laima

hi!!! i am heartremaining or laima

i like bungou stray dogs and genshin quite a bit. i write sometimes also but that’s more like a once in a blue moon special occasion atp

this is my blog ☀︎

———

you’d come to the akademiya with the intention to understand humans better. see what it was that they truly considered valuable. what better place than a academic institution?

fortunately, its setting wasn’t a great leap from the forest—ever since rukkhadavata had created you, you’d been used to mossy rainforests and flowers sprouting around every corner. it was reassuring that the difference wasn’t as vast as you thought, after stepping foot in the place scholars called home.

papers everywhere. humans arguing and debating at every table. libraries the size of a considerable cave, and students practically on their knees pleading with unknown powers to be able to produce something that might be considered ‘useful’ to the wiser ones with the special clothes.

and then there was him.

he struck you as unusual the moment you put your eyes on him. averse to companionship—already a strange feature—and then there was the way he conducted his research so fervently (almost aggressively) in a way that had nothing to do with getting a good grade on his next paper, and everything to do with a hungry, almost dangerous pursuit of understanding which you seldom saw in your small experience of observing humans.

few students approached him. you had no choice but to meet him for yourself, understand why this one behaved this way.

multiple times.

he proved to be quite the peculiar student. snappy, but oddly blunt in his words in a way that was difficult to extract from most humans, who often adjusted their behaviour according to politeness or authority. meanwhile, his behaviour was almost raw, just passion and a yearning for knowledge stirred up into one with little desire for anything else.

you asked him about his lack of companionship. he told you such a thing wasn’t in his interests. you offered him one of your creations that the akademiya rejected. he called it useless in the parameters of academic progress.

quite a peculiar duo, often seen in the library’s dim light, or another tiresome field expedition more often than not. you, the scholar that got the worst grades in your darshan due to your work’s ‘lack of application’, or a ‘weak feasible measure’ in your creations, and zandik, the rude young researcher a total of zero people wanted to be partnered with thanks to his temperamental, condescending nature.

you decided. after a few weeks of bothering observing him, you decided you wanted to show him something. something real, considering how much your work was criticised for its lack of ‘real-world material validity’ in your proposals.

he scowled as you led him out into the rainforest, the akademiya shrinking into a tiny blob the farther out you went.

“this is pointless.” he muttered, clearly to no avail as you continued to tug on his wrist, only making him more and more irritated as he resisted the urge to yank it back.

you merely placed a finger to your lips, nudging various shrubs and moss to the side until you finally reached a clearing of sorts.

“shh.”

you gestured to a bed of flowers.

“look.”

zandik’s gaze remained fixed on the flowers for a good ten seconds, attempting to make sense of what you could’ve possibly been trying to show him. there was nothing there, only mere flowers.

or was there?

in your view sat a peaceful cluster of aranara, humming and singing a calm tune that only could’ve been centuries old.

“..what am i looking at?”

“don’t you see them?”

“see what?”

you turned to face him, mildly confused. you gestured again.

“there.”

..

“there’s nothing there.”

disbelief replaced confusion this time—this was the first time you even considered introducing a human to the aranara, and he couldn’t even perceive them? could no human perceive them?

“can’t you hear them?”

“no.”

“..smell them?”

“should i?”

you narrowed your eyes, tugging at his wrist for the second time as you guided it toward an aranara playing the lyre. it reacted. he did not.

“you don’t even feel it?”

well. he certainly felt something. like the steady rise in temperature in his cheeks the longer you gently held his wrist—and god forbid, his heart acting up as more than a mere instrument of the body—though he imagined that most certainly wasn’t what you were prompting.

“i don’t. are you quite finished with your delusional theatrics? perhaps i can finally go back to applying myself to something with real value?” he yanked his arm back, adjusting his sleeves and standing back up to his full height.

you later told him about the aranara. about what only you could seem to see. their songs. their instruments. strangely, it was as though he were one of the few humans who actually believed you about the matter—though that didn’t stop him from a snide “don’t tell me even you’ve been purchasing that pathetic incense people use.”

but, as you’d recently learned, humans’ eyes truly were the ‘window to the soul’—zandik’s own eyes betrayed his interest, deep crimson burning like fire with thoughtful curiosity.

you knew he had a glimpse of the truth, he just hadn’t said anything yet. the way you spoke of them, like family—the concept usually made him want to gag. and yet, that feeling seemed to be replaced with a quiet thoughtfulness when he would watch you depart on heading home.

——

imagine playing monopoly with pantalone .

its supposed to be a funny joke. one of the harbingers handed you the box, so much a gift as it is a mockery of the fact you’re stuck with that swindler of a man now, whether that’s a good or bad thing is for you to decide

its supposed to be you destroying his reputation, making him pay out on all your properties until he goes bankrupt and destitute in his own right. the desecration of his oh so esteemed name.

it is not.

its not exactly easy to forget the fact that this is the man who quite literally clawed his way to prosperity. monopoly is no exception. he practically does this every day in real life

obviously he insists on being the banker when either of you win money, but you’re CONVINCED he’s taking more when you aren’t looking

its only so long you can bear to spend so little time with the man you love; neuvillette, no less. the dragon with the entirety of fontaine on his shoulders.

they say the heart grows fonder the longer you’re apart, but that’s not entirely true. all your heart feels is a little dagger carving its way into your chest each and every time a date is overruled due to unexpected work. again. or anniversaries that only begin in the afternoon, waking on cold sheets, because he had to get up early and quickly finish paperwork if he wanted to at least spare the rest of the day without several important documents hanging over his head

and then comes the day he arrives home late, again, due to more trials coming in than usual—something about a scandal causing unrest, on top of all of the paperwork he must complete. he’d promised you that morning that he’d cook dinner for the both of you that evening, and you could finally spend some time together as he’d been so busy as fontaine’s chief justice. he loves you, incredibly so, and it’s important that he demonstrates this in spite of his work being a time-consuming responsibility. he told you that himself

but it had all taken longer than calculated, and he arrives home long after 10pm, when you’ve given up waiting, most probably having eaten already, and possibly even asleep.

the clouds in fontaine’s starry sky start to turn grey when he sees your resting face.

peaceful, yes, but wet. not with water, but your own tears. it’s not difficult to deduce why either, with how you cling to the stuffed otter he’d gifted you himself; after learning how much joy they brought you. the entire side of the pillow you rested your head on was damp with your tears. fresh.

this is not to say you did not expect him to be busy. this was the chief justice. the iudex of fontaine. the sovereign dragon of hydro. he may as well have the busiest job in fontaine.

but there’s only so long one can go recognising the importance of their partner’s great responsibility, which may as well be above you in priority, without the heart growing weary and somber. you’d never want to burden him with your desperation for more time together, knowing neuvillette was hardly the one that decided who he gave it to, but that hardly meant it was easy either.

and now he’d returned much too late, seeing you having sobbed your eyes out with no one at all to hold you, curled up alone as though forcing yourself even smaller to the world that insisted on keeping your partner away from you.

the rain may as well have warranted several flood warnings outside as he ever so carefully climbed into bed, not wanting to wake you.

it seemed he was the one judged guilty this evening, as he held you like glass for the rest of the night, refusing to lose consciousness so that he could preserve this memory in his mind; he couldn’t forget this. he never wanted to let go of you again, not when he was the reason you cried and cried in his persistent absence.

the next morning, you’re startled to see him still in bed with you, rather than getting dressed and asking you to tie his hair, as per his routine. asleep, no less.