You Are A Human.

you are a human.

your scars are proof of that much. scars from wars waged and roaring, from gritting your teeth and digging your heels in to the cold, unforgiving earth. the world refuses to give, so you grab onto whatever can be taken, and run with it. your grip only tightens with each fallen kingdom, each tyrant, each god, for what else can you do? you are mortal, fragile and weak.

but you are always adapting, evolving, a spark in the vast void of the universe. this world was not made for you to take, but you do anyways. gods are chained by the heavens, but humans are free to do with whatever. it doesn’t matter how the world tries to bring you down, whether it be with raging tempests or silent poison, for as stubborn as humans are, they are forever changing.

gods might be immortal, but immortality does not equal invincibility.

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐈𝐗. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐒

( why does tragedy exist? because you are full of rage. why are you full of rage? BECAUSE YOU ARE FULL OF GRIEF. )

chara : xiao fandom : genshin impact quote cr : anne carson a/n : rewritten + revised 3 yr old fic :^) my very first xiao fic

IN DARKNESS LIES :

REGRET : TO FORGET SINS OF DAYS GONE BY IS AN ACT OF COWARDICE, A VIOLENCE SO KNOWN THAT IT LINGERS IN CENTURIES PAST. to carry the weight of one's burdens is a trial of living, of survival, and it is one xiao knows to endure until the world lays him to rest and the calling is heard by another.

he tires of it, this cruelty of karma known. the blood on his hands serve as a reminder of the horrid past meant to be spoken of and remembered. it is a hauntening, these phantom ties. its thorns take hold of his being, burning and burning and burning into his mind and flesh in memorial of those he brought brutality upon under another's command.

"keep your distance." an adeptus warns, but the trace of false malice in his words is drowned by a melancholy, an aching, a yearning. his soul trembles in your presence, and he does not know what to make of this.

yakshas survive loneliness through the protection of others. it is all he knows. it is all he is meant for, after all. it is his redemption -- words spoken for his own sake, his own comfort, but redemption is something unobtainable, just as you are.

it's better this way. safer.

what will come in the near future, he wonders, if you continue down this path?

in his lifetime, he has witnessed too much loss, most of it caused by him. perhaps he had a heart once. he simply wonders if it was torn from him or whether he rid of it himself. a final act of cruelty, of release, of mercy.

( it doesn't matter. it doesn't. it won't. a single beating heart would not make a difference in this world. not his. )

CORRUPTION : & THE SUNLIGHT IS TOO BRIGHT AN EXISTENCE , TOO KIND & GENTLE IN THE ENDEAVORS OF A MADDENING DARKNESS. it reminds him of someone, and to even indulge in the thought brings reluctance.

you are too close, yet he cannot distance himself, even if he tried. you find a way. you always do. perhaps that is what draws him closer.

his head hurts. he cannot think. it is happening again. again, again, again--

he is weak. he knows this all too well. all these years of drowning in hatred, all these years of fighting and fighting, yet the darkness is the one thing he fails to defeat. a flood of memories intertwined with havoc and destruction: endless, ruthless. he will never escape it, will he? but surely it is deserved, after all. it must be. it has to be. he seeks logic in the suffering because it is the only way he survives.

( somewhere, there is an absence of being in him. in eternities, there is much untold and too little addressed, comfort lost yet desired so deeply. but his suffering is meant to be unsaid, and so he will remain silent, keep his pain close to the soul until it gnaws away and away until there is nothing left.

"the warmth feels nice, doesn't it?"

your words are kind. gentle. bright. the pain dissipates, slow, and the darkness turns into a soft light. the voices of those he ruined fade in the background, and all he hears is you. it's always you.

he does not respond initially. you offer a faint smile, hand resting on his, slowly, hesitant. he likes the feeling more than he expects, likes it more than he should.

his lips part. he pauses, afraid, and answers.

"yes," his voice trembles, but you pretend to not notice, "it does." )

FORGIVENESS / re: AWAKENING : INSIDE YOUR HEART RESIDES A WRATH , A VICIOUS SELF-LOATHING. WHEN WILL YOU PUT IT TO REST? HOW WILL YOU PUT IT TO REST?

-- CAN YOU?

his soul is too entangled with those he has destroyed and slaughtered; there is no separation in existence. his soul carries the many who do not live on, and if you searched closely enough, you would see the way it rots, withers, and decays in despair.

why doesn't it frighten you? why doesn't this darkness, this violence-- why doesn't any of this frighten you? he has made what little peace he has with it; he hopes you will, as well. there is no saving here. he does not need it.

you are a force : an enigma of hope and everything wondrously bright. it is contagious, almost-- but he is quick to remember who he is, and he is quick to remember the difference between higher beings and mortals. you cannot save him. he hopes you will remember that. if there is ever a way out of limbo, he will find it himself. but until then, he will stay here, alone and in the place he belongs.

"xiao." you speak his name and he only hears love. your fingertips ghost over the markings that have found a home on his arm, touch reverent as ever-- delicate, holy. "you are more than your darkness."

your voice wavers, but he pretends to not notice. his gaze meets yours, and it is painful. it is love; it is grieving. there is a heavy yearning in the deep hues of amber, and in such emotion, there is the knowing that he cannot have what he desires, because what he desires is too good, too innocent, and he knows all too well that light and darkness are not meant to coexist. but he aches with weakness, and he allows himself to succumb to it.

( now, he is the one who closes the distance. hand in hand, a subtle squeeze of affection. you cannot help but smile at the proximity, and his breath hitches at the sight of such quiet joy.

you frighten me, he whispers, lips finding yours under the moonlight.

perhaps this is another cruelty, another trial he must endure. xiao knows this. but for you, he will happily do so. )

you’ve known ajax for as long as you can remember. from the barren winter of your youth to the maze-like woods by morepesok, all of it is inextricably linked back to a hesitant, earnest grin and shining blue eyes.

somewhere in the woods is a crack in the ground. it’s stark against the snow—but rather unremarkable otherwise. he joked about falling in sometimes—“maybe someone took a wrong turn while ice fishing. what do you think?”—but you’d always drag him away before he got any other ideas. after all, ajax had always wanted an adventure for himself, however nervous he may be. (personally, it gave you chills, and not just because it was snezhnaya.)

that all changes when he goes missing at 14.

you find him three days later standing over the crack, as if he’d just crawled out. once upon a time, it’d just been a strange landmark, perhaps a start of some story. whenever you think about it now, you’re brought back to fresh, scabbed scars, deadened blue eyes, and a confident, terrible smile.

you suspect ajax died sometime within those three days.

his new thirst for violence frightens his parents. his siblings are too young to know any better, so the night he’s sent away, you make a promise to wait for him.

“you make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. you break a pinkie promise, i throw you on the ice.” his eyes have never been brighter. “the cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend…”

you curl your pinkie around his. “the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again.”

he smiles then, something unfamiliar and unsettling. “oh, when i return, i’ll take you on the greatest adventure there is.” and as you watch him leave, you think the wind howls fiercer than ever.

a few years pass. you hear about him sometimes, about his promotion to harbinger, a few rumors about his battles. (they call him something else now.) you keep your promise for the most part, but decide to visit liyue one summer for something new. it’s nothing like snezhnaya, jade city and sun-drenched land, and above all—it’s golden. it’s a dream.

you’re speaking to a tall consultant when you hear him.

“hey! it’s been a while, comrade!”

when you turn around, you’re met with blue eyes and a smile—all teeth and no hint of that young boy you once knew.

you think childe, tartaglia, is a stranger to you.

you had always known you weren’t quite human.

it wasn’t something you were told. (it wasn’t like there was anyone around to tell you anyways.) the feeling was just there, haunting and lingering. it followed you the night you left liyue, when you escaped with nothing but a bag and a burning vision, and it was present when you fell into the sea in a flurry of sparks and ashes and emerged alive.

and it was here now, as you sat in your cage of crystal and frost, as you curled up and suffocated in the cold (and oh, it was so, so cold.)

even from the throne room, the thundering was unmistakable. it was the sound of an army on the horizon, of a nation on the brink of destruction. each step resonated within your core, but the roaring calls and shrill laughter could not hide the wails echoing throughout the city.

you peered through the spaces of your prison to the window. the horde was fast approaching and, under the light of the moon, they seemed like a wave of shadow, come to drown the very heart of snezhnaya. it would not take long to reach the edges of the city.

a spark flitted between your fingers, despite the absence of a vision. you turned your head to stare at it, pondering. (the harbingers didn’t seem to notice, too busy and too frantic.) should you? this was not your nation nor your home—you had been kept here as a trophy—but innocents should not die for the actions of others.

so you let it snap.

bolts of lightning fractured the sky, bridging and linking in the blink of an eye. those at the forefront crashed into the line and evaporated in a swirl of smoke and sparks. gasps sounded from around the cage, but you hardly noticed. shrieks erupted and the march came to a stuttering halt.

and for one brilliant moment, the world went silent.

until it wasn’t, and the night was filled with roars again, but of anger this time. the barrier flashed and flickered, bolts of electricity crackling in the air. violet and violent in the frigid weather, it was a wall keeping the horde at bay. you breathed. some time had been bought.

through fluttering eyes and diminishing sight, you vaguely noticed the inky clouds swirling in the sky, ominous through the window. beautiful, you thought, and terrible. before the world went dark though, you caught a pair of familiar golden eyes from beyond the storm. the message was clear.

this is war.

“this feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

the splashes of color on the horizon, the stars rising, the moon shining. the snow blankets the ground and the park.

“yeah.”

he takes your hand in his, interlacing them. you look down at them. you’ve always marveled at how pretty kageyama’s hands were, strange as it sounds. most people who played volleyball had weathered hands, bruised arms, stiff fingers, but then again, kageyama wasn’t like most people.

“y’know, i’m glad i met you,” you confess, lifting your head from his shoulder. “and i’m glad that you stayed.”

kageyama sucks in a breath and looks down at you. you’re hit with a feeling of deja vu. the last time you had been in a situation like this, you had chickened out.

his eyes flicker down to your lips briefly.

“can i…?”

you don’t give him a verbal answer.

it’s warm.

just dropping by to say i love your writing so much 🥺 top tier❣️

aaaaaa thank you !! i haven't written much in a while so i really appreciate this :>