masquerade of the 𝐆͟𝐔͟𝐈͟𝐋͟𝐓͟𝐘͟.

this ⠀puppet ⠀will ⠀have ⠀to ⠀play ⠀her ⠀part.

[heavenlyprinciples]

ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ﹙ * 𝘴͟𝘪͟𝘯͟𝘯͟𝘦͟𝘳͟ ﹚ ... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄.

a low activity, horror based multimuse for genshin impact. anti hoyoverse &. critical of the game. SUSTAINED BY NAMINÉ.

                                       navigate the sea of stars.

charting the stars with ... ahlite / sunhalf, ategod, ruinedheart kangai, kayoroi

[heavenlyprinciples]

@sunhalf, unprompted : she's not broken in yet—— but she's getting close, can feel it, pride and self-control starting to give way under tartaglia's words and fingers and mouth. aika strains against her bindings, gasping and whimpering, back against his chest, and knowing she could free herself with ease, and isn't that proof? of her devotion, that she's this desperate and still behaving, still playing along? every smart remark she's bitten out, every smug grin and condescending laugh betrayed by the fact that aika adores tartaglia, because she's stayed bound and pliant and submissive and it would be so easy to make it stop. every loving strike she's earned, every tug of her hair, all of the sweet cruelty she's endured—— proof of her trust and adoration. their hand against her throat, holding her to their chest, tightens just barely as they add a third finger and she whines, pathetic and loving. not broken yet—— they've yet to train it out of her, but aika can tell it's getting close. it's embarrassing and a thrill; so few get to do this. aika so rarely gets to feel this way. ❝ t—— tar—— ❞ it's too many syllables, and it's so hard to focus, and she hears how thin the thread of power is left in her voice. ❝ so close, c'mon, pl—— ❞ SHE IS CLOSE, if she's even considering begging. she thinks she's crying, and it feels so good to be so weak and choosing it, to ache-without-hurting in her killer's hands. thoughts a blur of desperation and awe and please, please, please. ❝ i w—— wan—— wanna finish!! ❞

❝ sweet thing, ❞ he croons. he loves to see her like this, so close to breaking; it might be his favorite look on her. ( well, not really; all of aika is his favorite, he wouldn’t be a proper lover if it wasn’t true. but he does adore this. ) he hooks his fingers deep within her, heel of his palm grinding down against her clit and thinks—— he’s lucky. he’s so lucky, to have her, to be able to pull apart every single façade from her and have her honest and good underneath him. ❝ just a bit further, i promise. ❞

it’s not a lie, of course. he’d never lie to her. but as he feels her start to thrash—— feels her hips pick up—— listens to her cries—— he stops. he said it’d be just a bit, didn’t he? he’s only playing by the rules of the scene.

there’s a half moment of confusion where aika remains still, trembling in their arms, as they lazily wipes their fingers on her thigh. one, two, then: ❝ you—— you promised, ❞ she whines, pressing back against them and turning her head to glare up at them. the effect is ruined by her tears. if she could kick them, she could—— they know this, can feel the muscles in her thigh tense as they pat it. ❝ i was so close, you said—— ❞

❝ i didn’t say i’d let you finish, ❞ he reminds her sharply. she blinks the tears out of her eyes and starts to pout, but he merely pinches her hip in warning. ❝ you’ve been so good. don’t ruin all of that now. ❞ ‘ or else ’ goes unsaid. there are far worse things he could be doing to her. ❝ be good for me. ❞ follow the scene. ❝ alright? ❞

she licks her lips. her eyes dart away from his face and back again. for a moment, he thinks she’ll snark back—— beautifully arrogant despite how ruined she is, full of fire and challenge and confidence. he wouldn’t mind—— doesn’t mind being crueler, knows that it’ll be something that she enjoys, but—— she nods once instead, wordless, quick. the admission alone is enough to give him pause before the hand around her throat shifts to splay over her stomach, holding her close. 

( yes, yes—— always what she enjoys. whatever she needs from him, he’ll always provide. ) 

❝ one more time, ❞ he says. it’s not a promise. he waits until she stops trembling, until she relaxes against him—— then he slips three fingers back inside her, shallowly thrusting them in and out. he builds her orgasm back up again, smiling against her as aika starts to tremble in his arms again. she squirms in her bindings, letting out soft gasps of air ( perfect, she’s so perfect like this ) and he almost lets her tip over. he doesn’t, of course. no matter how much he wants to.

❝ again. ❞ it doesn’t even bother pulling out its fingers, waiting until she stops squeezing around them. her pulse doesn’t relent, though, quick as a rabbit in its hands. ( aika is just as excited as you are, it reminds itself, and how that makes it flush. no one can match you quite like she can. ) she gets there faster, legs straining from where they're hooked around his—— she doesn't quite sob as it pulls away, but it's a near thing, and that alone leaves it feeling smug. and maybe a bit hot under the collar, too.

❝ ajax, ❞ she cries, forehead pressed against the curve of his neck. ❝ ajax, i—— ❞ aika doesn't say please. it laughs, pressing her thighs apart as it grins down at her. she meets his gaze with her own teary one.

❝ you know what to say, ❞ he says sweetly. for a moment, he thinks she might really say ‘ please ’ , lips pursing with the first syllable as she nearly breaks—— he'd be so good to her, he'd put his fingers back and make her come immediately if she did. but then there's that fire again, that confidence—— and she curls her lips into a sneer instead. not yet, she's telling him.

well, what she wants is what she gets. he grins with more teeth.

❝ i don't think you've earned it, ❞ ajax says. ❝ let's go again. ❞

[sunhalf-a2]

Aika's never told anyone about what Renjirou did to her.

There's never been a reason to — her father and siblings all knew without her saying a word. She couldn't speak at all for close to a year after, even once her shattered jaw healed into thick scars, and by then, Alice and Father had had ample time to inform the family that mattered. She's never been closer to anyone than she is to Alice, and none of the worthless toys she's allowed to fuck / hurt her ever justified the confession. It seems so obvious to her —— that her elder brother would find it sharp - knife - soft - skin - easy to open her up the way he did must be proof that Aika is worthless. Only a truly gross, disgusting, broken child would inspire such violence in a man that should be biologically wired to protect her. Only a truly gross, disgusting, pathetic child's pain would inspire such apathy from father and siblings alike. She realizes that she'd expected Tartaglia to think her revolting when he pulls her into his lap. She realizes that she'd expected Tartaglia to hurt her when he calls her sweet thing.

Aika is made for being hurt. Aika is a sick, disgusting, nauseatingly fucked up freak. Aika's never told this to anyone, because nobody else deserved to know, because anybody who knew would see immediately how awful Aika is and how much Aika deserved it and do worse than leave, they'd hurt her bad, and no one before Tartaglia has deserved to hurt her that way. Aika is made for being hurt, and she isn't made for hurting but it makes her feel less like she's going to choke on the vomit of her self every second. Aika is made to be hurt, and Tartaglia has been re - made to hurt ( because it makes it feel less like it's going to choke on the vomit of —— ) and it isn't hurting Aika.

Aika has never told anyone except the family that doesn't understand, so no one has ever told Aika that the wound doesn't make her rotten. She feels herself stiffen in his hands, her fingers trembling, everything else still like a broken doll. I love you. You're everything to me. Nothing will ever change that. Aika has never told anyone who could understand why it would feel like a betrayal for a brother to expose your bone to air, and so no one has ever told the sick, disgusting, nauseatingly fucked up child that it ——

Nothing will ever change that?

She's crying and hitting him, suddenly, and she doesn't understand why she's doing that, just that she's scared, just that her brain is screaming LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR. It's Ki's sharp grip on their shared body that keeps her fists against his chest from going hard enough to do worse than bruise. The crying shifts to sobbing and, when Tartaglia doesn't let her go even though she's disgusting and she's hurting him, to wailing. LIAR. HE HAS TO BE LYING. HE SHOULD BE HURTING HER. HE SHOULD HATE HER. She curls small in his lap, stops hitting so her hands can fist against her pale chest, clawed nails digging into the skin like she can rip out the heart hiding beneath. Thimblefuls of crimson, liquid metal drips into both their laps. TARTAGLIA SHOULD HATE ME. I'M SO GROSS AND FUCKED UP. IT'S LYING. IT'S GOING TO HURT ME IT'S JUST PLAYING WITH ITS FOOD. I SHOULD BE DEAD. I SHOULD BE DYING. LIAR. LIAR. LIAR!!! Her love's hand raises, presses gentle to her head, smoothes over her short hair. One of her hands, smeared red at the fingers, presses to her face to muffle her sobs, to scrub at her eyes. She realizes she's still yelling. She realizes she wants him to hurt her, and not the way they play at sometimes, with the ropes and the bruises and the hurts that don't stick. She wants Tartaglia to break her jaw and her hips and feel nothing. She wants a familiar pain. She just wants to —— know where the fuck she is.

At age six, she so badly wanted someone to tell her it wasn't her fault, and it didn't make her bad. At age twelve, she so badly needed someone to tell her it wasn't her fault, it didn't make her bad. At age whatever - she - is - now, she can't endure the idea that someone she loves might hear the story and not think it's her fault, think her irredeemably polluted. The warped happiness like bone meeting bone meeting blade. She wants so badly to be stupid enough to believe Them. Her killer's never lied to her before. She wants to believe Them. She needs to believe He's foolish enough not to see the way her blood's worth even less than her body, which is worthless except in its capacity to endure harm.

Tartaglia doesn't let go, even though she's sobbing and dry heaving and acting so pathetic, so fragile —— in a way that Tartaglia alone understands —— and so unlike the violent, flirtatious dream girl that had initially captured the Harbinger's attention. That He might love both seems impossible. But her Killer has never lied to her before. She wants so bad to believe Him. She wants to badly to believe that there is anything worth loving in her, even when the sick spills out of her mouth. She'd throw up if she'd eaten in the past twenty - four hours.

"Liar," she whimpers, tears still falling thick and miserable down her scarred cheeks, and then, "love You," and then, "thank You," and then, "sorry." And then, finally, "Please stay."

[heavenlyprinciples]

ajax vs tartaglia vs childe. although i default to referring to him as childe just to ensure that there is no confusion when discussing things out of character, i do write them as separate ‘ characters ’ if you will—— or more accurately, separate masks / lives. for the purpose of this meta, i will mainly refer to him as tartaglia.

tartaglia compartmentalizes each phase of his life through his names; ajax represents his childhood, pre-abyss. although he was still called ajax after climbing out of the abyss, tartaglia now views ajax as the epitome of his childhood self. it is, in essence, the most innocent, pure, andmost well-hidden part of himself.

the name tartaglia represents his service to the fatui; it is, also, what he will default to referring to himself as. tartaglia is the ‘ present ’ , so to speak! he is the eleventh harbinger, blood thirsty and ruthhless and cruel; he is also young and reckless and bold. it is the aspect of himself that is most true to his current self.

‘ childe ’ , however, was only ever a temporary mask; it is only used during his stay in liyue. although there is no hiding that he is the eleventh harbinger, it was simply a precautionary measure that he decided to enact, especially around the traveler. childe is a mask that was discarded as quickly as it came.

[heavenlyprinciples]

@sunhalf, unprompted : ❝ mmm—— they're from my big brother, ❞ she says one night while his lips trace one of the large scars on her hips. he loves them—— the scars, this unlovable body, aika. it's frightening to believe it, but they do, now, in the light of the moon, looking down at him as they all but worship her. sometimes it makes her want to cry. sometimes, like now, it makes her want to confess. he's never asked—— not directly. he's never asked why she only lets her body look like her body when they're alone, either, why she uses her abilities to smooth her skin and trim her waist whenever a stranger might see. but there's a question in their gaze sometimes. sometimes it's curious. sometimes it burns. ❝ most of them, anyway. when i was—— twelve, he ... it's all stupid abyssal politics shit. he tortured me. ❞ most of it's a painful blur. moments remain—— but she can't place them on a timeline. she remembers the scar on her hip. she was laying on the ground, mouthing off, before he broke her jaw so she'd have to stop. he pressed down on her hip with his boot 'til the bone shattered. the betrayal—— his empty eyes, like her blood meant nothing to him—— had been worse after, but in the moment nothing had compared to the pain. she'd once thought childe was like her brother / his empty eyes. but if tartaglia scarred her up, he'd smile. his eyes would be wild and desperate. he'd love it, as he loves aika. that would be better. ❝ really scarred me up. ❞ she thinks she's dissociating a little bit. it all feels far away. she wonders if childe will think the story's disgusting. will see it as proof, as she does, that aika is disgusting. ❝ 'm—— sorry. i know 's not a romantic story. ❞

when he holds her, he becomes nothing but a useless, unimaginative poet—— when ajax holds her, he truly does believe he's holding the world in his arms. the divots of her hips in his hands, scarred flesh upon scarred flesh / he wants her; he adores her; he loves her in every sense of the word. even now, with titles and masks and glamour stripped away. he understands if it's a little hard to believe.

they do not speak for a while, thumbs tracing circles into her soft skin. there is, of course: anger. it consumes them like a tidal wave, crashing against them, pulling them down. it is both territorial and anguished; ajax is soft at heart, easily hurt, a boy too unused to the way the world works. aika talks of how her brother tortured her and ajax wants to torture him back. each scar that he's left behind multiplied a hundred times over—— they'd enjoy it. he'd deserve it.

but it's not what aika needs now.

ajax pulls away from her skin and sits up, pulling her onto its lap so that they can see each other face to face. ❝ sweet thing, ❞ it says, soft and tender. there's so much love in two simple words. its hands move to hold her face, to ground her and her faraway eyes in the moment. ❝ i love you. ❞ thank you for telling me, it means, when it presses a kiss to her forehead. thank you for letting me see, it means, when it holds her closer.

( others may not know this, but—— his lover is a fragile thing. it's why tartaglia has never asked, never pried, no matter how badly he'd wanted to. it's why ajax kisses her now with warmth and reverence, lingering on each scar he passes. he holds her like she'll break; he loves her like he'll put her back together. )

❝ you're everything to me, ❞ ajax says, when he stops his devotion to rest his head against her chest. aika knows it, doesn't she? that he's pathetic at the mere thought of her, that he'd do anything for her. her heart beats—— thud, thud, thud—— against his ear and he counts each and every one. like this, pressed close and arms wrapped around her, he can shield her from the heavens above and the abyss below—— from anyone that would dare to do her harm.

❝ nothing will ever change that. ❞

( in the coming weeks, they'll get to work. they'll write letters to their colleagues to dig up information while aika dozes with her head in their lap; seek out every forbidden book they can as they trek across teyvat; search every crevice they can find for another entrance to the abyss. they know it will be a slow, frustrating endeavor—— finding their master is already an arduous task. he kills abyss mages who babble about nothing and tears open decrepit books that speak nonsense and keeps his ears open for the tune of a lonely whale song, and still, he finds nothing. anyone else would have given up from the sheer impossibility of it all.

but tartaglia will find her brother. make him suffer as aika did. and at the end of it all, he'll bring his head to her on a silver platter. )

[heavenlyprinciples]

remilia vc: hello childe :')

❝ remilia, ❞ he says. the way he says her name is sickeningly sweet, full of reverence, full of greed / like no one else should be able to call for her, like he is the only one allowed to follow in her footsteps. [ HE IS: a believer, a devotee / SHE IS: his god, his lover. ] tartaglia smiles, all teeth and all affection. ❝ my dearest, how have you been? ❞

[heavenlyprinciples]

i would like to point out that while mona is technically rich, due to her spending her money on various expensive astrological objects, she is still working class. arguably you could have called her middle class when she was still living under and given an "allowance" under barbeloth. currently, however, mona is nothing of the sort. she has a spending problem, obviously, but this is due to the fact that she views astrological instruments as most important in her life-- even above actual necessities. mona has savings, yes, but astrological or divination instruments are worth dipping into them for, but... notably, not other things,

under the cut is a just a ramble about mona's relationship with food. disordered eating mention under the cut.

so it's no secret that mona, obviously, views food as the last expense she needs to cover. i don't think this is for no good reason-- i think it speaks more about mona, who thinks going hungry if needed is fine. not to say she doesn't eat, of course; she obviously does, and she often depends on her friends to feed her, but i do think mona just has a? complicated relationship with food. it's just subtle enough that others won't notice and that she struggles to call it an eating disorder, but it exists nonetheless.

generally, if mona does not have the spare money for food, and no one offers her food to eat, mona will simply go about her day hungry. this happens more often than one may like. mona does not keep extensive tabs on calories or the like anymore (she had a stint when she used to), doesn't particularly find herself ugly or overweight (nor particularly beautiful- just her personal opinions), and will eat when she has the means to, but she won't go out of her way to ask for food when in need.

[ahlite-a2]

They've changed places — he, emptied out. She, full to bursting, panicking. He's bleeding but LUMINE'S DYING. A hand presses to their face, breath coming too fast. It's so disgusting, that a creature so disgusting / so like Lumine could look like Albedo, who is so bright, so kind, who sees Lumine not as a tool to use but as a person to love.

BOTH OF THEM ARE LESSER COPIES, BOTH OF THEM ARE BROKEN, NEITHER CAN EXIST ON THEIR OWN. Lumine knows with startling, serrated clarity that if it looked like a stranger / IF IT LOOKED LIKE LUMINE! / there would be little more cathartic than killing it.

( when did you become such a monster? another way they're so alike. )

"You don't deserve to be him," she spits ( at rubedo? at herself? ), staring down through their fingers.

[heavenlyprinciples]

it all comes back to that, in the end—— what he deserves, for being what he is. a mother decided he didn't deserve life, and sentenced him to death. and in the same vein, he did not deserve to die—— neither from the most vile acid or the sharpest blade, and was forced to live on instead. a meager, pitiful, half-existence—— WAS IT SUCH A CRIME TO WANT MORE?

( yes, yes it was. to want more than he deserved, to steal more than he was given. to suffice on scraps is more than enough, for something as unloved as him. a voice, soft and motherly, whispers in his mind: come back to the portrait, and be happy. )

❝ and why, ❞ it asks, ❝ does he? ❞ the wind howls—— bites at exposed skin, turns it red, red—— but it is not an answer. ❝ why does he deserve it? ❞ to them—— oh, to them, rubedo is the mirror image, the one who stole another man's face. BUT THE TRUTH IS REVERSED, ISN'T IT?

( it was his first, wasn't it? )

[ategod-a2]

“ i like it better when you look like this— ” it makes it easier to not hate you. a bench is dragged closer to the iron bars separating them, the sound grating to their own ears. they bear no wounds, no bandages, but they move like they have been, delicate and slow like it’d save them from opening the bloodless wound on their chest. sol stares at @heavenlyprinciples, sees a different face— a far cry from the man he stills adores— and thinks it an act of kindness. ( because at least they don’t need to look at him, or hear his voice. at least their heart can’t break twice. ) “ you look tired, ” it observes, dull in voice, eyes half-lidded and staring at the floor. “ have they been feeding you? ”

[heavenlyprinciples]

if mother could see me, the worthless copy thinks, what would she say? the better question, of course: would she say anything at all? sitting here, in a cell barely as big as durin's heart, would she be as disgusted as the day he was created? rubedo doesn't need an answer, of course. ( for the dutiful son understands his mother well. ) but it was easier, almost bearable with a stranger's face stretched across its own—— because for moments, it could pretend. could believe it was as human as it wanted to be.

( and when the curtain fell, when the portrait was revealed—— the illusion was shattered. it will never be rebuilt. )

❝ feeding me, ❞ it repeats, monotone and unreadable. its eyes don't even bother shifting to meet the traveler's. ❝ ha, ha. like me and my brethren need to eat at all. ❞ oh, but that's the joke, isn't it? HE SHOULD LAUGH, SHOULDN'T HE? he tries, but it comes out—— wrong.

( in fate's twisted inversion, he had forgotten—— that this body is not his own, that he is a stranger instead. how shrill his laugh sounds, how disgusting it feels scraping the roof of his mouth.

oh, but that's the joke, isn't it?

that he wants to be himself now. )

[ruinedheart-a]

he watches in silence, knows better than to interrupt when one is focused on their craft. the language of the stars is one he has no extensive knowledge on / a lesson his mother opted to teach with one single book and summarized remarks, both provided by the same inventive astrologer. so albedo observes until she is finished with her divination, until she turns to address him with the news. ❛ your help is greatly appreciated, miss megistus. we'll continue on with careful monitoring and subtle preparations until the windblume festival. ❜ there should be enough distrust and unease planted by then / a meal so deliciously prepared, the poison would go unnoticed.

her words are protectively tucked away into the pocket of his coat, where they will remain until there is nobody before him but trusted captains and the acting grand master. but she brings up an interesting point that has the chief alchemist turning to face her, even taking a step closer to get a proper look at celestial features. ❛ it'll be no good if we work ourselves ragged. we're in a dangerous situation, but not enough to warrant disregarding one's own health. ❜ 

gloved hand comes to rest against where alchemic heart beats within the chest, gaze never faltering in sincerity. ❛ allow me to prepare you a meal, as my thanks for everything you've done. ❜

[heavenlyprinciples]

it unnerves her—— the way albedo stares at her so intensely, thanks her so earnestly—— and mona cannot help but avert her gaze. her head dips, an instinctual move that attempts to use her ridiculous hat as a shield, but. but! stupid, foolish girl, you aren't even wearing it. the tips of her ears tinge red as she clears her throat, finding herself floundering to reply.

( stupid, foolish girl. this is no time for flights of fancy, not when such danger lurks within the city's walls. and besides—— dreams are better off as dreams, where the stars will never judge them. for why would albedo ever look at her? penniless, hungry girl—— her starvation will ruin her. )

❝ i'll——! i'll keep that in mind, sir albedo, ❞ she says, stepping into her confidence like a well worn glove. ❝ but please, there's no need. a task like that is nothing but a stretch of the muscle. ❞ nevermind the fact that she barely has anything substantial to prepare, let alone eat, in her home. ( how dare you! she hears fischl squawk in her ear, only now you have humility? well, it's natural, isn't it? that a girl wants to impress someone she—— )

❝ you should go home and eat with klee instead. ❞

[ahlite-a2]

me and amari and sparky and namine just hitting each other bats over and over

[heavenlyprinciples]

[heavenlyprinciples]

gonna have to update my rubedo meta (spoilers undercut)

because it's starting to sink in how deeply miserable and pitiable rubedo is. like, he was abandoned essentially at birth for being imperfect, and forced to live in his own personal hell that was durin's stomach due to the fact that he couldn't die in it- only to escape and see a mirror of yourself living the life you never got to have. and when you try to steal it for yourself, you realize that it's not yours to have, and your mirror-self- your brother- kills you. and you can't even stay dead, because durin decides you cannot be laid to rest and DEVOURS YOU AGAIN. FORCES YOU TO LIVE IN THE SAME HELL THAT RAISED YOU ONCE MORE. what else is left for you when the world seems to deny you your right to happiness?

[heavenlyprinciples]

the shifting mound movements are very venti core btw

[ahlite-a2]

@heavenlyprinciples / venti & lumine.

Venti is a liar. Venti is not better — not really — than anyone else on this world. Like the other gods, he has used and betrayed her, lied with his eyes and his words and by omission. She is kind to Lumine, but not good to Lumine. Gods are never good to Lumine. No one is ever good to Lumine.

—— But. But. The predictability is something. Lumine expects a using / a lying / they expect the story to repeat and repeat. Lumine expects Venti to smile while the hurt enters her like a knife. It still aches, but it isn't as bad as a surprise.

It isn't as bad as ———

"Venti," Lumine says softly, standing in one of Mondstadt's many fields. They're attuned to Anemo now; they can sense she's near. They know she can hear them on the wind that loves them both. "I need you. Please."

[heavenlyprinciples]

barbatos is an absent god. neglectful, uncaring, silent; everything his people have whispered about him for thousands of years, he knows, is true. ( because this, too, is freedom: to be able to turn their back to him as they wish. ) barbatos is a cruel god, has heard many prayers crying out his name ( for love / for glory / for salvation ) and let them fade away with the wind, but a prayer from lumine——

—— lumine, he will not leave unanswered.

( a sinner's penance. a god's embrace. aren't they one and the same? )

❝ i'm here, ❞ she says, as the winds carry her home. appearing in a burst of feathers and dandelion tufts, a mockery of an angel illuminated by gentle light; barbatos is a loving god, that carries each wayward child of hers home, that brings her star back into the skies. ❝ i'm here, lumine. ❞ hands that fret, afraid to touch / afraid to hurt more than they already have / afraid to shatter his shell completely, hands that hang in the air, waiting for him to take.

❝ what do you need? ❞

[heavenlyprinciples]

❝ 𝒓𝒖𝒃𝒆𝒅𝒐 is a latin word meaning ‘ redness ’ that was adopted by alchemists to define the fourth and final major stage in their magnum opus. both gold and the philosopher's stone were associated with the color red, as rubedo signaled alchemical success, and the end of the great work. ❞ ──── fake albedo meta compilation post. art credit, previous version. subject to change.

my fake albedo is based on the one that we see in the ending cutscene of act 2 of the event. considering that albedo is a stage within the alchemical process, i've named him rubedo until we get more lore, if any. this is mainly due to the fact that fake albedo is associated with the color red, seen on the whopperflower page of the event tab and his connection to durin. it is also meant to be ironic; despite rubedo being a sign of success, the fake albedo was anything but.

( he is also affectionately called bepo <3 )

addendum, 04.25.2025: i wanted to note that he may also use the alias dorian when outside of mondstadt, calling back to the leaks about his npc model being named as such.

his reasoning for his plan was to experience that joy that albedo speaks of in his monologue, but it was additionally borne out of jealousy. it doesn’t understand why albedo was allowed to live while it was sentenced to be killed by durin. all that rubedo was ever allowed to experience was cruelty; from rhinedottir abandoning it, to being unable to die in durin's stomach. it envies albedo and wants his life for itself, and thus hatches a plan the only way it knows how. if taking albedo's place is what he needs to do, then it will.

despite this, however, being ‘ albedo ’ only causes rubedo more misery. it hates being albedo but sees no other option in order to be loved. because rhinedottir abandoned him for albedo, the perfect specimen—— how could he ever compare, as a failure? he has abandonment issues holds onto the belief that he isn't good enough on his own, and this further feeds into his jealousy of albedo. after a few years of this, it has devised a plan to take his place and it finally ventures into mondstadt for the first time in the event, although it leaves out of frustration soon enough. i do believe that the albedo we see near the end of the event is rubedo, but he is not looking to take albedo's place quite yet—— he's researching, in a way. his sudden appearance was influenced by listening in on albedo's story.

addendum, 04.25.2025: rubedo is undeterred by what happened in the event, but has changed the angle of its plan slightly. no longer merely content with simply being albedo, it may seek to ruin albedo's life so that he can share in its misery.

addendum, 05.08.2025: this sudden change in plan was concocted by rubedo in his final moments before albedo kills him, and then carried out by durin.

as a note: i think that after being given to durin to destroy, only to be birthed after its death, either the memory of the dragon haunts him or somehow, a piece of durin's soul latched onto him. for this reason, rubedo has one red eye and one blue. however, it does possess the ability to hide it; like a trick of the light, in a way.

so with the new event, rubedo's future is definitely up in airs. at the very least, here's an addendum with things that we know, for sure, happened in canon:

rubedo was killed by albedo after the events of shadows amidst snowstorms, who buried him on dragonspine. despite this, durin sent monsters to unearth his body and bring it back for him to devour.

after devouring rubedo ( again! ), durin gained access to his memories, before ultimately deciding to revive him.

rubedo was then tasked with impersonating hertha, seeing as he is the most advanced out of the other mimics and the most experienced with dealing with humans.

rubedo was captured after the events of the second trial, and he and the other mimics remain in the knight of favonius' custody. what will happen to him next is unknown.

as it stands now, my rubedo will be canon compliant with this.

[ategod-a2]

they let him win this time.  they make sure to swing their sword with vigor,  and they make sure to drag him through the floors of morax’s tomb, act like they mean to kill ‘til the very end.  side-step,  dodge,  and they see the killing blow.  body hits the ground,  diaphragm stops moving,  and for a moment,  tartaglia gives a god the luxury of peace.    (    but that never lasts forever,  no matter how much they wish it does these days.    )  like always,  the gold of their eyes brighten and decloud—  faster with each death—  and at long last,  they push themself upright.

@heavenlyprinciples is still there when it wakes;  perched against one of the house’s pillars,  blood trickling down their chin and knuckles bruised to hell.  waiting for them.  sol coughs,  represses the urge to heave.  manages enough energy to scoot themself along the floor and press their back against the column.    “ you’re still here,    ”    it mutters,  like it just noticed it after all this time.  ( like it wishes childe could do otherwise. )  they clutch the wound on their abdomen,  waiting for it to piece together and leave yet another mark to look at.    “ why do you do that? ”

[heavenlyprinciples]

what an audacious question—— tartaglia sits upon the broken pieces of the golden house's floor as sol wakes up again, twirling an arrow between his fingers. of course they waited, of course they're still here—— why would sol expect otherwise? on good days, it's what they do for each other; stand vigil over the corpse, until the heart beats once more. but today is not a good day, is it?

❝ because you, ❞ he says, body embroiled in an otherworldly rage, ❝ gave up. ❞

the words are spat out / accusatory / A WITNESS CALLED TO THE STANDS? / what use is a mockery of a fight? why bother with the charade at all? tartaglia throws aside the useless arrow as they jump down from their perch, strides slow and purposeful as they approach sol. well then, amuse me—— and what did they do instead? it stops just in front of the traveler with a tilted head and vacant expression. a wolf staring down cornered prey, since that's what they have offered themselves up to be.

( BUT HIS INFATUATION DOES NOT LIE WITHIN A PREY ANIMAL. )

❝ why did you do it? have you lost your mind? ❞ gnashing, biting, colder than the snezhnayan chill. ❝ that's disappointing, comrade. i didn't know you lacked such respect for me! ❞ he laughs, and the sound is cruel. ❝ if you're not going to give me a fight, don't come here at all. ❞

[heavenlyprinciples]

LOOK AT WHAT AMARI DREW FOR ME CHIJIRA MY WORLD