V. Fatui - Tumblr Posts
shaking his head makes his brain rattle inside his skull. chongyun can't remember the extent of his injuries and maladies, and any discussion over how long he'd spent in recovery is still up in the air too. it's days like this when he has the most clarity ― when the sun is out and he's able to get up and actually enjoy the city (even with a pounding headache). even with that clarity, chongyun's memory is like the shifting breeze: it tends to fade in and out.
already he can barely remember asking about the kasa, though chongyun is grasping onto that conversation fiercely, physically leaning on his walking stick as he furrows his brow. the gold trimming paired with the colorful dots are entrancingly beautiful, he's sure his parents would adore something like that hanging in their home. he can barely remember their faces, but chongyun KNOWS they must miss him too. would they accept a similar looking adornment, if he were to have one made for them?
"custom made," chongyun repeats, trying to bring himself back to the present. his mind wanders far too much for his own liking. it's frustrating to lose his mind so figuratively, so often. he can only imagine how he LOOKS to this stranger. "pardon me, but did you say where?" they're already reaching slowly for their pockets, tucking their stick under their armpit for balance as they try to check their funds. chongyun doesn't have a whole lot of money on them at the moment, since they hadn't intended on shopping.
"i'm sorry." they apologize. "i don't mean to be a bother." they try to smile, but it feels more hollow. maybe they can inquire about hats later, after they've gone back to rest. they need to focus on the rest of the conversation.
"...and you're correct. i'm originally from liyue." even though chongyun's got something simple on right now, a simple sumaru tunic and pants mostly for healing, chongyun is still wearing some relics from home. the tassel earring they never removed, from an old friend. a talisman from their family, and some beading. it's not a lot, but it's enough for most people to recognize chongyun's home nation.
"have you been there before?"
it seems he has been ever so GRACIOUSLY afforded a sum of mora to put toward research expenses on the akademiya's behalf — a fact ren has only quite recently been made aware of. sources of income can be awfully tricky to come by these days; ordinarily he would prefer to make do with whatever he can rightfully take from those FOOLISH ENOUGH to pick a fight — but that isn't exactly reliable. fortunately, the majority of the wanderer's so-called research is merely information pulled from the veritable library of information making itself at home in the back of his skull. the most troublesome part is weaving a satisfactory lie to act as his alleged sources. maintaining the charade of humanity is as cumbersome as ever, but he tends to it diligently — for the alternative is not something he's willing to risk. not again. not when he lives surrounded by so many inquisitive minds who would jump at the opportunity to see how the creation of a god TICKS. ( never again. )
in any case, that just means his research funds are free mora to be used however he pleases — right? so if he wants to purchase a bit of tea, there's really nothing stopping him.
he's gazing down at a merchant's assortment of blends, one hand raised thoughtfully to his chin. the wanderer has always been terribly frugal even when he had the fatui's nigh-infinite pool of wealth to draw from; excess leaves an awful taste in his mouth. he would hate to purchase something that isn't to his liking — if only because he knows he would FORCE HIMSELF to drink it regardless. a click of the tongue and ren suddenly reaches out, fingertips just barely brushing against the cool metal of a tin that's caught his eye. before he has the opportunity to make his decision, another voice reaches his ears. it's faint, barely a rasp on the wind — but steeped in enough familiarity to make his blood run even colder than it already does.
caesor. breath catches as if an invisible set of hands have curled around his throat. the wanderer freezes — only for a moment, though that single split second seems to drag on for an ETERNITY in its own right. he thought he died. burnt to cinder at the behest of an uncaring, aspiring god. or perhaps snatched away by the fatui in a desperate ( or petty ) bid to recoup their losses before irminsul scrubbed their memories clean. but that is entirely the ISSUE, isn't it? the tree doesn't erase the ripples marring the water's surface; it merely recontextualizes their source. and the balladeer broke him. carelessly, cruelly, like working tough leather into a malleable state. the thought of what might remain in the wake of his erasure is ... admittedly enough to leave even ren feeling unsettled.
he has to remind himself to blink, to breathe. to stop staring like an idiot and say SOMETHING. ❝ it's ... custom made. ❞ a hand comes to rest on the hat in question. there's an itching in his fingertips that begs him to cover his face out of habit — yet the wanderer refuses. ( he doesn't have the right to hide from them. ) turning his attention back to his companion, ren pauses for a moment longer before asking, ❝ you aren't from around here, are you? ❞ and then, realizing how odd a question that might sound, quickly adds, ❝ call it a hunch. ❞
do they even WANT to go back to liyue? chongyun's memory is faulty, but they still vividly remember the severed ties from long ago. their parents had been furious, and had all but disowned chongyun right then and there. the rest of chongyun's social network hadn't done much better.
honestly, there really isn't anything to go BACK to. he can't deny he misses home. there's always been something about liyue that was calming. it'd be so nice to eventuallly go back, even if just for a brief visit, but the thought also fills his stomach with nauseating anxiety. they don't want to go back just to spark anymore arguments. for now, it seems as though they're safer in sumeru. not that they can LEAVE either. chongyun's body is still so battered and worn down, even moving about the city is taxing.
"no," chongyun finally responds. "i don't have anyone left back home who will take me." it helps that at least sumeru still has goods and few supplies that remind chongyun of home, even if it's not enough to dull the homesickness. "i guess that makes sumeru my home for now."
this person is dressed in what looks like inazuman fashion. chongyun doesn't want to pry into a complete stranger's life, but they wonder if this stranger with the nice hat is in a similar boat ― in that there's really no home to go back to.
"i thought sending my parents a peace offering in the form of a hat would help," chongyun adds. he has no reason to continue this conversation, but he's talking anyway. it almost helps, as though talking is becoming slightly more easy with each spoken word. less painful. "but it's been so long. i can't remember anymore how long it's been." perhaps chongyun is also desperate to talk to someone. the doctors and staff at the bimarstan don't engage chongyun in conversation much. "i didn't mean to pry, and you're probably right, i don't think right now i can afford anything." it's a small joke, or an attempt at one. money notwithstanding, every action they'd taken had come with a hefty price, leaving chongyun in a great deal of emotional debt.
❝ mmh. ❞ it's custom made alright — well, in a sense. he can't exactly tell them irminsul had the courtesy to at least spit him out adorned in attire conveniently attuned to his tastes. ( ren wants to touch THAT particular line of questioning as much as he does a hot stove. ) ❝ unfortunately, the creator isn't exactly open to requests ... and they aren't guaranteed to give you what you want assuming you were able to try at all. ❞ a purposefully worded double meaning — because it isn't exactly A LIE, though the wanderer leaves out enough context that it dances on the line of becoming an INSIDE JOKE. fingertips delicately trace the cool metal of his kasa, as if in the hopes the texture may ground him. ❝ you probably couldn't afford this. ❞ it sounds like he's being rude. like he's making a dig at their finances — but really, he's only trying to warn him.
well, in all fairness, trying to recreate his hat WOULD be prohibitively expensive no matter what craftsman took a crack at it. good; ren doesn't want any copycats wandering around. whether he's wanted it to or not, the kasa has practically become synonymous with his very identity. ( how irritating. )
a soft exhale. the apology has his thoughts SNAPPING back to the present. liyue, he says. ren narrows his eyes slightly — he does recall caesor mentioning something about that, though the balladeer never truly cared enough to explore their origins in detail. what did it matter? they were simply a tool to him; a weapon of rather uninspired craftmanship to be used and discarded the moment he broke too much to be useful. past experience taught him humans died so quickly, so easily, so suddenly there wasn't a point in getting attached — and a soon-to-be-god such as himself had little room for sentimentality staining the inside of his chest when it was meant to house a precious gnosis regardless. he thinks he might feel genuine GUILT for that, but the SELF-DISGUST is so overwhelming, it's hard to focus on anything else. ( he really did a number on him — and for what? ) ❝ i've been everywhere. ❞ the wanderer says aloud. vague. dismissive. ❝ liyue included. ❞
ren then lapses back into an uneasy silence, uncaring whether it might be considered awkward or socially inappropriate. he feels he should take responsibility for this, that it's the least that he owes them — but where does he even BEGIN? ❝ ... are you planning on going back? ❞ the wanderer decides to ask, nose wrinkling slightly as if the inquiry leaves a foul taste in his mouth. small talk; a necessary evil. he should probably gather as much information as he can before coming to any dramatic conclusions.
have a really funny headcanon that I have to share concerning arlecchino's ceremony.
my man scaramouche did NOT want to be here. he was probably forced to show up in uniform, minus the hat for respect. (maybe also a little bit of curiosity, wanting to see who the new knave was.) my guess is pierro threatened him, and scaramouche showed up, dressed as disrespectfully as he could get away with. mans was READY to vanish the second he could. he has things to do and people to monologue to, he doesn't have time to entertain his cohorts.