
"I see..." his eyes scatter everywhere but to meet yours. "You're up rather late tonight. May I know what for?"
Huh?
What for? his voice echoed, each repeat resounding a more sardonic tone than the former. What did he mean by 'what for?' Did he not meet you around this time every night before?
The luminous moonlight bathes his entire face, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his golden eyes, which are bereft of the affection you recalled they held.
And that's when you realize.
His eyes carry remnants of a stranger's gaze.
You must look stupid, hopeful eyes contrasting his indifferent expression. Your lips part but what of it when your voice was dead.
You hope that this is all a dream and he'd pull you in for a hug already, assuring that it was all a bad dream, a wicked prank, but you knew he was never one to make such sinister jokes.
It's painful. It hurts so much.
Everything erodes at time's behest. You are not different, not a subject to reality's clemency.
Is there truly no more adoration left in his heart? Is that why he left? What caused him to change?
Despite this, his face remains the same as before. Young, unblemished, a remainder of the man that you once loved, but is now the reason why you are lost.
You still cherish him, even if he doesn't. You treasure him and all of your memories of him.
"I will cherish you until all the stars cease to glow."
He made the promise, how come you were the one who fulfilled it?
"I'll see you tomorrow night once more, so"
"I'm..."
"...please, wait for me."
The moon casts its glow on you.
He hasn't told you straight that he no longer loves you, has he?
Perhaps this was one of your many naive premonitions again. A baseless hope. But if there's even a small possibility that he still cherishes youā
"I was waiting for you," you solemnly confess, "As I have been doing every night for all these years."
āyou are willing to put up with a little more years.
Your heartfelt response, unbeknownst to you, tears him apart completely.
Note: Finally done AAAAA. This fic wasn't meant to be this long, I got carried away ueueueue.
Oh, and there will be a sequel to this and it's going to be in the same series with the Origin fic I posted about Xiao. Keep an eye out, lovely people (ļ½”ļ½„Ļļ½„ļ½”)ļ¾ā”
Hues of flames and forests greet your awakening form.
"Good morning," his voice is silent, as always, almost drowning in the cacophony of sundering wood and splashing waters.
His arms lay around your midriff lackadaisically, hesitating to tighten his hold as though your body would break apart if he held you any tighter.
His lips mark a saccharine kiss on your forehead, and you relish every fleeting moment of that loving skinship. The warmth is transient, but you know better than anyone else that his tenderness remains, and will go on, everlastingly.
"You know, I don't think..." he pauses, once again, his honey eyes coruscating hesitation. But then he finds himself staring in wonder at the way your eyes illuminate when heeding his words. go on, I'm listening, it seemed to always assure. How you manage to calm his heart by simply being yourself will forever remain a mystery to the Yaksha.
"...I don't think I can see myself doing this with anyone but you."
Your fingers trace his hair to the back of his ear between his solemn musings. This elicits confusion from your lover, but all those bubbles pop when your lips come to meet his. He freezes, and out of nowhere doubtful thoughts of why me? clouds his mind for but a moment in time, before eventually allowing himself to feel weak in your loving embrace. His tainted arms tighten around your soft waist; he melts in the tenderness of your lips against his.
And then, Xiao knew he must've been destined to do this. To love you.
When his bones were first sculpted and his skin first weaved, his form too, was carved to fit the shape of your hold. You are the sole favorite of the sun, carrying your guardian's warmth wherever you go, and he is the son of earth, a being doomed to destruction, until you showed him light. They gave him hands sewn with a blade, and you, a hand that soothes his heart that forever bleeds.
And when the world comes to tear itself apart, it is still you who he holds.
His fate has been entwined with yours from the first breeze that blew across the lands, until Teyvat no longer breathes.
Note: does this count as a writing blog debut? hello, genshin impact fanfic community! (ā§ā½ā¦)
!! this ficlet is heavily inspired by 4hon's in one's image.
