Sade Olutola
Product Placement
Kiana Khansmith
Kaledo Art
Claire Keane
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
No title available
DEAR READER
Andulka
Cosimo Galluzzi
Discoholic 🪩
JBB: An Artblog!
cherry valley forever
ojovivo
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
we're not kids anymore.
AnasAbdin
Cosmic Funnies
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
KIROKAZE
seen from Libya
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Ecuador
seen from Puerto Rico
seen from United States
seen from Israel
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
@secondsovereign
-> SECONDSOVEREIGN: A study in memories, what it means to be a teacher, the regrets of the past, the light of hope and lingering in the shadows so that light shines forever more.
Private and Closed WELT YANG affiliated with @gnostichymns
Viis, He/Him, GMT+0
Icons, spacer and icon frame are mine
Writing Sample / Ask / / Dossier // Primarily contacted through Discord !!
"May all that is beautiful in the world forever shine"
PERSONAL BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.
"What is grief if not love persevering?"
You know, when these started coming out I said I wasn't going to write one of these, in fact I swore I was going to do everything in my power to avoid writing one and yet, as I sat there in Limsa surrounded by dear friends I realised the folly of it, that my refusal was just me skirting the fact I hate goodbyes.
As Curtains Rise
As his guest pours himself a cup of tea, Neuvillette does the same in return, though his focus remains fully on Welt when the man speaks, especially as the words pique his interest. So he, too, has heard of a phenomenon under a similar name - though it may not necessarily be the exact same type of Abyss that hides beneath it within his memories.
He takes a moment to consider them before speaking again, after a sip of refreshingly warm liquid.
"In Teyvat, the Abyss takes on a myriad of forms. It can show as an infection of both body and mind, usually incurable and lethal one way or another, sooner or later. However, it can also manifest in a form similar to what you've described - I know that such phenomenon was commonplace in the Pyro nation of Natlan up until very recently." An observation for himself to jog his memories of intelligence and reports, as well as a concealed suggestion should his guest wish to investigate further on his own later. "The Abyssal phenomena there suggested that the Abyss was able to read knowledge and memories flowing through Teyvat's Ley Lines, and then extract and replicate certain concepts from them in the form of monsters that looked familiar to the locals facing them. They were shaped like humans, animals... sometimes even their friends."
He nods, both to Welt and to himself. "Though I mentioned a catastrophe from five hundred years ago, the Abyss has been a constant threat for millennia. Notably, if memory serves..." Not his own, and yet at the same time, kind of indeed. "... We were first warned about it by an outsider, who traveled from far beyond and brought with them information about the power of the Abyss. The Dragon King, to whom this world originally belonged, left in search of a way to prevent our destruction from this power..."
He pauses, wincing as a myriad blurry images pass through his mind in quick succession, then sighs, chasing them away.
"... But by the time he returned, he'd already been infected by it himself. The Abyss spares no one, be it human or god. Natlan, too, has lost its first draconic ruler to it." His brother, in theory, though he has little in terms of an actual bond to speak of here. His, but also not exactly his. "There have also been people, gods and other beings who attempted to use the power of the Abyss for their own gains, but just about all of them were eventually lost to it."
He takes another sip of tea, then looks at Welt for a moment in silence, before directing his eyes towards the window, the decorative stained glass helping make the sun's rays falling in less blinding.
"The false sky is meant to be both a prison and a protective barrier, because a layer of Abyssal energy surrounds Teyvat. Occasional breaches, like the ones that allow travelers such as yourself in, do little to no harm - but if it shatters permanently, it would be a monumental catastrophe. Much as I'm not a supporter of the current state of things, I do know that for now, we do need the firmament." His gaze returns to Welt, an indicator that, for the next statement he makes, he hopes for a response with some information. Just how much the man knows, he is not sure - but perhaps, at the very least, he has made some observations.
"For that reason, I hope it hasn't grown too unstable yet."
WELT SIGHS, feeling age creep upon him as his unoccupied hand reaches upwards to rub at the bridge of his nose. He wants to swear, to curse the world, and more as he becomes intimately aware of how fast the clock has begun to spin on the universe once more. The faintest threads of connection have begun to spin, yet even the sense of encroaching horror is numbed by the reminder that the Cocoon's manifestation here is impossible.
"Imaginary concept manifestation, that is what I knew the concept as. By eating at the roots of the Imaginary tree, and absorbing the leaves, worlds, that fall of it, both the Sea of Quanta, of which the Abyss is the deepest depths and the tree itself can manifest the concepts it records." How intriguing for such a power to manifest, and yet it is not uncommon for it to have done so, it had, after all, given rise to the superstition that everyone had a twin in appearance somewhere on the world, and later amongst the stars.
"An interstellar voyager?" The words are coated in shock, wrapped in a haphazard dream that someone had managed to survive, to pierce the intertidal zone and travel far amongst the stars without looking back at the world that had laid in ruins, and yet he suppresses the thought as he watches the wince, the shadow of memory that passes fleetingly like a familiar old friend. Neuvillette, he thinks, can be considered a kindred spirit, one who feels the heavy burden of legacy and strive, at least that is what the Sovereign can presume.
"Natlan... perhaps I shall need to venture there before my business concludes after all..." Words muttered to himself before the light reappears in his eyes, pulling himself from the vestiges of his analytical mind. "Corruption... perhaps for the best that the similarities end there, my home... well, the abyss was not the only thing to be discovered. Husks we called them, creations born from the upheaval and destruction. Eventually all those that sought to harness Quanta and the Tree learnt that they had their own prices to pay."
"Ah you speak of what I believed to be the intertidal zone, its integrity is still holding despite what seems to be numerous attempts to breach it, however..." His gaze turns serious, placing the cup down on the table as he turns his attention solely onto the man before him.
"The rules of this world will not be able to resist THEY who cast their gaze towards this world forever."
Chained to My Past, I Fall Down || Dan Heng & Welt
Crystallize Commission: Shackling Prison || @secondsovereign
What he sees right now is, perhaps, the best proof that to know something in theory and to see it in practice are two different experiences entirely. In one moment, Dan Heng moves quickly, ready to parry the mechanical claws from harming the fallen soldier with his spear; in the next, he blinks in confusion as it freezes, and slowly, his eyes widen as he comes to realize that the metal monstrosity has fallen under Mr. Yang's direct control.
He's heard of the extent of the older man's abilities, and caught a glimpse here and there during their travels together, but to see it like that... it was something else. March has joked about his "hidden strength", but it's a great reminder that they all are more than what they show on a daily basis.
Welt also takes command over the trainees, the sheer aura of his authority enough to compel them to follow his orders in spite of knowing little of him beside his identity as an Express crew member. Though Dan Heng doesn't say that out loud, he cannot help but feel a degree of relief, slipping back into the role of a follower that he is much more accustomed to. It felt as though the soldiers had expected him to be a born leader, and he had no choice but to try and fulfill that image - but that's not what he is, and especially not here.
Maybe that's what he was. But Dan Heng is not him, and never will be.
And whatever semblance of steel in his heart that still attempted to exist collapses into nothing when he feels the warm, steady hand on his shoulder, and lifts his head to meet Mr. Yang's calm eyes - and understands that before him, there's no need to pretend that he's stronger than he actually is, or that it doesn't hurt. The man sees right through him, and trying to lie to him will only make him worry even more.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His grip on his spear tightens; at the very least he wants to suppress the tremble that threatens to shake his shoulders before Welt can feel it, and that's the only way to achieve that that he finds.
"Thank you," he says quietly, intending the words to only reach his ears.
By the time he finally opens his eyes again, his resolve is forged anew, the supporting hand of his companion serving as a pillar of strength. Right on time, too; the trainees seem to be prepared now, or at least, as prepared as they will ever be.
"Right. Let's see how this goes," Dan Heng speaks, louder this time, trying to mask the moment of weakness he had just now from the soldiers. Let's get this over with. To Mr. Yang, he nods.
"Ready when you are."
COMBAT IS A FAMILIAR FRIEND, a lesson in itself as old as time as he feels the coldness creep into his bones, the warmth of the world fading into nothingness as oblivion ebbs ever closer like a surely missed friend. Reason is a path devoid of warmth, emotion, leaving nothing more than coldness in the wake of the cold logic that courses through him, pulling him closer to Nihility as every machine becomes a thread of his awareness. Amber gives way to crimson as he nods, letting every machine begin to rise like a mechanical legion devoid of anything but the desire to attack.
"Very well." There is no grand sweeping gesture, no precession of drums or finery other than the rhythmic thump of metal hitting metal as the machines of war begin to move in unison one after another. Logic dictates they attack the strongest, deal with the threat and yet experience guides another path, as one after another they begin to encircle, forcing the trainees to move and adjust to the uncommon tactic. "An enemy will not give you time to strategise!" A heartbeat before all begin to move closer and closer, weapons raised high into the air.
"The silvermane guards of Jarilo-VI are quite fond of this tactic, as Dan Heng can attest, prove you can overcome it like he once did!" A flash of a softer look at the young man centering himself before Welt begins to move, stepping closer as that familiar crimson orb materialises, flooding the underground prison with the harsh light of hope.
Once, twice, thrice, step after step as the machines begin to move once more mechanical arms raised high as they prepare to strike, aiming for the gaps in the formation. "Begin!" A heavy swing, the weaponry a mix of foam and wood falling fast as a trainee moves, as if spurred by something unknown to catch the bat with the edge of a spear, a flash of surprise before straightening with a newfound air of determination.
"Good, again!"
red stone, dyed byzantium.
tatarigami with welt + arlecchino.
a key, a cane, a weapon: that last word was what he seemed to want to say at first, and the correction doesn't go unnoticed, but remains untouched in their conversation. a cane could be swung, or could conceal a blade: how was key a more fitting word?... a weapon imbued with an ancient god's remains seemed equally fitting, all sorts of weapons with power tied to ancient forces could be found across teyvat. a key unlocks something.
instead of sharing any of those thoughts of her's, arlecchino responds to the mention of fatui on the island. "the notice you received from the adventurer's guild was not inaccurate. there are meant to be a few squadrons stationed here, from the reports I've received. if they are not here, then something may have happened to them that would force them to abandon their field station..." a breeze from the sea and the occasional crackle of static, a call of a bird... it really does seem as though there's no sign of the squadrons meant to be patrolling the island. "perhaps little more than this lightning storm is the cause, however. the fatui are a tad bureaucratic, and one commander could see little purpose in staying to conduct research with that sort of threat, where another would see a new investigation entirely."
while mr. yang stops to inspect the gemstone in the ground he's found, she continues a little further along the path, passing under a brick-red natural archway worn into the inazuman stone. marked eyes scanning past the archway spy something not too far off: arlecchino turns back the next moment, trying to think on a potential connection between what she has spied and what he has found. "... does your gemstone appear to be an unusual elemental vision? if so, I think I know where it may have come from... there are several tents ahead of fatui design, but I see no infantry nor agents in its vicinity."
PEOPLE HAVE A WAY OF REVEALING THEMSELVES WITH WORDS, and none have revealed themselves more than the woman that stands a few feet ahead of him. The information he has on the Fatui is best considered minimalist at best, and yet for the person before him to know just how many were meant to be here gives him all the information he needs for the put the pieces into place as to why he felt at odds with the person before him.
"The Knave, I presume?" There is no hostility in his tone as he turns the gem upwards, letting dying light shine through it's shell as something dark seems to lurk within. There is no maliciousness, and yet it seems to reject his touch, as if seeking to be reunited with its owner. "I admit I had my suspicions, of course, but your knowledge of where they were meant to be is what truly gave it away." A step-up and out of the dirt, walking towards the person that feels no more dangerous than they had moments ago, tossing the not quite fake vision twice in hand before holding it out akin to a peace offering. "The lightning, if once can call it that, seems more malicious than random in its strikes, and I doubt the bureaucracy of the Fatui would so easily allow for manipulation of divine remains without it becoming more widespread among their, or perhaps I should say your hierarchy."
It is not, nor has it ever been, his prerogative to interfere in the affairs of others, especially when a stelleron was not involved and neither the energy his life had been devoted to combating. "Worthy of concern, is it not? That both your own information and that of the Guild believed the Fatui to have been active here, and yet all that remains is little more than empty encampments and a continuing mystery as to why the remains have awoken once more?" The express does not expect him back soon, so instead he remains all the more content to continue his investigation.
"It would seem uou will have to contend with my presence for a time longer after all"
[ HUDDLE ] - There's not much to be said for privacy at a time like this, and as what little warmth the sun can offer fades away, you've been advised to hunker down with someone you don't so much mind in your personal space. Or at least try learning not to mind them… Nothing a little bit of sharing body heat can't fix, right?
⋆˙⟡ ——————— ⟡˙⋆
in the tangles of this catastrophe, it is bound that those of high status should always mingle with those of the lower caste . . . the princess takes this to heart, indeed. it is of good will to your people to show them that you mean well to them. a good monarch is one well informed of how her subjects fare. “ oh! to that of the stars. . . fate truly mystifies even der prinzessin, sometimes. ” Fischl exclaims as she hides a small achoo! away from the man - who is, quite frankly, one of the most well-dressed for this current occassion. well, not really. his attire seems awfully thin - yet that's not something for her to be judging. no, the only thing that the prinzessin der verurteilung will justly judge are sins.
“ dear scholarly-seeming one, ” she says, scooting closer to him - but remaining respectably distant. could it be excused that he is near a flame that offers its warmth to all, burning away at the untainted objects to keep those who breathe alive? not really. “ thou bears the demeanor of a haggard koala. ”
it was not meant to be an insult, Fischl says it merely as an observation. it does not make it seem any less odd to say. ever energized, she continues, “ what has thou so? ”
“ mein fräulein believes you look tired, sir, and asks to share your woes - if any, and only if you wish. ” Oz translates promptly, flying beside Fischl and staring at the man, who honestly does seem very tired. “ . . .please, pay us no mind if company is not what you wish for. ”
“ . . . who would not wish for comfort and solace within calamity, Ozvaldo? do mine ears deceive i? ”
BLANKETS ARE IMPORTANT DURING WINTER, yet Belobog's supply is running drastically low without the fuel necessary to weave more... and yet it seems some distant Lunar Goddess has heard his woes and decided to grant some level of mercy, which he considers to be a much better excuse than the idea of pure coincidence as he turns back around with an almost violently glowing automated sowing machine in his hands.
After the past few weeks, even a talking crow can be considered little more than a cosmic irregularity before he spots the purple gem encased in metal. An idea forms, a terrible one, and yet the Honkai creation in his hands will be more than able to handle the electrical discharge as he sets it down on the makeshaft table.
"Share my woes? Hmm... shock this for me, would you?" A point towards the machine as he watches snow begin to rise from the floor, waiting not for an answer as his mind focuses on replicating the materials needed for the blankets. Once, a task like this would leave him almost on the verge of exhaustion, and yet he can feel the trailblaze flow through ancient bones, invigorating him as the machine begins to churn under the energy he can spare, beginning to spit out blankets before slowing down once more.
"It's harmless, I can assure you, yet two hands are better than one when it comes to keeping the heat steady." Atleast he thinks it's harmless, but then again, technology does like to explode at the worst times.
[STARS]
The day's activities hover over all in its own brand of warmth, even if Kosma cannot fathom how much that could be within his own bubble. The faces of people passing are so simple in structure yet so complicated in potential that immediate thoughts must be simple lest you not take in the next—people are piling in. When one person moves forward with tired eyes and their uniform from work loose, he can’t think too long lest he miss the father hand-in-hand with his daughter and son following close behind… their smiles, he feels an old envy stir. It's when they look back that he moves on this time, but he's not exactly making himself inconspicuous where he stands.
He looks away as they look forward—to the boy with horns all by himself waiting for the right light to create the illusion of stars above them. He tries not to think about it as he finds himself pushing forward, finding himself behind a taller set of people when the heavy manufacturing light pollution dies down, just a tad, as other lights twinkle within the dark expansion above them all. That brief distraction upwards causes him to bump into someone—not hard or fast, but enough that Kosma would have called it rude had his prior charge done it to someone on the street. And with his height, he could actually do some damage.
While he wanted to bite his tongue, he was no hypocrite. So he bites his cheek instead.
Kosma’s tone is rather neutral, but he's remorseful as he gives a small bow. “... I apologize for not looking. Happy holidays…” Was there anything else? Oh right. “I didn't cause anything to drop? You're alright?"
ADOPTING THE GUISE OF THE HELPLESS ELDERLY IS FAR TOO EASY, slipping the ticket of the nameless off his elbow as he steps inside the makeshift planetarium. Belobog is currently going through a resurgence, one that is truly significant, and yet to appear as a nameless would do little more than derail the focus from where it deserved to be. So instead he leans heavy on the cane as people begin to push inside, calming his senses to the beacon of latent honkai that hums against it lest he cause a cascade to occur.
Yet it seems he's pulled from his musing by a young man knocking into him, digging the cane into the sheet metal less he be knocked further forward for his troubles. The young man hums heavily against his senses, yet he's undeniably human, beating the same against his senses like Fu Hua once had, and yet he remains certain they have never met before.
There is a lightbulb moment, as he remembers a different man that felt much the same, frigid cold even in the warmest of phantasmal summers. Pieces that click into place as a knowing gaze falls upon the young man he suspects to be yet another of the Flamechasers given a chance at life anew, the small, calm and inviting smile as he steadies himself, standing tall against the bristling clouds.
"Ah, its a harmless bump, nothing more, it can be hardly helped when it's such an enclosed space." His gaze turns upwards, to the constellations created on mismatched sheets, before his gaze turns to one tiny blinking star that sits alone. "... Odd to see the way the stars look from different planets, is it not?"
[RING] - The air is thick with the smell of sweat and your ears ring with the sound of loud cheers and disappointed yells. There’s no place for elegance here, only who could land a clean hit first! The rules are simple: bring your weapons, your gadgets, and what have you! Today is special, today you can go all out. Just be sure you don’t kill each other.
A precisely-aimed kick sends Kokomi's latest opponent crashing to the floor of the ring, and the bell tolls to the sound of a resounding cheer.
"You stood too still, and didn't keep your guard up," she murmurs under her breath as she helps her opponent to their feet. "The best block is to not be there."
She'll be feeling this later, and she can already feel the ache in her joints - but this time, it feels good, in a way. The old, familiar pain doesn't drain her nearly so much when it comes from pushing her body to the limit in a way she enjoys, and this sense of singular focus, that rush of energy that makes her feel so very alive, is worth the later exhaustion. She sends the defeated fighter - a burly youth from Belobog's underworld, she thinks - on their way with a pat on the shoulder and a pulse of hydro to soothe the worst of their bruises, then turns to face her next opponent.
A familiar face, one she'd met almost exactly a year ago, at a festival in Fontaine. They'd shared a dance there, and spoken of the secrets of the stars amidst a bubble of frozen time and negated gravity; and now, here they are again, out among those very stars, in a space that couldn't be more different from the elegant streets of the Court of Fontaine...and yet, some things never change.
"Among practitioners of traditional Inazuman martial arts, a fight can be considered a kind of dance; and some types of performance art have their roots in the art of the sword," she comments, pacing towards the centre of the ring and holding out a carefully-wrapped hand. "So, Mr Yang, though it's quite different from the last one we shared...may I have this dance?"
HE CANNOT HELP BUT SMILE, pride has always been his greatest sin in life after all, and the pride he feels for her willingness to throw down the proverbial gauntlet is unmatched at the moment as he shrugs off the coat and armour plating, leaving him in nought but the skintight undershirt that does naught but absorb the harsh overhead lights. The look in those aged crimson hues cannot be described as little more than amused as a bow forms itself in his hand, a paltry imitation of one seen a year prior in the hands of another woman from Inazuma.
"How interesting, on the world from which I hail, there is a style of archery that functions much the same." Something about his stance can only be described as dangerous, the way those phantasmal arrows bathed in crimson lurch precariously on the wind, as if nothing more that a shape for reason to be given form to and yet the Sovereign is oh so calm, reaching out to grasp and nock one in a single artificial heart beat.
It has been... far too long since this body was put through it's paces he thinks, consensus humming in his mind as he allows the arrow to fly loose, embedding itself into the edge of the arena and becoming alight in unison with the cane that remains ever solemnly perched, a barrier forming to slow time inside his domain to little more than a trickle of sand.
One step, two, a toe that aligns itself with the outer edge of the marked ring before his hand is brought to press against one he suspects will one day become a protégé of the Abundance of ancient histories. "Once... I told another to come at me with the intent to kill if she intended to defeat me..." A body that drops into an unfamiliarly familiar stance, preparing himself for an extended game of physical chess where the only way to win is to outwit another.
"... I expect the same from you... Sangonomiya Kokomi of Watatsumi Island."
-> @generalsangonomiya
[ LATE . ]
it's always surprising to see places with such active nightlife , even if it's only for an event , it always feels like such a different and new atmosphere , you almost see a different side of people , people who once could seem so worried about life and everything getting a chance to relax with people who usually wouldn't get the chance to .
why not take part in it ? especially if you get to see some familiar faces , it's even more fun to maybe see a different side of them or enjoy some time with them , or maybe even see a face you haven't seen in a while , someone you owe something to , something you've wanted to return for far too long now .
" do you know how hard it is to try and track someone down who doesn't have a phone you can reach easy ? " a playful tone from behind as she gives a tap on the shoulder , walking around in front of him with a phone in her hand -- not her own , but one she's been meaning to get back to him for far too long . " i think this belongs to you . "
HIS CORE REACTS LIKE IT OFT DOES, senses coming alight as the authority of the third enters into his field of awareness. The nightlife has never been his domain, yet the former sovereign remains stoic in his attendance, crimson and gold memorialises each exposed circuit before he forces the old habit into a sense of remission. It's been... far too long since he's felt the presence humming at the edge of his awareness like an immortalised flame waiting to be rekindled.
Perhaps it's born of an age-old caution, yet he still has the scarf prepared in his pouch all the same, lilac cottons embroidered with a sea of violet lotuses spanning the length of the fabric from end to end, a fitting gift for the formidable young woman who thinks she's been able to approach him unawares, taking calm and measured movements to bring the cup to his lip before his gaze falls on the troublesome piece of technology in her hand.
"Should I expect it to be full of selfies, then?" Teasing laughter as the phone in her hand is replaced with the lovingly created scarf, slipping the divine in his pocket to merge into the backup later as his gaze trails the length of the Woman he hasn't seen properly in over a year. "Not even a hug? For shame." A smile, short, calmed as an arm wraps around the young woman that has been his ward for what feels like a lifetime.
"I never could get used to Belobog you know, it reminds me of Siberia with how the cold seeps in, yet if memory serves you've encountered such cold before, haven't you... Mei?"
Nihility: As once was
Peepaw. WELT is out and about and committing himself to a bucketload of bad ideas again by joining the fight club, you know how it is. He can be found anywhere and everywhere as the need arises, so bumping into people is to be expected for him practically.
Plains: March 7th // Dan Heng // Fischl // Cyrene Museum: Jiaoqui // Acheron Fight Club: Aventurine Settlement: Kosma // Kokomi // Raiden Mei // Phainon Admin: Kevin
RING. / “...is it really that interesting to watch people fight?” it's not as though march is any stranger to combat. it sort of comes with the territory at this point—she can't remember the last trailblaze she went on that didn't involved them getting into some sort of fight. but she wouldn't say she's ever enjoyed it. who likes getting hurt? who likes hurting others? and who likes watching their friends be in danger?
but this is a fight club, after all. even if it's not quite for her, it would be silly to complain about the main attraction. instead, she casts her gaze around before finding a small corner of recovering fighters. march taps mr. yang on the shoulder and points. “i think i'll go see if i can help over there,” she says, halfway into a step over before suddenly freezing and whirling around to face him again.
“wait. are you going to fight, mr. yang?” at a listen, perhaps just a concerned question. but march just can't hide the wide-eyed, hopeful stare of pinks and blues at the prospect of seeing him in action. mature nameless now or not, she's still the same march 7th that delighted in seeing him do all sorts of combat poses after all. and she would bet her whole allowance on mr. yang winning!
MARCH HAS ALWAYS BEEN A NOBLE SOUL, the former Sovereign admires that about her, the way she embodies both the hunt and the preservation in a way that is unique to her. No doubt a day will come when the world itself is faced with the recognition of how noble her soul is, yet Joachim can merely hope that when the day comes, he is there to see it. "For some they consider it stress relief, for others it can even be considered a competition to spectate." Welt has never quite seen the pleasure in merely spectating, however, even at his age.
He acknowledges the tap with a head pat in return before pausing, remembering the item tucked inside of his jacket. "Ah March, wait a moment, would you? I have a gift for you." There are a lifetime of birthdays to be made up for, so the scarf pulled from his coat is lifted to wrap around her neck with precious care, careful with pastel blues and pinks to contrast against her outfit as the silvery jellyfish shimmers in the lights shining down from above. "Hmm, it suits you perfectly." The smile on his lips is proud, paternal, a kiss placed to the crown of her head before she's turning around to run off to help others.
Best to prepare then... A thought shared only to himself as he reaches to undo his own scarf, setting it and the armour plate down on the table before reaching for the bandages to wrap his hands. It's been a while since he was last in a boxing ring, and yet he finds himself eagerly looking forward to this as he continues to wrap his hands again and again, managing to get one into the gloves before she's turned around to catch him in the act.
"... No?" It's a shoddy lie, and yet he can see that look in her eyes, the same look Joey gives when he knows he's about to be treated to an experience unlike any other. So all Joachim can do is laugh at her before beckoning her back towards him to help. "Come on, you can help me tie these gloves while we wait and see who is stepping into the ring with me." It's a bonding experience for them, things like this, even nights spent watching old Anime until she's fallen asleep against his side.
[COMPANY]
"... Mr Yang, look at this."
Once he's drawn the man's attention, Dan Heng gives him a little wave of his hand as he approaches. It quickly becomes clear that what he's trying to point out isn't anything related to his own person, but rather what scurries behind him with a quiet, characteristic noise of metal parts scraping against the ground - a miniature version of a classic Belobogian automated beetle.
"I found it damaged, fixed it up a little, and... apparently it has decided I'm its owner now," Dan Heng explains the situation, his expression making it clear that while he isn't strongly bothered by this development of events, that last part wasn't exactly part of the plan.
"Can you think of... anything to do with it? Oh, and I think it's still missing one light and a few parts. I wasn't able to find any that fit."
HE'S ONLY FINISHED KNITTING THE LATEST SCARF when Dan Heng manages to sneak up behind him unknowingly. He's gotten better at that of late, Welt thinks, knowing he doesn't need to make himself known well before the approach that he can't help but feel proud of the young man's progress and yet...
Deft hands are quick in the movement, reaching down to wrap the teal knitted scarf firmly around the young man's neck with a knowing look in those aging eyes. "The permanence and the trailblaze can only protect you from the elements so much, you know." A simple telling off, fatherly, before his gaze turns to the little mechanical beetle pottering haphazardly.
"Ah, it seems to have an empathic logic coded into it, common with older machines, and this particular fellow seems to date back to the days of Alisa Rand..." He kneels in the snow, beckoning the machine to come closer so that he can place a hand on it to better communicate.
"Hmm... It seems it would prefer to stay with you for the time being... and requests you follow it to where it's parts were once stored..." A soft smile, patting the machine twice as his hand is pulled back, eyes returning to their normal pigmentation as he stands to turn towards the distant warehouse.
"Well? We can hardly refuse a request from such a helpful little fellow... Oh, and don't forget to give it a name, it specifically asked you for one." Laughter, watching the beetle scuttle ahead of them almost impatiently. This will be good for Dan Heng he believes, to have a companion that was once designed to be a library assistant... yet that is something for him to discover himself.
Welt: Reflections
The wooden desk in his bedroom is the only naturally created item, lovingly and painstakingly made as a reminder of the world that waits out there amongst the cosmos. It feels like an eternity since he last set down like this, to reflect and write a letter to the son that grows far beyond his gaze, and yet when better to do so than the anniversary of the day he set out all those years ago.
Amber eyes look at the steam rising from the ornate cup, the faded lettering reading world's best dad, a gag gift from Asdana he thinks and yet it only makes the soft smile grow larger in elation as he takes up the pen and begins to write his thoughts onto the paper once more.
"Joey"
"Worry not, all is well on this side of the wall, it's just been a rather long period of time since last I was able to write to you, my dearest child. You're behaving for Ein and Tesla, I hope..." Joachim laughs, remembers how much of a menace he was at that age with the core blooming to life within and the powers it brought being untamed like a dam that has just burst.
"... Don't answer that, you inherited far too many of my bad habits. Over the past year, I've met many peoples that you would be delighted to learn about, and some rather familiar faces." He thinks of those precious memories, of time-shared together that has become another precious flame to record within himself, a beacon to those that will come after him.
"Where to begin? Dancing in Zero Gravity? A film shoot that was reminiscent of your favourite Arahato episode? Reuniting with old friends and making new ones? So much to write, and yet I fear I can already hear the complaints of a certain someone because I used up all the ink again with these letters..." Yet he knows them far too well, knows the comfort taken in his words from the parties that raised him into the man he because today. "Tesla, I address this to you now, I'm fine, better than I have been I promise, thank you... for looking after him."
Joachim is still the same old sentimental fool, and yet this past year has been truly unforgettable for him, a sea of highs and lows, laughter and sorrow and yet this is the way of the world, what it means to be human. And the boy who inherited the world would hardly change a thing.
"With Love, Joachim."
A letter finished just in time he thinks, sealing it tight as vibrant golden energy travels the length of his cane, trailblaze, nihility and reason intertwining to open the smallest of gateways into a space turbulent and unlike any other, consuming and sending the letter far beyond the gaze of the Aeons, to a world adrift in cosmic seas, even as the intercom blares to life above him.
"Attention all passengers! The train is about to make the jump!"
[ RING ] / those who come to a fighting ring are only ever there for a handful of reasons: to fight, or to bet on those fights. when a match draws all the attention in the room, there's few other thoughts running through anyone's mind but its outcome——and how much there is at stake.
as a result, it's one of aventurine's favorite places for serendipitous, chance encounters. "mister yang, the astral express' own seasoned veteran. haha, can't say i took you for someone interested in a fighting ring."
whether or not he was either was another thing altogether.
gloved hand slides a tumbler of dark brown liquid across the metal table to the man as he slides into the stool, contents like leather oil, dark enough to almost be black. with his other hand, he downs his own similar glass, exhaling as he sets the now-empty container on his side of the rim and closes his eyes briefly against the cotton-like fumes of a headrush, beating pleasantly behind the temples before gently receding like the humidity after a strong rainfall. the taste punches the senses, acrid and bitter——the kind of thing guaranteed to wake someone up. when his eyes open again, the rings of hypnotic blues and fuschia seem even brighter in the dingy low light. "speaking of which, how are things with the express these days? it's not like we've had the chance to cross paths much since everything on penacony. for trailblazers, i'm sure it's not easy to make time to come back and visit all the friends you've made in old places."
WELT LEANS BACK INTO THE STOOL, gaze held steady on the ring before the Stoneheart is calling out to him, breaking the monotonous silence with a simple greeting that pulls his attention away from what can only be called a thinly veiled bloodsport. There is little elegance or restraint to be found in the way the combatants duke it out, that Welt can barely keep his attention on them before the man had approached. "Ah, Mister Aventurine, I was rather shocked to see you and Miss Topaz were among the list of offworld competitors. I can hardly call myself a seasoned veteran, merely an old animator from some distance backwater world. Unless, of course, you're referring to the incident with Phantylia, I assure you I was... barely involved."
Yet that look in the eye of the Pathstrider of Nihility is almost bloodthirsty, as if measuring the Pathstrider of Preservation to determine if a conclusion to that... misguided grudge match on Penacony warranted casting off the veil of a feeble old man.
A pause, before laughter breaks the seriousness that seems to have fallen over their little table, a gloved hand reaching for the whiskey slid across with a grateful nod of his head. If there's one thing Joachim can appreciate, it's the gambling Stoneheart's affinity for the more top shelf variety of Belobog's finest, feeling the whiffs of a rather ancient oak curl against his senses, making the almost harsh lighting dull to a more pleasant hum. A shift of his gaze, his body, turning to meet the more unique features of the Avgin, the hypnoti hues met with a golden cog set against faded crimson, an honour he rarely has reason to offer to most.
"Rather... uneventful to say the least in truth." And what a lie that truth was, yet the journey to Amphoreus was hardly something to be discussed so openly among a group that had only recently begun to venture into space once more, no, that was a story better shared in the wilderness where none could overhear, instead the once Herrscher pivots to a more... amicable topic.
"We're both here so... how about a wager, Trailblaze versus Preservation in the ring, the loser owes the winner more than merely a tumbler of whiskey for the trouble?" The smirk on his features is full of teeth, a warning sign that the self-proclaimed old man had no intention of losing to the formidable opponent before him, as a gloved hand is outstretched to seal the agreement between them.
-> @avcnturine
Sweet Child O' Mine
#GHRevelation2025 - March - [Ballroom]
march goes easily, pulled into the embrace with a giggle. there is little that she could ever ask for, but all of it is here, she thinks. yes, here is home. yes, here is family. she may not have a past to return to, but she has a present to belong to now, and a future to look forward to. isn't that just lovely?
but...a large extended family, huh? whenever she thought about her future, it had just been the six of them, the crew of the astral express crew, forever trailblazing onward. that could have been enough for her, she thinks, but the more the merrier, right? mr. yang must have lived a whole life and then some before he arrived on the astral express. there are people waiting for him back home too, surely? anyone would be lucky to have known him, to have had him in their life. people back home must miss him. “well, it sounds nice, but...that's a bit scary,” she confesses quietly. “what if they don't like me?”
...what if you leave because they don't?
she swallows hard around the lump that's suddenly formed in her throat, furiously shaking her head. no, nope, absolutely not! mr. yang wouldn't do that and so march 7th won't even entertain the thought further.
“...will you tell me a bit more about it?” comes the tentative question instead, two-toned eyes peering up at him. “earth,” she repeats from earlier, the syllable slow and strange on her tongue. “your home world, right? what is it like? i bet it's really nice. if you came from there, it has to be, heh!”
THE PAUSE IS FAMILIAR, he was young once after all, when the little village he was raised in gave way to a world that he had never dreamt of indulging in, yet he cannot help but recognise how different their experiences are as the tempo of the music begins to slow. Family, especially that which finds you, can be rather alarming at first, and he's the last that would ever dismiss such genuine fears from one who originally only had so little.
"I was scared at first too, you know..." Laughter flows softly from his lips, remembering the first few years when he spent hour after hour, day after day hiding in the shadow of another, always so afraid to overstep his position despite the legacy Joyce had left to him at such a young age. "Ah, I've never told you much about Tesla and Einstein, have I? They raised me after my family died you see, I wasn't much younger than you when they took me in and trust me, I was worried about not being wanted, that they only tolerated me because the man they cared for left me his name." It's silly now, looking back, that he'd been afraid of embracing the legacy left to him and yet Joyce had always lingered over him like a spectre until the core had truly become him.
Still, he takes the lead in their little dance, merging with the crowd like so many parents seem to do as he ponders where to start with Earth, and yet one person in particular stands out in his memory. Joey was happily in Tesla's care now, no doubt experimenting with the same powers Welt had at that age, and yet here was little doubt he'd be ecstatic at the prospect of being a younger sibling.
"Earth... For one, you best prepare for Joey to pester you with endless questions, no doubt he's liable to bounce off the walls more than he already does at the prospect of having a big sister." A calm smile, swaying gently amidst the seas of cloth like its second nature, guiding March further away from the self-doubts that seem to be only naturally occurring in people of their nature. "I believe you remember Miss Acheron? The woman I mistook her for is a teacher there, some of her students aren't much older than you. Mind you, I don't quite think the principle has forgiven me for teaching History without a degree, but that's our little secret." A wink, as if he's shared some secret that is meant only for her ears, a way to calm the lump in her throat and the nervousness in her gaze as they swirl through the crowds.
"You know... you're likely to be caught between her and Tesla and Ein, Anti-Entropy is very protective of our own, especially when they learn about how much you like your Camera, in fact I wouldn't be shocked if they pull you into a lab somewhere to see if they can upgrade it the moment they see you."
A statement wrapped in veiled words, a declaration that no matter the doubts in her mind, he, and the organisation built from the legacy of another, would always consider themselves her home should she will it.
red stone, dyed byzantium.
tatarigami with welt + arlecchino.
this man is certainly strange. that seemed to be the resounding conclusion from every new tidbit of information or errant turn of phrase that came from mr. yang: laughing off a crack of lightning that strikes his person, connections to an organization that he believes is not dissimilar from the fatui, knowledge of another code name of her's ( but no connection drawn to the person in front of him, it seems? ), experience detecting residual energy with the corpses of gods... and some sort of orb that materializes in the palm of his hand.
clearly, his cane wasn't drawing the lightning when another bolt comes between them and nearly misses. eyes widen --- but arlecchino nods her head at the suggestion to head for the cursed remains first, then starts to walk up to the burnt umber path carved into the island ahead. maybe there were mysteries to this man that warranted solving... maybe not.
there were plenty of stranger people in the world who went about their daily lives with few questions from those that surround them, merely acceptance.
if she wanted fewer questions about herself, providing that sort of acceptance would perhaps sere as a deterrent. eyes mostly scan quietly for the first several minutes of walking, watching their surroundings for a potential explanation related to the island's core issue... and signs on the ground of potential lightning strikes, mostly the buildup of violet static that would signal an impending bolt. once she's gotten far enough into the routine of watching for these things along the road, arlecchino finally picks up the conversation once more. "you made it sound a short while ago as though you have some familiarity with the energy from the remains of a god, mr. yang... what sort of circumstances did that involve? I'd imagine there could be some strategies of use, if you have had success managing that sort of fallout in the past."
HE CANNOT CLAIM TO BE ANYTHING BUT LOST IN THOUGHT, feeling the way lightning cackles in the air with every step taken. There's a viciousness here that reminds him of his brief experience with the core of thunder's power, and yet it feels almost empty, as if whatever being once fuelled the malice in the air has long since resigned themselves to oblivion. It's sad in a way, how this power feel feels so lacking in anything but raw instinct as the key in his hand whirls to life, attempting to rationalise the power that keeps striking at him like a bitter enemy,
Yet, Joachim pulls himself from his thoughts as the woman beside him, so full of interesting secrets and yet cloaked in an intimidation that feels only natural for whatever position was held. "Hmm? Oh, my weap--- Key..." A necessary correction, lest he give away too many of the cane's secrets. "... is made from the remains of a being that was the closest to being considered a god in my homeland's understanding, the process to do so is possible only to a select few." A white lie, if only to keep the true dangers of the divine key from attracting the attention of the world's so-called sustainers. He really should repay Neuvillette for that tidbit, a thought for another time, when the colossal snake head isn't looming overhead.
How odd, even the divine key seems to respond to the emptiness of the being, and yet he himself is wholly unfamiliar with the being of which the energy spills forth in almost malicious waves. Lightning curls underfoot, cascading like an endless torrent, as wildlife flees in self-preservation for the unending storm.
"How intriguing, the Commission had warned of Fatui and yet... the only thing to be found here is wildlife." A puzzled tone, even as his senses extend far and wide for any remnant of the items he's familiar with, pieces of an endless puzzle that would help to make sense of why the storm had returned to the island so abruptly, and yet there's little to be found that feels familiar to him. "It would seem my business here won't be nearly as straightforward as I'd hoped..." Absent words before he's kneeling into the blackened earth, scratching at the surface for whatever's seemed to have caught his attention. "Hmm... a gemstone of some sort, how odd..."
Welt: Empty bedrooms, familiar ghosts
"An apartment in New York, really, Joachim?" It's a sensible question, yet he has little more to spend the endless royalties on these days. Even the Arahato program has long since transferred out of his control, a product of feeling his age no doubt and yet... he's accepting of it all, accepting that the time has come to settle down and actually enjoy the faux retirement.
A shifting gaze, turning his attention to the counter that's marked how long it's been since he last had to call upon the energy that permeates his form. The calendar hastily pinned onto it reads January 16th, 2024, nearly 8 years to the day when he passed on both Title and Core to his successor, and still he looks fondly upon the day that reason became her truth. No, Welt was more than happy to allow himself to fade into the background and still... the part of him that worried for the wards of anti entropy only seemed to grow even stronger.
Perhaps that's what drove him to get an apartment with far too many bedrooms, with halls that are only fleetingly empty of a pottering of a dozen feet and voices that echo back and forth in search of this item and that. Retirement suits him, he thinks, and yet he can't help but cherish the moments stolen from time itself. The walls once barren are covered in photographs, Birthdays, Graduations, Milestones, picture after picture that adorn the light grey facade, of smiling faces and tired eyes and yet each of them hang proudly.
He's started to use a cane of late, finally starting to feel his age, and yet every step is methodical, strolling past closed door after closed door as the smell of food begins to permeate the hallway. Tap, Tap, Tap, door after door knocked upon and left slightly ajar as he returns to the start of his walk, casting aside thoughts of age as head after weary head pokes out from the bedrooms they continue to swear they were only borrowing.
"Breakfast is on the table, give yourselves time to wake and join me when you're ready, won't you?" Yes, Welt thinks to himself, he can put off that trip to St. Fountain for another week, retirement is meant to be enjoyed after all.
