Seraph⬞

A scoff left the mage’s lips as she laid on the Yuheng’s bed, turning to her back as her head hung from the edge of it, holding a pillow to her chest. “ Keqing, don’t get me wrong, of course I quite understand the utter importance of work but it’s nearly 4 am. “ She exclaimed. It was rare for her to be on this side of things, begging for attention as her work lay resting on one of the desks within the large residence, put off for the sake of her trip to visit her .... friend ?

It had always stunned her, the size and intricacy of Kequing’s house. Of course it made sense with her family history, and she was not unfamiliar to such luxuries having come from an upbringing with a highly respected member of the akademiya with an average wealth, yet this was another level. 

“ I’m bored. “ She exclaimed, the pillow in her hands being thrown and flying across the room to hit Keqing with a fluffy ‘ thud ‘, making the ends of her lips quirk up slightly, satisfied with herself. “ You’re such a rude host. “ She teased, knowing fully well that Keqing had experienced the same when she had visited Mondstadt some time ago.

❛ it’s okay, you can touch me. i won’t break. ❜ // @seraphenette

        ❛ Annie — ❜ There’s was no winning with the Reaping for the Quarter Quell. It was either Annie or Mags. He wouldn’t choose one over the other. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to consider who had a longer life ahead of them. He loved them both. In different ways, but they were such permanent fixtures in his life that he would take even a heartbeat more with them safe and well. They were his family. Mags had practically raised him.

        Finnick couldn’t have both. Not in this life. Not in this world. It drove him mad.

        And Annie — Mags had been chosen, and he’d felt a relief flood through him. That he didn’t have to see her break. More. Again. But for all his love for her, he hadn’t expected for her to take Mags’ place. She wouldn’t survive another Games. Damn, he loved her. He did. But —

        Neither would Mags. All of this was so fucked.

        When she’d volunteered herself, he’d turned to her on the podium, coiled like a spring — ❛ Annie — ❜ He’d said her name back then as he did now. Soft, reverent, a whisper beneath the cheers and applause. He hadn’t let the mask drop. Only Annie could see through it, if she tried — but she was somewhere else. The Capitol’s Darling, though he’d pulled her close all the same. He’d heard her screams in her sleep and of the terrors that awoke her.

        He’d been careful to appear as if a former mentor. Loose with his hold, light with a pat atop her head. Only a quick kiss to her crown. Quiet promises that he’d protect her, he’d keep her safe. And then he’d stepped away, staring into the crowd with a charming smile and blank eyes.

        Now was different. Now they were alone. But he’d been keeping his distance. If he touched he knew that he’d break.

        ❛ You volunteered. ❜ He couldn’t downplay what she’d done. It wasn’t right. He swallowed, on the fringes of a panic himself. No, he’d been panicking, he just didn’t want to show it. So he cupped her cheek, brushed his thumb against it. ❛ My brave Annie. ❜

        But he couldn’t last. Just as he had during the Reaping, he pulled her close. This time, his hold was firm. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. And when he spoke, his voice was carefully level, carefully strong, though tears formed in his eyes, began to roll down his face.

        ❛ I’ll find a way for both of us to survive. We’ll get out of this. I’ll find a way … ❜

The words coming from her lips didn’t feel real, an apparition stunting her, chest devoid of anything as the shock passed. The crowd had forced hands to the sides of her ears, shielding from the loud speakers announcing her death to the world.

She didn’t truly know why her hand had shot up, when Mags’ name was called the first thing she could feel was the familiar ringing in her ears, then the sound of waves crashing loudly against her skull, threatening to drown her and burst her eardrums. The waves, the waves.

The waves she had grown so familiar with after her games, the ones that were followed by screams and pleas for help. The waves that had once taken her sister. After the screams came the gurgling, hot blood emitting from the orifice within a headless neck, the drowning of people as water flowed into their lungs with no mercy.

Mags wasn’t going to go through the slaughter again, not because she was brave - like Finnick had so comfortingly said as she fell to his arms once they had been moved to the justice building after their second reaping - but because of the warmth in her chest when she thought of the older woman. The one who had kept both of them alive once, it was the least she could do for Mags, for Finnick’s family.

She could’ve kept quiet, no one would have blamed her, collapsing onto the floor and mumbling to herself, dissociating as the blank points on the wall began doing their dance. She knew people thought she was crazy, and more often than not she agreed, because that shy sun-kissed flamed haired girl who once ran across sand dunes looking for conch shells to decorate the wall above the chimney and hunt for oysters to make small pearl necklaces had drowned in that arena 5 years ago.

She often saw herself die in her dreams, a mirage standing in front of her, head split with an axe as red blood mixed with red hair. Yet those weren’t the worst ones. The worst ones were the ones where she sat in front of a television screen, huddled in a blanket next to the man she loves and the voice coming from the machine announced that they were going back in there. The ones where she had to say goodbye to Finnick once again. The nightmares that she couldn’t wake up from.

Her face buried into his chest, hands clinging onto the fabric of his shirt as she took in his scent, realizing the fact that she was crying when wet cloth rubbed back against her face. The shaking followed. 

But it was not for her. “ You have to win... You have to let me die “ Came the mumble, as peace keepers yanked the back of Finnick’s shirt in order to push them both into the train - no goodbyes. 

Black boots clinked on the marble floors within the much familiar room within the Snezhnayan bank within Liyue, as eyes glazed over at the now passed out employees within the building, slumped over cold tables. She couldn’t really afford or truly be bothered with being seen coming in here, after all the business she needed to conduct here was no one’s business. 

As she finished she headed towards the back, opening the door and offering a knowing smirk to the Regrator as she strode across the room.

Yelan scanned the man, sitting on the adorned chair within the large office, setting down a file on the desk, sliding it towards him before taking a seat on said desk, crossing a leg over the other. “ I wasn’t expecting to hear you would be in Liyue from my contacts. Perhaps you were too busy to tell me yourself ? “ She wrinkles her nose, faking offense as the back of her hand presses to her forehead. “ You weren’t hoping to come here without me finding out now, were you ? “ A smirk forms on her lips. “ That would breach out little agreement. “ Despite knowing of the little shift of management after that arrogant red headed harbinger had messed everything up for himself in the area, she still wasn’t very pleased with seeing him here; specially without having had any kind of heads up - of course she had found out before anyone else possibly had, that was her job, but the displeasure was still apparent on her face. 

Hell-raising, wheel-chasing, new worldly possessions Flesh-making, spirit-breaking, which one would you lessen? The better part, the human heart, you love 'em or dissect 'em Happiness or flashiness? How do you serve the question?