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[Alhaitham closes his eyes in one story and opens them in other. This is one the first time he's been put through this cycle. It's not even the first time he's been through it with Kaveh and Hat Guy. It's not even the first time Kaveh has had to die within the script.

But it sinks in, the script, and Alhaitham still feels himself stiffening at it. The story of a puppet who left home to search for life and love. A puppet who sought to be as human as he was crafted after. A witch, a princess. And at the end the people who made him, and the only people who can realize his dream.

But what's asked seems impossible. Alhaitham's gaze sets on Hat Guy looking back at them in absolute horror.]

[ kaveh opens his eyes. immediately, he finds impetus to shut them again. suddenly, the faith that everyone has in the rising and the setting of the sun seems entirely misplaced because sometimes you just didn't want the sun to rise anymore, and can people please stop praying for the sun, it really is getting too powerful. it's always the same sun cast over these plays, or so kaveh has realised. it had been so with alhaitham. it had been so with the young man in the hat. and now, the two of them are convened and that same sun is a fourth wheel in the sky, ever-churning towards the end of a particularly unpleasant story, and kaveh isn't certain if he wants to find a bow and shoot the sun out of the sky, or if he wants to shoot himself and put them all out of this misery.

but this isn't that sort of story. this story can't be resolved simply by kaveh's death. that's the horror of it. the young man sits there swathed in white and purple. it reminds kaveh of a doll that has been reduced to the purest of its form, the initial drafting stages, before the doll has taken on clothing and form and material. the young man had not been crafted to resemble a human. kaveh now understands the implications, and it sits in the pit of his stomach much in the way of a stone.

there is a script to follow. they have all the time in the world to follow it. the first thing kaveh does is look to the young man. sitting across from him, diametrically opposed, kaveh opens his mouth: ]

I'm sorry.

[ is the first thing kaveh says. ]

[ It's a struggle, getting words out of his mouth. He didn't think he would ever find himself so choked, with emotions tightening like a noose around his neck. If it had just been death—if it'd just been murder, a knife to the heart, a slash across the neck—if it was just that, he would have been fine. He's seen worse. He's done worse.

They don't know his story, these two. Perhaps Kaveh would know how deeply this stabs into his very being—how much he'd struggled to accept Kaveh's heart in the previous fairy tale, and that had simply just been something he had to carry with him. It had so closely paralleled Tatarasuna that he could barely hold it. The heart had felt like an anchor.

But: it could always be worse. And Kaveh's apology is like a spark that sets the swirl of feelings within him. ]

Don't you- don't you dare apologize for this. I don't want to hear it. It's not happening. We're not doing this.

I refuse.

[ The crack in his voice is punctuated by a step back as he rejects the fairy tale and chooses to flee. ]

[Alhaitham watches Hat Guy recoil. He watches him turn to flee. The story won't let him, of course: there's nothing beyond the door out of this room, this little workshop, and any attempt to run into the unknown turns him right back just like the City itself does.

Alhaitham does not grab for Kaveh, because he knows Kaveh will want to pursue Hat Guy. To calm him, assure him, but even Alhaitham only feels bile at the thought of having to rip Kaveh's beating heart from his chest. Nobody could claim such a thing, not really. Nobody should be able to.

His fingers curl into fists against his lap. He is silent, and still, and he waits.]

[ kaveh's heart breaks. of course it does. once, it had been held in a hand, and kaveh had thought - his heart wasn't worthy of it. to be the solution, to be the young man's, to be anyone's. kaveh's heart wasn't enough. it was merely his heart. but to the young man, the weight of a single heart had been the weight of the world. and here kaveh was again, asking him to do it again. and here this city was, forcing it down his throat.

the anger is there. of course it. it had never left. kaveh would not be satisfied until he has taken his city apart. kaveh would not be satisfied until he has set this city aflame. kaveh would not be satisfied until he had sifted through the still-smoldering glow of the ashes that remained and pulled from it the brightest way forward. but this reality is not one that kaveh is allowed to break. this reality is meant to break the young man before them, who has turned and fled.

kaveh rises. of course he does. he doesn't spare a glance for alhaitham. he has never had to. alhaitham knows the same way he knows the sun will rise and the rain will fall - that kaveh will chase, and in no universe would alhaitham choose to hold him back. kaveh runs. ]

Oh, no. [ kaveh says, because there is nowhere to run to - but kaveh runs regardless. ] Wanderer!

[ He runs—for a door he knows won't lead him out, but he can't stand being in the same room as Alhaitham and Kaveh. Especially Kaveh, when blood still stained his hands and he could still remember the rhythm of the architect's heart. The weight of that heart isn't just Kaveh himself. It is the weight of Tatarasuna. It is the weight of Dottore's deceit. It is the weight of over four hundred years of pain and anger, and now his regret and remorse.

How could a puppet that failed to become a god hope to bear it all?

But alas, the door opens to a white space and for a second it seems he's run out of the room—but then he blinks and Kaveh is before him once more, and there is nothing but a white, illusory expanse behind him, fake as the stars of Teyvat. ]

Don't come closer!

[They will reach a standoff. Alhaitham turns to instead review the rest of the interior. He'll allow Kaveh to attempt to coax Hat Guy down. Perhaps once he's calm, they can properly consider another solution.

So Alhaitham looks over what they have. It's a fairly normal workshop, full or wrenches and nails and wood and knives. Two chairs, a wagon of scraps, a well worn rug underfoot.]

[ it's not the fear, kaveh thinks. it's the shame. it's in the set of the young man's shoulders, it's in the wide deer-lit eyes of his countenance, it's in the way he looks at kaveh as if kaveh has taken all of him into that bleeding heart of his and with his hands squeezed. kaveh suddenly tastes blood. he realises it's because he has bitten through his lip.

kaveh has always loved teyvat. he has always loved the land of his home, the singing springs and the gentle whisper of wind through the trees. now, kaveh has a reason to hate it, the world that did this to him. ]

I won't. [ kaveh says, and stands there. ] I won't. But I also will not leave you alone. Not in this story, not in this one either. I know I don't have the right, Wanderer - but listen to me.

Let me bear your story.

You— [ That comes out as a growl, aggressive, disbelieving, choked up ] —you don't know what you're asking for.

[ It's like a bad joke, all of this. Kaveh, asking to bear his story. A story that weighs four hundred— no, over eight hundred, really, because even the modified history, his wandering, his solitude, his empty pleadings for a purpose, a sense of belonging— that too is a part of his story, and a part of who he is now. He isn't simply the Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, and the Balladeer. He is also the nameless wanderer whom has never found a companion to be close with in his lifetime, and— if it has not been for Nahida and the Traveller, he thinks he never would.

All of this is who he is, and this man wants to bear his story? The snarl on his face morphs, as his body does, from defensive and scared, to open, smug, maybe even a touch deranged, as a bark of laughter comes out of him. ]

A mortal, trying to bear my story? That's rich! You don't even know half of the things I've done or seen, and you want to bear my story. Hah.

[ And the anger is back, smoldering in his eyes as he levels a glare at the architect, the angriest he's been since he first learned the truth of Tatarasuna. ]

Don't you dare try to take my sins from me. They are mine, and mine alone!

Edited 2023-12-02 13:30 (UTC)

[ the young man is a typhoon. he is wild, eastern winds and tower waterspouts. he is the wind that comes to tear your roofs from your homes; he is the wind that carries ships far from harbour. he is the knife's edge of a winter storm, and he is the solemn eddy of a funeral shroud. this is the young man. this is his grief.

kaveh, who hails from the land of sumeru, where the rain never stops falling - kaveh bears the monsoon. of course he does. you don't know what you are asking for, the young man says. kaveh thinks - he doesn't, and he does. because he doesn't need to understand what he is asking for to ask for it, to begin understanding the shape of it, to declare his intention to do so. the only thing kaveh needs, the only thing kaveh has ever needed, is a chance.

and the only thing this young man needed - is also a chance. he was never afforded that chance. kaveh is furious. ]

They are yours. [ kaveh asserts, in the face of that anger, his red-rimmed eyes bright. his voice rises. of course it does. ] Of course they are yours. In your years of suffering, only you carried the shape of them. You grew into it, the shape that was best meant to carry them forward. At times, they were all you had. At times, they were all you were. I saw that empty cavity that contained your heart. But Wanderer, only you believe that there wasn't a heart in there to begin with. That belief, too, is yours!

[ because kaveh had felt it, that trembling grief. kaveh had felt it, that horrific shame. kaveh had felt it, that quiet yearning. kaveh cannot look away. he steps forward. he doesn't mean to. but his words carry him forward, because that's all kaveh has ever done. he walks forward - ] Just as you cannot take my sins from me, I cannot take your sins from you. But there is more than one way to bear a sin.

[ kaveh says, ] I will bear witness. I will bear your silence. I will bear your turned back, I will bear your condemnation, and I will bear your grief. You are more than just the weight of your past. That is what I will bear. And if I cannot bear the weight of your sins, then know that I will bear you.

You have felt the beating of my heart in your ribs, Wanderer. Look me in the eyes. Tell me that my heart is not strong enough to bear yours.

[ He speaks like he understands, claims that the drifter has a heart—and then the Wanderer understands, too. Understands that the architect has never truly known him, because of course, how could he? He doesn't know the Kabukimono, or the Balladeer. He can't know what's been removed from Irminsul—what he deleted with his own hands. The puppet has a heart, Kaveh claims, and he knows then that mortals could only pretend to understand the immortal. Just as he will never be one of them, they will never know him.

And still, he claims that he can bear the weight the Wanderer carries. So desperate he is to bleed for a heartless puppet, even though he has someone else next to him who values him more than anything in the world.

It makes him unbearably, indescribably angry.

It starts as a low chuckle, a faint shake of his shoulders as he comprehends the utter absurdity of the situation. Then, it grows, louder, uncontrolled, crazed, as he laughs harder than he ever has before, as the Wanderer. Laughs like he's the Balladeer again, a broken puppet in the throes of a mad dance. He laughs for a long time, but eventually he manages to calm himself enough to speak. ]

Tell me, pathetic mortal. What makes you think you're worthy of bearing my silence? My condemnation? My grief? What makes you think your puny fragile existence could withstand even a fraction of what I've gone through? I was not made to mimic a human, or did you forget already? I was made to be a god.

And you will pay, for thinking you could measure up to a god.

[ Without a warning, he lunges at Kaveh, hand outstretched towards the architect's neck. ]

[Alhaitham lunges. It is in much the motion of Hat Guy, a hand outstretched. The click of a heel against wood that leads Alhaitham's body in between them, and Alhaitham's hands move for Hat Guy's collar. His reach is for a grip, a twist, as Alhaitham attempts to throw Hat Guy to the ground in a single motion.]

[ He wasn't once the sixth Harbinger of the Fatui for nothing. He reacts with ease to Alhaitham's sudden intrusion, dodging under the Scribe's hand and using the momentum to launch a sweeping kick in an attempt to destabilize him. ]

[ the young man's hand reaches for kaveh's neck.

in no universe would kaveh allow his fingers to reach for nothing. kaveh has said what he means to say. he will defend the words with his life. kaveh breathes in. he makes to block the blow -

and find a man in front of him. alhaitham is beautiful in motion. black, and green, and he is a shadow upon the wanderer. the young man dodges beneath the narrow clip of alhaitham's swing, his feet lashing out in a kick. kaveh draws back with a shattered breath. all of a sudden, he is glad that in this world, they are still powerless. they are as powerless as the puppet that the young man represents, he thinks - this is a boon, because if alhaitham had his sword, kaveh would not be able to protect that young man.

but here: ]

Wanderer, I have known a god, and so have you. Do you think either of us measures up to her? The answer is yes, you fool - because even gods have troubles that mortals can bear. And if you asked Nahida, she would say the same. [ and then, in that same breath: ] Alhaitham, don't hurt him! He hurts himself.

[Hat Guy dodges. Alhaitham, in turn, spins on his foot to jump over his swinging leg. There's a fluid transition to a wide-legged kick of his own, aiming for Hat Guy's side.

It's pure instinct, is the thing. He had been watching, listening, observing. Kaveh's heart had beat in a puppet's, once. Kaveh asserts the strength of it, and then things rapidly escalate. All Alhaitham sees, then, is what will be hands around a neck. And Kaveh will not die like that.

It's a small mercy that Kaveh stands back. Because it's Kaveh, who may have run in to interfere, it's Kaveh who can't leave well enough alone, and at least in this moment Kaveh is behind him.

It is the only reason he's willing to deescalate this way, as a wall in front of Kaveh, staring down at Hat Guy.] Stand down. None of this is helping us get out of here.

[ Alhaitham's kick lands against the Wanderer's forearm as he blocks the hit and jumps back, putting distance between him and the duo. He's angry still, raging in his mind as the Balladeer, but it's the nameless drifter that tempers his actions and stills his hand.

The schemer continues to run calculations in the back of his mind. He knows Alhaitham shows restraint because of Kaveh, and how could he take advantage of that to kill them both—but he acknowledges the logic in Alhaitham's words, though it does nothing to calm his anger.

Perhaps this is what he needs though, to proceed with what must be done. He was afraid, before. To bear Kaveh's heart once again, to repeat the tragedy of Tatarasuna, to be mislead, deceived, and sunk into despair—but it's different, if he willingly takes those sins for himself, and makes it truly his and his alone. What is the heart and blood of mortals to someone who is destined for greater? Who cares for the insects they crush on the path they walk to their glorious future? ]

Oh? Then do you want the honours of carving his heart out? Will you sacrifice your love, and then yourself, to me?

[The breath that sucks in through his teeth is sharp. Alhaitham stills in the way that prey might still to avoid the gaze of a predator. It isn't Hat Guy that bears down on him, but the unavoidable end of this. The first had been a heat-death Alhaitham had turned away from. The second was the slow agony of suffocation by his own hands. The third would be blood.

Alhaitham's hands curl into fists, until his nails carve into his palms. His shoulders are tense.] Don't mistake my intentions. I don't want the end of this story, either. But how many of these have you been able to turn from their script?

Edited 2023-12-03 06:51 (UTC)

[ kaveh can feel it, the way alhaitham sucks in his breath. the way that breath punctures his mouth, his lungs, his body, as if it were a spear, a knife, a sword. the breath is sharp the way that pain is sharp, the way that grief is sharp. kaveh knows its meaning. he is once again asking alhaitham to do something cruel. the young man in his grief will experience something crueler. kaveh is not a kind man, or a good man, or a decent man. he is only kaveh. and the story has made it so that this is the only way forward.

slowly, kaveh shakes his head. ]

Not once. [ kaveh says, softly. ] Not where it counts.

[ because there had been another script that had run its course. of course there had been. ]

And I am not glad to make Alhaitham hold my blood and heart in his hands. But I will give them to you. I would have done so even if this weren't a storybook. Not as a sacrifice. But as a prayer. A prayer that you will come to know that you are not alone.

[ Always, always, always, the architect continues not to think of himself, but for the broken puppet who is trying so, so desperately not to break under the weight of the architect's kindness, because a sinner like him could never deserve such a thing, so long as he has crimes to atone for.

The Balladeer is a part of him. But he is not the Balladeer. And it is not easy to be so callous and cruel as he once was. He burns in the warmth of Kaveh's eyes. There is a monster churning in the empty cavity of his chest, clawing its way up into his throat and trying to escape through his mouth. Its struggle can be heard in the tremor of his voice, as he tries to hold onto the rage of the Balladeer to push himself through this. ]

Your prayers mean nothing to me. A god stands alone in his eminence. If you're so ready to kill yourself for your misguided ideals, then die.

[Alhaitham's hand snaps back. It grabs for Kaveh's wrist in a vice grip.] Are you two done circling this conversation? None of this is productive. We can try to redirect this to another end or we can go straight to the script it wants us to do and get out of here. Nobody here wants to do this but we don't have any other choices.

[ 'if you're so ready to kill yourself for your misguided ideals, then die' the wanderer says, and kaveh nearly smiles. yes, kaveh thinks - he has died before hasn't he? over and over again, in a holding pattern just like this, over ideals that may never come to fruition. but they were kaveh's ideals to die for. if not kaveh, then who? rather, it took a certain kind of requisite strength to live for your ideals, and kaveh didn't have that, not really.

this, kaveh doesn't say. instead, with a single step forward: ]

Luckily for all of us involved, you're no god, are you? [ kaveh tips his chin, ] And even so, not even a god is capable of judging my ideals. Yes, I've been trying to die, and I've no compunction over it being for you - Alhaitham!

[ alhaitham's hand snaps out for kaveh's wrist. instinctively, kaveh tugs against it, and then finds himself wound back much in the way of a reeled fishing line. the red of his glare turns itself first on their joined wrist, and then to alhaitham proper -

kaveh looks. and then, slowly, kaveh takes in a deep breath. he lets it go. ]

... you're right, though. Maybe there is another path forward. I doubt it, but it's worth exploring.

[ He's tired, all of a sudden. It is inevitable, he thinks, that he will have to hold Kaveh's heart once more, and on top of that, he will have Alhaitham's blood on his hands. What exactly was he fighting against? It's all meaningless in the end.

Why is it that Kaveh is so eager to throw his life away? Would it be the same, if there was no guarantee he would come back to life? Even when he has so much passion, so much ambition, and so much love surrounding him? He envies Kaveh so much, and hates him for his willingness to throw all that the puppet couldn't have away so easily.

He lets go of the anger, and lets the cold, bitter void in his chest numb him to his own feelings. Anything else but the searing emotions threatening to burst out from his eyes as tears. ]

...do as you please.

[ The words are quiet, and he stands there, waiting for the other two to give him direction. ]

[Kaveh agrees to it. Alhaitham's grip relaxes. His shoulders follow when Hat Guy acquiesces.

He closes his eyes for a moment to think. When he opens them, his attention is on Hat Guy.] If the story needs a lesson, wouldn't the best one to replace it with be for the puppet to accept himself as he is, instead of trying to become something else?

[After all, if the puppet decided he didn't need to be human, could live as what he is, there wouldn't be any need to sacrifice his creators.]

[ the young man stills. it's as if, kaveh thinks, the strings of a puppet were cut, and what's left behind is not the rage and bluster of a script well-written, but the actor himself. a puppet meant to mimic the gods, by definition, is not a god. all creators have a wish when creating what they had. kaveh hands had molded clay and sundered stone for the pure wish of having a dream actualised in a world where dreams have gone to die - he has sewn for warmth and forged for safety. he has loved, and loved still. so what did the creator of a puppet meant to mimic god wish for in that moment when they had taken machinery to form?

and what did a puppet wish for?

kaveh's anger halts. it halts in the palm of alhaitham's hand. alhaitham relaxes his grip, and for the first time, kaveh allows it, that final step back. he looks. ]

... only if that is the puppet's wish, is it not? [ what did the god wish for? kaveh has only ever known the perspective of the god. he has never taken on the perspective of the palace. ] But I think we are asking all the wrong questions. Why would a puppet want to become human in the first place? What is it about humanity that attracts wishes like these?

[ What had the god wished for, when creating this puppet? What had Ei wished for? He was a prototype for the Raiden Shogun, but, perhaps he would have still had a purpose had he not shed tears in his sleep. Perhaps he would have worked together with the Raiden Shogun—his sister—in ruling Inazuma in Ei's stead. Perhaps he could have had his mother's approval. Perhaps.

Perhaps.

But he can never know what he was really made for, other than the fact that he is capable of accepting a Gnosis, and therefore that must have had something to do with his purpose.

(It is a function that not even the Raiden Shogun has, for Ei eventually decided it was a function not needed, and sent the Gnosis to Yae Miko instead.)

What did the Wanderer wish for, now? Why did he want so desperately to become human? To have a heart, just like humanity? He answers truthfully, because he's so tired right now. ]

I... I wanted... everyone seemed to understand what they had to do. Everyone seemed to have a purpose at the forge, but I was... the odd one out. They were all so kind to me, but it felt like there was something in between us, because I wasn't human. Because I was different.

I wanted to belong. I wanted to be a part of them. I didn't want Nagamasa and Katsuragi to keep looking at me so warily, because they knew who my mother was. I wanted Niwa to treat me like a proper swordsmith apprentice instead of treating my curiosity as a whim from the strange Kabukimono. I wanted...

[ He trails off, trembling. He wanted so much, so badly. ]

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sorry, jumping in... lies down on athuria

pets gently

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