“ i said keep still. ” hands move carefully, so gently in order to not press too harshly against slashed skin. ( it’s like everywhere they see some remnant of a life before, where sol would sit in front of their sibling &. bandage their wounds, and while they would tend to the injuries they bore, simultaneous. it’s far too sentimental. it makes them feel homesick. )
this too, just feels as routine as that, where traveler &. fatui harbinger would share a moment of reprieve after battle, sat against one of the pillars of the golden house. gold ichor treks down from their nose &. to their chin, cascades down into the fabric of their shirt. unclean, already dried &. irritated against it’s skin. they sniffle, ignores the needles of pain in their nose — just focuses on wrapping gauze around childe’s forearm, watches the slow crawl of crimson through bandage &. is ever tender in their touch. ( ... the sting of past betrayal still sits like a knife in their gut, but nevertheless, sol views them as a lesser of many evils. in some perfect world, they’d still see him as a friend. * part of them still foolishly does. )
“ i don’t understand why you continue doing this to yourself. the result is always the same. ”
@heavenlyprinciples, for childe !
