* In light, I dissolve,

@incertion ─ .✦. ─ "if this were a real fight, I'd have broken your arm twice by now." from skirk hehe

             dirt and leather can only create as much traction for him to not outright fall but drift backward for long enough to stumble, calculate the best physical maneuver to come back right up once his body inevitably tumbles after a potent throw. Tartaglia rolls, pushes himself up and bounces back onto his feet a few good meters away from his master. Aside from the select, abstract exclamations through his brief journey across the field, he also manages to breathe out a, frankly chipper, "wow" once he's ready for more.

it's simple enough. a block with her sword, three fingers tightening on his collar to toss him across the field. the end to a good fight is always bittersweet. skirk's blade dips to touch the ground, tip digging into soil, and she rests in that still position, still poised should childe charge her once more.

he's ... improved. of course, the usage of when and not if is not lost to her. bright-eyed and handed, self-assured in his victory over her as if it'd come in only a matter of days ( as if it had not taken a decade for him to last more than a moment against her strikes ). still, only a fool would deny his progression. he's capable of keeping up with her, now.

" the loathing is in our blood. " / from melina to rya <3 perhaps she's talking about her origins with rya, they're discussing how where / who you come from doesn't define you?

Decay shed monuments off gold, without proper begin nor an end in this stagnant state of time. The lost radiance a more a legend than memory, which the last serpent was born disconnected for nascence of her existence. Born in the beginning of this ever-ending twilight. A PURGATORY in place of a paradise. It is all Rya ever learnt to know, and appreciate. History she learnt carefully constructed by her elders. Narrowed to look upon the future engulfed in flames, and the rise of the serpent king.

MELINA shares small visions beyond she came to be, before and when the branches of a once grand family began to weep. Rya listens with her head resting against hands - filling the small gaps that always felt off, yet all seemed to circle back to same conclusion.

" Melina, do you then loathe, as well? what became of you... do you feel something was taken from you?" question forms from within innocence and curiosity to understand. Fingers clutch slightly, over the flat of her chest, as if searching an answer herself.

" I ponder what it feels like... to loathe. I am aware people loathe I as well. For who I am."

without explaining further, she adds:

each word carries the weight of a long-gone dynasty. it's the sort that, with its claws deep in history, begs to be remembered in well-told stories⸻ sweetly requests its name be maintained, that it be regaled beyond death. melina is imagining it, but perhaps the scars on her hands burn with a faint discomfort as she speaks. the two of them sit before a fire. how fitting.

was something taken from her? the answer is of course. her body, her form, her soul; designed to serve a higher purpose and restrain the dredges of their eternal queen's strength. in this sense, she is nothing but a safeguard. and yet, searching in her heart at rya's gentle question, she finds no hate nor loathing. quiet acceptance fills her lungs.

“ ... it is not the right word. ” words spoken coalesce as some odd forgiveness. “ there is a version of me that does, and has been stolen from, and wishes for others to understand why i might despise, or dislike. but, like you, i cannot abandon who i am, nor whatever loyalties i may hold; regardless of the circumstances in which i came to hold them. ”

"This is a great look on you," Eichi compliments, though to be fair, there's little the other could wear that wouldn't suit him; enough confidence can pull together even the most outlandish outfits. In comparison, the emperor feels more bland in his cream-colored jacket and trousers—-certainly, it's nowhere near as flashy as the outfits they wear as idols. "My sweet prince charming~ If anyone questions us, we can claim you're royalty visiting from another country."

Always planning for the worst-case scenario, just in case someone finds them out here. It's not impossible that the other guests would recognize Wataru, but even if they did, it'd be funny to watch the jester convince them of the lie anyway.

wataru's ever-present grin becomes sincere, an easy distinction for his partner to see. after all, eichi has always seen right through him⸻ but that's besides the point. even though he's more than aware wataru's fancies are just that, unserious to the core, he has always entertained them, and has earned himself a loyal subject, a jester who seeks only to see his smile.

“ this? you like it? then i will wear a similar outfit tomorrow, if it pleases you~! ” he pulls eichi close, their bodies familiar. one hand finds his waist. that would be fun, wouldn't it? daylight theatre for the corridors of slow, uptight businessmen. surely, he is princely enough in appearance to pull it off! at this distance, he can look at the emperor properly, admire the sharp lines and soft accents. “ you are beautiful, too. please continue to bring me such amazing☆ sights. ”

his voice drops slightly, smooth and more serious. over the soft music, his voice can only be heard by them. “ you know that from me, you may have whatever you like. ”

i'm still looking for my style, for now it will be like this, i guess... idk.