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inbox @ comesailaway
( shiptalk | direct messages | group messages | action )
( shiptalk | direct messages | group messages | action )
( love isn't a scam, it's a deeply engrained weakness that's brought civilizations — and now seemingly even gods — to their knees. it's the stabbing muse behind so many works of art, so many poems, so many masterpiece paintings she'd never see. it's a detriment, yet still the backbone to society. it's a deeply, deeply human flaw and will be the death of them all.
or maybe the reason they somehow manage to survive.
it's the reason she's gone to war and pulled the lever to end entire populaces time and time again. it's why she can't sleep. it's why, by now, she's physically incapable of anything past fuckbuddies and so quick to judge others for getting caught up in romantic dramas like the filthy hypocrite she is. but — )
...alright.
All of that is the biggest, messiest pile of self justifying bullshit I've ever seen, but. Alright.
I really hope you can make this work, Venti. But does this mean that I can't still
( oh. oh, she catches herself this time. cuts the snake off at the head before accidentally reverting this conversation to her own wants, borderline needs, and blatant captain killing agenda. a minute or two later — )
Bring me your phone.
or maybe the reason they somehow manage to survive.
it's the reason she's gone to war and pulled the lever to end entire populaces time and time again. it's why she can't sleep. it's why, by now, she's physically incapable of anything past fuckbuddies and so quick to judge others for getting caught up in romantic dramas like the filthy hypocrite she is. but — )
...alright.
All of that is the biggest, messiest pile of self justifying bullshit I've ever seen, but. Alright.
I really hope you can make this work, Venti. But does this mean that I can't still
( oh. oh, she catches herself this time. cuts the snake off at the head before accidentally reverting this conversation to her own wants, borderline needs, and blatant captain killing agenda. a minute or two later — )
Bring me your phone.
[ well all right, an amendment to the 'fucking scam' bit: he does honestly believe in love for everyone, he might actually be a bit of a romantic--for others. for possibly every single other person and very much including clarke and mizuki and jinx, for everyone but himself. he is ~just that special~. unforgivable fuckboy and bad-at-rejection crimes.
and he could catch onto what she meant to say. ]
Thank you. And I understand.
I also want [ ........
ah, well. that sent. truth sure is the bitterest and most inconvenient pill to swallow at the worst of times. she probably gets the gist. he wants, he wants that worship, he wants... he really does admire clarke a lot, not just thinking about her in those stupid shorts and pigtails, he could recall how she felt and the look on her face and how she cried, he had wanted nothing more than to comfort her like a benevolent angel that he isn't.
anyway, he's not actually as much of a pushover as mizuki though certainly mizuki's getting better about that, isn't he. he is kind of weak to bullying from cute girls but he arches an eyebrow at the last message. ]
What do you need it for?
and he could catch onto what she meant to say. ]
Thank you. And I understand.
I also want [ ........
ah, well. that sent. truth sure is the bitterest and most inconvenient pill to swallow at the worst of times. she probably gets the gist. he wants, he wants that worship, he wants... he really does admire clarke a lot, not just thinking about her in those stupid shorts and pigtails, he could recall how she felt and the look on her face and how she cried, he had wanted nothing more than to comfort her like a benevolent angel that he isn't.
anyway, he's not actually as much of a pushover as mizuki though certainly mizuki's getting better about that, isn't he. he is kind of weak to bullying from cute girls but he arches an eyebrow at the last message. ]
What do you need it for?
( ah, the bitter sweet cut offs of want juxtaposed by a deeply felt duty towards others. turns out it's not just leadership that leaves her lonely, it's terrible choices in fuckbuddies and an ill-timed venture into religion. quietly, to herself, clarke insists they could continue this god and follower dynamic without crossing boundaries. but seeing as even a text chat can't happen without talk of shorts or the term irresistible being thrown about, it's better.
if they don't.
and she resents — so, so deeply — what had been shaping up to be progress being curtailed by interpersonal dramas.
quieter still, and somehow miraculously untyped by her betraying fingers, clarke thinks she could figure out how to pray properly — how to worship barbatos without express direction from the source. she could do that, she wants to do that, and honestly probably will...
this part, at least, is simple. )
I'm going to delete that picture for you. You don't need that reminder.
if they don't.
and she resents — so, so deeply — what had been shaping up to be progress being curtailed by interpersonal dramas.
quieter still, and somehow miraculously untyped by her betraying fingers, clarke thinks she could figure out how to pray properly — how to worship barbatos without express direction from the source. she could do that, she wants to do that, and honestly probably will...
this part, at least, is simple. )
I'm going to delete that picture for you. You don't need that reminder.
Edited 2022-07-03 07:52 (UTC)
[ he's pretty much thinking along the same lines, it really really isn't as if he makes a habit of fucking his followers. honestly. well of course there are times he follows people home from the bar and if in mondstadt, it's very likely they pray to him but even so they'd have no clue the silly wasted bard they're taking home is actually their god.
clarke knows. and she knows the weakness of him and far more than he'd ever mean to tell her but the cat's out of the bag, he really is prime example of Worst Person to ever be in a relationship with. if he were more legit he really should break up with mizuki again and spare them because seriously this is getting ridiculous.
he too has to find god (if only) and try to rewind his thoughts of clarke back to a more stable platonic era. yeah. surely it's do-able. even though her consideration of him and offering to delete the pic is terribly kind... he's a silly fantasy era (boomer) bard who has no idea how to delete pics even if he knows how to take them, and maybe every time he sees it he low or highkey really does want to die again.
but, also, ] are you sure i don't?
even with a reminder I've made such a mess of everything
clarke knows. and she knows the weakness of him and far more than he'd ever mean to tell her but the cat's out of the bag, he really is prime example of Worst Person to ever be in a relationship with. if he were more legit he really should break up with mizuki again and spare them because seriously this is getting ridiculous.
he too has to find god (if only) and try to rewind his thoughts of clarke back to a more stable platonic era. yeah. surely it's do-able. even though her consideration of him and offering to delete the pic is terribly kind... he's a silly fantasy era (boomer) bard who has no idea how to delete pics even if he knows how to take them, and maybe every time he sees it he low or highkey really does want to die again.
but, also, ] are you sure i don't?
even with a reminder I've made such a mess of everything
( a kind offer goes hand in hand with an unkind callout: )
Then obviously the reminder isn't working.
Traumatizing yourself over and over again isn't going to help, Venti. Let me delete it for you. Please.
( they may have different approaches, but there's a running theme here. venti thinks everyone but himself is deserving — capable — of a one true love, romance, affection unencumbered with the weight of mistakes. and clarke thinks everyone but herself deserves forgiveness. )
You can do better. If you really want to, you can do better.
And if you need absolution to get you to the point you're willing to at least try, I'll give that to you.
( cool, the kinks are popping up even in this concerted attempt to cut godlust off at the source. )
Then obviously the reminder isn't working.
Traumatizing yourself over and over again isn't going to help, Venti. Let me delete it for you. Please.
( they may have different approaches, but there's a running theme here. venti thinks everyone but himself is deserving — capable — of a one true love, romance, affection unencumbered with the weight of mistakes. and clarke thinks everyone but herself deserves forgiveness. )
You can do better. If you really want to, you can do better.
And if you need absolution to get you to the point you're willing to at least try, I'll give that to you.
( cool, the kinks are popping up even in this concerted attempt to cut godlust off at the source. )
Edited 2022-07-03 08:43 (UTC)
I think you're way outside of my area of expertise. Although I like the fact that there's a version of us back home. Means the people we care about aren't worrying about us. :|
[ a mortal would never dare to offer something like that to a god. that, or… the priests of his church would absolve his followers, his citizens, they would even pray for his soul saved whenever he rolled up horribly wasted, how hilarious is that! he was just a drunkard bard and nobody could tell any wiser that he was actually the god of their country. nobody would pray for his immortal soul or want to salvage him, there are only questionable higher powers above gods that they could possibly turn to.
clarke offers what he had, back when he’d kissed her and pleased her. he knew he made a mistake. if a deity could be judged, he’d sinned so completely. he stares at her text for an indescribably long time. who can gods turn to for assurance? he trusted in people but he can’t burden mortals with his problems, he could bless or absolve or aid them but it’s never the other way around. and in the meantime he’d so rarely even done that when he was a god who abandoned his responsibility.
his chest aches. he doesn’t respond. the wind flickers around him and then stills, then leaves the bar to go look for her then. whether she might be at her cabin or anywhere else. ]
clarke offers what he had, back when he’d kissed her and pleased her. he knew he made a mistake. if a deity could be judged, he’d sinned so completely. he stares at her text for an indescribably long time. who can gods turn to for assurance? he trusted in people but he can’t burden mortals with his problems, he could bless or absolve or aid them but it’s never the other way around. and in the meantime he’d so rarely even done that when he was a god who abandoned his responsibility.
his chest aches. he doesn’t respond. the wind flickers around him and then stills, then leaves the bar to go look for her then. whether she might be at her cabin or anywhere else. ]
( maybe she has no grace to avoid crossing the line of what mortals are and aren't allowed to do for gods, but she's not stupid enough to push the issue when venti doesn't respond. either clarke had stepped on toes or given him a lot to think about, or maybe just sent him backsliding into the bottle. when no blinking ellipse spring up in their text thread, she pockets her phone. then, depending how long venti wallows, there's options on where he finds her.
choose your own adventure:
a. one or two more laps around the track on the sports deck, until her lungs are burning and legs aching. still thoroughly rain drenched, still absorbed in the notion she'll have to work at outrunning demons — personal and literal.
b. picking through the buffet line, absolutely starving and loading up a serena eterna branded traveling mug with scorching hot coffee to take back to her room.
or c. back in 108, either a settling mess still drenched in sweat and picking at her plate. or post a quick shower, hair still wet and paging through some trashy fiction novel from the library because ugh, she'd given herself homework. )
choose your own adventure:
a. one or two more laps around the track on the sports deck, until her lungs are burning and legs aching. still thoroughly rain drenched, still absorbed in the notion she'll have to work at outrunning demons — personal and literal.
b. picking through the buffet line, absolutely starving and loading up a serena eterna branded traveling mug with scorching hot coffee to take back to her room.
or c. back in 108, either a settling mess still drenched in sweat and picking at her plate. or post a quick shower, hair still wet and paging through some trashy fiction novel from the library because ugh, she'd given herself homework. )
[ you know it's gotta be A simply so venti can fly up to the top deck, step out into the drizzling rain with the idiot cluelessness of ignorance, catch sight of her in whatever athletic outfit she's in (better not be fucking shorts!!) and wave a hand, playing at perfect cheerfulness, ] Hi hi, Clarke!
Say, you're looking very wet today!
[ 100% fun and serious and totally cool truthiness here!! maybe the question is can they possibly puzzle out the mystery to these inconvenient truths or is he just going to continue to make a complete utter fool of himself in front of wet clarke. you decide. or not. just kick him off the side of the boat right the fuck now, the true end we all deserve. ]
Say, you're looking very wet today!
[ 100% fun and serious and totally cool truthiness here!! maybe the question is can they possibly puzzle out the mystery to these inconvenient truths or is he just going to continue to make a complete utter fool of himself in front of wet clarke. you decide. or not. just kick him off the side of the boat right the fuck now, the true end we all deserve. ]
( yanno, probably for the best. stay out in public + stay utterly drenched = profit?? and of course it's shorts but not those shorts, those really are staying buried in her dresser (until an opportunity arises to use her butt for evil). these are just some tommy bahama athleisure and a t-shirt.
accessoriezed with a very flat look, and an absolute deadpan: )
Well. It's raining.
( water isn't technically wet but everything it touches will be, and this drizzle seems relentless. it's way too early in the month to figure out all the intricacies of this curse, but never too early to continually suffer because of it. )
Got your phone?
accessoriezed with a very flat look, and an absolute deadpan: )
Well. It's raining.
( water isn't technically wet but everything it touches will be, and this drizzle seems relentless. it's way too early in the month to figure out all the intricacies of this curse, but never too early to continually suffer because of it. )
Got your phone?
That it is, but even so! You look cute when you're wet. [ oh this is great because when texting leaves a literal trail of awkward truths right there in the log, speaking doesn't! and he has no idea what he's saying apparently, and wouldn't quite connect the dots that these truths would continue even beyond texting and into speech. and he's a stupid natural flirt even when he's in a relation. someone just kick him overboard already because he seriously can't be cured. ]
And yes, I have it.
[ .........
it sinks in more that clarke really will see that awful gore pic (that i wanted to keep smh that i wrote myself into removing best pic) and he freezes up a little, eyes going wide even at the thought of showing it. ] But, actually, we don't need to, I--
[ his mind stutters, then kind of stalls at lucid thought around that first death. defying even speaking a truth when he kind of just... stops thinking entirely for a moment. for practically no reason at all. ]
And yes, I have it.
[ .........
it sinks in more that clarke really will see that awful gore pic (that i wanted to keep smh that i wrote myself into removing best pic) and he freezes up a little, eyes going wide even at the thought of showing it. ] But, actually, we don't need to, I--
[ his mind stutters, then kind of stalls at lucid thought around that first death. defying even speaking a truth when he kind of just... stops thinking entirely for a moment. for practically no reason at all. ]
( is the twisted, painfully awkward and distinctly uncomfortable furrow of her brow not clue enough? no? actually that's fair, clarke sort of always looks like she's in existential distress, and the cool down after running in the rain already stained her cheeks ruddy flushed. still, she's pressing her mouth together so tightly that her lips disappear, curled in against her teeth. if please don't were an expression, this is roughly what it'd look like.
still, they're not doing anything awful here. with the downpour, there's barely anyone around, so why does it feel like every move is scrutinized? but it's fine. it's fine, this is basically just a business transaction.
venti balks a little at the last second, and clarke means to ask what's the hold up? but what actually tumbles out of her mouth is: )
Did I ever tell you I have another name too?
( likewise, she doesn't catch the horrible truth lead in rolling off her tongue. is still just standing in front of him, looking a little impatient and holding out her hand.
the next sentiment that gets twisted is: i won't even look at it if you don't want me to. because she likes a picture of his decapitated head to be similar to the close up re-runs of the battle royale that had focused on her face and severed arm swinging loosely at mizuki's side. snapshots of horribly intimate moments of torment, things she wished nobody has ever seen. watching herself crying and shaking in natsuno's arms with other patrons peppered around the bar had almost been worse than dying. but this would have been a lie, and is thus unknowingly cut off at the source. )
Not the same way you do, but. It built me a reputation off the back of fear in my world.
still, they're not doing anything awful here. with the downpour, there's barely anyone around, so why does it feel like every move is scrutinized? but it's fine. it's fine, this is basically just a business transaction.
venti balks a little at the last second, and clarke means to ask what's the hold up? but what actually tumbles out of her mouth is: )
Did I ever tell you I have another name too?
( likewise, she doesn't catch the horrible truth lead in rolling off her tongue. is still just standing in front of him, looking a little impatient and holding out her hand.
the next sentiment that gets twisted is: i won't even look at it if you don't want me to. because she likes a picture of his decapitated head to be similar to the close up re-runs of the battle royale that had focused on her face and severed arm swinging loosely at mizuki's side. snapshots of horribly intimate moments of torment, things she wished nobody has ever seen. watching herself crying and shaking in natsuno's arms with other patrons peppered around the bar had almost been worse than dying. but this would have been a lie, and is thus unknowingly cut off at the source. )
Not the same way you do, but. It built me a reputation off the back of fear in my world.
Edited 2022-07-04 01:52 (UTC)
[ he'd spilled his guts in a disgustingly honest way back in that conversation and he truly really seriously didn't mean to. truth might just fuck him up. for obvious reasons he wouldn't want to tell mizuki, he wouldn't want to tell... well despite running from responsibility as a god he does think of himself as apart from mortals, in the way that he needs to try to protect and provide for them but what higher power can seek comfort from those who are more fragile and shorter-lived? this isn't his country but slowly or gradually or unconsciously he might be thinking of everyone here as people he needs to save, as a god who loves humanity.
and he'd died twice and he tries not to be fucked up about it but he kind of is. maybe personal weakness is this painful. clarke's words snap him out of the stunned daze, he blinks and focuses back on her, the black flush on her that he is still curious about. but this tangent is welcome. ]
What is it? [ he'd only given his god's name to very few people. even friday doesn't know it. and he knows jinx had a name with heavy baggage--maybe clarke did too. ]
and he'd died twice and he tries not to be fucked up about it but he kind of is. maybe personal weakness is this painful. clarke's words snap him out of the stunned daze, he blinks and focuses back on her, the black flush on her that he is still curious about. but this tangent is welcome. ]
What is it? [ he'd only given his god's name to very few people. even friday doesn't know it. and he knows jinx had a name with heavy baggage--maybe clarke did too. ]
( truth is always the achilles heel of people. even those who don't often outright lie, like clarke, but who still keep secrets and obfuscate parts of themselves. she's dropped so, so many unintentional hints as to the things she's truly capable of, but only outright told diana abel and natsuno yuuki how many people she's killed. bellamy knows, too. and she'd tried to tell mizuki but he'd cut her self loathing argument at the root and made her cry instead. and with venti she'd discussed harsh, borderline cruel punishments for anyone who didn't positively contribute to a ship-wide peace but never come outright and said oh, i'm a tyrant.
what is it? doesn't fit with any of the things clarke thinks she's managed to say out loud, and that furrow between her eyebrows deepens. her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth before she tries to follow up with: what are you talking about? )
They call me Wanheda. ( trigdaselng is an offshoot of english, a borderline creole dialect molded through 100 years of apocalyptic living. it won't immediately translate, but this curse is brutal and efficient, and what comes next is — ) Commander of Death. Mountain Slayer.
( unlike barbatos, friday and the captain both know this about her. that'd been what the captain had drawled at her during the ice breaker party, the last time clarke had tried to leverage her bloody history against whatever mysteries were in store for them, only to be met with you are so out of your league, wanheda dripping from gal friday's frozen features. arguably their first contact with the wannabe-god, and it was to tell her she wasn't shit compared to him. )
what is it? doesn't fit with any of the things clarke thinks she's managed to say out loud, and that furrow between her eyebrows deepens. her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth before she tries to follow up with: what are you talking about? )
They call me Wanheda. ( trigdaselng is an offshoot of english, a borderline creole dialect molded through 100 years of apocalyptic living. it won't immediately translate, but this curse is brutal and efficient, and what comes next is — ) Commander of Death. Mountain Slayer.
( unlike barbatos, friday and the captain both know this about her. that'd been what the captain had drawled at her during the ice breaker party, the last time clarke had tried to leverage her bloody history against whatever mysteries were in store for them, only to be met with you are so out of your league, wanheda dripping from gal friday's frozen features. arguably their first contact with the wannabe-god, and it was to tell her she wasn't shit compared to him. )
They probably should be worrying about us.
( she's just spitballing. negatively. because what is actual optimism or looking at something potentially good and then not digging further. )
There are powerful people here from power-filled worlds. Maybe it's all a masking technique, so the Captain doesn't arouse suspicion and bring down an otherworldly brigade on his head because he took their friend.
Or maybe he really is just that lazy and incompetent, that he can't focus and bring entire people here.
I need to think more about this. ( what she NEEDS is to find someone who's area of expertise this actually is, because otherwise it's just like jumping in the deep end of the pool and floundering because she doesn't know how to swim. )
But thanks, Diana, you just cleared a huge mystery off the board for me.
( she's just spitballing. negatively. because what is actual optimism or looking at something potentially good and then not digging further. )
There are powerful people here from power-filled worlds. Maybe it's all a masking technique, so the Captain doesn't arouse suspicion and bring down an otherworldly brigade on his head because he took their friend.
Or maybe he really is just that lazy and incompetent, that he can't focus and bring entire people here.
I need to think more about this. ( what she NEEDS is to find someone who's area of expertise this actually is, because otherwise it's just like jumping in the deep end of the pool and floundering because she doesn't know how to swim. )
But thanks, Diana, you just cleared a huge mystery off the board for me.
[ he sure doesn't know about clarke's body count. on one hand, it's formidable. on the other hand, he's not free from his own growing bias for her and he does want to believe in redemption for anyone, to even consider extending it to the captain. and so 'commander of death' prompts a bit of nervous laughter because, as far as he knows, clarke is an apocalypse survivor who had to go through heavy struggle and--she has killed before, he knows that much. but commander of death? that's... ]
What an intimidating title that is! [ well that's truthful enough. to the odd look on her face he simply offers her a wary smile because--no, it's ridiculous but at this moment even when coming to meet with her so she could remove the picture, the prospect of her actually seeing it is fucking with him. a completely graphic picture like that... even the memory of it makes his avoidant tendencies kick into overdrive, because he's very functional but aren't we all. ] Would that happen to be... commanding deaths, of mountains? I'll admit, slaying mountains is a new feat even to me, though I have split and thrown them out to sea. [ hm? did he say something like that? no idea. ] Why, I wonder if that accomplishment could give even Morax's a run for the money when he could practically uplift entire mountain ranges in the days of yore, that old rock-head. Surely a new talent like you would be such competition. [ what, is he blabbing about zhongli now like an idiot? would he do something like that?
anyway stupid flattery still counts as truth. ]
... It sounds rather poetic, Wanheda. [ trying her name, experimentally, the taste and pronunciation of it. like how she had said his, with reverence. ]
What an intimidating title that is! [ well that's truthful enough. to the odd look on her face he simply offers her a wary smile because--no, it's ridiculous but at this moment even when coming to meet with her so she could remove the picture, the prospect of her actually seeing it is fucking with him. a completely graphic picture like that... even the memory of it makes his avoidant tendencies kick into overdrive, because he's very functional but aren't we all. ] Would that happen to be... commanding deaths, of mountains? I'll admit, slaying mountains is a new feat even to me, though I have split and thrown them out to sea. [ hm? did he say something like that? no idea. ] Why, I wonder if that accomplishment could give even Morax's a run for the money when he could practically uplift entire mountain ranges in the days of yore, that old rock-head. Surely a new talent like you would be such competition. [ what, is he blabbing about zhongli now like an idiot? would he do something like that?
anyway stupid flattery still counts as truth. ]
... It sounds rather poetic, Wanheda. [ trying her name, experimentally, the taste and pronunciation of it. like how she had said his, with reverence. ]
Edited 2022-07-04 06:58 (UTC)
( the truly cursed bit of this curse is the inevitable breakdown of a conversation when two people are responding to completely different talking points. essentially what's wrong? met with oh, you're so scary ♥, and the confusion across clarke's face deepens.
what are you talking about?, but it comes out as an answer to his question — )
It'd be slaughtering every person living inside the mountain, and then seeing the entire rockface leveled a little while later.
( a slight dramatization of events, but the overall picture still the same. "the mountain" just being an allegorical term for the blood and bone marrow thirsty populace inside it. the ones who'd hunted, tortured, and bleed grounders for near 100 years; turned their own people into the very embodiment of flesh hungry demons, all while they sat within their bunker in fresh pressed clothing, eating chocolate cake and admiring hoarded art. vestiges of old world society, unfit for the apocalypse no matter how hard they'd tried to survive. ultimately brought to ruin by a seventeen year old girl with a sweaty handgrip on a lever, and a stronger hand overlaying her own.
the conversational disconnect persists, confusion at the forefront until venti purrs over wanheda and clarke balks.
the exact opposite of any thrum of excitement in her veins, devoid of any flutter of religious connection. the exact opposite of whispering barbatos, venti recites her title and clarke feels like she's been stabbed in the gut. the knife twisted, then kicked in the chest and slapped across the face in the same motion. she takes a full step back away from him and just. gawks. for a moment looking every bit her actual age, features open and far, far too young for the weighted lines the apocalypse had carved into her skin and soul. in the next moment, looking ready to cry again. pathetic and small with rain- and sweat-wet hair clinging to her face, and shivers threatening to overrun her whole body despite the muggy rainy climate.
it's going to take an additional few moments before she can fold all of that emotional leakage back into it's neat little compartment in the bottom of her soul. but at least during the interim, her brain and mouth seem to catch up to one another. this time when she speaks, it's exactly what she means to put in the air between them. )
...what did I just say?
( and what was that about throwing mountains into the sea? who's morax? )
what are you talking about?, but it comes out as an answer to his question — )
It'd be slaughtering every person living inside the mountain, and then seeing the entire rockface leveled a little while later.
( a slight dramatization of events, but the overall picture still the same. "the mountain" just being an allegorical term for the blood and bone marrow thirsty populace inside it. the ones who'd hunted, tortured, and bleed grounders for near 100 years; turned their own people into the very embodiment of flesh hungry demons, all while they sat within their bunker in fresh pressed clothing, eating chocolate cake and admiring hoarded art. vestiges of old world society, unfit for the apocalypse no matter how hard they'd tried to survive. ultimately brought to ruin by a seventeen year old girl with a sweaty handgrip on a lever, and a stronger hand overlaying her own.
the conversational disconnect persists, confusion at the forefront until venti purrs over wanheda and clarke balks.
the exact opposite of any thrum of excitement in her veins, devoid of any flutter of religious connection. the exact opposite of whispering barbatos, venti recites her title and clarke feels like she's been stabbed in the gut. the knife twisted, then kicked in the chest and slapped across the face in the same motion. she takes a full step back away from him and just. gawks. for a moment looking every bit her actual age, features open and far, far too young for the weighted lines the apocalypse had carved into her skin and soul. in the next moment, looking ready to cry again. pathetic and small with rain- and sweat-wet hair clinging to her face, and shivers threatening to overrun her whole body despite the muggy rainy climate.
it's going to take an additional few moments before she can fold all of that emotional leakage back into it's neat little compartment in the bottom of her soul. but at least during the interim, her brain and mouth seem to catch up to one another. this time when she speaks, it's exactly what she means to put in the air between them. )
...what did I just say?
( and what was that about throwing mountains into the sea? who's morax? )
Edited 2022-07-04 08:01 (UTC)
I would say I'm glad, but now I'm a little concerned
Clarke, you're not thinking of doing anything drastic, are you?
Clarke, you're not thinking of doing anything drastic, are you?
( uh oh, caught. called out. it's really a blessing she has no concept of self-care in the middle of a murderboard session and thus hasn't had a drink of water or showered in the last hour, so lying comes easily enough.
a little like. gently obsfucating in an attempt to lessen the alarm. )
Of course not. I'm not planning on doing anything until we know more about him.
How are you, by the way?
a little like. gently obsfucating in an attempt to lessen the alarm. )
Of course not. I'm not planning on doing anything until we know more about him.
How are you, by the way?
Me? I'm trying, I guess.
Listen, I've had a bit of time to think
I kinda owe you an apology, Clarke
Listen, I've had a bit of time to think
I kinda owe you an apology, Clarke
[ not to say he might have a type, but he might have a type. gods may have their preferences but more often than not have always been drawn to people with such strong conviction or ambition--the first person he'd ever been close to, devastatingly so, a bard in an imprisoned city. centuries later, a slave girl fighting for her freedom. eras later, a traveler fallen to teyvat from beyond the stars...
so yeah, 'you're so scary! ♥' is hilariously right. some flirts like him really need to be executed on sight. that being said her explanation of her name is much more sobering, his teasing face flickers to surprise at that so-casual reveal of slaughter. and then her reaction to her name... well, if it meant 'killer of populations' maybe it's entirely too understandable, it's not a personal name with such divine meaning as his is. maybe it's something more like a cursed title that her enemies would call her in fear and hatred.
and she doesn't even seem aware that she'd shared it. he stares at her through the drizzling rain, water dripping off his braids, mind reeling back to the text conversation. ]
I think something strange is going on or affecting us. It wasn't just through the phone... what we're even saying could be suspect. [ every word slower and almost deliberate. he lifts his hand to his neck; first, a nervous tic and hold-over from that first death. or as if he could practically stop or feel betraying words from vocal cords. ] Suspect, or... honest, unwittingly so. [ a guess, from the text conversation. but who'd know how to connect this curse to water. ] We should be careful.
... Should we get out of the rain, for a start? [ well, he wouldn't want her to get sick. ]
so yeah, 'you're so scary! ♥' is hilariously right. some flirts like him really need to be executed on sight. that being said her explanation of her name is much more sobering, his teasing face flickers to surprise at that so-casual reveal of slaughter. and then her reaction to her name... well, if it meant 'killer of populations' maybe it's entirely too understandable, it's not a personal name with such divine meaning as his is. maybe it's something more like a cursed title that her enemies would call her in fear and hatred.
and she doesn't even seem aware that she'd shared it. he stares at her through the drizzling rain, water dripping off his braids, mind reeling back to the text conversation. ]
I think something strange is going on or affecting us. It wasn't just through the phone... what we're even saying could be suspect. [ every word slower and almost deliberate. he lifts his hand to his neck; first, a nervous tic and hold-over from that first death. or as if he could practically stop or feel betraying words from vocal cords. ] Suspect, or... honest, unwittingly so. [ a guess, from the text conversation. but who'd know how to connect this curse to water. ] We should be careful.
... Should we get out of the rain, for a start? [ well, he wouldn't want her to get sick. ]
( people didn't go around praying to wanheda, they prayed to never meet her. some hoped and wished she'd fall dead, plenty more wanted to kill her — it was a cultural belief among the grounders, you kill someone and absorb their power. no one ever uttered her title with reverence, just a healthy mix of disgust, fear, and a select few managed to turn the word into the metaphorical manifestation of a knife to bury in her heart.
i've heard what they call you now.
alright wanheda, savior of us all. but maybe you forgot the last time you were saving us, i was saving you!
you are so out of your league...
clarke buttons her lips. jaw set, teeth grinding. thoughtlessly, a minor mirror as venti reaches to touch his neck, she brings a hand up to cover her mouth. one more blockade against inadvertent admissions, a mild attempt to crush the newest thing that's managed to betray her — her own tongue. then he's suggesting they go inside, and absently she nods in agreement. today's episode in fitness has come to an end, she's cold once the sweat starts to dry and heat just continues streaming from her body in vaporous tendrils. clarke will even lead the charge towards the elevator that will bring them under cover from the (treacherous, evil) rain and down towards warmer, more populated levels of the ship.
and the second the descent starts — )
Please don't ever call me that. ( honest enough imploring, though escaping the rain doesn't lift the curse. this one hour time limit really is going to throw a wrench in the works of figuring out how to avoid horribly uncomfortable conversations like this, and until they do, more truths will slip through the cracks. this time at least, it's only a painfully honest showcase of self loathing. ) I hate it. I hate it so much, and everything I did to earn it.
i've heard what they call you now.
alright wanheda, savior of us all. but maybe you forgot the last time you were saving us, i was saving you!
you are so out of your league...
clarke buttons her lips. jaw set, teeth grinding. thoughtlessly, a minor mirror as venti reaches to touch his neck, she brings a hand up to cover her mouth. one more blockade against inadvertent admissions, a mild attempt to crush the newest thing that's managed to betray her — her own tongue. then he's suggesting they go inside, and absently she nods in agreement. today's episode in fitness has come to an end, she's cold once the sweat starts to dry and heat just continues streaming from her body in vaporous tendrils. clarke will even lead the charge towards the elevator that will bring them under cover from the (treacherous, evil) rain and down towards warmer, more populated levels of the ship.
and the second the descent starts — )
Please don't ever call me that. ( honest enough imploring, though escaping the rain doesn't lift the curse. this one hour time limit really is going to throw a wrench in the works of figuring out how to avoid horribly uncomfortable conversations like this, and until they do, more truths will slip through the cracks. this time at least, it's only a painfully honest showcase of self loathing. ) I hate it. I hate it so much, and everything I did to earn it.
[ more alike to jinx's 'powder' than anything reverent of a title. got it. names have power, he understands that much. in fairy tales knowing a true name could grant you control over a spirit--this among possible other reasons and his natural secrecy would be why he'd guard his a little more. friday doesn't know his name. the captain probably doesn't. in mondstadt he could carelessly or drunkenly slur out, 'hey now you know I'm Barbatos right???' and people would roll their eyes or awkwardly laugh at him but let's maybe be a little more prudent here in another's realm, a sorceror's realm if that's what this is.
jinx had been called powder and threatened to shoot friday. he called clarke wanheda and for the first time...
he'd never seen that look on her face before, it nearly stunned him. of course she is a young mortal girl but it's almost incredible how composed or fierce or in-control she tries to be at all times, and almost all of that crashed entirely when he said her name. on the bright side, it'd snap him out of flirtiness, even as they're both dripping wet and normally he'd be a little more distracted with that. ]
Mm, I understand. I didn't know. But, maybe I should have guessed being called a 'slayer' of anything couldn't be that positive. [ she came from a cruel world after all. it was careless of him but then again when is he not? ] Not to worry, let's simply keep each others' names safely secret. [ as he follows her down, footsteps light, rain dripping off the edge of his cloak. he wonders briefly about whether he could offer it to her maybe just to dry off with, or is that too familiar a gesture or what? he really has to try to be careful around her. at least actions aren't subject to impulse truth. ]
You know... I'm curious about your world and life and story. [ whoops, this is probably something he should hold back from admitting until after a bit of time, to cool it from saying it just now, the name she hates. but maybe a tangent is all right if this counts as that? ] I'm a bard so~ I'll admit as far as I'm concerned, everybody has a unique and song-worthy story to tell, I'd be interested in learning about each one if only I were able. I'm certain this is true for you. You, especially...
I know Mizuki introduced me to you as a source of information. I've probably told more about myself to the both of you than nearly anybody else on the ship except maybe Jinx. [ w h o o p s did not mean to say that either, but oh well. ] It's a little funny, for me... I'd rather not say that much about myself at all. That you know more about me than I know about you is almost unfair! I wonder if we could balance the scales even a little somehow, someday.
[ all this to say, he simply wants to know more about her. that interest could totally be platonic. 100% friendly curiosity. ]
jinx had been called powder and threatened to shoot friday. he called clarke wanheda and for the first time...
he'd never seen that look on her face before, it nearly stunned him. of course she is a young mortal girl but it's almost incredible how composed or fierce or in-control she tries to be at all times, and almost all of that crashed entirely when he said her name. on the bright side, it'd snap him out of flirtiness, even as they're both dripping wet and normally he'd be a little more distracted with that. ]
Mm, I understand. I didn't know. But, maybe I should have guessed being called a 'slayer' of anything couldn't be that positive. [ she came from a cruel world after all. it was careless of him but then again when is he not? ] Not to worry, let's simply keep each others' names safely secret. [ as he follows her down, footsteps light, rain dripping off the edge of his cloak. he wonders briefly about whether he could offer it to her maybe just to dry off with, or is that too familiar a gesture or what? he really has to try to be careful around her. at least actions aren't subject to impulse truth. ]
You know... I'm curious about your world and life and story. [ whoops, this is probably something he should hold back from admitting until after a bit of time, to cool it from saying it just now, the name she hates. but maybe a tangent is all right if this counts as that? ] I'm a bard so~ I'll admit as far as I'm concerned, everybody has a unique and song-worthy story to tell, I'd be interested in learning about each one if only I were able. I'm certain this is true for you. You, especially...
I know Mizuki introduced me to you as a source of information. I've probably told more about myself to the both of you than nearly anybody else on the ship except maybe Jinx. [ w h o o p s did not mean to say that either, but oh well. ] It's a little funny, for me... I'd rather not say that much about myself at all. That you know more about me than I know about you is almost unfair! I wonder if we could balance the scales even a little somehow, someday.
[ all this to say, he simply wants to know more about her. that interest could totally be platonic. 100% friendly curiosity. ]
Edited 2022-07-06 02:47 (UTC)
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