𝄢 ⤷ Genshin Impact | W: 971
𝄢 ⤷ Nahida and Wanderer are not so different, are they?
𝄢 ⤷ A Nahida character study (and incidentally Wanderer), set not-too-long after Inversion of Genesis. Wanderer is called Feyz (subject to change).
𝄢 ⤷ For my friend @asteralpanda!! Happy moot-iversary!! (LMK if you decide on a different name for Wanwan and I'll update it :D this is your lil story after all!)
Feyz does not often seek her out.
That troubles her, sometimes. He is a troubled person, after all (as uncharitable of a description as that may be), and though he is, she acknowledges, a grown adult who is capable of handling himself—she worries. He handles himself, but he does so roughly. Unkindly.
He hides it well. She sees through it.
They're cut from the same cloth, so to speak. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say they were plucked from the same tree.
Feyz drowns in guilt.
Nahida, for once, is at a loss. How do you save someone like him? She gave him back his memories, and the process of erasing and remembering seems, somehow, to have helped—but what next? What else can she do? What can she do for someone who avoids shows of weakness like the plague?
It's nearly midnight when Feyz knocks on the door of the Sanctuary. He lets himself in.
Nahida (who really should be sleeping, as she'll be the first to admit) is quick to meet him—because he never shows up so late and he never looks so…
Well, the difference is subtle, but there.
"Are you okay?" is the first thing she says.
He is silent, hands curled into fists and shuddering by his side.
Softer, she says: "Sit down. Let's have tea."
He won't talk. She already knows he won't, because he never does. It isn't in his nature, really. As much as she hopes and prays that she can convince him to open up, she knows better.
Feyz will heal regardless.
She will be by his side as he does.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
"When was the last time you let someone take care of you?" Feyz asks.
Ordinarily, Nahida might say the question comes out of the blue—but it doesn't. She knows exactly what he's talking about. Of course she does, because she's nothing if not endlessly introspective. Knowing oneself is important, after all.
That does not mean she always acts appropriately upon that knowledge.
She knows the effect and she knows the cause and she knows, also, that she needs to stop pushing herself so hard. But with so much to do, so many people she can help, how is she supposed to slow down? Sumeru is still recovering from the fiasco that was the sage's conspiracy—from the conspiracy she should have been strong enough to stop. If anything, she should be doing more.
She knows she shouldn't tell herself such things. She always tells Feyz not to talk to himself that way.
She spent plenty of time resting while locked in the Sanctuary (except she didn't, and if she had it wouldn't matter). She needs to be there for her people now that she can be (she doesn't need to make up for lost time. She's already doing plenty).
"I can practically hear your overthinking," Feyz says.
Sighing, Nahida agrees. Because she's being ridiculous and she knows better (though that doesn't make it any easier to ignore). She's tired and it's making her think in circles, like a moth around a lamp. All she's doing is getting lost when, unlike the moth, she knows better.
"Okay," she whispers.
Feyz nods. Without another word, he disappears into the adjoining room. She already knows he's preparing her favorite tea (well, second favorite, considering the late hour) and likely some snacks, too.
He's sweet like that, no matter how ardently he might insist otherwise. Even sweeter than the honey he drizzles in her tea or the candied Ajilenakh nuts in which he lets her indulge. They sit together on the sofa. Feyz isn't touchy the way she sometimes is, but he lets her wriggle her way into his personal space anyway, settled against his side.
"See?" he says. "Isn't this nice?"
"Of course it is," she says. Of course it is. He's making a point, but he's also searching for her approval—but mostly he's making a point. You don't always have to work so hard, you know. Notwithstanding he is also pushing himself (he's better at hiding it) and he is also struggling.
He has it so much worse. She should be the one comforting him (but she does so plenty—and it's good that he cares enough to notice. He's making so much progress).
"Hey," Feyz says, "you're supposed to be relaxing, Kusanali."
"I am relaxed," Nahida lies. She knows full-well just how perceptive Feyz is, but it still surprises her sometimes when she's on the receiving end. It should be the other way around. She's the Archon here. She's the one who is supposed to be wise, and caring, and everything else that Feyz is being right now.
"You're tired. It's not the same thing."
Were Nahida feeling just a touch more childish (and a touch sleepier), she would pout. It's a near thing.
"You're right," she admits with a sigh. "There's just so much to do."
"It can wait," Feyz says.
"It can," she agrees.
"You don't need to carry the whole world on your shoulders," he says.
"I don't," she agrees.
"Stop worrying so much."
Nahida hesitates. Then: "…I'll try not to."
With the smallest smile and the slightest laugh—barely an exhale—Feyz says, "Close enough."
Because he is right. Of course he is. He's only telling her the same things she would tell him (though perhaps not phrased quite as gently). And seeing as she's right, he must be too. She knew that already. It's easier to accept, though, coming from him. She suspects the reverse is true, too.
They're so alike, after all. Radically different circumstances, yet—how did she put it before?—yet they're both cut from the same cloth, or maybe plucked from the same tree.
all my smut is feeling so repetitive and tbh TAME. if yall want anything more intense, along the lines of like idfk vampire!ellie/abby/dina, some other positions idk or maybe knife play...(STILL haven't stopped thinking about fingerbanging sub!ellie with her own knife to her throat MREOWW thats also coming eventually), basically anything a little more intense thats not tooooo outlandish...feel free to ask!! i needa switch it up a little 💀 everything is the exact same. it's just oral, scissoring, fingering on repeat IM BOREDDDD (totally don't plan on repeating them a couple more times for the next few things...erm...oops BUT ITS ALR BEEN PLANNED FOR AGES OK) ++ fluffy/angsty reqs always welcome as well! dont mind me asking for more as if a million aren't collecting dust but OPTIONS just letting yall know.
also!!! that means im turning anon back on. im being so serious and i GENUINELY cannot stress this enough, if yall don't behave yourselves it isn't going to be fun. the second i get a fuck ass creepy ask, anons coming off again, likely for a much longer period of time—or even indefinitely—and im going to snap. all my patience has been spent, and im not tolerating any bullshit anymore. i really don't wanna be messy, yall know me, but if it comes to that don't test it <3 (this is in no way targeted to any kind comments or asks, weirdos know who they are!) yeah this sounds harsh, but i have teeth too. (ok edgelord)
listen when i start reading b.nha again bc it will happen… i’m writing that lil angry bomb boy and MAYBE maybe m.idoriya… we’ll see but either way i need someone to hold my hand okay
One of their first mornings in camp in the city, Ari is wearing something rather different from her normal outfits.
"Darling, what are you wearing?"
"What? You don't expect me to go into the den of the bastard," because there was no way she was even mentioning the name if it wasn't necessary, "in a fancy dress, do you? There's a time for dresses, and a time for being ready to face who-knows-what. Besides, I can be stylish and battle-ready, don't you think?"
"Mm... you sure can. It suits you, too. Give me a few minutes."
"There. Not as extraordinary as yours, but it'll do better than a suit."
"Oh, you look great if you ask me. Both of us in black would be a bit too much, anyway." They exchanged a grin, and Ari nodded after a moment.
"Now, let's go get what should be yours."
"Ours, my dear."
Ari smiled at that correction. "Right. Ours." They were a team, after all. Or no, not a team. So much more.
Incubus Dabi who is so used to being so charming and easy to slide inside the comfort of anyone’s bed, only to be brought to his knees by you—a succubus so old and grand and divine that he can’t even tell that you’re other. that you’re higher and greater than him in every way, shape, and form. that pins him so easily and makes him scream your name, gets him drunk enough on your scent and power that he forgets who, and what, he even is.
very minor thing I still definitely deserve a medal for:
being raised catholic, and now as an adult repeatedly falling in love with characters that fandoms like to declare catholic, but still managing to reject those headcanons because at heart I'm too much of a stickler for accurate analysis to get behind them when i know the person in question is really meant to be anglican/episcopalian/whatever other flavor of christian
