#pyrodigy

🔪

i do 😔

unprompted | @pyrodigy​ said:

hands him a cinnamon stick

                  CURIOUS. red eyes blink, turning head so wolfkin and sniffsnuff at the fabric put around him. their spar was out of the question today thanks to a sudden cold and quick rainstorm, so instead razor sits with diluc under an awning of an abandoned adventurer’s campsite not far from mondstadt. (elder knows razor avoids the city if he can - it’s far too loud.)

                 it doesn’t smell like an animal, razor knows the smell of many kinds of those, and diluc tells him it’s fake. fake fur? he’s never heard of such a thing. but it’s...warm, certainly. gaze trails from the warmth now nestled over his shoulders, back to master diluc, back and forth between the two before he grips the edge of the coat with one hand to feel it between his fingers.

                “thank...you,” miss lisa always says manners are important, and he should give thanks when people gift him something. this was unique, normally his own furs and lupical were enough to keep him warm during cold nights, but this certainly cut the chill of the cold rain and wind rather instantly. 

You give me a video, I give you a video

         crepus had been the father that his own had never been.   all that he could remember of his father were the last few years as he witnessed that man grieve for their decimated home, and become someone else in the wake of their tragedies. he’d had no room in his life left for love, and no love left for kaeya. his adoration for crepus had been slow - going, and cautious. kaeya had been traumatised, quiet, rebellious, and stubborn. he’d come with a slew of issues that made parenting him very very difficult ; an incomplete grasp of the mondstadt tongue, bouts of violence, nightmares, a tendency to sneak out at night time, and the insecurities that came with assimilating to a new culture. and yet crepus had taken that all in stride, within a few years, kaeya had completely forgotten the name alberich.

         he liked to separate his pain from diluc’s, when he tried to compartmentalise it into a story. it was so much easier to recount the events like an outsider when he needed to speak about them. kaeya had always regarded crepus as his father, but in instances he needed to speak about their fight, about their loss, this was easier. he could better account for the guilt if he tried to separate himself from the loss too, that way he could remember what happened without wallowing in his own sadness, without his throat closing up, without his glacial eyes becoming misty with tears. the jester raised me after the fall, the jester is using me as a khaenri’ahn spy, the fatui killed diluc’s father. it had all been so much easier to process instead of this: i once saw the jester as a father, my father killed my father. i may never escape this cycle of loss.

         but, maybe it wa still a little too difficult to explain that to diluc. at the very least not right now. kaeya would need at least one glass of death over noon for that. instead he let out a sigh, regarding diluc with a smile that said “ thank you. ”