[ Primrose says it easily, though with a certain solemnity to the tone that suggests she's being respectful from the role of one who has witnessed a god's might for herself, and not as just as one who believes in them. It really put fighting human opponents in strong contrast; even now, she finds herself surprised that they'd made it through at all even once, let alone four times. ]
She's quick to cut down those she deems unworthy, so I think if you were to seek her out, you wouldn't find yourself bored. Of course, you'd be traveling in an unfamiliar land.
[ Meaning, apparently, he's welcome to visit. Wryly, she adds-- ]
And if you truly are so eager for a fight from Orsterra before then, I will offer you one tomorrow.
[That definitely seems like something he'd be interested in, and he nods thoughtfully, letting his imagination run briefly wild. It's something he'll definitely follow up on--but then he's distracted by her much more tangible offer, and he laughs, clearly delighted.]
You know the way to my heart, comrade! I'll hold you to that. [Leaning forward, he pushes himself to his feet, holding out a hand to her.] Well then, let me show you your pick of the guest rooms--I'm afraid none of the sleepwear is tailored, but you should be able to find something that fits alright.
[It doesn't occur to him to offer to share his room... dumb man]
[ Childe, now that he no longer has to bang to win, possesses no actual attraction to Primrose beyond fighting prowess. This tracks. ]
Well, if nothing fits decently, I suppose I'll just have to sleep with no clothes at all. To better acclimate myself to the temperatures here, perhaps.
[ But she places her hand in his, using it mainly for balance as she pushes herself up to join him. ]
It's a good thing she hadn't teamed up with Medb at the station, he thinks. The two of them would've decimated everyone else instantaneously.
Fortunately, he's readjusted to being in her presence, and her words don't trip him up as badly as they had earlier. He laughs, taking the liberty of threading his fingers through hers as he starts to lead the way out.]
That's a custom of ours, you know. It's the fastest way to become a Snezhnayan, second only to marriage. [no it isn't]
[ Some alliances were better off not fully formed-- because he's right, Primrose and Medb would have been absolutely dangerous.
She does seamlessly adjust to Childe's preference of hand-hold, pressing their palms together briefly as she once again surveys anything and everything about where he's leading her now. ]
Is it now? [ She's pretty sure it isn't. ]
I imagine I won't find many marriageable prospects, so perhaps I will experiment with this custom of yours.
[Down a long hallway they go, then up some stairs--much of the decor is similar to the room she'd arrived in, plush carpets and expensive furniture. Fatui staff pass by them here and there, greeting them with varying levels of formality and respect, but there don't seem to be too many people here--at least, not in their wing of the house.
Only one thing sets the place apart from a standard noble household, really. The vast array of weapons mounted on the walls in place of portraits.
Oh, there are paintings here and there--mostly depictions of battles and heroes, with a few landscapes mixed in. But by and large, weapons hang on the walls like decorations, everything from bows to spears to elemental guns.]
[ And for that, he gets a very tiny hint of a smile. It's more a whispered smirk than anything. ]
I don't think you're quite ready for that, Tartaglia.
[ She would be surprised at the lack of portraits, though honestly, given that it's Childe, she fully expected the walls to be adorned with weapons or other indications of battles. She wonders if some of the paintings depict historical fights. ]
Ah, I see. Your sister finds you to be the perfect catch, then?
[ ... Well. Maybe siblings are like this. She wouldn't know, as the only child, but Ophilia did seem to think the world of Lianna, so maybe she's hit on something here. ]
I'd never. [Say that it's her, that is--but he's smiling. As for the rest--]
It's more that I try not to be too... [The gesture he makes with his other hand is vague, but he thinks she'll understand. Too "himself".] ...when I'm home. She knows more than Teucer does, but I still try to keep them away from Snezhnaya's darker side.
[So the brother she sees, while not a total facade, is still a far cry from the ruthlessly ambitious villain he's capable of becoming.]
You truly are an older brother. Fond... proud... protective.
[ She can't say she doesn't understand his reasons for wanting to shelter his siblings from the truth, to what limits he'll allow. ]
Do you ever plan on them learning everything? Regardless of your honorable intent, how you are with those you don't shield your sides from... is also important.
[The quiet that greets her is a more telling response than he would've preferred, really. His steps slow a little as he thinks about what he wants to say; he only speaks again as they round the corner, and when he does, it's a little quieter.]
...My older siblings and my parents know enough already. [It was impossible for them not to know. They'd been there when he'd clawed his way out of the darkness. They'd watched him bring fear, pain, and chaos to their quiet village. Even now, he remembers the sight of the first blood he'd spilled on the snow. They certainly do too.]
As for Anthon, Teucer, and Tonia... well, for one thing, they're all still children. But the path I walk is narrow, and I'd rather not have them join me on it. I'll teach them to fight, but there's no need for them to get involved beyond that.
[And maybe a small part of him still wants to be that larger-than-life hero he'd dreamed up as a child, just for them. It's impossible, of course--he's not that kind of person, and he made peace with that long ago. But for them, he can at least try to be... better. He can be Ajax.]
I don't think my parents want them knowing any more than they must, anyway. I'm lucky they even let me come home. [A laugh, though it's just a touch brittle.] I owe it to them to respect their wishes.
[ Primrose remains silent for several long minutes as they walk, turning over his words in her head. What he says. What he doesn't say. What it all means, and for a bit, her gaze is a little distant. To want to protect the youngest of his family, while the older members know the truth and apparently regard him distantly... or at least with enough disapproval that she can hear the effect of it in his voice.
In a way, he stands cut off from them now, perhaps in a way that he can no longer rectify. ]
... I pursued a man I once loved, in order to end his life. I was merely there as an actress in his play, and he sought true tragedy from me.
He told me that what had become of me, the vengeful spirit I had become, must surely break my father's heart. That it would have caused him great pain that I was taking lives.
Something about the phrasing makes his mouth twist into a wry smile. He doesn't comment on it, though, simply looking at her with a curiosity that's just a touch too sharp to be innocent. (Not so different from the rest of him, really.)]
[ she recites it with the ease of someone who has not only heard it countless times but wholly believes it. ]
When you have committed to something, regardless of what that something is... that is your truth. See it through. Do not be swayed.
Vengeance was my faith. And I believe my father would have understood that.
[ And with a touch of wryness--
My own path is rather narrow. I may walk it alone, and perhaps when I discover my new path, it too will be just as narrow. But it will be my new shield, and in that way, I carry on my family's conviction.
[Commitment, loyalty, dedication--different words for the same sentiment, perhaps, the differences amongst them too subtle for Childe to bother parsing. Either way, it's a trait he'd definitely recognized during their time together. He'd respected her for it--had considered killing her over it, actually, since he'd been utterly confident that she would be willing to kill him for her wish, if needed.]
To hell with the words of the bitter dead, then. [He waves his free hand. Fuck that other guy! Who cares what he had to say.] I don't believe in weighing death and morality like that anyway.
[Probably not a shocking sentiment, coming from him.]
[As he slows to a stop in front of a door, her words draw something of a smile--this one much smaller than his usual cheerful grins. It's definitely a little awkward, if only because he still doesn't quite know what to do with positive sincerity like this. He hasn't heard it in years.
Still, Iris did wear him down quite a bit at the station--and so it's with only a brief hesitation that he leans down to kiss her cheek, as if in gratitude for the sentiment.
He doesn't doubt that she's right--but he also doesn't doubt that it would be better if she wasn't. But he's too selfish, at the end of the day. The remnants of Ajax within him remain too devoted to make that clean break.]
Well, that's the main reason I want to get stronger, after all. [It's a far cry from the talk of world conquest in the kitchen, but he doesn't sound any less sincere now than he did then.] But enough about that--there should be some clothes in here.
[Opening the door! It just looks like a normal guest room would--a window with heavy curtains, dim lights, a bookshelf stocked with a variety of texts, a writing desk and some stationery. A stone device sits near the bed, though whatever its purpose, it seems deactivated at the moment.]
[ Primrose is far too seasoned a professional to do the demure, maidenly thing of blushing or delicately pressing her free hand to the kissed spot, as though to capture the warmth and memory of bold affection.
Still, it lingers. After years of far more unsavory kisses exchanged in the cover of darkness and shadowy corners, techniques developed all to aid her on her path... this one leaves a different impression.
She'd rather not dwell on it, so she doesn't, only smiles vaguely in acknowledgment though she does hesitate longer than usual to do so. But then the door is open and she steps in, taking in the appearance. It's about what she expected, though she blinks at the device. ]
[Ah--he moves over to it, touching the top. With a light scraping noise, the top of the device rises, revealing an orange orb that paints the room in a soft glow. From where she's standing, she'll probably feel the warmth it emits.]
Just some extra warmth, if you need it. If it's too warm, you can turn it off. [Who knows how she'll be feeling if she genuinely does plan on sleeping naked?! He'd assumed she was teasing him but what does he know,]
... That's a rather convenient apparatus. [ Honestly, she likes it already, nodding approvingly.
And it's true that Childe probably shouldn't assume, because as Primrose steps closer, her hands reach back to begin undoing the clasp holding her top together. As though this is absolutely fine to be doing with a Fatui Harbinger. ]
[He's about to make a comment--something about Snezhnayan technology holding its own against Fontaine--but then she's doing that, and--well. He's an idiot, but not that much of one.
A much cuter man would probably stammer, or blush, or find some excuse to leave her to her privacy. No matter what they'd shared at the station, it would be the polite thing to do. Childe, though, simply shuts his mouth and leans back against the closed door, watching her with dark eyes.
It's an expression she'd likely seen on his face at the station, too, whenever they'd fallen together. No matter how much effort he'd put into coasting beneath suspicion day to day, he'd never tried particularly hard to downplay the threat he presented--the hints of danger behind his smile, the glint of steel in his eyes. And perhaps that was arrogance, or perhaps it was simply this--that he'd known, in moments like these, there was no way to hide the sharp edges of his interest.]
[ Admittedly, she'd been curious-- could she tease him? He's been careful with her, rather hesitant in certain regards, and she thinks it only makes sense. Their interactions at the station had been for a purpose. For a victory. Without that spurring them on, she'd wondered if they'd stay amicable at best.
And yet here he is, observing her. Answering an unspoken challenge, perhaps.
There's very clear danger in the darkness of his eyes, and her lips curve into a faint smile as her top falls into her hands. She places it carefully on the bed, slipping out of her lower garments next with the graceful ease of a professional dancer.
All the while her gaze doesn't move from his face. ]
Just trying to be a good host and attend to my guest. [It's light, and his smile is quick, distracted--his attention is very clearly focused wholly on her.
His eyes don't stray from where they're locked onto hers, but it's not out of any sense of courtesy. Instead, his gaze is searching, as if he's looking for the answer to a question he hasn't asked.
He's made a lot of assumptions over the course of his life. He tries his best not to, but it's inevitable. With a life like his, anticipation and forethought are a necessity for survival, and for all the times it serves him well, there are times, too, when he lets his thoughts get the better of him. He'd assumed Gu Yun would be too soft to kill unprompted. He'd assumed Medb would understand why he'd lied to her.
(He'd assumed, truthfully, that Primrose would ignore his initial messages in favor of continuing on with her own life, unhindered by a troublesome person like him. He wouldn't have blamed her. He just couldn't resist knowing for himself, one way or the other, whether or not the support she'd shown him was a product of circumstance.)
Perhaps it's funny, then, that it's here, now, that instinct kicks in. Not a life-or-death situation, just a warm, quiet room, and a voice in the back of his head warning him not to commit the folly of assumption.
He doesn't move from where here he stands, but he does cant his head to the side, just a little.]
Your guests must be numerous indeed, if you always give them such... diligent dedication.
[ It's said a tad dryly, her tone rather unaffected, even though it's difficult to sift through her thoughts when Childe is studying her intently-- and not in the way she's used to. His gaze doesn't wander, but still, she sees the intent for what it is. He's searching for something. A sign. An answer.
And when he asks her, Primrose almost laughs, incredulous. He gives her such a frivolous answer and she's aware she could respond in much the same vein. She could say she'd like to witness his hospitality for herself. She could say she'd like to go to bed, thanks, she's had a long day.
She could tell him that she'd wanted him to cut himself free completely, to live his life as the others had gone on to live theirs. She had been relieved when no one had reached out. She had accomplished her goal, hadn't formed bonds that would truly hurt when she disappeared-- or so she'd hoped. Gu Yun and Molly would have their lives together, Yuri would find a happiness he'd deprived himself of before, Harrow and Vira...
It's fine like this. She'd had no room for anything but a revenge she'd clawed her way towards for ten years. Peace could come after.
But peace hadn't come after. She wasn't the same Primrose Azelhart with a loving family and a gentle heart. She couldn't be a soft, sweet woman who needed only the gentle touch of a caring man to flourish and find happiness again. She couldn't go back to that and it was galling that it seemed to be what was expected of her.
She takes a breath.
Faith shall be your shield. ]
I want to know why I didn't just ignore your messages. I want to know why I responded.
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[ Primrose says it easily, though with a certain solemnity to the tone that suggests she's being respectful from the role of one who has witnessed a god's might for herself, and not as just as one who believes in them. It really put fighting human opponents in strong contrast; even now, she finds herself surprised that they'd made it through at all even once, let alone four times. ]
She's quick to cut down those she deems unworthy, so I think if you were to seek her out, you wouldn't find yourself bored. Of course, you'd be traveling in an unfamiliar land.
[ Meaning, apparently, he's welcome to visit. Wryly, she adds-- ]
And if you truly are so eager for a fight from Orsterra before then, I will offer you one tomorrow.
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You know the way to my heart, comrade! I'll hold you to that. [Leaning forward, he pushes himself to his feet, holding out a hand to her.] Well then, let me show you your pick of the guest rooms--I'm afraid none of the sleepwear is tailored, but you should be able to find something that fits alright.
[It doesn't occur to him to offer to share his room... dumb man]
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Well, if nothing fits decently, I suppose I'll just have to sleep with no clothes at all. To better acclimate myself to the temperatures here, perhaps.
[ But she places her hand in his, using it mainly for balance as she pushes herself up to join him. ]
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It's a good thing she hadn't teamed up with Medb at the station, he thinks. The two of them would've decimated everyone else instantaneously.
Fortunately, he's readjusted to being in her presence, and her words don't trip him up as badly as they had earlier. He laughs, taking the liberty of threading his fingers through hers as he starts to lead the way out.]
That's a custom of ours, you know. It's the fastest way to become a Snezhnayan, second only to marriage. [no it isn't]
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She does seamlessly adjust to Childe's preference of hand-hold, pressing their palms together briefly as she once again surveys anything and everything about where he's leading her now. ]
Is it now? [ She's pretty sure it isn't. ]
I imagine I won't find many marriageable prospects, so perhaps I will experiment with this custom of yours.
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Only one thing sets the place apart from a standard noble household, really. The vast array of weapons mounted on the walls in place of portraits.
Oh, there are paintings here and there--mostly depictions of battles and heroes, with a few landscapes mixed in. But by and large, weapons hang on the walls like decorations, everything from bows to spears to elemental guns.]
We could always say the wedding's back on.
[A little joke, just for the two of them.]
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I don't think you're quite ready for that, Tartaglia.
[ She would be surprised at the lack of portraits, though honestly, given that it's Childe, she fully expected the walls to be adorned with weapons or other indications of battles. She wonders if some of the paintings depict historical fights. ]
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[He sounds so warm, so fond. Sweet Tonia.]
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[ ... Well. Maybe siblings are like this. She wouldn't know, as the only child, but Ophilia did seem to think the world of Lianna, so maybe she's hit on something here. ]
Then you may tell her it's me, and not you.
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It's more that I try not to be too... [The gesture he makes with his other hand is vague, but he thinks she'll understand. Too "himself".] ...when I'm home. She knows more than Teucer does, but I still try to keep them away from Snezhnaya's darker side.
[So the brother she sees, while not a total facade, is still a far cry from the ruthlessly ambitious villain he's capable of becoming.]
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[ She can't say she doesn't understand his reasons for wanting to shelter his siblings from the truth, to what limits he'll allow. ]
Do you ever plan on them learning everything? Regardless of your honorable intent, how you are with those you don't shield your sides from... is also important.
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...My older siblings and my parents know enough already. [It was impossible for them not to know. They'd been there when he'd clawed his way out of the darkness. They'd watched him bring fear, pain, and chaos to their quiet village. Even now, he remembers the sight of the first blood he'd spilled on the snow. They certainly do too.]
As for Anthon, Teucer, and Tonia... well, for one thing, they're all still children. But the path I walk is narrow, and I'd rather not have them join me on it. I'll teach them to fight, but there's no need for them to get involved beyond that.
[And maybe a small part of him still wants to be that larger-than-life hero he'd dreamed up as a child, just for them. It's impossible, of course--he's not that kind of person, and he made peace with that long ago. But for them, he can at least try to be... better. He can be Ajax.]
I don't think my parents want them knowing any more than they must, anyway. I'm lucky they even let me come home. [A laugh, though it's just a touch brittle.] I owe it to them to respect their wishes.
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In a way, he stands cut off from them now, perhaps in a way that he can no longer rectify. ]
... I pursued a man I once loved, in order to end his life. I was merely there as an actress in his play, and he sought true tragedy from me.
He told me that what had become of me, the vengeful spirit I had become, must surely break my father's heart. That it would have caused him great pain that I was taking lives.
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Something about the phrasing makes his mouth twist into a wry smile. He doesn't comment on it, though, simply looking at her with a curiosity that's just a touch too sharp to be innocent. (Not so different from the rest of him, really.)]
And what do you think?
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[ she recites it with the ease of someone who has not only heard it countless times but wholly believes it. ]
When you have committed to something, regardless of what that something is... that is your truth. See it through. Do not be swayed.
Vengeance was my faith. And I believe my father would have understood that.
[ And with a touch of wryness--
My own path is rather narrow. I may walk it alone, and perhaps when I discover my new path, it too will be just as narrow. But it will be my new shield, and in that way, I carry on my family's conviction.
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[Commitment, loyalty, dedication--different words for the same sentiment, perhaps, the differences amongst them too subtle for Childe to bother parsing. Either way, it's a trait he'd definitely recognized during their time together. He'd respected her for it--had considered killing her over it, actually, since he'd been utterly confident that she would be willing to kill him for her wish, if needed.]
To hell with the words of the bitter dead, then. [He waves his free hand. Fuck that other guy! Who cares what he had to say.] I don't believe in weighing death and morality like that anyway.
[Probably not a shocking sentiment, coming from him.]
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[ Quietly, her gaze turning away to face forward. ]
But yes, I would have to agree with you. If your parents cannot fully understand who you are, that may be for the best.
But I also do think that you're still very much loved, Tartaglia. Even your more problematic aspects.
[ ... She is not good at comforting. This feels terribly awkward. ]
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Still, Iris did wear him down quite a bit at the station--and so it's with only a brief hesitation that he leans down to kiss her cheek, as if in gratitude for the sentiment.
He doesn't doubt that she's right--but he also doesn't doubt that it would be better if she wasn't. But he's too selfish, at the end of the day. The remnants of Ajax within him remain too devoted to make that clean break.]
Well, that's the main reason I want to get stronger, after all. [It's a far cry from the talk of world conquest in the kitchen, but he doesn't sound any less sincere now than he did then.] But enough about that--there should be some clothes in here.
[Opening the door! It just looks like a normal guest room would--a window with heavy curtains, dim lights, a bookshelf stocked with a variety of texts, a writing desk and some stationery. A stone device sits near the bed, though whatever its purpose, it seems deactivated at the moment.]
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Still, it lingers. After years of far more unsavory kisses exchanged in the cover of darkness and shadowy corners, techniques developed all to aid her on her path... this one leaves a different impression.
She'd rather not dwell on it, so she doesn't, only smiles vaguely in acknowledgment though she does hesitate longer than usual to do so. But then the door is open and she steps in, taking in the appearance. It's about what she expected, though she blinks at the device. ]
This is...?
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Just some extra warmth, if you need it. If it's too warm, you can turn it off. [Who knows how she'll be feeling if she genuinely does plan on sleeping naked?! He'd assumed she was teasing him but what does he know,]
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And it's true that Childe probably shouldn't assume, because as Primrose steps closer, her hands reach back to begin undoing the clasp holding her top together. As though this is absolutely fine to be doing with a Fatui Harbinger. ]
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A much cuter man would probably stammer, or blush, or find some excuse to leave her to her privacy. No matter what they'd shared at the station, it would be the polite thing to do. Childe, though, simply shuts his mouth and leans back against the closed door, watching her with dark eyes.
It's an expression she'd likely seen on his face at the station, too, whenever they'd fallen together. No matter how much effort he'd put into coasting beneath suspicion day to day, he'd never tried particularly hard to downplay the threat he presented--the hints of danger behind his smile, the glint of steel in his eyes. And perhaps that was arrogance, or perhaps it was simply this--that he'd known, in moments like these, there was no way to hide the sharp edges of his interest.]
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And yet here he is, observing her. Answering an unspoken challenge, perhaps.
There's very clear danger in the darkness of his eyes, and her lips curve into a faint smile as her top falls into her hands. She places it carefully on the bed, slipping out of her lower garments next with the graceful ease of a professional dancer.
All the while her gaze doesn't move from his face. ]
Was there something you wanted, Tartaglia?
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His eyes don't stray from where they're locked onto hers, but it's not out of any sense of courtesy. Instead, his gaze is searching, as if he's looking for the answer to a question he hasn't asked.
He's made a lot of assumptions over the course of his life. He tries his best not to, but it's inevitable. With a life like his, anticipation and forethought are a necessity for survival, and for all the times it serves him well, there are times, too, when he lets his thoughts get the better of him. He'd assumed Gu Yun would be too soft to kill unprompted. He'd assumed Medb would understand why he'd lied to her.
(He'd assumed, truthfully, that Primrose would ignore his initial messages in favor of continuing on with her own life, unhindered by a troublesome person like him. He wouldn't have blamed her. He just couldn't resist knowing for himself, one way or the other, whether or not the support she'd shown him was a product of circumstance.)
Perhaps it's funny, then, that it's here, now, that instinct kicks in. Not a life-or-death situation, just a warm, quiet room, and a voice in the back of his head warning him not to commit the folly of assumption.
He doesn't move from where here he stands, but he does cant his head to the side, just a little.]
...What is it you want, Primrose?
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[ It's said a tad dryly, her tone rather unaffected, even though it's difficult to sift through her thoughts when Childe is studying her intently-- and not in the way she's used to. His gaze doesn't wander, but still, she sees the intent for what it is. He's searching for something. A sign. An answer.
And when he asks her, Primrose almost laughs, incredulous. He gives her such a frivolous answer and she's aware she could respond in much the same vein. She could say she'd like to witness his hospitality for herself. She could say she'd like to go to bed, thanks, she's had a long day.
She could tell him that she'd wanted him to cut himself free completely, to live his life as the others had gone on to live theirs. She had been relieved when no one had reached out. She had accomplished her goal, hadn't formed bonds that would truly hurt when she disappeared-- or so she'd hoped. Gu Yun and Molly would have their lives together, Yuri would find a happiness he'd deprived himself of before, Harrow and Vira...
It's fine like this. She'd had no room for anything but a revenge she'd clawed her way towards for ten years. Peace could come after.
But peace hadn't come after. She wasn't the same Primrose Azelhart with a loving family and a gentle heart. She couldn't be a soft, sweet woman who needed only the gentle touch of a caring man to flourish and find happiness again. She couldn't go back to that and it was galling that it seemed to be what was expected of her.
She takes a breath.
Faith shall be your shield. ]
I want to know why I didn't just ignore your messages. I want to know why I responded.
I want to know what I want.
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crawls back here after mg
TAKES A WEEK
AT LEAST IT WASN'T TWO MONTHS
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