#rosemourne

[threebetrayals]

@rosemourne​ sent:  ❝ so i’m not allowed to give you a nickname, little bird? ❞ // FROM AYATO

»  ragnarok prompts    ‒‒‒‒‒    accepting  

     “ no. ”

  there’s no hesitation, and even less regret for the bite the answer carries as narrowed eyes glare piercingly up at the man before him. the man who CONTINUES to maintain his polite composure, his hideous mask which the wanderer can see right through, regardless of how well-crafted it may be. it may be enough to fool others, but he had seen beneath it even before kamisato had begun his THINLY-VEILED PATRONIZING the first time they’d met. discomfort rolls off the wanderer in waves, and he hates it, hates that he knows the other man can SMELL IT on him in no doubt the same way dottore had always been able to. a shiver threatens to crawl beneath his skin, but that much, fortunately, he’s able to fight against.

     “ you most certainly are not. ”  barely hidden in his words, or the way his entire body stands rigid, is a THREAT. a non-specific threat, but one that can easily be presumed as violence in some form or another — a warning he would NOT have been so kind as to offer in another lifetime, and one he only offers now as a courtesy to kazuha. were this man not effectively his partner’s boss, he’s certain he would have done something extreme by now, either to shut kamisato up or to simply EASE the flurry of unpleasant emotions he feels whenever he lay eyes on the man.

     “ i have absolutely no desire for a nickname from the likes of YOU, even if you were to offer one less patronizing. ”

[vzorexa]

冰 。 @rosemourne​​ 。𝖠𝖫𝖡𝖤𝖣𝖮 ∥ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽 。

 some  things  in  this  world,  albedo  has  found,  cannot  be  quantified  down  to  science  or  numbers  or  chemical  reactions.  many  of  said  mysterious  equations  are  stemmed  from  the  human  condition  itself  -  or  their  utterly  unpredictable  behaviors.  one  would  assume  he  had  long  since  given  up  on  attempting  to  placate  his  mind  with  some  sort  of  rational  language  for  mortal  behavior  -  but  every  time  he  did,  someone’s  actions  blew  any  theories  he  had  constructed  out  of  the  water,  and  the  kreideprinz  was  back  at  square  one. klee’s  behavior  was,  of  course,  a  prime  example  of  this.  a  child  that  was,  for  all  intents  and  purposes,  abandoned  by  her  family,  yet  living  with  the  kind  of  affable  cheerfulness  that  albedo  couldn’t  begin  to  quantify.  it  was  one  of  the  reasons  he  found  her  so  endearing,  and  simultaneously  fascinating.  and  ALSO  the  major  reason  he  cared  enough  to  assist  in  the  clean  up  of  any  of  her  wayward  messes  at  all.  especially  when  it  involved  venturing  close  to  the  city.  the  city  meant  people.  people  meant  interaction.  albedo  hated  interacting  with  anyone  beyond  a  total  of  five  people,  and  number  two  was  approaching. the  alchemist  had  been  staring  at  cider  lake  (and  the  scorched  grass  around  it),  with  his  hands  on  his  hips,  watching  as  the  sun  set  gently  over  the  horizon  of  mondstadt.  sucrose  and  timaeus  bustled  about,  a  strange  powered  concoction  being  dumped  upon  the  blades  of  dead  foliage  at  albedo’s  behest.  he  hears  that  familiar  voice  -  a  silken  tone  that  reminds  him  of  the  feeling  of  soft  sheets  against  flesh,  or  the  burn  of  whiskey  down  his  throat.  the  alchemist  turns  slowly,  and  when  his  gaze  fixes  on  kaeya’s  own,  he  swears  he  feels  the  golden  mark  at  his  neck  throb  in  recognition. creation’s  gaze  softens  imperceptibly  for  the  cavalry  captain,  and  albedo’s  hands  drop  from  his  hips,  while  the  vaguest  hint  of  mirth  finds  his  perfectly  beautiful  features. “that  depends,”  he  finds  himself  saying, “are  you  interested  in  spreading  about  calcified  mist  flower  powder  or  cleaning  up  the  occasional  dead  fish  carcass  that  has  washed  up?”  his  stare  is  intense.  it  always  is.  perhaps  it’s  the  way  he  sees  right  through  kaeya,  sees  what  they  share,  perhaps.  or  maybe  he  doesn’t.  it’s  impossible  to  tell  with  albedo. “moral  support  is  also  appreciated.”  because  yes,  the  area  did  smell  like  barbecued  fish.

        The task at hand should pose no difficulty to comprehend. His men had already brought it upon themselves to initiate the cleanup even without being told. Thoughtlessly, Kaeya had watched one of the knights tiptoe along the bay, lifting a bass by the tail as its remains drip sludge on ground. A sight he willingly parted in exchange of the source of the curious and lulling tone, — his fellow captain. A presence that ineffably granted some refuge from his spurring thoughts. 

        Albedo had always held a demeanor that is vague yet amiable. Serene despite the wreckage in the background. A true testament of how the prettiest, enigmatic things do thrive midst havoc and its ruins. 

        There was one tense beat as his unshrouded eye meets with crystalline turquoises of the alchemist’s careful and grasping look. While there’s always a potent threat to drown oneself in its confines of scrutiny, Kaeya chose to waver, at least,  — for now. 

        Not to mind the sudden blaze of eagerness that seem to flicker out of nowhere.

          ❛ Guess it can’t be helped. ❜ he relinquished with a helpless sigh, albeit there is no speck of hesitation when he reached to unclasp the buttons securing his feathery cape,  ❛ We ought to get our hands dirty once in a while, no? ❜ 

         Reaching for a nearby bowl of powder, he studied it in passing. Kaeya would have loved to know the details behind science of it all, - not quite of its meticulous processes but more with its source. Although Kaeya does not present himself bookish, he had read enough to be aware that its execution is unmentioned on most modern books of alchemy, and yet, Albedo seems to practice it by heart. Not very surprising in thought, but nonetheless, intriguing. 

         ❛ Although, ❜ Kaeya quickly quips after readjusting, tanned featured donned with an easy grin. Keeping his curiosities in mind, he notes it’s a puzzle to decode another day. Instead, he diverts on a different kind of curiosity altogether, ❛ I absolutely wouldn’t mind our Sir Alchemist’s moral support. ❜    

[kanedoji]

one  of  the  perks  of  sumeru’s  vivacious  personality,  is  the  kind  of  folks  it  attracts.  the  the  absence  of  the  akasha,  travelers  had  become  twice  as  entertaining,  and  foreigners  more  of  an  oddity  than  ever  before.  kaveh’s  particular  darshan  allowed  him  the  privilege  of  much  travel  -  of  meeting  new  and  interesting  people  all  across  teyvat.  but,  he  thinks,  most  of  his  strange  encounters  cannot  hold  a  candle  to  the  herculean  man  before  him.  the  architect  is  tall  and  lean,  and  even  he  has  to  look  up  to  meet  blatantly  inhuman  eyes.  he  is  used  to  being  willowy  in  comparison  to  some  of  his  peers  alhaitham,  but  this  is…

one  of  his  more  favorable  traits  as  the  ability  to  cultivate  friendships  (or  friends  with  benefitsships)  no  matter  where  he  went.  truly,  it  was  a  talent,  and  one  he  excelled  at.  but  rarely  did  kaveh  find  a  soul  as  opulent  as  his  -  as  entertaining,  as  blustery,  and  one  who  understood  the  strife  that  came  with  the  great  bulletin  board  wars  of  their  time.  a  fellow  veteran.  long-suffering.

he  could’ve  found  a  friend  in  the  oni  immediately  -  and  maybe  he  still  had  -  but  the  architect’s  temper  ran  hot  and  frankly,  the  knowledge  that  his  combat  expertise  was  disregarded  in  favor  of  the  fact  that  it  looked  like  he  could  hardly  hold  a  claymore  filled  him  with  indignation,  even  as  itto  lifted  his  own  weapon  with  one  hand.  attractive,  he  thinks,  before  anger  bubbles  anew.

“tch-!”  the  blade  materializes  in  both  hands,  his  vision  pulsating  briefly  with  the  effort. “i  am  not-”  across  desert  sands  his  weapon  drags,  before  kaveh  lifts  it  with  a  great  heave, “a-”  cling! “skinny-”  clang! “minnie!”  and  judging  by  the  way  he  moved  -  still  filled  effort,  but  surprisingly  graceful  -  a  complex  dance  of  his  white  slippers  across  the  dunes  -  he  had  at  least  some  amount  of  prowess.

@rosemourne from here.

"Ahaha, atta boy!" If there was one thing Itto was typically cursed to become, it was a thorn in people's sides. Natively so in those who were prone to irritation, as Kaveh was. One would think it a quixotic and even contrary thing to become, as the pair shared the same struggles as much as they shared eye color. Said struggles being against stoic buttfaces who didn't know the first thing about polite conversations or honorable confrontations, let alone how they were totally wrong about... well, everything! Yet, the subject matter and parallels between them were hardly of concern as they duked it out on the same stretch of desert the architect had been commissioned for a project on, with Itto happening to tag along due to his endless desire to bring sandboarding to the desert folk who deserved it more than anything.

The clangor of their blades clashing was a sight to behold, but as Itto often noted with slighter wielders, there were signs of compensation from such a smaller body. Not that it meant one was necessarily a wimp, as muscle mass didn't always translate to power or strength, especially in those chumps who body-built themselves but for no real practical application. Him, though? Oh no, he was was all power! No fancy gimmicks or forgery when it came to punishing blows.

"Not bad, not bad," Itto cajoled casually as the blond continued to batter him indiscriminately, not quite hard enough to count as a bludgeon, by far. "Thing is, your center of gravity if off. If all you're doin' is swingin' that thing, its momentum basically drags you along with it and ya lose control. Try chillin' out for a minute and you'll see what I mean."

"I mean, hey--there's more to these bad boys than just swingin' 'em around and waitin' for them to hit. Ya really have to go at it with style, like--yeah, run away you messy bitches, haha!" Still wielding his one-handed, instead of hitting back, Itto engaged in a reciprocal dance of parrying and deflecting, surprisingly nimble despite his size. For as oafish as people thought him, his strength and speed had always been second to none.

[fatedevour]

♢  —    @rosemourne​​​​​​​​​​ asked:   i’ll kill them , just say the word . // from childe ( a week old meme for you because i'm a menace to society )

SOME MEME I LOST...whoops

   It is not OFTEN that Dottore has the chance for an interaction with Childe beyond the meeting rooms and his own labs to fixed the damage that has been inflicted on him. So this is a RARE opportunity just by venturing out, let alone with the drumbeat of bloodshed threatening to fill the air at any moment. A sound brought on by the four men shoved to their knees in the dirt in front of the second harbinger.

 A gloved hand slowly raises to his chin, gaze sweeping over each of the potential victims for a moment. Their clothes spoke of local residence, but everything else screamed of the militaristic training of the beating heart of liyue’s main city. From the language to mannerism ; if even Dottore could detect as much, he couldn’t imagine what some of the others might deduce from it. But clearly these were spies not used to being CAUGHT or in tight tight situations. They were good, good enough even Childe hadn’t seemed to be CONSCIOUSLY aware of their presence, but they’d been unable to evade the red eyes of the beast known as Il Dottore. Poor soul, it’d was a doomed mission from the start. 

   “  None of them would be useful test subjects, and letting them return would be problematic in the long run. “  Dottore speaks matter of factly as he takes slow, measured steps. A shark corralling fish into a tightly packed ball that made feeding easy. Although there was inevitably the fact that sooner or later the government would discover the corpses, that’d be effectively tied. After all, it was’t as though they could ask Childe or Dottore about the four deaths when the victims were spies they were never supposed to be aware of. They could get rid of these nuisances and then be free to continue with matters as planned.  “  Nor do I have interest in interrogating them.  “

   Lips pull back as he flashes his jagged teeth that formed a grin as the victims faces twisted to looks of despair. Evidently they had been bargaining on an interrogation or information potentially saving their lives. Little did they know it NEVER would have helped them even if he had wanted information. “  Very well. You may kill them however you please. This is what happens to those who attempt to spy on the fatui.  “  

[toradoji]

"It's no secret that I'm a supremely talented man." // from gorou! fting a tail wag

"Yeah, I definitely can give you that."

And it was the truth. Given that Watatsumi Island had become something of a tourist spot those days, it was easier to visit than before. Thankfully, despite her doings with the Tenryo Commission, she wasn't a permanent fixture like Shikanoin and could move between factions without arousing suspicion, nevermind that not many knew who she was. That day in particular, Kuki had found herself sparring with the bored military personnel, but her level of expertise saw them all defeated in a few moves before they had to bow out.

Gorou had been different. Although not as much of a heavy-hitter as Itto or overwhelming as Sara--both of whom she was in equal grounds martially--he was still an aggressive and cunning fighter. Shinobu had to do more than try just to land a hit or two, but his evasiveness could put even the swiftest bolt of lightning to shame, his sharpshooting deflecting the odd Thundergrass Mark she managed to hone on him.

In the end, while she had won, it had been a narrow victory. Well... and then some.

"Thing is... I bet you can't even do updog. Kinda a shame, really."

[twilightichor]

■  ■  ■ From stone arcs that crown the vicinities of Durin’s corpse does the stellar cape waves with Dragonspine’s frigid wind as the man in question sits atop one of the arcs. Icy sapphire depths mirror the luminary’s target of interest: Gold’s successful creation leaving footmarks on the snow. Only a fool would not be aware of dangers that come with failed experiments, it is but a result of seeds planted long ago waiting to germinate. Their germination stage happens to be now, when Subject One arose at long last to commit to that which is essence to many more abominable creations: a strong drive to eliminate the living for the sake of replacing them with what in their minds should be reality. As for Subject Two, what can possibly be his thoughts on the matter of creation? Did this mishap —that jeopardized the safety of those he presumably cherishes like a true human would— spark a necessity to walk down the same route as his creator? Art of Khemia is a blessing as it can be motive to a whole civilization’s downfall, after all. There is only one way to know. Thus does the Twilight Sword of old let himself fall from the top of the rocky structure to land seamlessly atop the snow with the intention to follow and observe from the shadows in order to satiate his new object of interest.

@rosemourne ✦

[vzorexa]

a flourished knock at the door reveals the features of the windblown chief alchemist, silhouetted by the street lamps of mondstadt at late hours. the slighter man stands there, upon the captain's doorstep, with a carefully wrapped plate in hand. beneath the clear fixture it's plain to see the carefully made fruit skewers beneath - lovingly arranged in such a way that is uniquely albedo. holding the plate is the alchemist himself - and he looks a bit timid, perhaps even shy, as the item is pushed forward with the sweetest murmur of, "happy birthday, kaeya" all punctuated by a brilliant, rare smile from albedo himself.

   The gentle knock he heard sounded, — hesitant. If he hadn’t known better, it would have been easily mistaken as a stray bird’s peckings. Kaeya found himself reaching for the door. As if what’s behind its wooden frame would disappear if he had rather called out to it.  

   ❛ Albedo, ❜ he spurts out, baffled by the presence. The HQ’s halls had already dimmed. It’s the midst of dead night. Most of the knights had already retired from day’s work hours and hours ago. Kaeya wondered if the snow-pale researcher was an illusion made from his exhausted mind. 

    There are a plethora of unspoken questions frozen within Kaeya’s perplexed profile, —  and it must have been this tense silence that urged Albedo to speak first.

      Happy Birthday, Kaeya.

   It was then he exhaled the breath he hadn’t knew he held. All this time he spent confounded, he had missed the meal offered as a gift. He must have been blinded by something else entirely. ❛ — and all the way from Dragonspine. ❜ He muttered weakly, susceptibly, and almost to himself. 

   ❛ Thank you, truly. ❜ His gaze then softened, ❛ Really, you shouldn’t have.❜ 

   Kaeya wouldn’t be surprised if he had woken up at this point. When he glimpsed Albedo’s smile he felt something within his chest twinge, painfully. A star shone and twinkled just for him tonight and he knew it would be a sight etched in his memory for the rest of his breathing days. 

   ❛ Then, ❜ he spoke, finally recovered his composure. The door creaked as he shifted. ❛ Would you like to stay for dinner? ❜

[al-hazen]

@rosemourne​ -- ;

Sometimes, removing his earpieces was like being allowed to breathe again. Although his damaged nerves could barely sensate the breeze that passed through an open window mounted with a gilt framework common within his palace. With its sweeping vistas over Port Ormos and the commanding view it boasted of the sea, it was easily one of the grandest structures in all of Sumeru this side of the Wall of Samiel. For what little remained of his ear, memory filled in blanks that silence otherwise filled. That was until he remembered he played host to a guest returning to his post in Aaru Village, his reinauguration feast over and done. But, as the eve had fallen late and dusted twilight on the horizon with the beginnings of a sunset, he’d insisted. Yet... this turn shocked even him.

Their gazes met for a beat too long and he belatedly realized the exposed state of his eras-old mutilated ear, clapping a hand over it with a rueful hiss.

“I thought you were trying to find the hammam. Not--” Dammit! “You weren’t supposed to see that.”