#idolatri

gal date w/barbara!! look at our CUTE DRESSES!! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

#wereadorable #lumierenoticeus #westillhaveliketwentymoretotryon

@idolatri sent: ‘who taught you to sing so loud?’ // idolatri -barbara to sylus lmao

sylus cuts himself short when he's interrupted, quirking a brow at his audience of one. two counting mephisto, who looks almost equally offended at her remarks on what could have once been described as sylus' squawking. it wasn't too unlike mephisto's own singing -- if it could be called that. he crosses his arms, lips pressed into a thin line as he fixes her with a dubious look. if only she knew.

@idolatri - Send me a symbol !

i. She's eight and crying over a scraped knee and the loss of her favorite book to the rain. He hovers next to her like a statue carved out of awkwardness and good intentions, shifting from foot to foot. She reached for his hand then—a bid for connection—but she pulled back before her fingers brushed his. He was quiet. She pretended not to notice.

ii. The second time was years later. Under the glare of hospital lights, too cold, too sterile. She’s just come from a mission that went sideways and he’s just stitched her back together. There’s blood on her sleeve. Her heartbeat is too loud in her throat, adrenaline still pulsing through her veins. Zayne stitched her up, his mouth set in that usual hard line, not angry, just… concerned, containing. She glances at his hand beside the medical kit, and hers moved before she could think about it. Just a few inches, not even halfway there, but it lingers in the air a moment too long, and his returns to his clipboard.

iii. Third was on the bench outside his hospital—shared late night coffee and bruises blooming under her ribs. Her hand was resting beside his. Close. A faint whisper of warmth. She shifts. Just a little. Edges her pinky closer… but her breath catches, and she folds both hands around her coffee cup instead, like it was something to defend. He never said anything if he noticed, but he didn’t move either.

iv. The third time, they’re at her grandmother’s funeral. When she forgets how to stand, how to breathe. Her arms are stiff at her sides, her hands cold. Zayne stands beside her, his steady warmth radiates. She almost reaches for him. Almost. But her fingers curl into the hem of her coat instead, letting it shield her from the cold, and she lets grief press her eyes shut. He doesn’t say anything, but she thinks feels the his pinky hovers near hers—close, closer, then gone.

v.

The fifth time is when she finally accepts that Caleb is dead. Or disappeared. Or whatever it is people call it, when they mean loss without closure. She sits curled on Zayne’s couch, arms wrapped around her knees. He brings her a steaming mug of tea. She takes it, fingers trembling. His hand brushes hers just barely. But she pulls away before she can consider it.

And the one time she does—

The rain has stopped but left everything slick with quiet. They’re under the awning of an empty train station, waiting for a train that will take him far away. Her coat is damp. His glasses fog a little in the corners. They’re not saying anything. This isn't 'goodbye,' not forever at least, but her heart quivers at that remote possibility—of losing another person dear to her.

Her hand moves first. No excuses. No breath held. No pinky, no brush. She takes his hand fully. Open-palmed. Steady. Real.

Hyori looks down at their hands, squeezes his hands in hers.

"Stay safe. I'll be waiting for you to come back."

She doesn’t let go. And neither does he.

@idolatri said:

"Perhaps it grew from pity or some human-like sense of empathy. Like looking into a rippling deluge, unable to see the other side clearly. Though you came at me with chilling barbs and misguided ire, it was the soundless cries that pierced me more. How could I let such a lost child go? Human emotions are very complex that I have yet to fully understand, but I knew that I wished to take you under my branches, so that we might find a lovely breeze together. There are no coincidences in this world; that we met in this samsara has its own meaning." Rippling green sparks dance about her palm as a kalpalata lotus manifests. Nahida reaches up to tuck it behind his ear.

"It is my hopes that this kind kitten will grow into the most majestic Rishboland Tiger in time."

"... Why-"

nAHIDA ABOUT TO MAKE ME CRY FOR REAL-

"W-Why you, who invited you begone you clown!"

BUT SHE'S SAYING YOU'RE HER FAMILY, YOU SEE HER AS FAMILY TO-

"LEAVE I SAID."

@idolatri

She sits curled up on the leather settee by the window in Zayne’s office, knees drawn to her chest, chin tucked loosely against them like she’s trying to disappear into herself. His suit jacket is draped over her shoulders, far too large for her petite frame—it’s weight is a welcome comfort but does little to fight the chill. It's not even cold in room—just one of those phantom sensations that grief carves into the skin, like her body is trying to signal that something, has gone horribly, terribly, irreversibly wrong.

Her boots sit quietly side by side beside the settee. The room is still. Too still, in contrast to the muffled voices, the shuffling of footsteps and distant beeping of monitors that drone behind the closed door.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The Newton’s cradle perched neatly at the edge of his desk swings in a slow, relentless rhythm—five silver orbs colliding, retracting, colliding, retracting, and colliding again. It feels like the sound of time itself, ticking forward in a space that hasn’t moved for her since the moment everything changed. She feels numb, paralyzed by the waking nightmare that has become her reality.

Zayne’s desk sits between them, it’s pristine and order and affront to the chaos of emotions churning within her. She can hear the distant sizzle of rain on the windowpane behind her, can feel the way the room walks on eggshells, holds its breath around her grief.

A soft sigh tumbles from Zayne’s lips as he says, "Maybe tomorrow, everything would be different."

His soft voice breaks the silence of the room, his words not meant to console her so much as to offer up an alternative. Something to consider, like a frozen jasmine laid at her feet knowing she may never pick it up.

Her eyes burn with unshed tears—maybe she doesn’t even have any more tears left to cry. She slowly opens her eyes, gaze fixed on the pendulum’s endless swing, drawn to the symmetry of it, the way it never falters—unlike her. Unlike the remnants of her life crumbling into pieces. Her fingers clench loosely at the lapels of his blazer, gathering the fabric around her as if it could shelter her from the pain.

"Tomorrow," she murmurs, "What if tomorrow everything hurts even more?" Hyori’s voice cracks on the final syllable. She knows her response is almost childish, but she doesn’t have the energy to even form a critical thought.

She closes her eyes as she pauses, the lump in her throat bursting into a choked sob.  And still—he doesn’t speak. Just folds himself into the cushion beside her, the weight of him dipping the seat, his warmth subtly chasing the chill from her skin. The quiet gravity of his presence is like muted fallen snow. He sits with her grief—allows her to process through it instead of offering meaningless platitudes other people have. Zayne is her quiet shelter in this relentless blizzard.

"I don’t know how to do this," she whispers, voice barely audible above the pendulum’s beat. "Tell me what I should do, Zayne… I—I don’t know how to live in a world where they’re just... gone."

DRAMATIC & PROTECTIVE RELATIONSHIP PROMPTS

@idolatri

she's chewing on her bottom lip, eyes darting back and forth, trying very hard to avoid direct eye contact with her childhood friend. she's not in a life-or-death situation, she's not heavily injured, no... something far, far worse had occurred. her pride is on the line, and stacia is hesitant to answer his earnest question. she's fully aware there's no hidden malice, no mocking tone in his inquiry.

no, she's just being exceedingly stubborn. she's fully aware of that.

they're at the fair that opened for the week at linkon; caleb regrettably absent due to colonel duties he was unable to escape from taking place in the same time frame. 'have fun without me, but don't forget to get me a souvenir, pipsqueak!' was the last of what she recalls when he turned down her invitation gently in the videocall, his facial expression full of obvious reluctance, as if that was the last thing he wanted to do to her. with caleb down for the count, she texted zayne shortly after to see if he'd be free—the initial plan was to invite both of them to go out with her, and to her excitement, he said he'd be free while they're in town! also to not forget to take her medication, to which she cheekily responded with one of her silly emoticons. (she did actually forget to take her prescription...)

at the beginning of their fair adventures, stacia was very quick to purchase matching animal ear headband memorabilia for the two of them—cat ears with the fair's name logo obnoxiously displayed on the top of them. zayne was a good sport about it and even bent down to allow stacia to place it on his head directly! she was beaming with absolute joy! their antics progressed to exploring some of the more simple game booths with plans to visit the dessert food vendors to satisfy zayne's sweet tooth after experiencing the fair's go-kart racing track.

that's... when things went awry.

zayne sat out, content to let stacia hog all the victory air for herself (or, more likely, fully aware of how competitive she was and wanting absolutely no part of her shenanigans), and said he'd 'cheer for her in the crowd'. all the safety precautions at the beginning of the race were taken, and the obligatory speech over the intercom was recited. she's done go-kart racing numerous times growing up; she had full confidence she absolutely had nothing to worry about. her day job was a deepspace hunter, after all! oh no, stacia's top concern was WINNING and making other contestants EAT HER DUST! at the beginning of the race things went all according to plan—she was in first place, she was addicted to the adrenaline of the activity, and she was making every sharp turn possible to keep her advantage.

that's when the go-kart that was not that far behind her did an extremely dirty trick at the next sharp turn—unsportsmanlike, dangerous, and a complete violation of the safety rules. the driver slammed their kart against her own, causing her kart crash against the barrier. thankfully, the kart took the brunt of the blow, but she wasn't completely unscathed—amidst the confusion and dizziness her mind was experiencing from the sudden difference in movement, her shoulder was flaring with pain from the collision.

stacia thinks her right ankle got twisted from the unexpected impact as well, but she's more troubled with how she's SUDDENLY NOT IN FIRST PLACE---

she hears go-karts nyoom past her, smells the smoke from her own vehicle emitting from the crash, and knows it's in no condition to drive. she lets out a groan and sigh at her predicament, mourning the loss of the first-place prize (a coupon for free funnel cake, a dessert item that's rare to find at linkon) as the sound of hurried footsteps greets her ears.

'are you ok?!?' one of the voices are unfamiliar, most likely an employee of the fair. she elects to answer by closing her eyes, as she wants her humiliation at being in this situation to swallow her whole. that, and her desire to punch the person who slammed her go-kart against the obstacle is overwhelmingly high right now, and violence is not the answer most of the time...

'are you all right? where are you hurt?'

that worried voice she recognizes, and stacia's eyes open by instinct. his breathing is loud and labored, as if zayne rushed to her as soon as the crash happened. instinctively, she chews on her bottom lip. she has no qualms disregarding a complete stranger's concern, but ignoring his questions is another matter entirely.

"did i win?" she asks rhetorically instead, finally glancing over in zayne's direction. the employee looks flabbergasted at her inquiry, but zayne remains unaffected by stacia's antics, instead letting out a barely concealed sigh as he mutters, 'excuse me,' under his breath. he proceeds to lay a hand gently on her shoulder, a wince of pain emitting from her lips at the gesture.

'we need to get you out of there and somewhere with better lighting so i can properly assess your injuries.'

"but i need to find the guy that rammed into me so i can give them a piece of my--" the look he gave her made stacia purse her lips in a pout, but she ceased that trail of thought. the employee assured them that they'll take measures to properly punish the individual that injured her and handed her complementary tickets to free redeemable food!! her eyes lit up at THAT information! man, maybe she should get hit more often--

'anastacia.' it's as if zayne was able to read her thoughts as he rose an eyebrow, and she gave him a sheepish smile of her own. 'are you able to stand and walk on your own?'

"oh, definitely!" probably! with zayne's assistance, she was able to get out of the go-kart, but the moment her right foot touched the ground, she very gracefully lost her balance from the sudden flare-up of pain her ankle experienced. thankfully, he wrapped his arm around her (uninjured) shoulder to save her from falling over.

@idolatri | 💛 for a moodboard about our muses’ relationship | prompt.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, (@idolatri)

...

What's the General Mahamatra doing here? You didn't send him here to keep an eye on me did you?

He seemed to be just as unhappy to see me as I was, but he was... different somehow. I'm not too sure what it is. That Nilou girl from the theater was with him. Unfortunately for me Lumine (@starsdescent) is friends with Cyno, so we tolerated each other longer than we would normally. Nilou I do not mind all that much even if she is quite chatty and anxious. Do not speak a word of this.

She was performing a dance here, some of the folks from Liyue seemed really taken by her, but they were too scared to approach her and that was probably the general's doing.

I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that you did not send the general here to keep an eye on me. I'm not a child, you know?