Their world was one that hastened along a worn track long since etched by fate. History repeated itself, favouring certain narratives to impose upon different characters, avatars all wrought from the same tired, recycled fabric of living.

Would it all eventually wear THIN? Would the world in all its superficial novelty eventually grow tired and perforate, like a living membrane purpling and STARVED of oxygen? Perhaps that would spell their inevitable, coalescing end; an anticlimax, the soundless vanishing of all things with neither herald nor trumpet for introduction.

A smile curled at the corner of her lips. Ha. The twists of fate really have an interesting way of reshaping even the meaning of the simplest words, don't they?

the only certainty becomes his upset . with it , the raised-hackle longing to lash out . twin fists curl and tremble until his fingers stretch as if they might seize every opportunity to gouge out the other's eyes and then run . she speaks of satisfaction , hers , and his own stews and burns , every once-light sensation toughening into something thick , dark and vengeful .

' --- ha-ha-ha . '

all of the sudden , he doesn't seem afraid anymore .

' you know what ? sure ! i guess you've satisfied me enough , so i'll tell you . ' even if she was unique in regards to apparent species , her character --- or rather , what often felt to be the hollow absence of one could easily be replaced by another blind witness . farewells and goodbyes were aplenty and so were oblivious fools . pining as his character might have been , he wouldn't miss anyone who knew the truth , every facade of himself vanishing and abandoning them . ' ... though , it really won't be fun anymore . i'm nicer as an idiot , y'know ? i can take all kindsa crap until you piss me off ! '

he glides forward in an instant . closes every distance to completion . a wretched finger lifts and the rough callous of it touches gently at the tip of her nose . he coos and coaxes without any terror , just a glance going down to her teeth . ' ah - ah . i'm not afraid of those . eating me wouldn't make any difference . ' his head tilts a little ; a little too odd at any angle to be considered innocent or comforting .

So there, THERE was the hard-won truth, a nugget of genuine disclosure, a confession pulled from a theatric, pathological liar like a tooth scooped from the hollow of a rotting mandible.

"...There's little point in trying to eat a ghost." She said in lieu of terror, in place of panic-stricken fear. She'd long considered an array of the most outlandish possibilities in her private quest to unearth his origin and nature. Certainly, he'd never struck her as human, but that alone left all that which was INHUMAN to consider.

Yan Qing was a true eccentric beyond all the masks and hobbles of those who conveyed a similar persona in the search of novelty and self-distinction. On the contrary, his identity ( he, the pariah ) was an AFFLICTION, one as pathological as any modern illness.

"For someone so relentlessly VERBOSE, you sure have a talent for keeping things hidden. Unfortunately, I've got one more question - do you hide this reality out of choice? Or do you mask yourself because you've yet to fully understand it?"

"Disclosing our private details? I wouldn't DREAM of it."

She made a coarse noise that settled uncertainly midway between a chortle and a snort. "Not that I've been left with many options or willing ears. People like me grow isolated with the passing years - though don't get me wrong, that's a far cry from any kind of call for sympathy, I'm not particularly wanting for company these days. It really becomes quite the nuisance when you don't consider it a necessity."

She'd always been disconnected; neither caring for humans nor ever feeling much obliged to preserve the world that had been so shaped to their preferences. As the centuries shifted, so did the ground beneath their feet. All was TEMPORARY, why fight for one version of truth when another might prove ( if unfamiliar ) more beneficial?

❝  instead  of  making  wagers  based  on  flimsy  emotional  attachment,  the  only  reliable  arrangements  are  ones  where  both  parties  benefit  equally.  ❞   a  shrug  punctuates  the  conclusion.  even  in  this  case  —  the  aforementioned  arrangement  is  an  EXCHANGE  of  information.  it's  simple.  it  doesn't  require  the  employment  of  something  as  fickle  as  trust.

kasa  dissolves;  the  wanderer  ascends.  the  ley  lines  marking  his  body  don't  light  with  their  usual  glow  —  he  calls  upon  anemo  merely  for  FLIGHT  in  this  instance.   ❝  i'll  survive  alright.  ❞  it's  a  statement  of  fact,  rather  than  a  bout  of  wishful  thinking.  he'll  survive  —  because  he  cannot  be  killed.  the  only  true  question  is  what  SORRY STATE he  finds  himself  left  in  at  the  bitter  end. he's not going to bother worrying about that now. he doubts he'll bother worrying about it ever; a fate equivalent to self-destruction is a worthwhile sacrifice provided he can assure that it's mutual.   ❝  with  that  said,  ❞  a  lazy  wave  of  his  own.  then,  ❝  guess this is my cue to take  my  leave.  ❞

if  nothing  else,  it's  certainly  been  a  more  fruitful  use  of  his  time  than  wasting  it  on  yet another FESTIVAL.

⸺ @falxsaint " I think I’m losing my mind. "

Intense purple depths, underneath heavy eyelids, calmly rested on the female as he observed her, taking in the sight, with interest dancing within. Despite knowing, what he was looking at ⸺ due to information that he had received, with a hefty sum of mora, Pantalone found himself desiring to see this one, firsthand. He could just have send one of his men to check everything out, but had been too curious to stay put. Also, because business was going smoothly, leaving him with some time to kill.

A small, low chuckled danced from the banker's lips upon hearing the words as his eyes formed into crescent moons, while a small, deceiving smile appeared.

❛ My, now that would be a real shame, if that truly happened. It seems some of the dear Doctor's new drugs got out.. It's said to affect the mind. I must say, it's quite interesting to see that, firsthand like this.. ❜

Staying, where he was, Pantalone watched as he ever so slightly tilted his head to the side. Of course, he had only went here, once he knew that he was safe, after all, even he would get affected by this, if he wasn't careful enough.

She wasn't so far gone as to misconstrue or fail to register his likely intent. The Regrator was as much a master of sleight of hand as he was a manipulator with an affinity for absolute control, FORMIDABLE, and all the more dangerous for the guileless persona he so liked to convey.

Very well. If an interrogation was what he wanted, she had little to hide.

"Besides, I like your drive. Keeps it interesting."

It wasn't everyday that she came across someone so willing to blatantly cast aside either morality or their inherent desire to maintain a ( if only outward ) picture of decency. Ultimately, they were much the same in their EGOCENTRISM.

His fight was none of her concern; whether he succeeded, failed, or was killed in the attempt mattered little. As long as she remained un-implicated and removed from association, she had full faith in getting out UNSCATHED.

Ah, but the world had always had its checks and balances, if not to merely stifle creativity and AMUSEMENT, then to maintain some fragile balance yet unseen to them all. Pragmatism was a beloved fellow, but it also so often proved to be a killjoy.

"Logistics, logistics. Ironing out the kinks always tends to prove the most challenging part.” What seemed simple on the surface rarely held up when one took to elucidating the roots. As for the problem at hand - there were more ways than one to catch a crafty fox.

❝  you're  suggesting  a  more  INDIRECT  approach ... letting him come to me.  ❞   eyes  narrow;  lips  twist  in  a  thoughtful  frown.  he  supposes  he  was  the  one  who  mentioned  he  had  a  wealth  of  time  at  his  disposal  —  it  would  be  FOOLISH  not  to  use  that  to  his  advantage.  of  course,  there  is  still a  part  of  him  that  snarls  like  a  vicious  animal.  (  snapping  jaws  at  thin  air.  )  it  wants  blood,  it  wants  destruction,  it  wants  suffering.  ren  is  quick  to  push  it  down,  to  pull  harshly  on  the  metaphorical  chain.  PATIENCE  is  a  virtue  —  not  that  he  has  many  of  those  to  speak  of,  but  the  least  he  can  do  is  exhibit  a  little  here.  ❝  you  make  a  good  point.  ❞   the  wanderer  says  aloud,  allowing  not  a  hint  of  his  internal  struggle  to  bleed  into  the  words.  ❝  trying  to  hunt  him  down  hasn't  bore  much  fruit ...  and  i've  spent  enough  time  in  his  presence  to  have  an  idea  of  what  he's  interested  in.  ❞  an  exaggerated  look  of  disgust  briefly  washes  over  his  countenance  —  born  from  pure  pettiness.

shaking  his  head,  ren  continues,   ❝  it  goes  without  saying,  but  i  would  prefer  this  conversation  stays  between  us.  ❞  losing  the  element  of  surprise  would  be  troublesome ...  as  would  having  knowledge  about  his  true  identity  floating  around.  ❝  don't  take  it  as  a  threat ...  but  rather  a  politely  worded  request.  ❞   the  mere  implication  he's  anything  resembling  polite  is  so  absurd  as  to  be  downright  LAUGHABLE.  it  could  be  a  threat  —  but  this  isn't  a  bridge  he's  interested  in  burning.  not  while  it  continues  to  hold  some  measure  of  value.

"Disclosing our private details? I wouldn't DREAM of it."

She made a coarse noise that settled uncertainly midway between a chortle and a snort. "Not that I've been left with many options or willing ears. People like me grow isolated with the passing years - though don't get me wrong, that's a far cry from any kind of call for sympathy, I'm not particularly wanting for company these days. It really becomes quite the nuisance when you don't consider it a necessity."

She'd always been disconnected; neither caring for humans nor ever feeling much obliged to preserve the world that had been so shaped to their preferences. As the centuries shifted, so did the ground beneath their feet. All was TEMPORARY, why fight for one version of truth when another might prove ( if unfamiliar ) more beneficial?

"A noble cause." She sighed, the sympathy in her voice not entirely false. "I could never understand it. I lack your altruism, that sentiment so VITAL to sacrifice and desire."

Now - would he squander this chance at a second life? "Not that long ago, I probably would have." Too many centuries of ruthless suffering, of quests without meaning and massacres the cause of which had become lost to his memory. " ... maybe I'll give it a chance, this time around."

With the morning creeping onwards, the streets came ALIVE. She couldn't fault him for his inherent dislike of the noise; their kind were much more suited for a life amongst the tranquilities of the wilderness. At the end of the day, there were some aspects of the archaic and modern worlds that simply wouldn't mix. It seemed altogether wrong to force it, and to engineer a manufactured kind of harmony by ensconcing oneself where they did not quite belong.

"A chance? That's quite the improvement, coming from you. There was a time, not so long ago where even the prospect of laying down your spear would have been nigh unthinkable, if not SACRILEGIOUS."

The great tragedies which had befallen the deities of Sumeru were no secret to those who cared to look. Though the intricacies to the relevant accounts were oft lacking, there were gaps that could be bridged with speculation.

"I am wary, because that which I hold dominion over has already been weaponised against me and those I once held dear." The Greater Lord Rukkhadevata explains, fingers brushing over the tender leaves reaching for her hand like children reaching for their mother.

Their world was one that hastened along a worn track long since etched by fate. History repeated itself, favouring certain narratives to impose upon different characters, avatars all wrought from the same tired, recycled fabric of living.

Would it all eventually wear THIN? Would the world in all its superficial novelty eventually grow tired and perforate, like a living membrane purpling and STARVED of oxygen? Perhaps that would spell their inevitable, coalescing end; an anticlimax, the soundless vanishing of all things with neither herald nor trumpet for introduction.

“There was some ‘ scoping ’ involved.” It was an understatement in many ways, though it wasn’t like such a DISTINCTION was relevant to any viable degree. All that said, she’d been KEEN enough to join in with those who’d been harbouring similar curiosities - a nuisance all in all, but they’d gleaned VALUABLE enough conclusions from these ventures to make it all worth it. 

“It doesn’t matter. Enough about me.” She offered only a flick of her hand in dismissal. Walking mysteries that they both were, it seemed that they’d put an end to any hypotheses pertaining to the ingestion and ensuing physiological toxicities of anticoagulant agents regardless. 

“Though… I’ve always been curious about you.”

“Though you’re not human, you so vehemently choose to take the shape of one. There’s really often only one reason for adopting such a disguise. What are you really HIDING?”

‘ aw ,  c’mon —  i’ve never met a dragon before !  and you’re just as cool an’ composed as they say you are !  aiya ,  you’re even smarter than i expected ,  if you’ve got a hang of modern tech !  everybody always imagines these sortsa things as totally disconnected from humanity ,  like old women or men you’d hafta teach ! ‘ 

wasn’t it thus only natural for any ordinary person to want to know everything related to their personal tales ?  though he supposes there were parts to every story that one would not wish to tell .  his own expression confesses testament —  the lively vessels of his face chill and freeze ,  warm flesh practically toughening to porcelain .  distress fast inches into the center of his brows and a portion of his lip nigh imperceptibly twitches .

“You paint a convincing picture, but as they say - takes one to know one - I’ll admit that I don’t know exactly what you are. But you’re weird.” She paused, uncaring for perceived rudeness - her curiosity had gotten the better of her. “- a CUTOUT. A few loops taken out of a knit scarf. A void in space like a sinkhole in the ocean where the tide just rushes through and through.”

There weren’t many things in the world that truly puzzled her, and YQ had the honour of numbering amongst their scarcity. 

Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing, a shark diving after spilt blood. 

does he ? even he , half-wounded , heart starting to pound in his ears and his chest , thrashing about hopelessly in the waters — still could only wince rather than admit to his unbecoming .

even so , was there any good reason to flee in the face of something else inhuman ? perhaps only due to their differences . dragons were creatures of worship and majesty , while ghouls like him were shameful , exorcised existences . she accuses him strange and his stomach opens up : a black hole , an empty ache .

evidence enough , perhaps , by itself .

takes one to know one ; he had always been kindest to the ignorant . something like him could only be loved precisely when it wasn’t known . even so , red-cheeked , scorned as a child caught and chided in the midst of enjoying themselves , he shirks backwards , cringing away from the gaze that he suddenly found himself stubbornly against and suddenly , silently afraid of .

A step back on his part was what beckoned her forward to match him. Weren’t things fine the way they were? So he would say. Yanqing had always been the sort to slip about in secrecy, skirting the edges and ensuring self-preservation above all. Why challenge an intellectually dangerous boundary when there was no objective need to do so?

“The only appreciable DIFFERENCE would be my satisfaction with an answer.” No use in trying to spin the story to benefit him; he’d survived for this long with that very door left shut for a reason. 

"Just a conversation, if your GENEROSITY might be so inclined."

Her shoulders rose once in a half shrug, a deceptively casual motion thoroughly unbefitting for such a grave discussion. "It's nothing PERSONAL - I consider myself a pragmatist. I'll commit myself to those tasks which would benefit me, and eschew those which would bring me to harm or disadvantage my position. Can you fault me?"

In truth, neither the prospective achievements nor the losses which his rather AMBITIOUS ventures might yield truly concerned her. She might in such a narrative, lose a rather valuable benefactor, but there would be OTHERS - nothing that couldn't eventually be replaced.

"Suffering, pain." She echoed, eyes sliding shut in shallow contemplation. "Such a path would sacrifice the likelihood of a tangible, long-lived conclusion for your own SATISFACTION."

A lapse - she laughed, a harsh and truncated sound like the crack of thunder amidst a brewing storm. "Heh. Not that I'd have expected anything less, nor can I blame you for your reasoning. Though... I wouldn't expect there to be many others who would be sympathetic to your cause."

She thought it only reasonable that those who had come to harm at the hands of the Fatui would vie for nothing LESS than complete and thorough annihilation. Indeed, the most sensible measure in order to force the regression of any neoplastic process would be to prevent any future harm via PROPHYLACTIC means.

perhaps  it's  as  a  direct  result  of  that  maddening  lust  for  vengeance  that  her  laughter  evokes  a  smile  —  not  of  joy,  but  rather  the  CALLOUS  GLEE  of  a  child  watching  a  moth  writhe  about  in  a  spider's  web,  devoid  of  any  empathy  for  the  poor  creature's  suffering.  ❝  i  know.  ❞   ren  says.  ❝  i'm  well  aware  killing  him  would  be  the  most  efficient  long  term  solution ...  but  we've  already  established  neither  of  us  particularly  cares  about  doing  the  right  thing.  we  just  want  what  we  want.  ❞   head  cants;  arms  spread.  his  empty  palms  face  the  sky  —  the  personification  of  an  open  book,  transparent  in  all  of  his  UGLINESS. 

even  if  it  blows  up  in  his  face,  even  if  his  plans  come  crashing  down  again,  again,  again  —  what  does  it  matter?  he  can't  die.  he  can't  start  truly  living  until  this  matter  is  settled,  either.  he's  content  to  wage  this grotesque  WAR  until  the  day comes that  he's  finally, finally  satisfied ...  or  (  more  likely  )  drags  them  both  down  to  a  place  more  dark  and  inhospitable  than  the  darkest  depths  of  the  ABYSS.

a fitting punishment for them both, perhaps.

❝  not  sure.  ❞  the  wanderer  continues  aloud.  he  crosses  his  arms,  lips  twisting  in  a  thoughtful  frown.  ❝  i  have  nothing  but  time.  then  again,  i  doubt  i'm  the  only  one  who  harbors  a  grudge ...  and  i'm  not  so  UNREASONABLE  to  insist  everything  has  to  be  done  with  my  own  hands.  ❞  a  shrug.  ❝  the  tricky  part  is  finding  them.  i'd  assume  most  aren't  in  any  condition  to  be  of  use.  ❞

"Besides, I like your drive. Keeps it interesting."

It wasn't everyday that she came across someone so willing to blatantly cast aside either morality or their inherent desire to maintain a ( if only outward ) picture of decency. Ultimately, they were much the same in their EGOCENTRISM.

His fight was none of her concern; whether he succeeded, failed, or was killed in the attempt mattered little. As long as she remained un-implicated and removed from association, she had full faith in getting out UNSCATHED.

Ah, but the world had always had its checks and balances, if not to merely stifle creativity and AMUSEMENT, then to maintain some fragile balance yet unseen to them all. Pragmatism was a beloved fellow, but it also so often proved to be a killjoy.

"Logistics, logistics. Ironing out the kinks always tends to prove the most challenging part.” What seemed simple on the surface rarely held up when one took to elucidating the roots. As for the problem at hand - there were more ways than one to catch a crafty fox.