#mountnrange

[lightricks]

"get up, kaeya. go home. you've got two working legs, get them moving." keeping kaeya from drinking too much day in and day out was a sisyphean effort, but diluc had long accepted his role as the protective killjoy older brother. topping off the glass of the man three seats down the bar, dawn's expression never changed, eyeing kaeya with a challenging furrow of his brow. his weight shifted comfortably to one side, and diluc crossed his arms over his chest. "must be terribly annoying to be an alcoholic, when i'm running the industry in this city—pity, getting sober might just be the next best thing."

to kae, obvs. from diluc @mountnrange >:)c

@mountnrange.

          the problem with accepting the role of a protective, killjoy brother was the acknowledgement that they were still brothers in the first place, something kaeya couldn’t remember bringing up from the moment he had dropped the name ‘ragnvindr’ and picked up ‘alberich’ again. all of the frustrating nagging, but none of the closeness, the camaraderie, the attempts at communication that diluc at least seemed to feign in his letters. maybe kaeya was not as forthright has he had been with written word either, but he wanted to think he was trying to be nice. trying not to let the memories of their fall out, and the anxiety of fixing his various masks force him into a nervous spiral. in moods like this one of the only things in mondstadt that could calm him was a smooth glass of death afternoon, when diluc didn’t make it his personal mission to deny him.

          the annoyed expression upon kaeya’s face betrayed his usual cheery facade, even the one laced with biting sarcasm. maybe if he’d been in more of a good mood he would have been up for a round of verbal banter, but instead he found himself paying his tab, arms, legs heavy as he heaved himself up from his chair. he leaned on it a bit too heavily to pretend he was still completely sober, gaze fixated on diluc with a growing intensity to them akin to thunder. and when he finally did speak his voice was quiet, but purposeful, sharp and cutting like glass.

          “   why do you hate me this much ?   ”

[lightricks]

@mountnrange.

          this wasn’t part of the plan.

          he could feel the bloodied ichor seeping through his clothes, the celestial strikes continuing to burn into the wounds, seeking out the abyssal blood with hound-like precision. what was quite possibly one of the hardest missions in his life made all the more impossible by reckless swordsmanship, underestimating the might of the domain keepers, and being unable to focus on anything except his son. andvari had felt something fracture, knew whatever wound that had cut through the flesh would fester in this weak human disguise. but the mission was far more important than making it out of it alive. if he was caught ... then maybe it would be better if the domain keepers finished him off, let him wash away in the storm.

          “  <   kayali, boy   -   stay close to me.   >   ”  maybe he leant too heavily on his son’s shoulder as his vision swam in and out of focus, the blinding pain making the lights in front of him fade and flicker. he heard his son’s soft gasp, a grunt of pain, murmured expressions of concern that weren’t translating in his head. though they had long since lost sight of the celestial vanguards, the adrenaline of their attack still rushed through him, urging him to carry on, to find the place pierro promised would be safe.   “   <   remember, no one can know where you come from. no one can know who raised you. they’ll hunt you, hurt you, as they have our kind ‘til the dawn of time.   >   ”   the boy’s small hand reached over the gnarled knuckles of his father’s as they stumbled upon the vinyard, drawn to the safety of the lights.

          another lance of pain through his body and andvari’s body fell, body cushioned by the muddy path. as the sound of rain and thunder drowned out the sound of the boy’s tearful panicking, deceptive strength managing to haul andvari’s body to a nearby shack just off the main path.

          it wasn’t meant to end like this.

          as his visioned blurred a final time into darkness, the last thing he saw was kayali’s blood-stained hands wrapped ‘round both his own.

          there is still so much to accomplish.

[cloudhymn]

[ rip + clothing ] your muse tearing a piece of clothing off my muse.

+

[ kiss + rough ] your muse pulling mine into a rough kiss.

both in one, from @mountnrange evernight. <3

spicy muse reaction prompts.

one thousand years had not been enough to negate every one of dan heng’s flaws, the yawn and lap of waves had not smoothed every jagged edge of him into a serene calmness. he knew that she knew this, because evernight’s conniving nature set off every one of the bestial instincts he had honed over the course of centuries. one red flag after another, the ability to sense that instantaneous shift between march 7th’s upright posture and relaxed float of evernight’s. the soft, discordant feeling of her existence smothering him like suffocating deep space, determined to dip her fingers into every nook his insecurities might find. it … infuriated him, frustrated him … it allured him like nothing else.

some absent part of him wondered if there was ever any consequence to how reckless he was with evernight. countless times he’d scolded her the ways in which she cared for march’s body, and he found himself a hypocrite each time, watching the way scratched and welts temporarily marred soft pale skin, the give and feel of her plush figure even under a countenance, an existence so cold and void-like. each encounter with her had become a voracious tug-of-war with his own spirit, his own deteriorating give into the temptations of the body. this seemed like a fair recompense, did it not ? after her actions had resulted in a thousand years of exile, away from human touch ?

watching the draconic talons-like nails tear through the fabric of her collar was a hypnotic experience, having never seen the way it would be stitched together perfectly the next time he saw her. seamless, as if he had never laid hands on her in the first place, never grabbed at her chest after she had mocked his demure nature, never thrust into her dripping cunt just because she said he wouldn’t, that he didn’t have the grit. after every tryst with that demon in the mirror, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d wandered into her waiting traps. that he should know better about where she laid them, how to traverse just out of reach, and still - like a vortex, he found them in the same position once more ; evernight bent over the databanks with dan heng growling into the back of her neck.

the cloudhymn panted out between his aroused snarling healed the merciless scratches she left on his arms. the sort that flowed through his veins protected him from the clutches of the enigmata pathstrider, whatever violent delights she regulary surprised him with. every sickened fall into her embrace had been a roulette with a cosmic horror, drawn in by the agitation of this entity wearing one of his dear one’s faces. the way she felt was the same in some ways, off in others. he observed the same softness in her chest, the way she moved when he tweaked her nipples, laved at the sensitive flesh, and then uncanny in others ; a distorted voice, the vice like grip of her heat around him when evernight climaxed, feeling the bite of teeth only dragon scales could withstand.

dan heng always wondered if it was worth it after ; the harrowing arousal growing in his gut, the uneasy but addictive thrill when she wound her fingers ‘round his ponytail and jerked him into kisses so hard their teeth clacked. he could never remember the regret of fucking evernight until after she had bid her nonchalant goodbyes, only the temptation, the sliver of a chance to wipe that dead-eyed smile off her mocking features. there was still something like bliss, something feral and wild in knowing she could withstand what she had made when he passed the threshold of the labyrinth. that she could goad the frustration with her and her lackadaisical taunts and turn it into something primal. something like regret always spawned in the aftermath, and yet it was never enough to stop him from repeating that same mistake. from using draconic talons to snap the bands of her underwear, from pushing, mounting her against the nearest flat surface, from giving into the insatiable need of sinking into her.

@mountnrange.

[lightricks]

kaeya was a sentimental person. he carried the remnants of his home in his heart like shattered pieces of glass, trying to fill in the gaps between the spaces. wood, steel, stone, anything that would stop the shards from cutting into him every time he was jostled, every time he found his foundations shaking apart. pretending as if he wasn’t was a harder feat than even he, with his bountiful array of beautiful masks, could accomplish. at least, not to diluc. not the one person who he’d allowed past every single one of his lies, past all the shards cutting into himself.

were it easier to be candid and straightforward the way he was in his letters, he might not find each interaction with diluc grating, and painful. every word spoken monotonously a reminder that they might always be leagues apart, even standing right next to each other. without their father crepus to bridge the gap between their spats, to lock them in a room until they got along again, to reason out the way they had both broken each other’s hearts what else could they do but bicker and fight ? at least this … this was familiar.

“ your father’s favourite rapier ? how would i know where it is ? ”

he was, once again, much too drunk to be having this conversation. perhaps not enough to show ( he’d made a modicum of effort to save himself the hangover for his shift tomorrow ) but not enough to limit every single one of his inhibitions, and especially for the last person he wanted to see tonight. at the very least, on the outskirts of mondstadt city, out of his uniform, he didn’t have to worry too badly about keeping his outer persona in tact. it gives way to a cold biting anger that had been accumulating in the months since diluc’s return.

“ he barely used it. am i supposed to keep track of everything you threw away when you sold the manor ? ” sardonic. bitter. words taking on an edge that didn’t belong to kaeya’s regular sweet-talking cadence. he blew out a cloud of cold air into the night, wishing he hadn’t left his cigarettes in his office. “ why i barely had any time to collect my own things, let alone crepus’. ask the auction house, master diluc. maybe you’ll have better luck there. ”

@mountnrange.