#teddaby

Cecilias do not grow in Nod-Krai, Columbina muses. Fingertips tracing a silken petal as she lays in the grass fields atop Starsnatch Cliff. Coming from a land of snow and an ever present winter chill, the gentle breeze paired with the warmth of the sun is a delight that Columbina readily welcomes.

She's rarely visited Mondstadt, only hearing stories of it from Rosalyne, or eavesdropping on reports from the other Harbingers' soldiers. She stretches out like a cat sunbathing before sitting up, brushing blades of grass out of her hair.

when rhinedottir licked the last traces of divine blood from her lips, and felt naberius' soul settle into hers, she'd had certain expectations. what would it be like, to have life so completely in her grasp? the first thrum of the shade's consciousness in her mind was thrilling ( and she'd briefly mourned the abandoning of her clone project, for it surely would've been interesting to compare with ). naberius was elegant, refined, and highly capable⸻ all traits necessary to share her headspace.

it was instinctual to wonder about the life of a shade. they did not meddle much ( which was not her style ), but they were not uninfluenced by the happenings of teyvat either. there was only a vast unknown space stretching before her in terms of knowledge; what did the others do, when not meeting to discuss their planet's future? would they sleep, did they need to? all would come in time. istaroth was the first she attempted to see.

“ you must be bored, ” she says, one day. they stand together in asmoday's space, with rhinedottir's hands cupping the soul of a long-dead scholar. hm. it's been corrupted. she crushes it without sparing it another thought. “ you seem to reside here regardless of the day, stagnant. there are many better things you could use that time for. it surprises me. ”

It's not exactly unusual for Bunny and Henry to get into fights. Sometimes it feels more like a fact of life than anything else, even if majority of the time Henry won't even indulge him and instead stares at him like a disapproving parent. Today, though, today it seems that Bunny somehow managed to push his buttons enough to get him to finally fucking hit back. Great! Exactly what he wanted!

...Except now he's sporting a black eye and a bloody nose. Bunny grumbles in irritation as Camilla insists on helping wipe the blood off of his face. He tries to swat her hands away, his pride bruised and his ego knocked down a few pegs, but she just won't let up.

Jun-hee contains multitudes.　It’s a stupid fucking way to put it;　she contains beauty,　of course,　and a cool detachment that makes you want to chase her more.　Most importantly,　she’s yours,　embraced in a relationship that indicates some measure of who she belongs to.　You,　man who has never been able to own anything,　who has known dissatisfactory childhood conditions rocketing you into immense desire to make something of yourself.　Bringing home money,　stability,　having someone or something to provide for as means of bolstering your own ego.　You really fucking love her for that,　that among a lot of things　—　that she seems to need you just as much as you (want to) need her,　that your relationship is a marker of status,　a blemish to be left upon the earth.　You are a good boyfriend.　You kiss her and hold her and tenderly stroke her face,　petting her hair whenever her countenance shifts with the implications of emotions you don’t know how to handle.　Or maybe it’s a lack of desire to handle them.　You can never tell the difference.