contemplate or wish away —

It starts as sparring, which Elysia has said is the wrong word for whatever it is that Kujira and Niya do, which is to say that it's less about either of them getting better and more about both of them getting hurt. The last time they did it, Kujira just about shattered Niya's arm, and Niya had laughed like it was funny. It starts as sparring, and ends with Niya on top of Kujira, pinning her, staring down at her with cheeks flushed and chest heaving from exertion, eyes huge and hungry, grinning, challenging, mean.

"You lose, Jira," Niya says, a lying sing - song, but the sharpness is softened by the glee, by an almost childish excitement, as if they'd shed years and traumas just by virtue of proximity. Kujira groans and tries to move, and Niya pushes them back down, movement not - quite - sparring anymore.

( a thought / not a kindness, exactly, but a thought / kujira under other people. niya isn't usually jealous. it's fun, to feel something serrated and new. but the not - kindness isn't about that, it's about the fact that kujira is —— )

Niya watches her, posture shifting, breath shifting. Hah.

( kujira is letting them. )

Kujira tries to sit up again, and this time when Niya pushes her back down, they follow, close, close, slow, maybe to tease, maybe so she can stop them if she wants —— until their lips press to hers. To see if Kujira will keep letting them. To see how their lips feel. To erase the bad times. To tease and mock. Because they've wanted to kiss her for a long time.

It isn't fair to her — truly — and even Niya knows it. But it's hard not imagine Maria in Kujira's place, if only for moments. It's hard now, a rare sun - soaked day, no violence, no bloodshed. It's the closest Niya has come to seeing Kujira as a human being, this replacing - her - with - one, but Niya, even as warped as they are, knows that's shit. But they can't stop, or don't care enough to. It's hard to know, even to them.

updated ely refs lets fucking go

additional notes under the cut:

Niya — Story V Unlocked.

Most Cicin mages go mad early, a result of the brutal experiments and magic they undergo to augment their abilities; Lizabeta, while certainly not sane, had her sister to cling to.  

Her search for Serafima saved her from the kind of loss of self that the other Cicin Mages experienced.  Even in the moments where she forgot her own name, she always remembered that she had a sister to find.

Eventually, unable to get answers amongst her peers, she began prodding the Harbingers for information.  Her superior, Scaramouche, expected unquestioning loyalty and obedience from those under his command, and thus resented her demands.  He challenged her to a fight, lulled her into a false sense of confidence, and then handily defeated her, torturing and badly scarring her.

In what seemed at the time like an act of kindness but quickly exposed itself as an act of cruelty, he offered her a “hint” to her search — a Ruin Guard’s identification code.

It didn’t take the mage long to learn the truth after; her sister had been deemed ineffectual after a mission failure, and had thus been handed to Dottore to be used as fodder for his experiments.

Feigning obedience prompted by a crushed spirit, Lizabeta kept a low profile for two months, during which time she gathered what resources she would need.  She found the machine that housed, in some capacity, her sister, and destroyed it.   Then, she simply disappeared, fleeing to Liyue and adopting a new goal: kill the harbingers and avenge her sister.  She adopted a new name along with this new purpose.

It was in this way that the woman named Niya was born.

Voiceline “About Family...”

I don’t know what happened to my parents after I disappeared.  They were interrogated, I’m sure, to try and find me.  Probably tortured.  Maybe killed.  I could find out, but I don’t care, so I haven’t bothered.

Voiceline “About The Fatui — II”

For a long, long time, it’s just summer night silence — the crackling fire and their breath and the sound of frogs and crickets, somewhere in the distance.  Then, Niya says, perhaps afraid of the quiet, "you know, selfish as it is, I’m glad you had a bad dream.”  Lumine looks back to her, eyes huge and almost seeming to glow in the dim light, and Niya smiles at the lack of offense there.  “Watch was getting pretty boring all by myself.”

Lumine is silent for a long moment.  Niya’s used to how they have to mull before they speak.  But then, they say, voice a whisper, “I dreamt of my brother.”  Their eyes and focus return to the fire, so they miss something shift in the assassin’s eyes — a flicker of soft, changing intention.

“The brother you’re looking for,” Niya says, voice quiet.  Lumine merely nods.  Niya’s head tilts back, and she stares at the sky, the stars.  She remembers the meaning of a name — god’s oath.  A funny joke.  She remembers the meaning of another name, too — the one that burns.

“Did I ever tell you that I used to have a sister?” she asks, knowing she hasn’t.  She doesn’t tell anyone.  Niya doesn’t look down from the sky, but she can feel Lumine’s gaze snap back to her, picture her huge eyes and parted lips.  Nobody else could know this; nobody but this hero, with their hopeless kindness.  Niya knows they won’t tell.  “I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention this to the rest of our merry band of misfits, but I did.  She was two years older than me, and my best friend.  We were always together.  Us against the world.”  Niya smiles towards the sky.  There’s no cruelty in it.  Something sadder, though.  “You remind me of her.”

One that burns.  It’s quiet again.  One that burns.

Lumine breaks the heavy silence this time, asking the question Niya knew they would.  “Used to have a sister?”

The smile falls.  Niya doesn’t feel like pretending.  It’s not like before, when everything was funny, even if it hurt.  Especially if it hurt.  “Yeah.  She died a few years back.”

“Oh.”

Niya finally looks down; the traveler’s retreated into their own battered heart, staring at their small hands in their lap, expression blank and eyes empty.  Imagining an unhappy ending, perhaps.  Niya’s hand reaches, careful, and rests over theirs.  Her head ducks to catch the other’s eyes.

“I couldn’t help my big sister,” Niya says, voice clear and free of pain.  The scars beneath her sleeves ache.  “So that’s why I’m gonna do everything I can to be sure we can help your big brother.  Okay?”

Maybe there’s a heart left in her, Niya muses.  There must be, given the way the organ swells, unsteady and unused to offering kindness, at the helpless smile that steals across their traveler’s mouth.  Lumine nods.

Her hair and eyes are wild by the time she does; shortswords slick with blood and body much the same.  He thought his guards would protect him, cute little dogs, barking when they died.  Silly man.  He knows what she’s capable of.  What they’re all capable of, and she hasn’t been free so terribly long, so it’s the same thing.

She stalks through the halls; there are no more guards.  Either all hiding from the monster or dead or ran to get help.  It doesn’t matter.  The nameless mage moves through the halls like a ghost, smiling, body and movements tight and mechanical and utterly within her control.

The bitch is cowering in a corner when the door swings open, and Niya’s smiling, and then their eyes land on him and they’re not smiling any longer.

The bitch has the gall to cower.

The shortswords connect in the center and are a polearm once more while she crosses the room, long steps, utterly in control.  He curls into the corner of the room where he sits, crying and trying to speak but nothing comes out, this bitch, this pathetic nothing has the gall to be afraid of the toy he built.

They want to ask him lots of questions, but they forget that until the blade is slicing cleanly through his throat, not killing him but certainly stopping speech.  He falls, grasping at his bleeding neck, gurgling nothing - sounds.  They wanted to ask him lots of questions.  They wanted to make it slow.  They guess they still can.

“You seem surprised, doc,” Niya says, still not smiling, utterly in control.  “You can’t be that shocked; you practically built us.  You know I’m stronger than any of the pets you keep around here.”

He doesn’t answer, of course.  They’re not even sure he’s listening, just holding at his throat like that’ll help.  Niya drops to a knee so their eyes can catch, grabbing his should and easily hoisting him back to sit up.  “Do you remember me?  If you tell me you do and I believe you, I’ll save you.”

Now he’s listening.  Dying men are desperate, and maybe he just wants to believe her.  His eyes focus on her, squinting, desperate, still holding his hands to his throat to stem the bleeding.  He probably can’t remember her; he broke so many of them, after all.  His eyes are panicked.  He’s so afraid, it’s sort of funny.  Did she look like that when he played?

“Please hold still,” she says softly, half crawling into his lap, closer, closer, his eyes are so huge and he’s so afraid.  Her face is close to his, but it’s the opposite of intimate.  Airy and all wrong, “It’s hard to gather data when you writhe like that, Lizabeta.”

His eyes widen.

“Oh, there’s that smile,” she purrs, head ducking, mouth pressing to some of the smeared blood on his throat.  He’s not smiling, but the Lizabeta of the memory had, and the name seems to have stuck.  “Are you having fun?”

They feel him nod against their mouth, and Niya smiles, knows he’s not saying yes, I’m having fun, but yes, I remember.

Dr. Nakar Sidorov, head scientist of the department that Niya spent her first two years as a Cicin Mage under, the man who saw her potential, the man who personally oversaw their experimentation for much of the dead mage’s career, who smiled when she screamed and writhed and broke, remembers her.

Niya smiles against his throat.  “Gooood boy.  I promised I’d save you, didn’t I?”

He nods again.

“Do you remember, early on, my first few weeks in your care?”  He nods but she knows he’s lying now, but it doesn’t matter.  She pulls away, smiling hugely, mouth smeared with his blood, and no longer in control.  “I cried the first time you used me, because it hurt, and you promised me that if I was very good, you would let me go early?”

He nods again.

“And I was sooo good.  Didn’t scream or writhe.  But you lied, Doctor.”  His eyes widen and go sick as he realizes.  “You didn’t let me go.  You preferred to play with your food.  You liked when I cried.”  Her voice corrupts like all the Cicin Mages’ voices do.  “And I learned so very much from you.”

The polearm shatters.  In the split second before the hammer can crush her sternum, she has only one thought : I CAN’T DIE UNTIL I’VE KILLED THEM.

She barely hears herself say it — “Blink!”

during the archon quest, it’s even talked about — most people don’t care about the loss of visions because vision holders are a minority.  the average person does not care at all that folks are losing personalities and memories.  and for as many folks like yoimiya hiding vision - holders, there had to have been others reporting suspected allogenes to the authorities.  when we meet the others who’d have their visions taken, most of the people around them seem more upset that the allogene’s change in personality has made things difficult for them, not worried about those who’ve lost part of themselves. and it's not like losing your vision is some minor inconvenience! people lose memories, identities, selves...we see people go literally insane about it!

Niya — Story IV Unlocked.

Lizabeta and Serafima Zaitseva were born into a loyal noble family in Snezhnaya.  Serafima was the older sister, though only by two years, and the two were very close.

They were raised to be of use to the Fatui and the Tsaritsa, a not uncommon practice amongst Snezhnayan nobility.  Children were expected to become useful to the nation, and when both sisters showed martial prowess, their attention was shifted from schooling to combat training.  Their parents, though not neglectful, primarily viewed them as tools for the Tsaritsa, and so it was the sisters that acted as each other’s true family.

Both would join the Fatui young — Sera, as she was called by Lizabeta, at age fourteen, and Beta, as she was called by Serafima, at age thirteen.  Despite being children, both thrived in this environment, raised in a way that had long-acclimated them to the physical and emotional demands their training presented.

All was well until Lizabeta developed an electro Vision.  Despite the sister’s shared joy at the younger’s accomplishment, this sharpened the already growing gap between Lizabeta and Serafima’s development and prowess.  A few years after being promoted to Cicin Mage, Lizabeta realized that her sister, who she rarely went more than a few months without seeing, was nowhere to be found.

Thus, she began her search.

 Voiceline “About Serafima...”

It’s a traditional Snezhnayan name.  It means ‘one who burns’ and harkens to the angels that supposedly served the early gods.  Not excessively common or anything.  Huh?  No, I don’t know anybody by that name.

Voiceline “About Lizabeta...”

Ah, getting cheeky, aren’t we?  I’m afraid that there’s nobody named Lizabeta here.  The Fatui killed her.

Voiceline “About the Fatui — I” 

the only people niya actually gives a shit about by default are the traveler and jean, and jean only because jean infuriates her.  anyone else — kaeya, elysia, ningguang, etc — exist, to niya, solely to entertain or be used by her.