Come Into Being

Genshin impact rp blog || 18+ only || multi-muse || follows from camels-on-wheels

[petaloforosirian]

primoire·: [feat. xiao]

the incessant pain that corrupts his insides is a vow of normality. there’s nothing like it. the sharp aches become dull from time to time, not because they lessen in intensity, but because he compels himself to be immune, somehow. it is a constant. he ought to be used to it by now… but the more he kills, the more he hurts. it is accumulative. he ends up having bouquets of blooming needles, pinpricking as his karmic energies fluctuate within. it is a myriad of cards dealt, sometimes he cannot stomach it anymore, but he must. he must.

even now, they haunt. poltergeists. he winces as albedo occupies the space next to him, the no longer vacant spot a reminder that he’s not alone. and he doesn’t have to be. but still…

the juncture meets. curiosities abound, but he cannot blame albedo—knowing the alchemist long enough, he’s certain that it is embedded, the intrigue towards anything in general. curses from immortality have bound them together in some ways, too, so they have been more than acquainted from the similarity. a point of view: albedo is a company that xiao doesn’t understand how to feel about, for there’s a smaller probability of perishing. fragility. mortality. those are complex, but albedo makes it simpler. whatever this is that they share, it is comfortable at the very least.

“there is no harm in letting you know,” he eventually shatters the pause, looking far into the horizon painted before them. vast, embodying. “you might not understand this, it’s not a common practice to… follow this anymore, anyway. i’ll say that the adepti bear their own burdens. mine specifically, as i slaughter countless demons, i accumulate some form of debt. the darkness, it’s from karmic energy that they leave behind. simply put, it hurts me, and there’s no cure to this, just the medicines to help alleviate the pain for a moment.” he looks down, now, to their dangling feet. “just as what you asked of me, i will ask of you the same. when karma swallows me whole, eating me alive, you don’t have to stand by my side. instead, stand against me, the way i would do to you if you ever turn into… something else.”

If asked of the nature of knowledge itself, Albedo would say this : it is not inherently good, just as it is not inherently bad. It is simply truth. While the outcomes of obtaining it may fall along such distinct lines, that is merely the result of human interpretation. He has never shied away knowledge— has made it his goal to seek out the truth of this world. Knowledge is foremost, while its applications are secondary, yet more complex. Experimenting, learning, investigating…these are the cornerstones of his being, and must not be forsaken, regardless of the inevitable secrets that come with them. 

Not quite human, not quite monster, Albedo understands well the importance of guarding his secret. Humans claim to be creatures of reason, yet hasten to reject all that cannot be placed into their limited understanding of the world. It would be dangerous, he knows, to tell others of his secret, lest he be killed under the pretense of a ‘preventative measure.’ Knowledge that cannot be easily accepted is deemed evil by men, and the truth of his creation is difficult to grasp. And so he sits silently as Xiao tells his truth, wondering for what reason he has been trusted with such information, and what he is to do with it. 

“I swear it,” he answers. After all, the alchemist knows, more than most, the importance of a contingency plan. “It seems our contract will gain a clause today after all.” He pauses briefly, mentally reviewing Xiao’s explanation once more. “You mentioned these flowers are of use in relieving your pain…” He hesitates, unsure if his offer is too assuming, “Were you to tell me the formula, I could attempt to recreate it.” If there is a way for him to lessen Xiao’s pain by keeping the elixir handy in his lab, he will do it. 

[petaloforosirian]

primoire​:  [ ft. xiao]​:

he understands what he does not understand. in the rupture of time, his chrysalis of being the last yaksha is no more. often hides behind the veil of vacancy, he detaches himself from the rest of the civilisation knowing the consequences. loneliness, irreversible… and yet. he yearns, the longing a chasm that engraves itself in the depth of his thoughts. the rope around his sternum a debilitating silhouette that he chooses to ignore, but decades after decades, sometimes he falls to his knees. pleading for something, anything. someone. anyone. then, the presence of the homunculus.

he ponders over the reply uttered, leaving a vast drop of thoughts smearing his nonchalance. xiao cannot keep pretending, regardless of the endeavours. intents. no wonder morax sheds his immortality to become zhongli… perhaps, but xiao doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries, surmising facts about the archon he serves. he swallows. is this even deserved?

wondering for a brief second if albedo knew about his pain beforehand. if the qingxin indicates anything pertaining to that, even when xiao has never spoken about it. but no, this one seems innocent. he takes them from albedo’s hand, eventually, looking down at their white mist-painted petals with a touch of awe. “hm,” he starts, looking up at albedo again before heading towards the end of the plausterite rock, sitting on the edge. his legs dangling, he invites albedo to sit next to him with a glance. “i suppose you have my gratitude. some… things i haven’t told you,” he begins again, dithering but eventually steeling his resolve. “these flowers are of medicinal values. with the right ingredients, it helps me quite a bit, to cope with the pain that i’m dealing with.” he leaves it at that, cryptic at the very least. he wants albedo to ask, so he waits, eyes fixated on the scenery beyond them.

There is something incredibly gratifying in seeing Xiao accept the flowers from his hand. A feeling of warmth radiates within his chest, to have his gift welcomed so easily. Looking at Xiao, Albedo thinks that yes, he was certainly correct, the blooms suit him. Smoothing the yaksha’s harsh edges into something not quite soft - no, Albedo was well aware of the power yaksha possessed, far beyond his own, and to forget it would be to do him a disservice - but perhaps slightly gentler. 

Brief surprise at the ease of it all floods through him, before it is pushed aside by the concern he feels at what the adeptus has implied. Willing his legs not to rush, he sits beside Xiao. For as much as he wants to allow the man privacy, Albedo is a researcher through and through, and the thirst for knowledge is impossible to hold back, even in this situation. Or, perhaps, especially in this situation, he muses. 

He is not unaccustomed to seeing Xiao after a fight. Often, when he calls for the adeptus, he is fresh from a fight, blood still seeping from unhealed wounds. It amazes him still, that the yaksha would forsake tending to his own injuries in favor of hurrying to Albedo’s side when summoned, no matter how many times it has happened. This feels different. Xiao’s hesitancy to speak, his puzzling words once he does…surely he speaks of a more visceral pain that Albedo is not yet privy to. And yet, it seems as though he is offering, in his own way, the chance for the alchemist to ask. And so he does. 

“You do not speak of a battle wound,” he infers, turning to face Xiao. He keeps his face guarded, but is sure that his curiosity is betrayed nonetheless. “There are many things left undisclosed between us, but,” he thinks back to Xiao’s words all those months ago, when Albedo had told him of his origins and fear of his future, “The truth will not change things between us. I will continue to stand by your side.” 

[petaloforosirian]

primoire·: [ ft. xiao ] :

it is not like xiao to have himself bothered by the complexities of men, but albedo… he would not exactly classify albedo as such. not quite humane, there are secrecies spilled from the bottom of the barrel in nights inebriated with the weight of thoughts he cannot quite pinpoint. the fact that albedo has let him in, in retrospect, is a sourced pivot that occupies a spot of his mind. blatant, bothersome. albedo is a plague that he wants to kill and keep, the cancerous influence a sear to xiao’s mind.

… and heart.

he doesn’t want to concede to that, however, so he settles to leave it sitting at the corner for now. an escape. he has always been an exquisite one at creating a coping mechanism, claiming that he is not in touch with those mundane aspects. this gets complex when he isn’t donning the mask of yaksha, nonetheless. he cannot fool himself the way he does those demons, running from his own emotions a riddle too difficult to solve sometimes.

the way albedo speaks is nuanced, laden with something foreign. it’s gentle, a caress amidst the wind. it embosses a touch of unknown sigh into xiao. “i see,” he says in return, but he doesn’t know exactly what to do with it. should he accept the gesture? would that be too soft of him—no, too open of him? he cannot afford vulnerability. but. “it is not common for people to give adepti flowers, unless there is a sacred ritual happening. what is the occasion?”

For a moment, he stops to study the yaksha before him. Albedo would like to think that, in the time they have known one another, he has come to understand certain qualities of Xiao’s that leave others frustrated and confused, easily dismissing him. Of the smattering of compliments Albedo has offered the adeptus, he has turned them all down, whether by way of deflection, blatant rejection, or, on just one occasion, his abrupt disappearance.

And so he knows, in the back of his mind, that the distance between them is a minefield. One misstep, a single errant syllable, and Xiao may vanish. Not for long - never for more than a day - only until the next time Albedo whispers his name into the wind. It is with great consideration that Albedo offers his reply.

“Quite some time has passed since our last meeting in Liyue. The opportunity to greet one another here… is this not occasion enough?” He asks, gesturing vaguely at the scenery with his free hand.

The hand that holds a gift for Xiao… It is a gamble, offering something like this, of little practical value. Potions to enhance his vision’s power, materials to repair his polearm after a particularly grueling fight - these have been offered, and begrudgingly accepted by the yaksha. But this… these flowers hold no utilitarian purpose. Lonely blooms high atop cragged peaks, away from human activity - they had merely reminded Albedo of the man before him.

A simple desire to see them in Xiao’s hands had Albedo plucking them from the ground, the yaksha’s name on his lips before he had even thought to utter it.

[petaloforosirian]

This high on the mountain, little sound reaches him but the screech of a hawk gliding past the peak, and the whispering rush of breeze in the grass. Serene, in a way altogether different from Dragonspine, yet no less soothing. Soft warmth and harsh chill. The patter of snow weasel feet atop howling winds is admittedly not calming for many, yet Albedo finds peace in it. At times, it is quiet enough to hear the moment a tree falls in the forest, laden heavy with snow.

There is no signal of his arrival, yet even before his voice sounds out, Albedo is aware of Xiao’s presence. No displacement of air or vibrations of feet touching the ground behind him give it away. However, months have passed since their initial meeting, and the adeptus has never failed to keep a promise. Surely, this time would be no different.

‘Call out my name. Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.’

In the span of a breath, he has always made his way to the alchemist’s side.

Albedo hums, slowly turning to face the man behind him. The warm rays of the setting sun bathe Xiao in gold, melting yellow eyes to pools of amber honey. Albedo’s fingers twitch, just barely, at the urge to capture his image on canvas. Though he doubts his paints would do justice to the man in front of him, regardless of the painter’s skill. Unfortunate. His memory would have to make do. After allowing the scene one more moment of appreciation, Albedo shakes his head.

“I have no intention of bringing harm to your land,” he says softly. “Sucrose was in need of various Liyuen herbs for her experiments, and I offered to obtain them for her.” With a glance towards the flowers in his arms, he finishes, “These, however, are intended for you.”