contemplate or wish away —

—   if i asked you not to stay.

[devolusion-a2]

#NIYA : DON'T RELAX / I'LL CUT THE SMILE OFF YOUR FACE!

an independent & low - activity multimuse roleplay blog for genshin impact canon & original characters, written by rain ( they / she / he  ).  headcanon - based, extremely canon divergent. certified hyv hater.  sideblog to @ahlite.  RULES & MUSE LIST.

#BLOGROLL : sunhalf, badnikbreaker, ahlite, devolusion, hichai, biasfactor, hauntedurge, strawnav.

[gonchayas-a1]

"Ely's sensitive on the small of her back." It's a casual bit of knowledge to offer up so freely; Niya doesn't even look up from the knife she's sharpening. "I once got her to come just by touching her there for a bit and telling her she was a good girl." When her head finally tilts to look at him properly, she's smiling, smug and teasing. "Consider the info a peace offering."

@devolusion must think she’s funny.  or she must think she’s actually being helpful.  god has blessed him with dominion over seasonal and organic death,  but half a corpse later and omniscience hasn’t graced him yet.

they don’t pry.  they don’t get angry.  why should they? kostyantyn doesn’t even lift their head from their own task—  cleaning their rifle,  replacing the lens—  to look at her,  or stare daggers,  or whatever it was she wanted to hear or see.  they only meet her eyes when she looks at them,  beaming like she’s proud of something and—  they can't stand her, they can’t ever imagine why elysia would ever give her the time of day.  then again, they could say the same for themself.

❝    i don’t want to hear about how you fucked my girlfriend.    ❞    he says,  without the slightest edge or bite. kostyantyn finishes applying bore paste to the steel rod in his hand,  goes to clean the interior of the rifle barrel.  one beat.  two.  they hum. still, no thank you.    ❝    could’ve figured that one out myself.    ❞

[dr5amatic]

ONE OUT OF MANY ,

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel the will of the many by james islington. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to death, violence, and religion. change verbiage as needed.

watch your step. it gets slippery down here.

so what is it all for? debts? a woman? some vice that you cannot bring yourself to give up?

i know it’s not in your nature, but if you’re ever going to swallow your pride, tonight’s the night.

i’d have thought twice about coming out here if i’d realized my opponent was such a coward!

chain your anger in the dark and it will only thrive.

i wasn’t trying to kill him.

i think you’re so used to resisting, you don’t know how not to.

sometimes bullies are better off with the truth, no matter how unpleasant.

a ladder should not be climbed from the shoulders of others.

you’re placing a lot of faith in the abilities of someone you’ve just met.

conviction is admirable, but it can only take a man so far.

what i want to know is what are you punishing yourself for?

they killed your family. stole your home. don’t you want to do something about it?

this is my best chance at finding something approaching a normal life.

you only have this chance because of me, and you seem to be under the mistaken impression that this is some kind of offer.

you can still back out, but this is your last chance to do it. is this opportunity worth it? is it worth your life?

it’s hard when the lies that let you sleep are so cruelly laid bare.

you’re welcome to rest and eat before you go.

if i believed in the gods, i would say they led me to you.

there is always something more to lose.

i can hate without it coming to violence.

hate is its own violence. your choice is whether to let it hurt them, or you.

i have come to bring a reckoning for your decisions. your weakness. your blindness and cowardice and complicity.

silence is a statement. inaction picks a side. and when those lead to personal benefit, they are complicity.

you should have told me all of this from the beginning

if there is something you should be telling me, i assume you will.

you’re brighter than most—but bright doesn’t mean brave, or caring, or heroic. more often, it means the opposite.

a man will always wonder what might have been, but a wise one recognizes fortune when it comes.

how could you not resent them for what they took from you?

there comes a point in every man’s life where he can rail against the unfairness of the world until he loses, or he can do his best in it. remain a victim, or become a survivor.

there can be no love without honesty.

there are more measured approaches to justice than punching.

just because you are good at something does not make others bad at it.

whether the obstacles to our advancement arise from our ties or our actions, we need to learn to overcome ourselves. it’s not fair, but nor is the world.

a fair system only works if there’s an unbiased means of assessing merit, which means that fair systems cannot exist where people are involved.

sometimes, i’m not sure there’s anything of the real me left anymore.

there are those who see what should be, and complain that they do not get their due. and then there are those who see what is, and figure out how to use it to their advantage.

you’re not planning to kill me, then.

a cut’s only worth it if there’s poison on the blade.

we do not have to be enemies.

if all you’re trying to do is change who’s in control, then you don’t really want to change anything.

you cannot be free if you are afraid to die.

be safe, and for the love of all the gods, don’t get caught.

i am just trying to remember the last time i so vastly overestimated someone’s intelligence.

you have a reputation as a killer.

in this place… each man has to find his line. has to find it ahead of time, and be resolved never to cross it.

don’t mistake inaction for neutrality.

violence is no answer to grief.

there’s being brave, and then there’s throwing your life away.

what do you believe makes a good ruler?

don’t equate having less heart with more intelligence.

not pleasant, seeing your trust betrayed, is it?

remind me to never get on your bad side. i have no idea how i’m going to repay this.

you’re so mysterious and unpredictable.

i want you to know that you are my friend. that you have my full trust.

i envy you, you know. your capacity to do that. to trust like that.

you rotting, fetid coward.

i’m going to make sure you burn for this.

death is only meaningless if it does not change us.

[ruinedheart-a]

it would be a slow upwards climb back to the reclaiming of her trust. the concept was so fragile, something that would be unable to be truly amended once cracked — his mother had warned him, once, about the delicate hand required for profitable human interactions. he had commented on the complications / on his troublesome the whole thing seemed; was it not human nature to make mistakes? but they were so quick to discard should an error be made? the fickle nature had confused him, but his master offered nothing more than a dismissive wave. seek the answers to those questions yourself, if you consider yourself a true alchemist. 

he isn't sure if he's properly discovered the answer. the equation was simple enough: honesty was the preferred method for quick resolution of social problems. but it had been because of his lack of honesty that he finds himself here, and now another variable must be factored in— intention. while intention might raise the degree of severity caused by dishonesty, it does nothing to trust. so, how does albedo reach the solution? were this as simple as a formula, the data would be plugged in for an immediate answer. but sucrose was a human, which made everything systematically more perplexing. 

but there lies the problem; he had been accessing the situation through the lens of a scientist / had been going about everything the way he would with an experiment. she speaks of data and there does it dawn on albedo that his rationalization of the situation had been flawed from the very beginning: because humans are not machines. there is no scale to measure honesty versus intention / there is no preferred range of statistical data. there is the folly of a human heart, and the ever changing current of emotion. albedo must throw away rationality and follow compulsion.

hand tightens their hold, clings to her the way he had originally wanted to. they were not machines / there is nothing to use as basis for her hypothetical reactions outside of what he already knew of her— and he trusted sucrose would hear him out. ❛ i wouldn't. my actions don't give my words the merit they deserve, but i wouldn't leave you. i would never leave you. ❜ it's the most emotion he's worn all day, a substance more genuine than anything he could've painted on. this was real. ❛ i thought things would've been safer for everyone if i handled it myself, but i was wrong. i should've at least made you aware of the situation, and i’m sorry for that. but i wouldn't leave you, i wouldn't abandon the life i've made for myself here— this is my home. ❜ he raises their intertwined hands, brings them to rest against where the heart beats frantically. 

❛ this is my home, rosie. ❜

[devolusion-a2]

This entire conversation — perhaps for this entire miserable debacle — the both of them had been torn between their roles. Mr. Albedo, teacher and scientist, and Albedo, beloved partner. Sucrose, assistant and researcher, and Rosie, beloved partner. Albedo had sought to control all variables, including his loved one's safety, as a scientist would, ignoring the duty of a partner to be honest with the one he loves. Sucrose has sought to keep themself safe the way a researcher would, protecting their fragile heart with data and distrust, refusing to trust the partner they've adored since long before the pair were a pair.

But this — this is Albedo, their lover, clinging to their hands, promising he will never leave, pressing their small palms to his rapidly beating heart. He is risking a great deal of vulnerability to show them this, and gold eyes widen at the display, tears tracking faster down their reddened cheeks. This is Albedo, their lover, risking much to be their lover.

Sucrose, as his partner and his equal, can do little but match the risk he's taken. They choose to believe him.

"—— Yes." Their voice is so choked with tears that they can say nothing more for a long moment, shoulders trembling. Yes, this is your home. Yes, you won't leave your home. Yes, you won't leave me. They hold his hands more tightly in return, afraid that this trust will be proven foolish and afraid that they won't survive it. Terrified to be abandoned again. But —— yes, I am your home.

Their voice is small, when they whisper, "Mine, too." Small hands curl in the shirt he's pressed their hands to, head ducking. "This is m - my home." Mondstadt, yes. Their relationship, yes. But above all, HIS HEART IS THEIR HOME. That's what scared them more than anything. That they might lose their home. That they might lose the one place they belong and the one person who sees them, truly. That they might not be able to be that person for him.

They want to — hug him, kiss him, but it's still so fragile and they can't stop crying, relief pushing back the anger to make space for the grief they haven't processed. One hand leaves his to press to their face, heel pushing aside the glasses so they can scrub at the socket until it aches.

[ruinedheart-a]

the reaction to his actions elicit a smile out of him, something that's become synonymous with most interactions with sucrose. or was it her spontaneous confession? it was his first proper experience with the concept of love in the romantic sense, but she had been his first when it came to many different cases in this field. 

he himself also acts out of impulsive action, leaning down to claim yet another kiss from saccharine lips— derivative from her name, possibly? hands continue their gentle caress of reddening skin, taking a selfish moment to savor the warm sensation before once again pulling away; he hadn't properly responded, after all. ❛ and i love you. ❜ it was not the first time the words had been directed at another; when the opportunity allows it, he presses the word to the top of a sleeping klee’s head / had whispered it to the killing beat of a poisonous heart / he had even gifted it to his master, once. but a different feeling is accompanied when he speaks it to sucrose, a feeling that belonged only to her. 

oh, but before he forgets— ❛ was there something you needed, before you were distracted by the picture? ❜ she had been in his office after all, which didn't necessarily mean that something was immediately required! but it never hurt to ask.

[devolusion-a2]

Incredible, that he can say such words with such ease —— she knows he means them, he wouldn't say them were it not true, but she's already feeling light - hearted / light - headed from the sweet kiss, and then he confesses in turn and she feels her heart stop and skip and fill with something glittering. For so long, Sucrose had felt certain that something in her was innately unlovable. That she could be loved by parents, perhaps, but not have friends, let alone anything more. Albedo had become her friend and proven her wrong, and he proves her wrong now by being her partner. Her partner who loves her. It's...unimaginable. She's so happy, so red, and so overwhelmed.

And then he moves on, easy as anything, like Sucrose is strong enough to —— !!

Well, actually, what matters this second is what Sucrose isn't doing. Sucrose is stumbling, legs nearly giving, breathing out a shocked, embarrassed laugh when he catches her, oh, she'd —— "I'm sorry," she says, dazed, leaning against his chest, hands shaking, though not with fear. She's happy, and she believes him, but it's — it's so much, to confess and be confessed to in turn, and she's...oh, she realizes belatedly, I almost passed out. I should explain.

"I —— hah, I forgot t - to — to breathe."

[devolusion-a2]

@gonchayas : ( for sylvie. ) hold still. this might sting a little.

There's shrapnel stuck in her face.

It's sort of interesting that this has never happened before, all things considered; maybe it's because Kostya and Alain do their best to keep her from the worst of the combat. Despite all the flying debri in any of their many battles, her face has never gotten hurt like this. It's easier to think about how it's sort of interesting, the three small, sharp cuts of metal buried shallowly in her cheeks, than it is to think about how it's scary. Kostya and Alain are both scarred up, so it must be normal for them. She hadn't realized how much of the pyro agents are metal until she'd been tearing one apart with her plants.

It's sort of interesting, that it doesn't hurt as bad to kill people anymore.

Her face doesn't really hurt, either, or if it does she can't feel it past what she's too small to identify as shock. Kostya is kind as he examines her, tilting her face gently. She's glad she doesn't have to pull the metal out herself. She can't find her voice to thank them.

"Hold still," they say, a little sad, Sylvie estimates, "This might sting a little."

She nods, teeth gritting not in expectation of great pain — she trusts that a small sting is an accurate descriptor of what she can expect — but to keep her mental grip tight on her plants, that had ripped a man apart mere minutes prior. It's sort of interesting, that it's so instinctive nowadays, how well she knows the rules. If it hurts when Kostya pulls out the shrapnel, her plants will translate that as Kostya hurting her, and they'll try to hurt them back. She has to be very good and very strong and very in control so she doesn't hurt anyone, so she isn't a burden, so she has to do anything other than panic or cry. She thinks about how it's sort of interesting, the way the Pyro Agent had come apart, and then she stops.

"Mhmm. If I tell you to stop, please do, Monsieur Kostya." Her voice is small and dazed. She thinks she's smiling. It's sort of interesting, how her native language sounds next to his name. "I don't want the plants to hurt you."

[devolusion-a2]

@trevaler : no man is alone here. / omg..... aeth to kokomi

Kokomi smiles, in that fathomless way she always does, sweet and polite and too perfect to be comforting, and she calculates.

She is not skilled at reading others / were she lesser weaker smaller the way she so often wants to be, it would make her a poor god and a poorer leader. But she can see every shortcoming, accomodate most. She can't understand, but she can calculate. No man is alone here. Designed to be comforting, maybe, probably. The Traveler is very kind, in his distant way. The Traveler doesn't lie, either, so this isn't a strange - spun offer of companionship to manipulate. Is it a bad thing, perhaps, no space to be free, always being used, including by Kokomi? Envy, maybe, no one is alone except me, without my sister?

They are alike, in a great many ways. The Divine Priestess and the Traveler — Aether and Kokomi, she thinks for a selfish moment, and then stops. Unlike any other, more god than human. If Kokomi was to say these words / not to manipulate or lead, but as herself / what would they mean? Would they be a comfort? Or a warning?

All of this takes mere moments, and she smiles easily, gently, strange like he is. Her hands press together, and her head tilts. Kokomi loses herself in being the Divine Priestess / in being God's Vessel. But she'd like to believe she isn't alone. "Yes, that is correct. Were it not for allies like yourself, Watatsumi Island would be in a much poorer position. I hope you know that, as you've supported us — supported me — I will always be there to support you, as well." But she means the words, however false they must sound from one who'd asked for his sword before his name or his ambition. But it is true. It is true from the goddess who wishes to repay those who serve her. And it is true from the woman who knows so few like her. "You're not alone either —— Aether."

[ruinedheart-a]

it's almost charming, the excitement that continues to roll off of her in waves. his alchemical achievements have been praised by many individuals, but the satisfaction that comes along with the approval is something that never bores the ears to hear / a secretly treasured thing that's guarded close to the heart. he watches the way she bounces between the various stations of his laboratory ( with the speed that she flits between things, he has to wonder if she's properly intaking the information ) with a chuckle resting comfortably on his lips. ❛ i can't blame you for having that outlook on it. but i can promise you, simple alchemic transmutations is something anyone could achieve. ❜

hand reaches to grab at a fallen branch that passes by the wind, giving the decayed wood a proper lookover. ❛ there's a necessary profound understanding required to engage with the stages of alchemy. you have to fully comprehend both starting and ending points. only then will you be able to change what you have, ❜ hand moves to embed the stick with gold, to bring forth the barely budding life into fruition. newborn buds greet her once the light fades away, a moment of death now returned into birth, ❛ into what you want. ❜ a gift offered, should she wish to examine it closer. ❛ but creativity isn't that uncommon. you simply need to have absolute understanding to ensure you don't lose sight of what you wish to attain. ❜ light returns to welcome now blossomed flowers, all varying in color.

[devolusion-a2]

There's nothing Elysia loves more than learning — about the natural world and how to match it especially. The world is beautiful, fascinating, and this is one of many skills that can be mastered without the use of the gods' pretty baubles. Gold eyes spark at the gift, and they take it to examine the gift. What they wouldn't do to examine this on the cellular level; they consider putting aside their priors and demanding to use his equipment to do just that, but we must have SOME POLITENESS. Jean made them promise not to completely bulldoze the comparatively soft - spoken scientist.

"So, so long as you know exactly what you're creating, you don't necessarily need to be completely bound by existing genetic or chemical makeup," she hums, still examining, and that alone is so fascinating — would it be possible to create something that sufficiently disrespects the laws of nature, or would that break when faced with the weight of reality? "I suppose it's the same thing when I build. I'm developing a new prosthetic heart —" and she doesn't mention that it's for HER, "— and what matters most is my understanding of my end goal...I don't need to be constrained by organic hearts and their designs or limitations." Ah — they snap the branch they've been given, casual enough that it's clear they don't intend for it to be seen as disrespectful. They're simply interested in seeing how it reacts. ( slightly denser than a natural organism would be. fascinating. )

[devolusion-a2]

@heavenlyprinciples / elysia & kujira.

The words are tired, rote, but not angry and not without sincere affection, or at least care: "C'mere, let me look at it." She's the finest engineer in Teyvat, and Kujira's arm is damaged. Kujira, who is...well, Elysia should be used to taking in ex - Fatui strays by this point. It's a little more fragile, since everything with Dottore and the —— don't think about it. It's a little more fragile now, but Elysia will be damned if she lets what that fucker did interfere with her values and her insistence on living by them. "I'm sure I can fix whatever's busted. I repair myself all the time."

[ruinedheart-a]

he sits and he — listens. listens to the breakings of a tender heart / listens to the agony he's forced her into through his own selfish actions. her points are sound and logical, the answer they were both aware of: he did not trust she would be able to handle it. he had not trusted in the love of her heart and he had not trusted in her combative prowess. he had cultivated doubt in the garden of their relationship, there is no doubt. and so, albedo sits and he listens and he bears the weight that was: the crushing of their reality. 

head bows, uncomfortable in the face of his own short sightings. it's not often he is so —— wrong. ❛ you're right. i did not have enough trust in you or in your abilities. i did not want to involve you in my familial affairs. ❜ a cruel confession, a heartless admission but one that must be said if there was to ever be any proper step forward. ❛ i wanted to involve as few people as possible, with as little information available. i did not trust you would be able to differentiate us, nor did i trust your ability to attack a fellow citizen of mondstadt, or even myself. i worried you wouldn't be able to deal a fatal blow, the way they surely would to you. ❜ would she have been able to perform well enough to fool himself, had she known the situation? the answer doesn't matter, as he'd force his own upon the dotted line without consideration for herself.

❛ but my intentions and reasoning do not matter in the face of our broken trust, as colleagues and partners. ❜ hand reaches for the inner pocket of his coat, where his handkerchief is found and offered ( it would be too brazen of him to do anything more than this. ) ❛   i have always believed in your capabilities but my actions have gone against that. i have undermined your intellect and your ability, and i apologize. ❜ the tears / the distance / the unstable ground they find themselves standing on — these are also the results of his experimentations.

❛ my words hold little weight now after everything, but i would never leave you. i would never leave, everything i've done has been to ensure that i can stay here. ❜ there's a strange lilt to the tone, a change in octave. the idea of isolation ( again, the idea of isolation again ) has an uncomfortable sensation settling deep within the confines of his chest. he, who has been abandoned: how could he ever abandon in return? ❛ if you were to only ever believe one last thing from me, believe in that. i beg of you, please believe in that. ❜

[devolusion-a2]

They suppose they'd wanted him to argue, some selfish part of them — to insist that he had trusted Sucrose, that they'd misunderstood. It would have frustrated them in its own way, but it hurts to hear the truth so plainly. That he had doubted — and doubted so deeply — their abilities. This relationship and his trust has done so much to strengthen their thread - bare confidence; to find that that trust didn't go as far as the alchemistress had thought aches. Perhaps their confidence in themself is misplaced as well, then. Perhaps Albedo was right; they wouldn't have been able to help him. Perhaps Albedo was right, to see them as weak and shrinking and pathetic, the way they'd felt for so much of their life. Perhaps they wouldn't ——

Eyes squeeze shut; it makes the tears flow faster and makes their head throb, but it also stops the thoughts in their tracks. They'll never know what would have happened, had Albedo spoken to them plainly, if there was a mechanism available that might have caused less pain. Albedo assured that. Sucrose takes the handkerchief and presses it to their eyes. They're hurt and angry and guilty and embarrassed and ashamed. But they love him, still. And he loves them. They want to —— have to believe that, if nothing else.

And his is a love that can bend towards lies, if he believes it's for protection. A love that can bend towards causing them harm if he believes that would keep them safer. Their head shakes.

"You don't want to leave me," Sucrose hedges, voice steadying some. It's a little strange, how perfectly human Albedo seems now. Begging that they believe his desire to remain with them, somehow not seeing the obvious exception the data presents them. "But —— in a situation where you felt that the best way to keep me safe was to leave...would you?" It would break Sucrose far more surely than any danger, but he must have realized that this farce of a trial would do the same and he had still chosen that for them. "The data — and your lack of trust...indicates that the answer is yes." They feel the sudden, pathetic urge to beg him, beg that he not leave. It hurts to quiet it. They reach out, hesitantly, and take one of his hands in one of theirs, shifting just barely closer, knees almost touching. Their ears droop and their eyes lower to match.

They want to be proven wrong. If anyone can do so, it's Albedo. "I'm sorry, that I...ever gave you cause to doubt my...loyalty, or my abilities. But...I want...I can't....I don't want to be left behind." Softly, "I couldn't bear it."

[devolusion-a2]

@ruinedheart from ———— x.

She stiffens, reddening further — somehow!! — when Albedo gently brings a hand to her face and praises the very same. Little details, the sort she typically doesn't want others to see — she never wants anyone to look at her too long. But he speaks of her fangs, her smile, her ears the way he speaks of art, or a beautiful discovery in the natural world. Almost reverent.

Ah. Nobody's ever...

He kisses her, and she leans forward to meet the small affection, head tilting to make it simpler; despite how flustered the small alchemist may be, this is, by now, simple and easy and familiar. Warm and fluttery, like sugar candies dissolving in her mouth, but no longer shocking or totally overwhelming. She keeps expecting it to stop feeling so right and wonderful to kiss him, but it hasn't, yet. She's only a little breathless when he pulls away.

"Um —— that's..." Sucrose isn't sure how to communicate how grateful she is, how honey - gold she feels. He sees her, and that doesn't make her want to shrink. What comes out is, "I love you."

Ah, wait, she's never ——— it's the first time either of them has said that. Her lips part, those fangs showing, eyes widening. She feels — embarrassed, overwhelmed, but not...afraid. How strange, that she isn't afraid. It's easy, to speak the truth with him. "Ah —"

[devolusion-a2]

@ruinedheart / albedo & elysia!

"I'm not an alchemist —— I dabble in a little bit of everything, so I know the basics, but I must admit I prefer the...harder sciences." Despite the words, her voice is giddy with excitement as she moves through the alchemist's lab, studying everything — oh, it's so exciting! It's so rare, that she meets anyone who is half the scientist she is, even if their fields are more parallel than congruent. She looks away from his beakers back to Albedo, grinning, huge. Like a child in a candy store. "But what you can do is —— gosh, I can't even begin to — it's like magic!"

She can make life, too, in her way — the artificial heart in her chest built by her hand and pumping blood steadily through a body much the same. But not the way he can!! If she gets any more gleeful, she'll pass out. "Tell me, how essential is it that you perfectly understand the cellular and physiological makeup of what you create? Is there room for improvisation? My engineering affords me a great deal of creative freedom."

[ruinedheart-a]

he faces the confession of emotions with more reverence than when he had been standing before the court / knows this was the real trial to be faced: but there would be no one to assist his pleas here. there would be nothing to rely on but the truth behind his actions, and the depths of his emotions. it would be difficult against sucrose, who was logic and critical thinking / intelligent enough to elicit envy and ignite competitive sparks. but sucrose melts into the agony of rosie and albedo wonders if anything would truly make a difference in scavenging what remains of shattered bonds — there would be no return to what once was.

fingers itch to reach out and provide comfort / to brush away incoming tears and offer solace with a hand to the cheek, another on the small of her back. but hands remain unchanged from where they rest by his sides, and albedo does nothing but stand in their reprimands. ❛ you have no reason to apologize. it's i who owes you— multiple apologies. and a proper explanation. ❜ should she want it / should she decide it was a virtue to be sent his way. the only monster left atop that mountain resides within these walls, so there was no more reason to fear for her wellbeing. the only fear would now stem from her response to the information.

he moves to where the loveseat rests by the window of his office, moves a hand to invite her to sit beside her. he does not take a seat until she does the same, accepting however much distance she wishes to leave between them. 

❛ i’m unaware of how much you've been able to deduce, so forgive me if details are repeated; you are correct in your claim that i am not human. to continue from my previous explanation, i am the successful result of the primordial human project. the researcher responsible for the creation of durin and the mimic is the same researcher responsible for my own creation. in this sense, they are my family. ❜ there is a degree of fondness blanketed around the words, a level of care that he does not shy away from— and in this, lies the truth of his matter / lies the truth that albedo continues to carry love in his heart, despite the atrocities. 

but that does not equate forgiveness. there is still more to be said. ❛ realizing durin’s intentions after the absorption and revival of my brother, i began to prepare the plan for the inevitable detainment of the incoming dangers. ❜ a strange sort of protectiveness flares at the idea of mentioning the freshly revived durin still recovering within the comforts of his personal home, but this is a show of trust and confidence. there would be no more secrets. ❛ and there was something else i had hoped to accomplish. during the closing celebrations of the windblume festival, i successfully retrieved durin’s heart from dragonspine and revived the dragon in a human body. ❜

the pinnacle of alchemic achievement, the apex accumulation of knowledge and ability: it is the only logical step forward. ❛ it's all i could do to ensure the safety of the citizens of mondstadt. the secrecy was needed to keep you safe from the horrors of my family — they would not have treated you kindly, rosie. the mimic had already approached you too many times for my comfort, i couldn't risk more. it was selfish desires on my end, and for that, i apologize. it is no longer my place to ask, but i hope you believe me when i say the intention was never to hurt you. ❜ but he still did, and that is a fact he has to shoulder.

[devolusion-a2]

There's more distance put between them than there should be / less than there should be, maybe. It's Rosie's trust at war with Sucrose's well - worn breaking. It's a lover's care caught between a lover's lie. The information makes their head spin —— Albedo has always been glorious, but he is more than that, he is an act of genius, a beautiful work of art, and there's so much Sucrose wishes to ask about the new lifeform Albedo has created / replanted, a tender seedling into better soil. But Sucrose will have time for study later. Rosie's heart is the one on the line, and the final answer ( i had to lie to you to protect you ) is —— not satisfactory.

They inhale harshly to keep the tears at bay for as long as possible. Their head dips, ears lowered. They inhale. They exhale. "Thank you for telling me," they say, and they mean it, even if there's no heart to the words. Understanding helps. The strange behavior slots into place, and knowing ( hoping, hoping, he's lied to you before — ) that the actions were taken without intent to harm is...something. "Knowing what you are doesn't change how I feel about you." And yet, they feel her fanged teeth grinding behind their mouth.

"But Albedo —" a risk, Albedo rather than Mr. Albedo, and their ears flatten further at that danger. There is ample data that Albedo loves them. There is also ample data — and a confession — that that love has come at least partially without understanding. "That course of action makes no logical sense unless you...unless you believe me to be less competent than I am." And that's it's own old sting, Timaeus — many of the knights — thinking them weak and inept, as though they ever feel confident in anything aside from their alchemical abilities. It stings from their colleagues. It breaks from their lover. "When we argued before, when you and the traveler discovered Festering Desire. You said the same thing then. That you'd kept me in the dark to protect me. And I told you that I didn't want to be protected if it kept me from knowledge. I certainly —" ah, their throat is so tight, "— don't want to be kept from knowledge about my partner. I am every bit the scientist you are." Would they be able to say that under any other circumstance? But it's true, and they know it. "If you thought me to be your equal, you'd have ——"

They blink and they're crying, ah, weak thing. A hand rises to scrub at their eyes. "Partners are supposed to face such danger together. It breaks my heart that you — that you went through this alone." Not alone / he had the other knights / JUST NOT YOU. "You didn't...trust me. And it hurts me th - that you...if I was at risk, if someone was trying to harm me or my loved ones, you would want to know, wouldn't you? You would hate to know I was facing that without you. And —— and if you'd keep me in the dark about this, how can I ——" Their hands curl in their lap against their knees. Tears hit them as they drip from their chin. "If you won't trust me and my strength enough to be honest with me, to let me in when things are difficult, how can I trust that you won't leave me?" And if there's one thing Sucrose could not survive, it would be being abandoned by yet another person that they love. "I don't want your protection. I need my partner's ——— trust."

[devolusion-a2]

sucrose experiences body dysmorphia, and has for much of their life. their anxiety relating to their ears is merely one expression of it. growing up, their unique physiology left them isolated and made them feel weird and wrong and bad. that translated into a general disdain for most parts of that body and a desire for control over it — there was nothing they could do about the ears, broadly speaking, but for chunks of their life they did display behaviors in line with anorexia nervosa and, more rarely, bulimia. this was more of a desire to control their body and make it less than a straightforward desire to be "be thinner," though that played a part as well. they no longer intentionally starve themselves, though they do still, habitually, eat less than they perhaps ought to. eventually, with support from loved ones and a lessening of their dysmorphia, this will change and their body will get a little softer.

nowadays, rather than dislike of their body, sucrose tends to feel completely alienated from it. it seems...unfamiliar to them. they look at their body in the mirror and can't parse that it's theirs or as a body, and they couldn't even really tell you what it looks like. most days, they don't hate it or feel anything negative about it aside from the discomfort inherent in not recognizing your own body. it's an improvement over the abject hatred of their youth, but it's still not great.

this all being said, sucrose does quite like their hair —— they take good care of it, and part of why they haven't cut it ( despite the fact that long hair isn't particularly ideal for field work ) is because it's one of the few parts of their body they do like. they think their hair is very pretty.

[charlatan-art]

5.6 pov

[devolusion-a2]

cutie :)

[ahlite-a2]

Her hands are gentle in Klee's hair while the girl cries. It's very important that she be gentle. Intentional. She barely processes the girl's sobs — how she clings to Lumine's side — the flames that burst against the child's wrist every few seconds. Focus on her hands, and keeping them gentle.

It's nice that she doesn't have to lie with her face. She's bad at it. She can let her face be blank as she looks over Klee's head. It's chilly, this close to Dragonspine at night, where she'd followed the sobbing child, but she can't feel it. She can't feel anything. There's no sensation in her hands, and that's why she has to work so hard to keep them gentle.

"B — Big brother ———"

"Mhm..."

They remember, just a little, Aether doing this with them. They held him, too, while he cried. But it was mostly her doing the crying and him doing the holding. Maybe that's why he left. Maybe because she cried too much. Needed him too much.

"He almost got taken away — !!"

"No, Klee. He was never in danger." Their voice isn't comforting like Aether's was. Aether was a person in a way Lumine's never been. "He just lied. It's okay."

Klee is crying. Lumine's hands are gentle. Lumine doesn't feel anything, and they can't even care that it's fucked up that their little sister is sobbing in their lap about the hurt Albedo has inflicted on them both and they feel nothing at all. Everyone wants an object. An object shouldn't have to feel. It isn't fair.

But he keeps his hands gentle.

"Big — big brother Albedo isn't leaving, right?" Klee pulls away, still crying. Lumine tries to arrange their expression into something that a person might wear. He realizes that the girl's tears are as much flame as they are saltwater. They leave burn scars down the child's cheeks. "He isn't leaving, right, big sister Lumine?"

"Oh — Klee..." His hands leave her hair, find her tiny shoulders. She's so little, the poor thing. "He isn't leaving yet."

Klee nods, as if expecting that answer.

Lumine continues, "and you're a strong girl. You'll be okay."

Red eyes widen — but then she nods again, seeming relieved, somehow.

"Little sisters have to live on, even without their big brothers." Klee knows the score, Lumine realizes as they speak. That's why her face is so clear, even as she cries. That's a kind of relief. Klee knows big brothers always leave. Not yet. But they do. Klee knows to expect the abandonment. Lumine hadn't. Maybe the knowing will make it hurt less when it happens. Lumine doesn't feel anything — not the chill, not their hands, not grief for Klee's hurt. But they're relieved. "That's why we have to be strong."

Klee knows the score, Lumine realizes. Klee knows lots. She looks up at the Traveler. She asks, still crying, eyes huge and hurt, "Are you — living on, big sister Lumine?"

Lumine doesn't feel anything. But their eyes widen, just a little. Their lips part. Klee knows lots of things. For a moment, they almost forget about their hands. But only almost. They don't feel anything, but they keep their hands gentle.

Lumine manages a smile, finally. Her head dips. "Let's get you to a healer, Klee. You're burning yourself."