Настроение - чай, индийский чай 😅
Настроение - чай, индийский чай 😅
Whumptober, again! Today’s prompt used was “fever dreams,” and is set in the midst of Diluc’s fourth character story, though I’m making up a bunch of shit because miHoYo gives us exactly two sentences there of what was obviously a very formative incident, and that gives me a lot of room to improvise.
Everything is dark, and everything is cold. All Diluc can see is shifting shadows, vague cloudy shapes smeared with an occasional red brightness that fades away again as the darkness reasserts itself. He's surrounded by a cold so intense, so overbearing, that it's soaked through his skin and into his bones, left him too chilled to move. So this is the Tsaritsa's power.
He's aware, vaguely, of a wound in his side, a dull burning radiating from it that can't penetrate the cold. It grows duller and duller, fainter and fainter, as the cold consumes him. There had been other points of pain, earlier, dozens of injuries large and small from his confrontation with the Harbingers, but he hasn't been able to feel them for hours. The cold eases them all away.
There's a crunching sound nearby, nearly inaudible under the unsteady thumping of Diluc's pulse in his ears, a sound that's gone weak and thready but still seems to fill his head and drown out the rest of the world. Then something jostles him, and the world shifts around him as he rolls in the... snow? He'd been staggering through a blizzard, yes, he'd fallen in the snow. Someone grasps him around the waist, takes his arm over their shoulder, and starts to lift him off the ground.
"Kaeya...?" Diluc knows that's wrong even as the name leaves his lips. But he doesn't know why it's wrong, why it would be. There's something that keeps slipping from his thoughts, just out of his grasp.
His rescuer rises, heaving him upward. The dim burn in Diluc's side *erupts*, a rushing burst of blood and pain. He almost doesn't recognize the sound that comes out of him in response. The pain overwhelms him, dragging him down into the shadows that are all he can see.
He wakes up to more shadow, flickering now and then with red light. Vaguely, he can make out the faint outlines of wooden rafters overhead, the wide posts and paler plaster of walls, but it all blurs in front of his eyes. His head aches too much to make them focus. It's truly dark in here, the flicker of firelight off to his left distant and diffuse.
Someone is speaking to him. A masculine voice, heavily accented, difficult to follow--would be difficult to follow with that accent even if Diluc's head didn't feel like his skull was collapsing in on him. He whines an inarticulate protest, and they chuckle, the sound moving away.
The firelight brightens, and he has to close his eyes against it. He turns his head away and shoves at the scratchy fabric piled over him. They weigh him down as if they have weights sewn into the hems, and he can't seem to do more than paw them down off his neck and chest. He's too hot to endure them, boiling hot, despite his distance from the fire. He can feel the sweat slicking his skin.
All the injuries that the cold had numbed are palpable again, stinging lines and throbbing bruises and that deep, burning wound in his side. When Diluc tries to move, those muscles seize, and he gasps and has to go still, to let the flare fade, before he can even fall back into his previous position. Only one arm seems inclined to move cooperatively, and he slides it down to touch the rough gauze of a bandage, stiffened with dried blood. The skin around it is hot and tender to the touch.
A shadow falls over him, a figure too blurred to make out the features on. They speak again, gentle and self-assured and faintly amused. Diluc catches the gist, picks up "fever" and "water" and "rest." He's left with no choice but to let them prop his head up and drip water into his mouth, then spoon in hot greasy broth. It makes his stomach roll, but it doesn't come up again, which is probably as much as he can ask. A bit more water, and then they pull the blankets back up to his chin and leave him there in the bed.
In this state, resting seems to be all he *can* do. Diluc wants to be up again, moving on to his next objective, but all the fire in his soul won't make his body move. He lies under the stifling blankets and pretends that it's only sweat dampening his cheeks and stinging in his eyes, until all the aching discomfort can't keep him awake any longer.
He fades in and out, suffused with heat, sweating hard enough to leave his bedding uncomfortably damp where he touches it. The blankets seem to grow heavier, pressing down on his chest until breathing itself is a struggle and he's wheezing with every inhale. He tries again to push them off, but finds again that their weight and his own weakness defeats him.
Something cool and damp settles on his forehead, soothing away some of the throbbing headache, easing the pinching pain between his eyebrows. Diluc closes his eyes, luxuriates in it for a long stretch of time, loses track of that time for a moment before opening his eyes again. The firelight is gone; a dull pale light filters through the room, like daylight through a frosted window, though he can't tell which way it's coming from.
The room seems smaller than before, strangely domed, as if the walls are sinking inwards. They still blur to his vision, but he can see the person standing over him, hand on his forehead, one single point of cold in the midst of what feels like an oven. It *is* Kaeya, smiling faintly down at him, that amused, superior smile that he wears when Diluc has done something stupid against his advice and paid the consequences for it.
"Kaeya," Diluc says, forcing his voice, harsh and raspy, through a throat as dry as a desert. He's unutterably relieved, his shoulders relaxing at the sight.
"Diluc," Kaeya says, affectionate and teasing. The sing-song of his accent, the one he'd lost years ago, is audible in his voice, a strange discordant note. "Getting into trouble without me again? You should have waited for me. Except I suppose you couldn't, after what you did."
His smile has gone wider, sharper, full of teeth--no, his teeth are exposed in a deathshead grin, left bare by flesh burnt away. There's nothing but a bubbled red burn left down the whole left side of his face, temple to cheek, seared away down to his shoulder and beyond. When he shifts his weight on the chair, Diluc sees that his clothing is scorched, nothing left of his jacket but ashy tatters. Through the holes there's more burns, bubbling red blisters on his chest and thigh, flesh scorched down to blackened bone on his left arm and over his ribs.
"Kaeya," Diluc says again, a raspy sob. "I didn't mean-"
"Didn't you?" Kaeya shifts again, that blackened hand, more bone than muscle, flashing down to his hip and coming up with a blade. It isn't his sword, it's a smaller knife, one of the pair of folding knives that Father had given them when they were both children. Its blade gleams cold and blue, like light reflecting off ice.
It's true. Diluc knows what his phoenix does to those he unleashes it upon.
Kaeya's other hand is still on his forehead, comforting and cool. Diluc tries to roll up onto his side, to scramble away, but somehow it follows, even though Kaeya doesn't lean forward. Maybe it's only the cold that follows.
His hand comes down, the blade still reflecting that cold light as he drives it down into Diluc's side-
Someone is murmuring to him, little shushing, soothing noises. Big hands push Diluc back into the bed as he comes up, starting upwards, his side seizing. The room is dark again, not so looming, the firelight flickering. Slowly the wrenching, stabbing pain fades from his wound, and he drifts again. Little lights dance behind his eyes like snow.
The snow spreads, loses its glow, goes white and powdery. Diluc is stumbling through the blizzard again, through the snowy woods, away from the shadowy room and lost in the whiteout snow. Kaeya is around here somewhere, he knows that; helped him get out, though he doesn't remember how. But he's not beside Diluc any longer, must have slipped out of sight in the obscuring snow.
"Kaeya!" Diluc shouts, panic wrapping in a tight vise around his chest, thinning out his voice and making it hoarse. He doesn't know why he's shouting. Kaeya is a spy, isn't he? Here to stab Mondstadt, the Ragnvindrs, Diluc himself in the back. But the driving need to find him again possesses Diluc anyway. "Kaeya!"
Behind him, there comes an answer, but it isn't his brother's voice. It's a roar, deep and terrible, one he knows all too well. There's laughter in it. Fear runs icy down Diluc's back, melts away in the heat still filling him. Sweat rises on his skin and freezes in the cold without cooling the heat in his core one bit. Ursa the Drake roars again, and Diluc breaks into a run.
He stumbles through the blizzard, unable to see for more than few inches past his face. Trees strike him in the shoulders, in the face, branches catching in his hair and his jacket, seeming to cling like unfriendly hands. One of them sweeps his jacket away and he runs on bare-chested, none the colder for it, breathing deep and feeling the cold air turn to fire in his lungs.
"Diluc!" Kaeya's voice comes from his left, and he turns that way, stumbles into a shape more yielding than a tree that throws a friendlier hand around his shoulder. "This way, come on."
Kaeya guides him off to the left, into thicker trees, the whiteout of the blizzard darker, until they duck into a little thicket that blocks the wind and snow. It howls outside their tiny shelter like a living thing, a chorus of icy hounds to Ursa's deeper, mocking roar. Inside the air is still, snowless, *warm*. When Diluc turns to look at Kaeya, he's unburnt, healthy tanned flesh and a worried smile. Diluc almost smiles back.
Then he remembers, and shrugs Kaeya's arm off his bare shoulders. "Why are you helping me?"
"Why wouldn't I help my brother?" Kaeya spreads his hands wide, looks innocent, questioning, for just a moment. Then his expression shifts, the smile falling away, his eye narrowing. "Oh, right. We aren't brothers anymore, are we?"
A traitorous twinge runs through Diluc, clenching in his chest. He breathes deep and exhales it out. "You're a spy. You told me yourself."
"That's right, I did." Behind Kaeya, around him, dozens of shadows are rising. Long, thin shadows, fanning out wide behind him. Eyes open in them, one by one, each one a dark, star-pupiled blue. They seem to bend inward towards Diluc, peering over Kaeya's shoulder, all the eyes of Khaenri'ah fixed upon him. "Not a smart move for a spy, don't you think?"
Diluc opens his mouth. He wants to bite back, to point out the eyes, all the shadows looking through Kaeya--to point out the eyes, to make Kaeya turn back and look, to warn him of what's looming over his shoulder. His mouth is dry. He's burning like he's in the midst of battle, like he's just unleashed a conflagration upon his enemies and is still standing in the center of it, the air wavering with the heat. Swallowing helps not at all.
"Why did you?" he asks instead, the words sharp and scraping in his arid throat. "And why did you tell me *then*? You must have known I would have- I-"
Kaeya smiles at him again, the same look of superior amusement, tinged with condescension this time. "Of course I knew. I know what you're like, Diluc, and I know you. I'm sure you know what I wanted."
All around them, the trees are leaning in, just like the shadows. Leaning close, blocking out the grey-white nothingness of the sky above, snow falling in little clumps from their black branches as they lace more tightly together. The shadows lean in to look; they lean in to listen.
"*Do* I know you?" Diluc asks, exhaling all the fire in his lungs in a burst. It flares in the air and spreads around them, little points of flame burning like witchlight all around them.
Skin peels away from Kaeya's face, leaving the burns visible again behind it. He sighs, heavily, crossing his arms, the right still healthy, the left seared and blackened. Cold rushes from his mouth as fire had come from Diluc's, a rime of frost that spreads out around them, snuffing the flames and cooling the air.
Diluc is still hot, unendurably so, shaking with it. But when he breathes in he feels that sigh of cold at last, entering his lungs, prickling there, filling him up with frost until he can't breathe-
He chokes, splutters, coughs until his side flares again. Someone supports his head, turns him sideways, murmurs soothingly to him again. He catches "easy, easy," like he'd croon to a horse dancing anxiously under him. The hands turn him back over, steady him, wait until the coughing fit ends. Then they dribble more water into his mouth. It's cool on his tongue, chill in his throat, almost uncomfortably cold in his stomach.
They tuck the blankets he'd managed to push off himself back around him. In time the heat rises again, sweeping through him, until even the water gurgling in his gut it as hot as all the rest. The fire must be banked, for even when he slits his eyes open, the room is almost entirely dark, no red light in his peripheral vision. Diluc closes them again in the dim hope that it will help the headache still throbbing in his temples.
It turns to a drumbeat, a steady pounding far-away and distant, and then to the beating of Ursa's wings. The great drake soars overhead somewhere, hidden in the snow, in the cloud cover, his wingbeats louder and then softer as he circles close and then far again. Now and then his roar echoes through the blizzard.
Which is lightening, starting to pass over, denying them both its cover. They're at the base of a cliff, now, great stone walls sweeping out to circle around them, trapping them here at the dead end of this canyon. It's a terrible place to make a stand, but Diluc has the vague dull certainty of dread hanging over him, a conviction that they have no other choices.
"Are you ready?" Kaeya asks. He holds out his hands, and ice appears in the air in front of him, curving blue-white spears that dance in front of his fingertips and then fall to the ground, shattered, when he lowers his hand.
The blackened fingers of his left hand rest lightly on the hilt of his sword. The burns make Diluc's stomach turn when he looks at him, but Kaeya hardly seems to notice.
Diluc reaches for his claymore and finds the hilt absent. His sheath still hangs at his belt, but the blade itself is gone. A clammy feeling of fear falls around him, then trickles away as fire flares up once again within. When he shifts his weight, he feels his Vision's weight against his leg, warm and familiar. There's leather on his left hand, too. He clenches his fist and feels the Delusion's hum.
Something's wrong, though. There's a voice in the back of his mind screaming that, telling him that something's not right. He looks up at Kaeya, burnt head to toe, wielding an ice that Diluc doesn't understand, and remembers all over again like a blow to the gut.
"I don't know," he says, his voice harsh with fear and anger and the dry, whistling heat in his chest. "Can I trust you? Or will you take this opportunity to stab me in the back again?"
"Again?" Kaeya looks at him, one moment wounded, his eye wide, the next moment laughing, what remains of his mouth twisted in an unpleasant smirk. "What a suspicious question, Diluc."
"I mean it," Diluc says. He can feel the pain radiating through him as if Kaeya actually had driven a knife into his back, into his side, throbbing and tearing between his ribs, the source of the fever bubbling through him. "I don't know if I can trust you beside me."
"Well," Kaeya says, and shifts his stance, glancing upward as another roar, much closer than the others, comes from above. Then he throws Diluc one last sideways glance. "That's up to you to figure out, isn't it?"
"I can't," Diluc says, but it's lost in the echoing wingbeats, the billowing crosswinds of Ursa the Drake's landing, the flying snow flung up by the creature's wings. He *can't*, and he doesn't have time to. He leaps forward, towards the monster, into battle.
Black chains lash out from the glove on his hand, twisting around Ursa's wings, binding it to the ground. Flames leap from his other hand as ice had jumped from Kaeya's, as if Diluc was still carrying his claymore to channel them. Ursa rears back from them and is kept from retreat by the chains, forcing it to endure the scorching of its flesh. It burns (like it hadn't, when Diluc had actually faced it) like Kaeya has, skin peeling back, blisters bubbling up, black streaks of char going straight down to bone.
It lashes out, striking back, forcing Diluc to retreat himself to avoid its scything claws. He releases the chains, lets them dissolve, then lashes out again. Black fire leaps from his hand this time, the power of the Delusion turning to Pyro, searing even deeper through the monster's hard hide and corded flesh. Roaring in pain, the laughter gone, it lunges again at him.
Diluc has marked it twice now, but Kaeya hasn't moved. He's behind Diluc, retreating steadily to stay behind him, never more than a glimpse of black and blue in the corner of his eye. Diluc glances back now, as he's forced back towards the cliff, to shout at Kaeya to strike. His eye meets Kaeya's, fixed not on Ursa the Drake but on him. The tail-fan of shadows hovers behind him again, those star-pupiled eyes following Kaeya's gaze, staring in silent judgement at Diluc. Kaeya's left hand, the burnt one, closes on the hilt of his sword, releases, and then he's leaping forward with a spear of ice, flinging it forward-
Towards Diluc, who spins around, more black fire flashing from his left hand, a ribbon of it burning through the air towards Kaeya, catching on the snow around him, surrounding his traitorous brother, catching on his hair and clothes, setting him once again alight-
As the spear of ice passes low over Diluc's shoulder and buries itself in Ursa's eye. The drake rears back, screaming, clawing at its face, but its noise and its actions fade out of Diluc's attention, out of existence. All he can see is Kaeya, burning away like a dying hilichurl as the black fire crawls over him, eats at his flesh, turns him into greasy smoke. It's soundless, no screaming, no crackling, only the heavy odor of meat cooking. Kaeya's eye is the last thing he sees before the fire takes the last of him, fixed on Diluc still, wide and betrayed.
The shadowy peacock's tail lingers a moment longer, all of those eyes staring at him, too. Then it folds itself down towards the black fire, which is still burning, feeding on nothing but air. They roll together, the shadows and the fire, until the flame has eyes, billowing up to look at him with every one of them. Diluc is pinned under their gaze.
Behind him Ursa, roaring, comes down on him from behind. He can't move, can't turn, can only brace for the teeth, tensing against them in an agony of anticipation that seems to stretch the seconds out into hours. Everything is very clear around him, the stark grey of the cliff, the curling wisps of the fire, the light glinting from the snow. He doesn't feel hot any longer, as if the black fire had pulled all the heat out of him. He's finally, properly cold.
He braces for pain, and a bang echoes from the cliffs all around-
A cacophony of voices, the accented masculine rumble of his caretaker, a sharp feminine voice answering. Diluc doesn't catch any of it, too busy starting upright, then doubling over at the pain--a jagged pain, still, but no longer a burning one--that lances through his side. His moan catches their attention and silences the argument.
It's still dark in here, all shadows and dark wood, but his headache has subsided to a dull ache behind his temples and his vision is no longer blurred. A man comes around the screen, and he sees it's a screen now, between his bed and the main area where the fire must burn, a bowl in his hand. Diluc can smell cooked meat. His stomach turns.
"Ah, you are awake," the man says, satisfaction clear in his voice. "The fever has broken, so now you must eat. No, no talking," he scolds, when Diluc opens his mouth and tries to voice a question. "Eat first, then talking. There is someone here who you must speak to first."
Even without the fever, Diluc is still too weak to press the point. He manages to hold the spoon himself, instead of letting the man feed him, but that on its own is a feat. It's the same greasy broth as before, this time with chunks of meat and potato and some kind of root vegetable that isn't carrot. Diluc makes himself force it down, thick and oily as it is, and resists the urge to gag.
When he's finished that, and been given water, and managed to win himself a wet cloth to wipe away at least some of the half-dried sweat gumming up his skin, Diluc at last feels halfway human again. The disturbing imagery of the fever-dreams doesn't stand quite so sharp and clear in his mind anymore. He pushes them back further, tries to focus on reality in their place. He's not ready to think about- about the figments that his overheated mind had generated.
It's a welcome relief to receive the guest his caretaker mentioned. He props himself up on pillows and bundled blankets, almost sitting upright. The screen is still up, keeping his bed in partial darkness, because his eyes still sting and tear in too much light. But he can tell she's a woman, a match to that sharp argumentative voice. She sits on the stool beside his bed and studies him. Diluc tries to study her back, insomuch as he can with her face so much in shadow.
"Diluc Ragnvindr," she says without any preface, once she's looked her fill. "My organization has been observing your progress. We have a proposal in which you might be interested."
Diluc, unthinkingly, flexes his left hand, and only now realizes the glove is missing. He fights back a surge of panic to match the dream-fear of realizing his claymore was absent, glances around, and sees both the dull red of the glove's gem and the familiar length of his sheathed claymore on a table behind her. Taking a deep breath, steadying himself, Diluc turns his attention back to her. He would rather think about concrete things right now than about dreams and regrets, would rather keep moving forward.
"Tell me," he says, his voice rasping from his still-swollen throat, "about this proposal."
a/n: hello summer! i wanted to write this since it was a drabble and i hope you enjoy it oh so very much! i’m sorry it came late as i had a really busy week but i wanted to update for all of you lovely people! i cant imagine eloping with kyojuro, oh that gets me so shy! but i enjoy the thought of him desiring someone that much, you know! what a lovely man! + female reader
雨’s 500 followers event
“let’s get married. right now, right at this moment.” kyojuro announced, feet slightly swinging over the engawa.
you choked in your anpan, hitting your chest a few times. the flame hashira panicked slightly, immediately pouring you a cup of tea for you to down slowly. panting after your little choking session, you turned your head to widen your eyes at the male. married? you and the flame hashira? you and rengoku kyojuro? biting down on your lip softly, you looked at the male in slightl amusement. marriage was something very distant in your mind. you never imagined to marry another soul in your life, not after laying your life down as a demon slayer.
yet here you were, hearing the flame hashira himself propose to you.
“what made you…say such words?” you responded, moving your eyes down to the half-eaten anpan, seeing your vision become blurry the more you stared at it.
“we don’t have much time. i’d like to do something for myself before i go.” he answered, his flaming eyes boring holes into your side.
“…why’re you always fighting like you’re running out of time?”
“ah, is that a no? have i burdened you?” kyojuro felt his words weigh on himself, realizing he just thrust a heavy decision on you.
“but why are you so rushed?” you pushed.
“i want to do something that my heart burns for. my heart burned for you ever since we met on the battlefield. pardon me for being too hasty…i realize i jumped ahead quite too many…”
“steps. i think you’re missing out the key parts of living…don’t you think?”
“you’re right.” he chuckled. “yet i can’t seem to think of anyone else when i think of marriage.”
“are you saying you’re in love with me?” you teased, your heart racing.
“hahaha!” he laughed, nodding his head. “mhm! i’m definitely in love with you. i hope that isn’t a burden.”
your hand gently touched his own, a soft smile gracing your features. the warmth of his skin, against your cooling one, made the night even more comfortable. the moon’s light kissed upon his tan skin as you spoke to him the most delightful thing he’s ever heard. your finger then intertwined in his own, as kyojuro squeezed your hand in affirmation.
“i’d follow you to forever, rengoku kyojuro.” you answered to his heart, the bond between you two becoming sealed.
“then let’s leave at daybreak. pray to the shrine. and make it back for the hashira meeting, (y/n).”
It's really weird to see blogs that I consider "bigger than me" ie more popular than me announce 300/400/500 followers milestones
502 followers. Thanks so much. Appreciate you all.
Я : так забываем Макса .
Бывший ,с которым ничего не сложилось дофига лет назад : привет)))))
Я и Санта - Барбара в моей жизни : хоп хей лалалей 😅
Dang 500 followers and not one of you willing to take one for the team!? 😩😥💔
@flamesworn asked: 20. What were the most deeply impressive political or social, national or international, events that they experienced?
I told my FC that I was really tempted to write an essay for this ask (and they told me I should)—and I still am really tempted—but rather than do that, I’ll just say that for a long time Saint viewed Xande conquering most of Hydaelyn as an impressive history-worthy feat. Now his definition has changed though and the rebellion of Allag against their Emperor stands as the most impressive. The semantics and the reasoning and everything else can just...wait for someone to bring it up in RP |D
To celebrate my blog hitting 500 followers, let's play! Send me an ask with a truth or dare request.
Truth: ask me anything!
Dare: asks like "Dare you to tell us your most embarrassing moment in life so far" or "Dare to write a drabble on Deku" (please don't 😖)
Rules: it can be naughty (hey, my blog is 18+), but pls not too nsfw 🥺👉👈
Need inspiration? Click here
PS: I live in CET zone. You might get delayed answers.
Wowaweewa! I just realized I've reached 500 followers!!! I promise I will do something special here in a bit! Thank you all so much and welcome!!!
Y'all are crazy!!! 500 – for real?!?
Dabi would be really proud of you all! 😘💙😘💙😘
Need to come up with a little treat for you!
wtf im famous omg 😳😳
I hit 500 followers!!!
Thank you all for following me! I’m thinking of opening for requests for a bit, but I’m just trying to figure out what I want to take requests for, so expect a post about that soon!