[STARS] hi moze...ciri loves you
There and gone again.
The mechanical stars do nothing to cut through the darkness. Every bit of lamplight has been silenced for the occasion, forcing Childe to tread carefully through uneven pathways. When metal crunches under his feet, he realizes that he’s standing over the remains of what was once a building – broken glass and an age-eaten table left to rot underfoot while everything of value had been looted.
There. Blue eyes become even darker in this atmosphere, every shred of life pulled away by his surroundings. It doesn’t stop him from seeing, even if Belobog has already proven that it is overrun with shades that don’t exist. People who aren’t real. He thinks nothing of the shadow that flickers in and out of his awareness.
Onlookers groan as the harbinger steps through the light of a large constellation, particles scattered around his head as he sheepishly leaps from one rooftop to the next. Searching for a vantage point. There. Right there. The presence returns, more solid than before.
Thoroughly snared, he chases the shadow through the stars. Real or not real? It doesn’t matter to him anymore. Now? It’s a game. Where Childe takes up space, his target grows infinitely small. Not just difficult to catch…but skilled. Anticipation finally overtakes boredom, and every constellation swinging into sight is now beautiful in that it puts starbursts in his vision, making the game harder. “Come on,” He calls, hoping that the shadow is someone actually capable of listening. “I won’t bite! Promise.”
Listening, yes. Responding, no.
But as the chase continues, it becomes clear that he must—either with words, however sparse, or with the edge of his blade. One is always easier than the other—
"...!"
—or so he'd thought.
Moze moves before the fabricated constellations can glint off his steel. The dagger that leaves his hand seeks his pursuer's thigh, aiming more to cripple him than to kill him, but intent matters little when he misses all the same.
And Moze—he doesn't miss. With Feixiao, certainly, but this isn't the general. This is an unnamed, unknown man who is able to keep up where most would be hard-pressed to even guess that he's there. So while it's unclear whether this man is friend or foe, or even to guess what he could possibly want in so remote a planet like Jarilo-VI, Moze decides to err on the side of caution. His next strike is up-close, lunging at the man from behind.
"...But I will," Moze says lowly, his voice no lighter than a growl. "Identify yourself."
