[If she’s looking, she’ll probably see the flash of surprise on his face, quickly followed by a bright, delighted grin. He offers his hand again, so that they can start to wander towards the theatre.]
Excellent! You know, the winds in Liyue are warm and refreshing. Next time we can sneak over to Mount Hulao, what do you think?
[He says it with a careful lightness—-an offer, but a gentle one. If she’d intended on walking her own path, then he doesn’t want to drag her off of it, but the door is open for her to walk through nonetheless.]
[ Is she looking? Pretty coincidentally, if she were to be asked, though she's certain no one will ask, but if they did-- no, of course she wasn't deliberately looking at him just in time to see that spark of delight in his expression, that moment of what she'd call vulnerability in anybody else.
But Childe isn't vulnerable in the slightest and Primrose allows herself a faint smile, accepting his hand to let him guide her. ]
I'll have to consider it. I try not to make plans for the future when I've yet to know how this particular excursion will go.
[ She knows exactly what he's offering. And Primrose, once again, is reluctant to take the offer of-- companionship? Enjoyment? A reprieve? Does she deserve it, she wonders. This felt more like a whim than anything. ]
I take no responsibility for our dear storyteller's skills. [The storyteller is almost certainly very talented, or else he wouldn't have used this excuse to reach out to her, but still.] But I'll endeavor to make this visit worth a second, nonetheless.
[...]
And if I fail, I suppose there's always bribery?
[Childe don't make rich criminal jokes in public even if everyone knows who you are anyway.
...And indeed, it seems like everyone here does seem to know who he is. Many of the Fatui on the streets greet him with respectful bows as they pass, though they don't call out or try to speak to him. The ordinary citizens move out of their way as they proceed--giving them, him, a wide berth, in a smooth way that speaks to something they've done before.
Primrose herself, naturally, gets plenty of curious stares--and, even more conspicuously, obvious attempts at pretending not to stare. For his part, Childe doesn't seem bothered by the attention, and doesn't seem to have any intention of letting go of her hand over it.]
I'm afraid I've never been one to be won over with another's riches.
[ She knows he's just joking, granted. But the memory of Helgenish still puts a sour taste in the back of her throat.
Still, Primrose maintains a genteel expression, mostly paying attention to the way people part for him. Not only his subordinates but the citizenry, too. Interesting.
It does nothing to keep her from winking at them if they linger on her too long, though. ]
[That's what they all say, he might've quipped, or maybe I suppose we did call the wedding off, didn't we?, but something about her body language gives him pause.
They hadn't spoken much of their pasts, at the station. Indeed, Childe had played a very careful game with just about everyone there--freely offering truths he thought were innocuous, in order to appear more open than he actually was.
But there were downsides to that, too. It meant pulling back at times when he'd wanted to push, to dig deeper, to learn more--because otherwise, he would have had to let others push him, too.
So for all that his element is water, he's decent at reading the air, and while he doesn't quite know why, he follows his instincts and changes course.]
Ah, but could I interest you in... the cutest siblings in the world?
[She saw his memory of Teucer, after all. One of his more embarrassing moments, too, though he doesn't necessarily expect her to remember.]
[ More people had witnessed her past than she had liked. What had happened to her only friend. The day she had finally ripped off the proverbial collar that man had greedily placed around her neck and showed him she was no one's kitten.
And the man who had left her to die, laughing as though she was only meant to be the tragic role in the play he had so cunningly penned.
That Childe knows about none of it but still diverts the topic doesn't escape her notice, and Primrose keeps her surprise to a mere slow blink before she answers him. ]
[Oh--there's a flicker of surprise on his face, too, though he doesn't hide his. Huh.]
Ah--only Teucer. The others all know... well, not everything, but enough of the truth to suffice. [He gestures lightly around at the masked agents here and there.] Serving Her Majesty the Tsaritsa is seen very differently here at home. It's a proud thing.
I see. And exactly how many siblings are you intending to try to coerce me with?
[ She's never had siblings. She barely remembers her mother, honestly, and there's an innocence to children that makes her feel even dirtier when she interacts with them, as well as a little distant. She'd only been thirteen when she'd lost everything, after all.
Still, she'd gotten along with the more pure types like Tressa and Ophilia. She could probably avoid messing up a meeting entirely. ]
[LOOK... sometimes you just expect your villainy overwrote most of the softer memories you might've helped make...
If he knew of her concerns, he could try to assuage them. Granted, he'd probably fail, since his logic would be "oh, it's fine, they dealt with my fucked up self when I was fourteen and they still love me!" but still. HE WOULD TRY. As it stands, though, he just grins at her.]
That depends! Would you like all of them, or only the cute ones?
[Don't be a butt to your older siblings, Childe, please]
He grins at her, but there's a clear softness to it--no attempt to hide the love he has for them.]
The older three don't live with my parents anymore, so I'll need to write to them and let them to know to visit. Teucer, Anthon, and Tonia are all quite young, still. I haven't brought them a visitor in a very long time, they'd be thrilled.
If they're that young, they're bound to have questions, unless you're quite accustomed to bringing mysterious women home that they've never heard mention of before?
I’m barely home myself. [Glossing over that, though, as they turn the corner, the theater coming into view up ahead.] It’s not that strange, is it? To stop by with a dear friend, while she’s here for a visit from afar?
[ When you're a traveler hellbent on revenge, you don't have many people to drop by and see and show off your other traveler friends to. But she lifts her chin a bit at the sight of the theater. ]
[Good! Because he could wax poetic about his siblings forever, but she didn't come here for that.
The theater is, perhaps, surprisingly small--not enough to be cramped, but it's clearly a local venue. Still, it looks well-maintained, colorfully painted and brightly lit to draw attention. There's a line to one side, but he doesn't wait, leading her straight to the front door with a little wave at the entrance staff, one Fatui, one not.
Despite Childe's easy admittance of troublemaking, they're greeted with a polite bow and a very professional welcome, sir, honored guest. He doesn't let go of her hand as he leads the way inside, down the entrance hall, and towards a staircase to the left.]
This way.
[BECAUSE OF COURSE HE HAS A PRIVATE BOX... which is where they're headed. The muffled chatter of theatregoers fills the air around them, and the upper level they emerge onto is warm and well-lit. From here, she'll be able to see some of the stage, already set for the storyteller's arrival; the curtains rustle slightly with the bustle of backstage staff, though it probably wouldn't be obvious to anyone who isn't looking for it.
Two Fatui guards stand at the entrance of their box, though it's hard to tell if they've been here the whole time, or were waiting specifically for their arrival. They bow, too, though it's less formal than the greeting at the entrance had been.
Here, Childe will finally let go of her hand, so that he can shrug off his coat and hand it over.]
Are you cold? You can keep yours on, if you're more comfortable. [It's up to her--he doesn't mind either way.]
[ Most of Primrose's attention is focused not on the private box, the Fatui guards who lower themselves deferentially, or the general importance they seem to be awarding her as his guest.
No, her eyes rest on the stage. The rustle of the curtains speak of busy anticipation, the lighting looks to be perfect, and despite the rather dreadful experience she's had with the last theater she'd found herself in... Primrose can't help but be filled with a quiet but genuine sort of curiosity.
She shakes her head though, as she slips off her coat and also hands it over. In a place like this, she doesn't feel the cold at all. ]
You'd warm me up should I feel the slightest chill, would you not?
[ It means "I'm fine", but of course she can't just say that. ]
[Their coats are whisked away, and he lets her into the box first, slipping inside behind her. It's small, only seats for the two of them set up, but not cramped, and he takes a seat, gesturing for her to take the other.]
I cannot offer my thoughts when the setting itself is only one minuscule part of the performance. If I could not draw in a crowd simply by dancing on an unoccupied corner in a town, I would owe it not to the environment but to my own lack of skill. I couldn't provide an opinion until I witness this storyteller for myself.
[You know, he mostly meant the venue, the stage--but that's a fair answer, and he laughs quietly to get it.]
Then I look forward to hearing your thoughts afterwards.
[A timely thing to say--not long after, the story teller steps out onto the stage! For the sake of not using my brain let's say he's reciting volumes 3 and 4 and summarized the first two. A CLIFFHANGER, WOWIE!!!]
[ To be quite honest, Primrose is rather riveted. She's tracking the emotion, the effort put into the performance, the diction and presentation-- and when it ends, she finally takes a breath. ]
[Perhaps it means he’s not the best host—-but Childe, too, is quickly drawn in. There are fewer pleasures in his life simpler and sweeter than this: the energy and atmosphere of a good performance.
He leans back into his chair when it’s over, and his eyes… well, they never really have light in them, but they’re brighter than they usually are, as is his grin.]
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Excellent! You know, the winds in Liyue are warm and refreshing. Next time we can sneak over to Mount Hulao, what do you think?
[He says it with a careful lightness—-an offer, but a gentle one. If she’d intended on walking her own path, then he doesn’t want to drag her off of it, but the door is open for her to walk through nonetheless.]
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But Childe isn't vulnerable in the slightest and Primrose allows herself a faint smile, accepting his hand to let him guide her. ]
I'll have to consider it. I try not to make plans for the future when I've yet to know how this particular excursion will go.
[ She knows exactly what he's offering. And Primrose, once again, is reluctant to take the offer of-- companionship? Enjoyment? A reprieve? Does she deserve it, she wonders. This felt more like a whim than anything. ]
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I take no responsibility for our dear storyteller's skills. [The storyteller is almost certainly very talented, or else he wouldn't have used this excuse to reach out to her, but still.] But I'll endeavor to make this visit worth a second, nonetheless.
[...]
And if I fail, I suppose there's always bribery?
[Childe don't make rich criminal jokes in public even if everyone knows who you are anyway.
...And indeed, it seems like everyone here does seem to know who he is. Many of the Fatui on the streets greet him with respectful bows as they pass, though they don't call out or try to speak to him. The ordinary citizens move out of their way as they proceed--giving them, him, a wide berth, in a smooth way that speaks to something they've done before.
Primrose herself, naturally, gets plenty of curious stares--and, even more conspicuously, obvious attempts at pretending not to stare. For his part, Childe doesn't seem bothered by the attention, and doesn't seem to have any intention of letting go of her hand over it.]
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[ She knows he's just joking, granted. But the memory of Helgenish still puts a sour taste in the back of her throat.
Still, Primrose maintains a genteel expression, mostly paying attention to the way people part for him. Not only his subordinates but the citizenry, too. Interesting.
It does nothing to keep her from winking at them if they linger on her too long, though. ]
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They hadn't spoken much of their pasts, at the station. Indeed, Childe had played a very careful game with just about everyone there--freely offering truths he thought were innocuous, in order to appear more open than he actually was.
But there were downsides to that, too. It meant pulling back at times when he'd wanted to push, to dig deeper, to learn more--because otherwise, he would have had to let others push him, too.
So for all that his element is water, he's decent at reading the air, and while he doesn't quite know why, he follows his instincts and changes course.]
Ah, but could I interest you in... the cutest siblings in the world?
[She saw his memory of Teucer, after all. One of his more embarrassing moments, too, though he doesn't necessarily expect her to remember.]
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And the man who had left her to die, laughing as though she was only meant to be the tragic role in the play he had so cunningly penned.
That Childe knows about none of it but still diverts the topic doesn't escape her notice, and Primrose keeps her surprise to a mere slow blink before she answers him. ]
Do they still think you merely sell toys?
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Ah--only Teucer. The others all know... well, not everything, but enough of the truth to suffice. [He gestures lightly around at the masked agents here and there.] Serving Her Majesty the Tsaritsa is seen very differently here at home. It's a proud thing.
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I see. And exactly how many siblings are you intending to try to coerce me with?
[ She's never had siblings. She barely remembers her mother, honestly, and there's an innocence to children that makes her feel even dirtier when she interacts with them, as well as a little distant. She'd only been thirteen when she'd lost everything, after all.
Still, she'd gotten along with the more pure types like Tressa and Ophilia. She could probably avoid messing up a meeting entirely. ]
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If he knew of her concerns, he could try to assuage them. Granted, he'd probably fail, since his logic would be "oh, it's fine, they dealt with my fucked up self when I was fourteen and they still love me!" but still. HE WOULD TRY. As it stands, though, he just grins at her.]
That depends! Would you like all of them, or only the cute ones?
[Don't be a butt to your older siblings, Childe, please]
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[ She says, rather diplomatically. ]
After all, I've grown problematically fond of you, so I think I ought to give them a fair chance.
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Oh, all six of them are much cuter than me.
[He can dunk on his family for like five seconds tops he's too soft for this]
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Then I'm tempted.
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He grins at her, but there's a clear softness to it--no attempt to hide the love he has for them.]
The older three don't live with my parents anymore, so I'll need to write to them and let them to know to visit. Teucer, Anthon, and Tonia are all quite young, still. I haven't brought them a visitor in a very long time, they'd be thrilled.
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[ It could happen. ]
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I’m barely home myself. [Glossing over that, though, as they turn the corner, the theater coming into view up ahead.] It’s not that strange, is it? To stop by with a dear friend, while she’s here for a visit from afar?
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[ When you're a traveler hellbent on revenge, you don't have many people to drop by and see and show off your other traveler friends to. But she lifts her chin a bit at the sight of the theater. ]
Is that it?
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[That’s a concern for the future, though, and he lets it drop, nodding in response to her question.]
Yes, that’s it. We should be right on time.
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[ Just. So he knows. But she's inspecting this theater now with the critical eye of a performer; she can't quite help it. ]
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The theater is, perhaps, surprisingly small--not enough to be cramped, but it's clearly a local venue. Still, it looks well-maintained, colorfully painted and brightly lit to draw attention. There's a line to one side, but he doesn't wait, leading her straight to the front door with a little wave at the entrance staff, one Fatui, one not.
Despite Childe's easy admittance of troublemaking, they're greeted with a polite bow and a very professional welcome, sir, honored guest. He doesn't let go of her hand as he leads the way inside, down the entrance hall, and towards a staircase to the left.]
This way.
[BECAUSE OF COURSE HE HAS A PRIVATE BOX... which is where they're headed. The muffled chatter of theatregoers fills the air around them, and the upper level they emerge onto is warm and well-lit. From here, she'll be able to see some of the stage, already set for the storyteller's arrival; the curtains rustle slightly with the bustle of backstage staff, though it probably wouldn't be obvious to anyone who isn't looking for it.
Two Fatui guards stand at the entrance of their box, though it's hard to tell if they've been here the whole time, or were waiting specifically for their arrival. They bow, too, though it's less formal than the greeting at the entrance had been.
Here, Childe will finally let go of her hand, so that he can shrug off his coat and hand it over.]
Are you cold? You can keep yours on, if you're more comfortable. [It's up to her--he doesn't mind either way.]
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No, her eyes rest on the stage. The rustle of the curtains speak of busy anticipation, the lighting looks to be perfect, and despite the rather dreadful experience she's had with the last theater she'd found herself in... Primrose can't help but be filled with a quiet but genuine sort of curiosity.
She shakes her head though, as she slips off her coat and also hands it over. In a place like this, she doesn't feel the cold at all. ]
You'd warm me up should I feel the slightest chill, would you not?
[ It means "I'm fine", but of course she can't just say that. ]
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[Their coats are whisked away, and he lets her into the box first, slipping inside behind her. It's small, only seats for the two of them set up, but not cramped, and he takes a seat, gesturing for her to take the other.]
Well? Can I hear your professional opinion?
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[ Oh. ]
I cannot offer my thoughts when the setting itself is only one minuscule part of the performance. If I could not draw in a crowd simply by dancing on an unoccupied corner in a town, I would owe it not to the environment but to my own lack of skill. I couldn't provide an opinion until I witness this storyteller for myself.
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Then I look forward to hearing your thoughts afterwards.
[A timely thing to say--not long after, the story teller steps out onto the stage! For the sake of not using my brain let's say he's reciting volumes 3 and 4 and summarized the first two. A CLIFFHANGER, WOWIE!!!]
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... Masterfully done.
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He leans back into his chair when it’s over, and his eyes… well, they never really have light in them, but they’re brighter than they usually are, as is his grin.]
High praise, from a fellow performer.
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crawls back here after mg
TAKES A WEEK
AT LEAST IT WASN'T TWO MONTHS
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