it's a quick note slid under sholmes' door in the west wing in the early evening.
kaeya can be found sitting in the solar amidst a pile of books he's found in a rundown book shop. he's picked one of the couches to lounge upon with polaris curled up in his discarded white fur mantle, using it for now as a place to take a nap in his ermine form. the bioluminescent plants overhead and in the stonework let off a warm glow that's still easy to ready by.
kaeya currently is laid back with a sigh, a book spread over his lap as he thinks. in his hand, a cup of (stale) tea slowly steams. it's been steaming for hours. this power is kind of handy... ]
Angels. There were angel statues in Cittégazza as well... I wonder if they're related somehow...
[ spread out on the table with a couple of books holding the curling edges down, is a map with a distinct design for the compass rose, a illustration of the orb from the great hall with an angel wing decorating its center. the map itself is of the city.
polaris gives a soft sneeze, but there's no change. just a cute lil sneeze. ]
[Here's the detective of the hour himself. Irene perched on his shoulders in hare form, he's waltzing in - he doesn't greet Kaeya just yet, looking over the books with a wide glance before turning to the other man.]
Hello, my dear fellow. [And now he's turning to peer at Kaeya's map.] Finding interesting patterns, aren't you?
Yes, I investigated the run down bookstore in the city and found some fascinating treasures there.
[ he'll gesture to the lounge beside him and the chairs as well. comfortable seats all around. polaris peeps upwards and lets out a soft squeak in agreement. he'll pick up one of the books and begin to leaf through it, looking for something. ]
Many of these books are heavily damaged, but there's much information to be gathered about the life that inhabited this city before we arrived here.
[A certain detective is stalking through the streets, puffing away on his pipe. Irene is in crow form on his shoulders, preening her feathers. When he sees Kaeya, he pauses, puffs away, and then just gives a nod.]
[ polaris is in wolf form, head ducked low, not to sniff, just. hangin'. kaeya's been fruitlessly looking for... he doesn't even know anymore, but staying in the castle had been stifling so the best he can do is... here. still, seeing sholmes provides a brief bit of comfort. ]
A very long few days, but this one certainly takes the whole cake.
[ kaeya is wherever the heck sholmes happens to be chilling out on a tuesday early afternoon. he's trying to have a better look at his stupid shard right now in the courtyard, and polaris isn't really making it easy because he's just as curious as kaeya.
which means he has no issues sticking his wet nose right onto it and sucking the closest person into a memory: ]
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[ the music begins and you are suddenly standing in the threshold of the doorway of the ragnvindr estate at dawn winery. the rain is sinking into your clothing, your hair, and you are shaking, you can't stop shaking as diluc's soft and tired eyes look you over, heavy with grief, but full of relief to see you. what begins as something quiet and tense, diluc asking you to enter, soon escalates into you leveling your gaze with your sworn brother, holding your hand to your chest be cause your heart won't stop trying to beat out through your jacket.
you tell him the truth, and the music softens for a moment around your words, but the truth melts over your tongue, falls out, it leaves your mouth, trembling and tight-jawed, the secrets tumbling down. your father, you, the hope of khaenri'ah on your slender shoulders. and all he has in his face is grief as you finish, arms down by your sides.
pain is welling in your body, a bone deep, soul deep pain as the words leave you. they are soundless, but you can feel the two syllables of diluc form on your tongue as suddenly he raises his sword against you, fire hurtling towards you on the edge of a claymore. it tears your clothing, touches your chest with a sharp singing burn.
crepus ragnvindr is dead and it may as well be all your fault.
timing is a devil of a thing and you have the worst, it turns out, but you can't hold it in any longer, you had to tell him, you had to come to him on your knees and whispers the secret rotting you from the inside out. i'm sorry, i never meant for it to take this long for me to tell you, my brother, i'm sorry, i'm sorry. you say the words, but only a sharp crack of thunder and a flash of lightning take their place.
you can't spit on crepus ragnvindr's grave any longer, on the grave of a man who cradled you close to his chest and didn't question why you always clutched at your eye, wouldn't let anyone see it or touch it. he let you be, and gave you agency in the way no one else had. and now here you are, crossing swords with him, the claymore heavy as it strikes down your one-handed sword, aims to bully you backwards onto your back. you dig your boots into the mud and cry out, shoving forward.
your swords clash and spark.
you just wanted to tell the truth. you just wanted to be free.
there's nothing but disgust in diluc's eyes, hatred, rage, grief, all of it slamming down in waves of fire, and you have earned all of it. the boy you chased crystalflies with through the vineyard, collected seashells with off the coast, held pinwheels up to catch the wind with. you flew your first glider with him at the age of sixteen and never looked back. all of that is gone now, all of that is dust. heat singes your cheek as you clash swords again and diluc's strikes become more and more punishing, erratic. he's crying, you can see it, the tears in his eyes. he grieves in the only way he knows how. he grieves and you've done nothing but step on his fingers and demand he grieve you too. as he twists to arc into another swing you try to warn him away, a swift cut with your sword that splits his shirt, furrows into his back. you make him bleed in one long slash and stumble--i'll prick you like a rose. you'll never know me again as i am in this moment. never again.
(what you may think of as a romantic red dozen of roses, translates in teyvat only to safeguarding secrets, held fast in the layered petals of a flower that could mean love in other worlds.)
the fire roars, catches your cheek, burns down your doublet. diluc's vision has always been strong, pyro, a gift of fire, while you remain visionless, helpless with just steel in your hand. crepus ragnvindr's son is a brilliant eagle, and his talons are as sharp as his sword as he swings it down. you fall as you narrowly avoid being cleaved in two, the heat from the sword singing the back of your neck. you are on the ground, in the dirt and mud. the rainfall extinguishes any burnt hairs at your nape, makes the burns on your skin ache and feel relief simultaneously.
(the burns will remain your entire life, sore reminders of the day you nearly lost your head to your own sworn brother.)
by the time you can get to your feet, diluc is striking down again, a ferocious wielder of the claymore. the silver blade comes down and you fumble away, barely. it catches you in the meat of your shoulder and the pain sears as it cleaves downwards. through the rain you can smell it, fire and flesh, burning, blood and mud as you crash down to your knees, shaking. you should be dead, you should be bleeding out, but the way the fire cauterizes your wound just leaves you limp, your non-dominant arm twitching and trembling.
diluc's words have no sound, but you know it can mean nothing but something scathing as the dread of execution sinks in.
and then you realize it.
no
you will not die here. for years you have lingered in diluc's shadow, not in the way a child who will never rise up to meet expectations remains hidden, rather, for fear of being discovered, for fear of being known as anything other than the child crepus ragnvindr took under his charitable wing. no. you will be yourself now, you will face diluc as the traitor you are, the traitor looking for recompense at the throne of the king.
this is who you are now. you are an outlander, and you are free.
as the heat comes down on you once again, you scream, bringing your sword forward so that the clash suddenly bursts in a swirl of brilliant heat and sheer cold. as your swing finishes its arc, as your swords both fall away, you feel frost in your palm, something cold and frigid in your fingers and when you look downwards, you see it. in your palm, a vision burning brilliantly blue. the look in diluc's eyes is one of both shock and disgust and your heart, at last, breaks in twain.
what are you, but a cold and lonely thing? meant to stay cold and lonely your entire life through?
your heart has never known anything but this since you left, clutching the vision in your hand, feeling the ice build between your fingers, the chill whipping at your skin as it manifests up your sword, climbs uncontrollably. it kisses your cheek and the tears fall away in sharp shards of salt and water.
this is your burden now, the crushing pressure of all of your lies. to tell a soul again would surely mean certain death. ]
[The rain feels so real on his skin. The grit of the fight, the heartache, the emotion, and the shattering of something that was held up as so precious before. Sholmes feels like he can't breathe, for a moment, before he turns to the other man.]
...I... [He can't find the words.] I see.
[He uses a hand to wipe at his face, still a bit stunned.]
A gift at...quite an opportune time, I suppose. That...jewel?
[ kaeya doesn't expect sholmes one bit, which is why when he speaks, his head snaps upwards at an uncharacteristic speed. his one eye finally meets his and he touches the vision at his hip, slowly unclipping it for a better view. ]
Yes... they say a Vision appears when someone is deemed as worthy, attuning themself to the user depending on their... desires or passions, mastery or heart.
It was... opportune. It saved me. [ softer, uncertain as he looks down at it before he lifts his head up with a smile. ] I believe.
[He makes his way to the courtyard, head feeling like its spinning a little. When he sees Kaeya, however...his attention beelines towards him. He walks up, giving him a light smile.]
[ kaeya's buzzing contentedly, attempting maybe something that might nurse the hangover he's expecting tomorrow morning. it's just some strong coffee. he doesn't know if it'll help but that's fine. when sholmes approaches he raises a brow. ]
I'm not the only one.
[ he's planted himself on a pillow pile quite happily, polaris resting on his chest in ermine form. ]
Have a seat, Sholmes... [ slaps pillows! step into his office. ]
[ oh! what a cool new hand??? kaeya is delighted by it as he holds onto their box happily. he's decided to take a refreshing walk after all that time spend inside so his tail is wagging quite happily. ]
I'm in high spirits. I was about to deliver our box and send a note, so perhaps you can join me in sending it off properly.
[ he glances at his hand a bit more overtly now. ]
[It's a nice Thursday morning, coming into the noon. And yet, Sholmes doesn't seem to be having a nice time. Kaeya should see that right away, as he's pacing through the square, puffing away on his pipe. Irene in crow form is bristled on his shoulder.]
[When he sees Kaeya, he turns on his heel, beelining towards him.]
My dear fellow. [And he's striding up, clearly a bit agitated.] Have you seen any sign of Mr. Kotetsu?
[ irene in crow form always seems to belay some sort of stress in herlock, so kaeya instantly is brought to attention, especially at the mention of kotetsu. ]
No, I haven't, not since our clean-up job yesterday in the ballroom.
[ his shoulders stiffen, and at once his tail lashes briefly. ]
[ polaris in wolf form is all muddy paws, beside kaeya. they're both ceaseless in their movement and the minute sholmes approaches, kaeya is at attention. ]
That's a relief at least... no doubt he'll be hidden from us until tomorrow, like Miss Susato. Perhaps have every investigative team tomorrow set out with a med kit in case we recover anyone else injured, to triage on site instead of having to wait until they return to us.
but here they are! kaeya has polaris in his leather bag over his shoulder, his little ermine head sticking out and bobbing along with his step as they begin their lovely daytime stroll through the leftover signs of society. how up-lifting. ]
Now, Mr. Sholmes, what sort of people do you think used to live in such a beautiful place?
[Irene is in beagle form at his feet, wagging her tail at the sight of Kaeya, but the detective himself is looking around at the sights. He peers over his shoulder at the other man.]
Clearly one of advanced civilization. The columns here...they remind me of the craftsmanship of the Roman Empire. People working with stone, setting bridges and aqueducts...undoubtedly, we are in the remains of what was once a bustling place, filled with life...people with culture, people who laughed and loved. I can feel it, somehow.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
w1, tuesday
it's a quick note slid under sholmes' door in the west wing in the early evening.
kaeya can be found sitting in the solar amidst a pile of books he's found in a rundown book shop. he's picked one of the couches to lounge upon with polaris curled up in his discarded white fur mantle, using it for now as a place to take a nap in his ermine form. the bioluminescent plants overhead and in the stonework let off a warm glow that's still easy to ready by.
kaeya currently is laid back with a sigh, a book spread over his lap as he thinks. in his hand, a cup of (stale) tea slowly steams. it's been steaming for hours. this power is kind of handy... ]
Angels. There were angel statues in Cittégazza as well... I wonder if they're related somehow...
[ spread out on the table with a couple of books holding the curling edges down, is a map with a distinct design for the compass rose, a illustration of the orb from the great hall with an angel wing decorating its center. the map itself is of the city.
polaris gives a soft sneeze, but there's no change. just a cute lil sneeze. ]
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Hello, my dear fellow. [And now he's turning to peer at Kaeya's map.] Finding interesting patterns, aren't you?
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[ he'll gesture to the lounge beside him and the chairs as well. comfortable seats all around. polaris peeps upwards and lets out a soft squeak in agreement. he'll pick up one of the books and begin to leaf through it, looking for something. ]
Many of these books are heavily damaged, but there's much information to be gathered about the life that inhabited this city before we arrived here.
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w1 post execution
Greetings. We've had a very long day, haven't we?
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[ polaris is in wolf form, head ducked low, not to sniff, just. hangin'. kaeya's been fruitlessly looking for... he doesn't even know anymore, but staying in the castle had been stifling so the best he can do is... here. still, seeing sholmes provides a brief bit of comfort. ]
A very long few days, but this one certainly takes the whole cake.
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[He scratches the side of his neck, smiling, but still obviously pensive.]
I suppose we'll be repeating this whole rigamarole next week. Seems rather likely.
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w2, tuesday
which means he has no issues sticking his wet nose right onto it and sucking the closest person into a memory: ]
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[ the music begins and you are suddenly standing in the threshold of the doorway of the ragnvindr estate at dawn winery. the rain is sinking into your clothing, your hair, and you are shaking, you can't stop shaking as diluc's soft and tired eyes look you over, heavy with grief, but full of relief to see you. what begins as something quiet and tense, diluc asking you to enter, soon escalates into you leveling your gaze with your sworn brother, holding your hand to your chest be cause your heart won't stop trying to beat out through your jacket.
you tell him the truth, and the music softens for a moment around your words, but the truth melts over your tongue, falls out, it leaves your mouth, trembling and tight-jawed, the secrets tumbling down. your father, you, the hope of khaenri'ah on your slender shoulders. and all he has in his face is grief as you finish, arms down by your sides.
pain is welling in your body, a bone deep, soul deep pain as the words leave you. they are soundless, but you can feel the two syllables of diluc form on your tongue as suddenly he raises his sword against you, fire hurtling towards you on the edge of a claymore. it tears your clothing, touches your chest with a sharp singing burn.
crepus ragnvindr is dead and it may as well be all your fault.
timing is a devil of a thing and you have the worst, it turns out, but you can't hold it in any longer, you had to tell him, you had to come to him on your knees and whispers the secret rotting you from the inside out. i'm sorry, i never meant for it to take this long for me to tell you, my brother, i'm sorry, i'm sorry. you say the words, but only a sharp crack of thunder and a flash of lightning take their place.
you can't spit on crepus ragnvindr's grave any longer, on the grave of a man who cradled you close to his chest and didn't question why you always clutched at your eye, wouldn't let anyone see it or touch it. he let you be, and gave you agency in the way no one else had. and now here you are, crossing swords with him, the claymore heavy as it strikes down your one-handed sword, aims to bully you backwards onto your back. you dig your boots into the mud and cry out, shoving forward.
your swords clash and spark.
you just wanted to tell the truth. you just wanted to be free.
there's nothing but disgust in diluc's eyes, hatred, rage, grief, all of it slamming down in waves of fire, and you have earned all of it. the boy you chased crystalflies with through the vineyard, collected seashells with off the coast, held pinwheels up to catch the wind with. you flew your first glider with him at the age of sixteen and never looked back. all of that is gone now, all of that is dust. heat singes your cheek as you clash swords again and diluc's strikes become more and more punishing, erratic. he's crying, you can see it, the tears in his eyes. he grieves in the only way he knows how. he grieves and you've done nothing but step on his fingers and demand he grieve you too. as he twists to arc into another swing you try to warn him away, a swift cut with your sword that splits his shirt, furrows into his back. you make him bleed in one long slash and stumble--i'll prick you like a rose. you'll never know me again as i am in this moment. never again.
(what you may think of as a romantic red dozen of roses, translates in teyvat only to safeguarding secrets, held fast in the layered petals of a flower that could mean love in other worlds.)
the fire roars, catches your cheek, burns down your doublet. diluc's vision has always been strong, pyro, a gift of fire, while you remain visionless, helpless with just steel in your hand. crepus ragnvindr's son is a brilliant eagle, and his talons are as sharp as his sword as he swings it down. you fall as you narrowly avoid being cleaved in two, the heat from the sword singing the back of your neck. you are on the ground, in the dirt and mud. the rainfall extinguishes any burnt hairs at your nape, makes the burns on your skin ache and feel relief simultaneously.
(the burns will remain your entire life, sore reminders of the day you nearly lost your head to your own sworn brother.)
by the time you can get to your feet, diluc is striking down again, a ferocious wielder of the claymore. the silver blade comes down and you fumble away, barely. it catches you in the meat of your shoulder and the pain sears as it cleaves downwards. through the rain you can smell it, fire and flesh, burning, blood and mud as you crash down to your knees, shaking. you should be dead, you should be bleeding out, but the way the fire cauterizes your wound just leaves you limp, your non-dominant arm twitching and trembling.
diluc's words have no sound, but you know it can mean nothing but something scathing as the dread of execution sinks in.
and then you realize it.
no
you will not die here. for years you have lingered in diluc's shadow, not in the way a child who will never rise up to meet expectations remains hidden, rather, for fear of being discovered, for fear of being known as anything other than the child crepus ragnvindr took under his charitable wing. no. you will be yourself now, you will face diluc as the traitor you are, the traitor looking for recompense at the throne of the king.
this is who you are now. you are an outlander, and you are free.
as the heat comes down on you once again, you scream, bringing your sword forward so that the clash suddenly bursts in a swirl of brilliant heat and sheer cold. as your swing finishes its arc, as your swords both fall away, you feel frost in your palm, something cold and frigid in your fingers and when you look downwards, you see it. in your palm, a vision burning brilliantly blue. the look in diluc's eyes is one of both shock and disgust and your heart, at last, breaks in twain.
what are you, but a cold and lonely thing? meant to stay cold and lonely your entire life through?
your heart has never known anything but this since you left, clutching the vision in your hand, feeling the ice build between your fingers, the chill whipping at your skin as it manifests up your sword, climbs uncontrollably. it kisses your cheek and the tears fall away in sharp shards of salt and water.
this is your burden now, the crushing pressure of all of your lies. to tell a soul again would surely mean certain death. ]
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[The rain feels so real on his skin. The grit of the fight, the heartache, the emotion, and the shattering of something that was held up as so precious before. Sholmes feels like he can't breathe, for a moment, before he turns to the other man.]
...I... [He can't find the words.] I see.
[He uses a hand to wipe at his face, still a bit stunned.]
A gift at...quite an opportune time, I suppose. That...jewel?
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Yes... they say a Vision appears when someone is deemed as worthy, attuning themself to the user depending on their... desires or passions, mastery or heart.
It was... opportune. It saved me. [ softer, uncertain as he looks down at it before he lifts his head up with a smile. ] I believe.
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week 3 day 1 post party
[He makes his way to the courtyard, head feeling like its spinning a little. When he sees Kaeya, however...his attention beelines towards him. He walks up, giving him a light smile.]
You seem to have had a busy night, Mr. Alberich.
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I'm not the only one.
[ he's planted himself on a pillow pile quite happily, polaris resting on his chest in ermine form. ]
Have a seat, Sholmes... [ slaps pillows! step into his office. ]
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[And he's moving to plump himself down into the pillow pile! Irene on hare form jumps on top of him, mimicking Polaris.]
Now this is the height of luxury. [A sigh.] And a well-needed thing, after a lengthy party.
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week 3 day 1
Well, well! How is my gossip compatriot? It was quite successful, I think!
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I'm in high spirits. I was about to deliver our box and send a note, so perhaps you can join me in sending it off properly.
[ he glances at his hand a bit more overtly now. ]
Now where did you get a handy thing like that?
WOW DW NOTIFS
[And he sees the gaze, and winks.]
Aha. Well, a little bit of gossip does help, doesn't it? I do thank you, my dear fellow.
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week 4 day 4
[When he sees Kaeya, he turns on his heel, beelining towards him.]
My dear fellow. [And he's striding up, clearly a bit agitated.] Have you seen any sign of Mr. Kotetsu?
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No, I haven't, not since our clean-up job yesterday in the ballroom.
[ his shoulders stiffen, and at once his tail lashes briefly. ]
Where have you looked already?
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week 4 day 5
[He's pacing the streets. Just like yesterday. It seems like he's been pacing for days on end, now.]
[When he sees Kaeya, he comes to a stop, glancing over at him. Irene in crow form stretches her wings on his shoulder.]
Some good news... we are at least we are aware Mr. Kotetsu may be alive. But the others are...uncertain.
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That's a relief at least... no doubt he'll be hidden from us until tomorrow, like Miss Susato. Perhaps have every investigative team tomorrow set out with a med kit in case we recover anyone else injured, to triage on site instead of having to wait until they return to us.
[ he swallows tightly. ]
I haven't been able to find Sheba, Sholmes.
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week 5 post trial
[He doesn't say anything. He just sits and...slumps, like someone's cut a switch.]
[He's so tired.]
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week 6 day 2
I do believe I've found a place perfect for the two of us.
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What sort of place? Do I get a hint?
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w7, mondee in the ruins
but here they are! kaeya has polaris in his leather bag over his shoulder, his little ermine head sticking out and bobbing along with his step as they begin their lovely daytime stroll through the leftover signs of society. how up-lifting. ]
Now, Mr. Sholmes, what sort of people do you think used to live in such a beautiful place?
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[Irene is in beagle form at his feet, wagging her tail at the sight of Kaeya, but the detective himself is looking around at the sights. He peers over his shoulder at the other man.]
Clearly one of advanced civilization. The columns here...they remind me of the craftsmanship of the Roman Empire. People working with stone, setting bridges and aqueducts...undoubtedly, we are in the remains of what was once a bustling place, filled with life...people with culture, people who laughed and loved. I can feel it, somehow.
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