[Kaveh doesn't stop him--he just sits on the divan, staring at his hands and trying not to miss the stabilizing pressure of Alhaitham's arm around him. He feels so dreadfully similar to the way he did right after he moved in, the knowledge of his burdensome presence tempting him into trying to make himself smaller than he is--than he wants to be. He's so absorbed in his own thoughts that Alhaitham's return makes him jump, and after a brief hesitation, he accepts the towel, mumbling an awkward thank you. It's tempting to bury his face in it and hide until he feels more like a human again, but he pushes it back, quietly cleaning up his face.
It's only after he's done that he notices the glasses and the wine; it gives him pause, a complicated flurry of emotions twisting around his heart. Predictably, he settles on guilt--of course his behavior has made Alhaitham feel like he needs a drink. Kaveh would probably think Alhaitham utterly unhinged if their positions were swapped.
(Some small, devastatingly honest part of him whispers that that's not true. He ignores it.)
He looks at Alhaitham, but Alhaitham doesn't seem to be looking back, so Kaveh can't try and gauge his thoughts or feelings. Kaveh gives up, looking back at the wine--if Alhaitham pours the wine for them, he'll take his glass and cradle it in his hands; if Alhaitham doesn't, Kaveh will, an unspoken gesture of gratitude and apology wrapped into one.
Either way, once Alhaitham sits down, Kaveh takes a deep breath.]
You said last night was Tighnari's banquet. But for me, that was eight weeks ago. [...] I think. More or less.
[Time loops complicate things so much.]
I know we made it home at some point. But it's so fuzzy, and... when I woke up, I wasn't in Teyvat anymore. There were 39 other people with me--including Nahida.
[...Ah, he'll have to get back into the habit of calling her Lesser Lord Kusanali around other people. How strange.]
[ alhaitham pours the wine. once he's seated, he takes his own goblet in hand and settles his attention back onto kaveh. in the early days of his residence, kaveh was just as reticent as he seems now. his footfalls throughout the house were as soft as snow, even in daylight or dusk. he kept to his room except to do chores, and he would sooner starve than disturb alhaitham while he was in the kitchen.
in contrast, just yesterday, kaveh monopolized the shower for an full hour and later commandeered the kitchen for his spin on fattoush. suffice it to say that he had grown almost perfectly comfortable living in alhaitham's residence. what could have happened in the span of the day to have kaveh regress this badly?
alhaitham sips his wine and keeps his gaze focused. his brow furrows occasionally, trying to parse what he's hearing, but he does as he did before: pour kaveh his wine, allow him to speak, entertain him regardless of internal judgments and assumptions. fortunately for kaveh, "time" and it's passing has been under more scrutiny as of late for several reasons. ]
I would hope that you made it back, considering where you are now. [ in their sitting room, drinking wine. ] Lesser Lord Kusanali was a part of this as well?
[He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that checking in with Nahida is immediately going to be one of Alhaitham's top priorities after this. He doesn't mind, though. If anything, it makes him feel better--knowing that a neutral third party can verify their experiences. Not that he'd ever doubt Nahida, but still.]
There was a woman from Liyue as well--her name is Shenhe. But everyone else was from worlds I'd never heard of. A few of them found that the place we'd been brought to bore similarities to their homes, but only in some ways.
[He chews on his lip, staring down into his wine.]
...Initially, we were told that we were all dead, and that we were to form teams and compete for the opportunity to be brought back to life.
[ other worlds. alhaitham had nearly lost kaveh's line of logic when he'd said the word, and what comes after it just muddies the waters even further. how was he so sure that those contestants were from other worlds? why would a game setting resemble some worlds, but not others? did all of these outlanders gather against their will?
kaveh looks into his wine, but alhaitham's concentration doesn't waver. reserving judgment. right. one errant turn of phrase could make kaveh withdraw from him again, so he'll suspend disbelief. dream or mishap or not, kaveh was told that he died and must fight other people for his chance at living again. for him, that circumstance was real and had real consequences. ]
Initially. [ he repeats, waiting for kaveh to confirm and append to it. ] You won, I assume.
[It's... almost sweet, honestly, Alhaitham's faith in his abilities. It's not that Kaveh doesn't believe in himself, but after so much time spent trapped in impossible circumstances, it's a little startling to be met with such simple confidence. It's not the same as the people who'd told him that he'd done enough just by holding onto kindness--this is true belief in him, and Kaveh has to remind himself that Alhaitham doesn't have the full context yet.]
Only one team was allowed to win. Four people. The rest of us, we were told, would lose the chance to return to life. [...] ...And the rules stipulated that the fastest way to earn a great deal of points was to kill.
[Which... well. Alhaitham will know how Kaveh reacted to that. Kaveh couldn't even bring himself to win the Interdarshan Championship if it meant denying someone else's hard work, despite all his confidence--asking him to put his own life above others, and to kill for it, to boot? There's no world in which Kaveh would ever be okay with that.]
We later learned that we weren't actually dead when we were taken. But not until very late into the game.
[After so many people were dead--for real this time.]
[ unfortunately for kaveh, alhaitham assumed that he won given the fact that he's home now and he felt kaveh's very active heartbeat a moment ago. if kaveh is visibly startled, alhaitham has no reason to react to it other than furrowing his brow at him.
at kill, his eyes immediately widen, his mouth parting. he knows exactly how kaveh would have reacted to a stipulation like that—how he would sooner die himself than harm another person for anything but self-defense. the possibility that this may be product of a dream or residual trauma makes it all the more concerning.
there is one thing he knows for certain: kaveh did not and would not kill. if he did, there was no way he would have walked back to alhaitham's home, let alone back into sumeru. not even if it damned him for all eternity. ]
But why would someone force you to play a game like this? What reason would there be to hide the fact that you were alive when the rules of this game essentially wouldn't change?
Supposedly, every world has these so-called "Reaper's Game"s. [He sounds so sour about it--a hint of that ever-present righteous fury slipping through, proof that despite how devastated he'd been earlier, he is still himself.] Presumably, the goal is for players to prove they want to live badly enough that they'll do anything to win.
[Which is a concept that Kaveh has vehemently torn to shreds every time he's encountered it, and this was no different. He has no idea how many times he told people that they didn't need to do anything to prove they deserved to live.
The anger helps him settle a little more, and he sips at his wine, leaning back against his seat a little more comfortably. Not relaxing, exactly, but--letting go of some of that tension. Slowly, ever so slowly, readjusting.]
As for the rest--it's hard to say. Our game was an anomaly, apparently. It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. Living people aren't supposed to be dragged in. Nor are our worlds supposed to be threatened the way they were.
[ while there is relief in seeing kaveh's all-too-familiar righteous anger and easing posture, it quickly dissolves. it's becoming vastly more difficult to entertain all of he says with every bit of information revealed, but aren't there texts on seemingly world-ending calamities? is there no chance that, for as real as everything seemed, every threat was nothing but talk? was this yet another samsara, just like the sabzeruz festival?
all of these ideas churn, attempting to prod their way into the forefront of alhaitham's thoughts. he doesn't betray any of this outwardly, only takes another drink himself and curls his hand over his chin and mouth, eyes narrowing at kaveh. ]
Are you saying that the worlds of the losing teams would be put at risk?
Yes. They were slated to be completely destroyed. [And even though he lived through it, he knows how it sounds, and he knows how Alhaitham's mind works extremely well. So--] Trust me, I know it sounds ridiculous. But the people we were dealing with had the power to manipulate space, time, and life and death--I have no reason to believe they couldn't have done it. I can only presume they were deities, or something like it.
[ kaveh's defensiveness is grounding. alhaitham takes a sip of wine and cleans his lips. ]
You're not on trial. I only asked for your explanation of what happened to you.
[ a reminder to himself as much as it is to kaveh. they could certainly start to speculate on the veracity of what kaveh's experience, if the two of them put their minds to it. alhaitham, whose shirt is still damp with tears, is attempting to have more tact. ]
Regardless of your captors' actual capabilities, you took their threat seriously and consequently carried the weight of countless lives on your shoulders, including the Dendro Archon's. Although the mechanics of the game ran contrary to your values, losing was not an option. It sounds like the perfect storm for someone like you.
[If it were a normal day, Kaveh would immediately leap to accusations. He would find judgment or bad faith in Alhaitham's words and tone regardless of whether any was actually there, and he would launch into a tirade based on things that had not been said.
Today, he simply lowers his gaze and stares quietly into his wine for a little while.]
...There wasn't much I could do. [He says, finally.] Early on, another team took it upon themselves to try and earn enough points to bring back everyone who'd been erased. When we--that is, my team--found out about them and their goals, we didn't have much choice but to support them and prevent them from getting caught.
You see, it wasn't just killing--we were also brought together each week to investigate the murders in a sort of... sham trial. After 9 hours, we all had to vote for a team--generally whichever team we believed was guilty of killing. If the guilty party had the majority vote, they were publicly executed the next day. If the team was innocent, they had to choose a member to sacrifice in the same manner. A team couldn't have a single member remain as a representative, so if three of their four members were killed, the last person was also erased, and their team was eliminated.
If we weren't victims or killers, we were forced to sleep at night, so there was no way to protect the leading team from getting targeted. [Beyond, like, preemptively murdering suspicious people, which Kaveh would obviously not do.] So... my team primarily attempted to divert suspicion and shield the leading team to ensure that they won, since we couldn't give our points away to other teams, or anything of the sort.
[ alhaitham lowers his glass to the table and listens quietly, studying every minute detail of kaveh's expression—any upset, any regret, any blankness. all of this sounds like it would have worn his spirit down into dust. ]
You shielded them, [ he repeats quietly. from what kaveh is saying, the quickest way to earn the most points was through murder. would kaveh really condone that, with no guarantee that this team wouldn't stab them in the back? ]
[It's a good question--one that Kaveh asked himself many times over the weeks. What does it mean to do harm for the greater good? How does one balance lives taken for lives saved? And even for everyone else, who was he to tell people they didn't have a right to fight for their survival? But by that same token, how could he ignore the pain of loss? How could he approve of a life stolen, regardless of the reasoning behind it?
Life is a series of complex problems, and we have to make a choice.]
They succeeded in the end. [He speaks slowly, carefully, trying to untangle his thoughts and feelings before putting them into words--but only with middling success. He'd never really decided on answer, only known that he hated everything about the situation.] Mostly. They earned enough points to revive everyone who'd been erased. [A pause.] And... even if they hadn't, I would've wanted their team to win. Three of them were only kids, after all, and one of them died our second week in. If anyone deserved a second chance, it was them.
[As much as he'd adored Vash, Livio, Wolfwood, or Eiden, or Matsui, or Yuzuriha, any of the people he'd cared for so deeply--it wouldn't have felt right, he thinks, for any of them to win instead. His own team was never truly in the running; he'd only ever really been concerned with getting Nahida home. So long as he could manage that, he would've accepted his own death.
But there's a weight to Kaveh's silence, the kind that's always present when he has more to say. He hesitates, because the situation had been so complicated--it would've felt selfish, complaining and criticizing them from his own moral standpoint, one that was clearly incompatible with where they were. Even now, the words sit on his tongue, sour with bitterness and guilt. But... well. Alhaitham knows him. Alhaitham has always known him.]
...But I wish they would've let someone else handle it. [For one thing. No matter Ylfa's experience with atrocities, he hates that she and Gerard--and Haru, especially--had to put themselves through taking life and life. True, no other team chose to act like they did, but maybe if they'd reached out, told others about their plan...
But it's unfair to think like that, he knows. Kaveh would love to think that he and his team would've taken on that burden in their stead, but there's undeniable proof that they wouldn't have. They were told the rules from the beginning. Kaveh was the one who chose not to follow them in favor of searching for an alternative solution.
(Nahida and Shu would have, though. They proved that. Even now, Kaveh harbors guilt for holding them back for so long; he'd been their weak link, no matter what they might say.)
He sighs, tipping his head back to finish the wine in his cup. He doesn't reach for the bottle to pour himself more just yet, shoulders curling inward as his grip tightens on the cup.]
And I wish we'd had a choice. [Which feels like an even more terrible thing to say, and he hates himself for it, a little bit--but it's the truth, and it's the way he'd felt from the beginning. He would've wanted Ylfa and her team to win no matter what, yes. But to be forced into protecting Shenhe's murderers, or else they were probably going to lose their chance to rescue a majority?] God, Alhaitham, there were so many secrets, so many people got hurt--even if they were saved in the end, it was just week after week, and then Nahida thought she had to do something too, and it was just...
[Awful, is what it was. An endless cycle of blood of pain. Kaveh's always viewed himself as the cause of his family's destruction--how could he not, after all of this, view himself as someone drenched in blood, even though he hadn't spilled any himself? And what does it say about him, that he feels like he'd been a coward for refusing to do so, even when it became clear there was no other way?]
[ alhaitham does know him. since that night in lambad's tavern, there's been an inextinguishable flame of hope that he knew kaveh better than he did while they were students. kaveh moved in and they fell into routines. they bickered and chided and complained, but they learned each others' habits and shared their days together. he knows what kaveh is like when he's relaxed and stressed, drunk and sober, satisfied and heartrendingly depressed. he knows when kaveh really needs silence and understanding more than he needs precise and methodical analysis and diagnoses—most of the time, anyway. it's a muscle that needs to be built.
kaveh finally unravels and says what's really on his mind. up until now, alhaitham had been seated on one of the divans adjacent to kaveh's, giving him space. wine bottle in hand, alhaitham shifts from his divan to kaveh's and sits beside him, leaving a bare amount of space between their knees. he reaches for kaveh's glass—but instead of taking it from him, he reaches for the bowl of the glass and leans it towards him as he fills it. there's no acknowledgment of how his fingertips cross and press over kaveh's. if asked, he would say that it was a necessary evil, and there are more important topics to discuss.
they're long past the era where alhaitham, against all preconceptions about his character, might have taken his distressed friend's hand in his. (but only kaveh's hand. only ever for kaveh.) sometimes compromises have to be made. ]
You endured all of this for two months. It's no wonder you fell apart as soon as you arrived here.
[ once kaveh's cup is filled, he doesn't move back to the other daybed. he refills his glass with a comparatively scant amount of wine before he sets the bottle back onto the table. ]
[Kaveh's always been a tactile person. Rather--he's always wanted to be, but excessive consideration for others and protectiveness (paranoia) about his reputation have both twisted his natural tendencies over the years. When he's happy and comfortable, or tipsy, he lets himself take up space, lets himself reach for others, lean on them, or otherwise indulge in physical affection.
Kaveh hadn't had a problem touching Alhaitham during their school days. He still remembers afternoons spent sprawled out on the floor together, evenings tucked into corners of the House of Daena, closer than they really needed to be. When he'd first accepted Alhaitham's offer and moved in, he'd been painfully aware of the space between them at all times and done his best to respect it. Over time, as he'd gotten used to living with Alhaitham, he'd begun to relax and adjust, until they'd gotten to a decent level of coexistence--but it's never returned to what it was, and Kaveh had accepted that it never would.
But this, too, was changed by the game. Removed from Sumeru, Kaveh had no reason to safeguard his reputation. With the game's effects spilling his thoughts and emotions for everyone to see, it was impossible to keep up his walls and his masks, to pretend he was okay when he was anything but. And frankly, with people precious to him hurt, killed, or otherwise endangered every single week, Kaveh had more important things to care about than how it might look to hold a friend's hand or cry on their shoulder.
After weeks of clinging to others, Kaveh doesn't flinch as Alhaitham's fingers brush his. Right now, with his mind fixated on the game, it's wholly possible he wouldn't even notice if Alhaitham were to press his leg against his. Later, once he's a little more settled, these things will begin to creep into his awareness again, and they'll have an added edge of something (thanks, Vash)--but for now, he just blinks in slight surprise, drawn back out of his thoughts as Alhaitham refills his glass.
What doesn't escape his notice is how patient Alhaitham's being. He's listening and asking questions just as he would with anything else, even though Kaveh knows the situation he's describing is absurd. He's accepted the premise Kaveh's laid out for him instead of pushing and challenging, which Kaveh hadn't even really realized he was expecting until it didn't happen. It warms his chest, a little, even though a part of him thinks Alhaitham just doesn't want him having another mental breakdown.]
She made it clear right away that she wanted to form a team. [He sighs.] If I'd known how things would go, I would've refused... but there's nothing to be done for it now. The two of us were put through an ordeal the second week we were there... [He shakes his head, then flicks his hand, dismissing the topic as a tangent.] She and I tried our best to search for some kind of alternative solution--primarily, some way to speak with the people truly in charge of the game. If she'd had access to her abilities, I'm sure it would've been child's play, but unfortunately, she was limited to the psychs--er, powers we were granted. Ultimately, we accomplished very little.
[He falls quiet briefly, looking into his wine, morose.]
...The week after we learned which team was in the top spot, Nahida suggested that we... attempt to secure second place. [Do a MURDER] Just in case something happened to them, you know--we could try and carry on their wishes. So the week after that, she and Shu...
... Tried to earn the most points as quickly as possible.
[ alhaitham says quietly, tracing kaveh's gaze down to his cup. they did a murder, or they at least tried to. he gets it.
in his endless search for objective truth, alhaitham studies the nature and history of gods as well as he studies humans. he, among many others, understands that in spite of their alleged power and wisdom, the divine aren't morally pure or infallible beings.
the idea of lesser lord kusanali suggesting to kill is jarring, but alhaitham still accepts it without further question. sumeru is blessed with an archon who cares deeply for her people. out of her element, stripped of her abilities, and under supposedly dire circumstances, lesser lord kusanali followed the rules of the game to safeguard teyvat even at the cost of other worlds. to alhaitham, this only made sense. whether or not it was the best course of action is something he has no leverage to comment on.
alhaitham and kaveh have talked about individualism and collectivism many times before. if kaveh was only a spectator to this game, alhaitham could easily guess what his response would have been. it's much different when he's involved—when any part of him could have been irreparably altered without alhaitham knowing.
but kaveh would never kill. he knows this beyond a shadow of a doubt.
[Where was he? Crying in their warehouse over his own inability to support his team in any way that mattered. Getting bombarded with memories from others, overwhelmed with horrific traumas he never imagined people could inflict on each other. Nursing a hopeless crush while doing everything in his power to conceal it. Mostly, drowning his sorrows and resigning himself to death, searching for something, one last act of good he could leave behind, along the way.
He sighs, letting his head fall back.]
They didn't involve me in their plans. [Which Kaveh has complicated feelings about, even if he probably would've done the same thing in their shoes.] It's probably for the best, though. I was taken again shortly before they acted, and I wasn't in my right mind when I got back. [If they'd been relying on him, he's not sure he would've been able to follow through, and he can already barely live with himself as it is. If he'd gotten one of them killed the night of, it would be even worse.] They told me after they... after they acted. I tried to protect them during the trial, but Nahida...
[There was only so much he could do, after all. The passionate defense of a teammate would only raise suspicions further; intervening was out of the question, and tampering with evidence was difficult in a crowded room.
And she's safe now, she's home, he watched her walk through the gate with his own eyes, but the memories of that weekend flood his senses again, pressing down on his chest, constricting his throat. His grip tightens on his glass, vision starting to blur and voice growing shaky.]
She kept... she kept saying it was her responsibility to protect us. That she was useless if she couldn't, that she failed us--
[ Drowning his sorrows and resigning himself to death, searching for something, one last act of good he could leave behind, along the way—in other words, his typical modus operandi brought to a dangerous, almost soul-crushing head.
Taken? Alhaitham is poised to ask, eyes narrowed again. It's the scholar in him, the pursuer of the unknown, who reflexively asks for every detail of a situation he doesn't understand. It's Alhaitham, the one closest to Kaveh, who held his hand and filled his cup with wine, that feels age-old protectiveness like a lump in his throat. What do you mean when you say you weren't in your right mind?
It's a good thing that he doesn't. He watches as Kaveh's foundations begin to tremble all over again. In Alhaitham's periphery, Kaveh's grip shifts over his cup, but Alhaitham's focus is on the sudden glassiness of Kaveh's eyes. What happened to Nahida is evident enough in Kaveh's unraveling. That takes precendent over any other prying questions, at least for now. Trying to qualify or excuse Lessor Lord Kusanali's actions might only exacerbate the issue.
Alhaitham sets a steady hand on Kaveh's shoulder. The other carefully pries the cup from Kaveh's hand and sets it on the table. ]
In your own ways, the two of you were trying to act in the best interest of everyone involved.
[ Ignoring the own hammer of his heart, the one that hesitates to betray itself, Alhaitham takes Kaveh's empty hand in his own and squeezes over his fingers. Stay here, it says. ]
Both of you were not at fault for the circumstances you were in, regardless of any mistakes made by the dieties overseeing the game. Neither of you should have been put into the position of having to weigh the lives of others against yours or the lives of those you care for.
[ He looks at their hands, then back to Kaveh. ]
You won't believe this yourself, but I'll say it because I think you should hear it out loud. None of what happened was your fault.
[Just as it did in the doorway, reality threatens to shatter into pieces around him--and once again, it is Alhaitham who stabilizes it. The warmth of his palm drives away the encroaching chill of guilt and grief, and his tight grip keeps Kaveh steady, present. His voice is low and calm, but it cuts through the dark whispers in his head, the phantom nausea and the memory of cheap wine on his tongue. Unthinking, Kaveh grips Alhaitham's hand tightly, as if he's on a cliff's edge and it's the only thing stopping him from plummeting.
It takes time for him to calm down enough to process Alhaitham's words. Even when he does, he doesn't respond. He simply draws in a long, shaky breath and rubs at his eyes with his other hand, trying his best to cut off another outpouring of grief and pain.
Alhaitham is right--he doesn't believe it. He can't, and likely never will. Even under normal circumstances, Alhaitham's logic and rationality have never been able to convince Kaveh to relinquish his iron grip on guilt and self-flagellation; it's even less possible now, when Alhaitham wasn't there with him.
That's not to say Kaveh blames himself for everything, though. There are dozens of things Kaveh will never forgive himself for, things for which Kaveh wholeheartedly believes he has inarguable proof of his own fault. Those things are more than enough to haunt him. He doesn't need to grab for the parts that were out of his control, too.]
...There was--a girl. [Rather than responding to Alhaitham's sentiments, Kaveh sidesteps them, shifting the conversation in a new direction. He clears his throat when his voice breaks, but even when he continues, it remains a little shaky.] Rather--two girls, and one man. They were called Reapers. They were... meant to watch over us, I suppose. To ensure the "game" ran smoothly, in accordance with the rules of whoever was in charge, above them. But Ruby... she was tired of it all. She wanted to put an end to the games entirely.
[The sorrow on Kaveh's face shifts--it's still deep, and there's still something personal about it, but it's very different from before. His grip on Alhaitham's hand loosens as his focus shifts away from the memories of Nahida's execution, but he doesn't let go, utterly oblivious to the way Alhaitham's pulse races just outside his reach.]
I don't know much about what she'd been through. But she'd become convinced that the only way to end things, to stop others from going through the game, was to destroy it all. In her desperation, she turned herself into a weapon, and she intended to sacrifice herself, and us, to disrupt the system.
[ It all takes time. Alhaitham, silent and observant, stays with him until that time ends. When Kaveh tightly grips his hand, Alhaitham squeezes back, solid and reassuring. He's brought Kaveh back from the cliff's edge before, away from the sea of black that means to swallow him whole. Age-old feelings and racing heartbeats are secondary to the strength and stability Kaveh needs from him.
(Or from someone, at least. Maybe anyone. Alhaitham won't assume so much importance. He gives Kaveh what he needs because he wants to, whether or not that pays dividends in the end.)
There could be catharsis in Kaveh falling apart when he needs to, abandoning propriety and reason and all attempts to parse his feelings into words. Freshly released from whatever hell he was in, Kaveh deserves his shameless outbursts of pain and grief. Alhaitham will simply pick up his pieces and lacquer him together again.
Instead, Kaveh wipes his eyes and continues. Alhaitham's grip loosens as Kaveh's does, but not to the same extent. He won't be pulling back until it's distinctly called for, especially when Kaveh's expression becomes unreadable, deeply affected by the circumstances he's dredged up. As he listens, Alhaitham swallows back his probing questions for once. Understanding logistics can wait when Kaveh isn't in utter misery. ]
... You look as though you have something to say on the matter.
[Once again, Kaveh doesn't respond right away. But this is a quiet of grief and contemplation--there's guilt and trauma there too, of course, but mostly Kaveh's just... sad.]
I was so sure we could save her. [Softly.] I thought... I knew we might have to fight her. But I thought, after that... that we'd be able to reason with her. I even promised the people I spoke to, before we went after her--that we wouldn't have to hurt anyone else. That it was done.
[...]
I should've seen the sign. That she'd--given up. [He knows what that looks like, after all. He saw it in his mother, before she found herself again overseas. He saw glimpses of it in his father, before his father resolved to travel into the desert, determined to fix things with his own two hands. He certainly saw it in Matsui, after Buzen's murder--to the point where he'd gently tried to encourage others to mourn Matsui, even before he died.
But he didn't. In fact, he barely even spoke to Ruby, let alone the other two. Would things have turned out differently, if he had? He doesn't think so, and that's the worst part.]
...One life cannot outweigh countless worlds. [He does know that. Even if it hurts, even if Kaveh stressed over and over that everyone deserved a chance to live, to fight. It's for the best that he didn't have to deal the killing blow--he never would've recovered.] But I... I don't think we even managed to change her mind. We couldn't save her life, and we couldn't grant her peace.
[Someday, in the future, Alhaitham will notice a new portrait in a frame on Kaveh's desk: a young girl in black and red, sitting atop a skyscraper with her face turned towards the moon, a content expression on her face. It won't be signed, but Alhaitham will recognize Kaveh's art style.
For now, though, Kaveh simply sits beside him, shoulders bowed under the weight of mourning.]
[ Alhaitham has been with Kaveh through his heart-rending grief before. Kaveh was already spent before this, hollow-eyed, slightly placated with alcohol. To see him bent over in suffering, shadowed by his hair, and racked again with trauma that Alhaitham can't ever fully understand, makes Alhaitham ache under his ribs.
He cradles Kaveh's loose fingers carefully in his palm. He watches them, tracing their scars as he speaks. ]
I'm sure you've already recognized your first mistake. [ He has to point this out because he's Alhaitham, but he does so a little more quietly, leaning in. ] Regardless of your idealistic views, you shouldn't have guaranteed something without definite proof of its fruition. It's one thing to consider possibilities and another to set up false expectations. An unfavorable outcome becomes that much more devastating.
[ He looks at Kaveh, straightforward and steady. ]
If you were to hear of this situation from someone else, your answer would likely be thus: though the opportunity for Ruby's rescue and redemption may have been slim to none, what matters is that you, or someone at the very least, acted on that possibility. Without that, the probability of her survival would have been zero.
[ His fingers tighten. ]
It's Lessor Lord Kusanali's view that the most important thing isn't what state the world is in now, but what people hope it can become. For that time, foolishly or not, you embodied the hope for a better future for everyone involved.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's only after he's done that he notices the glasses and the wine; it gives him pause, a complicated flurry of emotions twisting around his heart. Predictably, he settles on guilt--of course his behavior has made Alhaitham feel like he needs a drink. Kaveh would probably think Alhaitham utterly unhinged if their positions were swapped.
(Some small, devastatingly honest part of him whispers that that's not true. He ignores it.)
He looks at Alhaitham, but Alhaitham doesn't seem to be looking back, so Kaveh can't try and gauge his thoughts or feelings. Kaveh gives up, looking back at the wine--if Alhaitham pours the wine for them, he'll take his glass and cradle it in his hands; if Alhaitham doesn't, Kaveh will, an unspoken gesture of gratitude and apology wrapped into one.
Either way, once Alhaitham sits down, Kaveh takes a deep breath.]
You said last night was Tighnari's banquet. But for me, that was eight weeks ago. [...] I think. More or less.
[Time loops complicate things so much.]
I know we made it home at some point. But it's so fuzzy, and... when I woke up, I wasn't in Teyvat anymore. There were 39 other people with me--including Nahida.
[...Ah, he'll have to get back into the habit of calling her Lesser Lord Kusanali around other people. How strange.]
no subject
in contrast, just yesterday, kaveh monopolized the shower for an full hour and later commandeered the kitchen for his spin on fattoush. suffice it to say that he had grown almost perfectly comfortable living in alhaitham's residence. what could have happened in the span of the day to have kaveh regress this badly?
alhaitham sips his wine and keeps his gaze focused. his brow furrows occasionally, trying to parse what he's hearing, but he does as he did before: pour kaveh his wine, allow him to speak, entertain him regardless of internal judgments and assumptions. fortunately for kaveh, "time" and it's passing has been under more scrutiny as of late for several reasons. ]
I would hope that you made it back, considering where you are now. [ in their sitting room, drinking wine. ] Lesser Lord Kusanali was a part of this as well?
no subject
[He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that checking in with Nahida is immediately going to be one of Alhaitham's top priorities after this. He doesn't mind, though. If anything, it makes him feel better--knowing that a neutral third party can verify their experiences. Not that he'd ever doubt Nahida, but still.]
There was a woman from Liyue as well--her name is Shenhe. But everyone else was from worlds I'd never heard of. A few of them found that the place we'd been brought to bore similarities to their homes, but only in some ways.
[He chews on his lip, staring down into his wine.]
...Initially, we were told that we were all dead, and that we were to form teams and compete for the opportunity to be brought back to life.
no subject
kaveh looks into his wine, but alhaitham's concentration doesn't waver. reserving judgment. right. one errant turn of phrase could make kaveh withdraw from him again, so he'll suspend disbelief. dream or mishap or not, kaveh was told that he died and must fight other people for his chance at living again. for him, that circumstance was real and had real consequences. ]
Initially. [ he repeats, waiting for kaveh to confirm and append to it. ] You won, I assume.
no subject
Only one team was allowed to win. Four people. The rest of us, we were told, would lose the chance to return to life. [...] ...And the rules stipulated that the fastest way to earn a great deal of points was to kill.
[Which... well. Alhaitham will know how Kaveh reacted to that. Kaveh couldn't even bring himself to win the Interdarshan Championship if it meant denying someone else's hard work, despite all his confidence--asking him to put his own life above others, and to kill for it, to boot? There's no world in which Kaveh would ever be okay with that.]
We later learned that we weren't actually dead when we were taken. But not until very late into the game.
[After so many people were dead--for real this time.]
no subject
at kill, his eyes immediately widen, his mouth parting. he knows exactly how kaveh would have reacted to a stipulation like that—how he would sooner die himself than harm another person for anything but self-defense. the possibility that this may be product of a dream or residual trauma makes it all the more concerning.
there is one thing he knows for certain: kaveh did not and would not kill. if he did, there was no way he would have walked back to alhaitham's home, let alone back into sumeru. not even if it damned him for all eternity. ]
But why would someone force you to play a game like this? What reason would there be to hide the fact that you were alive when the rules of this game essentially wouldn't change?
no subject
[Which is a concept that Kaveh has vehemently torn to shreds every time he's encountered it, and this was no different. He has no idea how many times he told people that they didn't need to do anything to prove they deserved to live.
The anger helps him settle a little more, and he sips at his wine, leaning back against his seat a little more comfortably. Not relaxing, exactly, but--letting go of some of that tension. Slowly, ever so slowly, readjusting.]
As for the rest--it's hard to say. Our game was an anomaly, apparently. It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. Living people aren't supposed to be dragged in. Nor are our worlds supposed to be threatened the way they were.
[OH YEAH THEY DID THAT TOO.]
no subject
all of these ideas churn, attempting to prod their way into the forefront of alhaitham's thoughts. he doesn't betray any of this outwardly, only takes another drink himself and curls his hand over his chin and mouth, eyes narrowing at kaveh. ]
Are you saying that the worlds of the losing teams would be put at risk?
no subject
no subject
You're not on trial. I only asked for your explanation of what happened to you.
[ a reminder to himself as much as it is to kaveh. they could certainly start to speculate on the veracity of what kaveh's experience, if the two of them put their minds to it. alhaitham, whose shirt is still damp with tears, is attempting to have more tact. ]
Regardless of your captors' actual capabilities, you took their threat seriously and consequently carried the weight of countless lives on your shoulders, including the Dendro Archon's. Although the mechanics of the game ran contrary to your values, losing was not an option. It sounds like the perfect storm for someone like you.
no subject
Today, he simply lowers his gaze and stares quietly into his wine for a little while.]
...There wasn't much I could do. [He says, finally.] Early on, another team took it upon themselves to try and earn enough points to bring back everyone who'd been erased. When we--that is, my team--found out about them and their goals, we didn't have much choice but to support them and prevent them from getting caught.
You see, it wasn't just killing--we were also brought together each week to investigate the murders in a sort of... sham trial. After 9 hours, we all had to vote for a team--generally whichever team we believed was guilty of killing. If the guilty party had the majority vote, they were publicly executed the next day. If the team was innocent, they had to choose a member to sacrifice in the same manner. A team couldn't have a single member remain as a representative, so if three of their four members were killed, the last person was also erased, and their team was eliminated.
If we weren't victims or killers, we were forced to sleep at night, so there was no way to protect the leading team from getting targeted. [Beyond, like, preemptively murdering suspicious people, which Kaveh would obviously not do.] So... my team primarily attempted to divert suspicion and shield the leading team to ensure that they won, since we couldn't give our points away to other teams, or anything of the sort.
no subject
You shielded them, [ he repeats quietly. from what kaveh is saying, the quickest way to earn the most points was through murder. would kaveh really condone that, with no guarantee that this team wouldn't stab them in the back? ]
Did you regret it?
no subject
Life is a series of complex problems, and we have to make a choice.]
They succeeded in the end. [He speaks slowly, carefully, trying to untangle his thoughts and feelings before putting them into words--but only with middling success. He'd never really decided on answer, only known that he hated everything about the situation.] Mostly. They earned enough points to revive everyone who'd been erased. [A pause.] And... even if they hadn't, I would've wanted their team to win. Three of them were only kids, after all, and one of them died our second week in. If anyone deserved a second chance, it was them.
[As much as he'd adored Vash, Livio, Wolfwood, or Eiden, or Matsui, or Yuzuriha, any of the people he'd cared for so deeply--it wouldn't have felt right, he thinks, for any of them to win instead. His own team was never truly in the running; he'd only ever really been concerned with getting Nahida home. So long as he could manage that, he would've accepted his own death.
But there's a weight to Kaveh's silence, the kind that's always present when he has more to say. He hesitates, because the situation had been so complicated--it would've felt selfish, complaining and criticizing them from his own moral standpoint, one that was clearly incompatible with where they were. Even now, the words sit on his tongue, sour with bitterness and guilt. But... well. Alhaitham knows him. Alhaitham has always known him.]
...But I wish they would've let someone else handle it. [For one thing. No matter Ylfa's experience with atrocities, he hates that she and Gerard--and Haru, especially--had to put themselves through taking life and life. True, no other team chose to act like they did, but maybe if they'd reached out, told others about their plan...
But it's unfair to think like that, he knows. Kaveh would love to think that he and his team would've taken on that burden in their stead, but there's undeniable proof that they wouldn't have. They were told the rules from the beginning. Kaveh was the one who chose not to follow them in favor of searching for an alternative solution.
(Nahida and Shu would have, though. They proved that. Even now, Kaveh harbors guilt for holding them back for so long; he'd been their weak link, no matter what they might say.)
He sighs, tipping his head back to finish the wine in his cup. He doesn't reach for the bottle to pour himself more just yet, shoulders curling inward as his grip tightens on the cup.]
And I wish we'd had a choice. [Which feels like an even more terrible thing to say, and he hates himself for it, a little bit--but it's the truth, and it's the way he'd felt from the beginning. He would've wanted Ylfa and her team to win no matter what, yes. But to be forced into protecting Shenhe's murderers, or else they were probably going to lose their chance to rescue a majority?] God, Alhaitham, there were so many secrets, so many people got hurt--even if they were saved in the end, it was just week after week, and then Nahida thought she had to do something too, and it was just...
[Awful, is what it was. An endless cycle of blood of pain. Kaveh's always viewed himself as the cause of his family's destruction--how could he not, after all of this, view himself as someone drenched in blood, even though he hadn't spilled any himself? And what does it say about him, that he feels like he'd been a coward for refusing to do so, even when it became clear there was no other way?]
no subject
kaveh finally unravels and says what's really on his mind. up until now, alhaitham had been seated on one of the divans adjacent to kaveh's, giving him space. wine bottle in hand, alhaitham shifts from his divan to kaveh's and sits beside him, leaving a bare amount of space between their knees. he reaches for kaveh's glass—but instead of taking it from him, he reaches for the bowl of the glass and leans it towards him as he fills it. there's no acknowledgment of how his fingertips cross and press over kaveh's. if asked, he would say that it was a necessary evil, and there are more important topics to discuss.
they're long past the era where alhaitham, against all preconceptions about his character, might have taken his distressed friend's hand in his. (but only kaveh's hand. only ever for kaveh.) sometimes compromises have to be made. ]
You endured all of this for two months. It's no wonder you fell apart as soon as you arrived here.
[ once kaveh's cup is filled, he doesn't move back to the other daybed. he refills his glass with a comparatively scant amount of wine before he sets the bottle back onto the table. ]
What did the Lesser Lord Kusanali do?
no subject
Kaveh hadn't had a problem touching Alhaitham during their school days. He still remembers afternoons spent sprawled out on the floor together, evenings tucked into corners of the House of Daena, closer than they really needed to be. When he'd first accepted Alhaitham's offer and moved in, he'd been painfully aware of the space between them at all times and done his best to respect it. Over time, as he'd gotten used to living with Alhaitham, he'd begun to relax and adjust, until they'd gotten to a decent level of coexistence--but it's never returned to what it was, and Kaveh had accepted that it never would.
But this, too, was changed by the game. Removed from Sumeru, Kaveh had no reason to safeguard his reputation. With the game's effects spilling his thoughts and emotions for everyone to see, it was impossible to keep up his walls and his masks, to pretend he was okay when he was anything but. And frankly, with people precious to him hurt, killed, or otherwise endangered every single week, Kaveh had more important things to care about than how it might look to hold a friend's hand or cry on their shoulder.
After weeks of clinging to others, Kaveh doesn't flinch as Alhaitham's fingers brush his. Right now, with his mind fixated on the game, it's wholly possible he wouldn't even notice if Alhaitham were to press his leg against his. Later, once he's a little more settled, these things will begin to creep into his awareness again, and they'll have an added edge of something (thanks, Vash)--but for now, he just blinks in slight surprise, drawn back out of his thoughts as Alhaitham refills his glass.
What doesn't escape his notice is how patient Alhaitham's being. He's listening and asking questions just as he would with anything else, even though Kaveh knows the situation he's describing is absurd. He's accepted the premise Kaveh's laid out for him instead of pushing and challenging, which Kaveh hadn't even really realized he was expecting until it didn't happen. It warms his chest, a little, even though a part of him thinks Alhaitham just doesn't want him having another mental breakdown.]
She made it clear right away that she wanted to form a team. [He sighs.] If I'd known how things would go, I would've refused... but there's nothing to be done for it now. The two of us were put through an ordeal the second week we were there... [He shakes his head, then flicks his hand, dismissing the topic as a tangent.] She and I tried our best to search for some kind of alternative solution--primarily, some way to speak with the people truly in charge of the game. If she'd had access to her abilities, I'm sure it would've been child's play, but unfortunately, she was limited to the psychs--er, powers we were granted. Ultimately, we accomplished very little.
[He falls quiet briefly, looking into his wine, morose.]
...The week after we learned which team was in the top spot, Nahida suggested that we... attempt to secure second place. [Do a MURDER] Just in case something happened to them, you know--we could try and carry on their wishes. So the week after that, she and Shu...
[Y'know. Did. A murder.]
no subject
[ alhaitham says quietly, tracing kaveh's gaze down to his cup. they did a murder, or they at least tried to. he gets it.
in his endless search for objective truth, alhaitham studies the nature and history of gods as well as he studies humans. he, among many others, understands that in spite of their alleged power and wisdom, the divine aren't morally pure or infallible beings.
the idea of lesser lord kusanali suggesting to kill is jarring, but alhaitham still accepts it without further question. sumeru is blessed with an archon who cares deeply for her people. out of her element, stripped of her abilities, and under supposedly dire circumstances, lesser lord kusanali followed the rules of the game to safeguard teyvat even at the cost of other worlds. to alhaitham, this only made sense. whether or not it was the best course of action is something he has no leverage to comment on.
alhaitham and kaveh have talked about individualism and collectivism many times before. if kaveh was only a spectator to this game, alhaitham could easily guess what his response would have been. it's much different when he's involved—when any part of him could have been irreparably altered without alhaitham knowing.
but kaveh would never kill. he knows this beyond a shadow of a doubt.
alhaitham looks at him expectantly. ]
And? Where were you in all of this?
no subject
He sighs, letting his head fall back.]
They didn't involve me in their plans. [Which Kaveh has complicated feelings about, even if he probably would've done the same thing in their shoes.] It's probably for the best, though. I was taken again shortly before they acted, and I wasn't in my right mind when I got back. [If they'd been relying on him, he's not sure he would've been able to follow through, and he can already barely live with himself as it is. If he'd gotten one of them killed the night of, it would be even worse.] They told me after they... after they acted. I tried to protect them during the trial, but Nahida...
[There was only so much he could do, after all. The passionate defense of a teammate would only raise suspicions further; intervening was out of the question, and tampering with evidence was difficult in a crowded room.
And she's safe now, she's home, he watched her walk through the gate with his own eyes, but the memories of that weekend flood his senses again, pressing down on his chest, constricting his throat. His grip tightens on his glass, vision starting to blur and voice growing shaky.]
She kept... she kept saying it was her responsibility to protect us. That she was useless if she couldn't, that she failed us--
no subject
Taken? Alhaitham is poised to ask, eyes narrowed again. It's the scholar in him, the pursuer of the unknown, who reflexively asks for every detail of a situation he doesn't understand. It's Alhaitham, the one closest to Kaveh, who held his hand and filled his cup with wine, that feels age-old protectiveness like a lump in his throat. What do you mean when you say you weren't in your right mind?
It's a good thing that he doesn't. He watches as Kaveh's foundations begin to tremble all over again. In Alhaitham's periphery, Kaveh's grip shifts over his cup, but Alhaitham's focus is on the sudden glassiness of Kaveh's eyes. What happened to Nahida is evident enough in Kaveh's unraveling. That takes precendent over any other prying questions, at least for now. Trying to qualify or excuse Lessor Lord Kusanali's actions might only exacerbate the issue.
Alhaitham sets a steady hand on Kaveh's shoulder. The other carefully pries the cup from Kaveh's hand and sets it on the table. ]
In your own ways, the two of you were trying to act in the best interest of everyone involved.
[ Ignoring the own hammer of his heart, the one that hesitates to betray itself, Alhaitham takes Kaveh's empty hand in his own and squeezes over his fingers. Stay here, it says. ]
Both of you were not at fault for the circumstances you were in, regardless of any mistakes made by the dieties overseeing the game. Neither of you should have been put into the position of having to weigh the lives of others against yours or the lives of those you care for.
[ He looks at their hands, then back to Kaveh. ]
You won't believe this yourself, but I'll say it because I think you should hear it out loud. None of what happened was your fault.
no subject
It takes time for him to calm down enough to process Alhaitham's words. Even when he does, he doesn't respond. He simply draws in a long, shaky breath and rubs at his eyes with his other hand, trying his best to cut off another outpouring of grief and pain.
Alhaitham is right--he doesn't believe it. He can't, and likely never will. Even under normal circumstances, Alhaitham's logic and rationality have never been able to convince Kaveh to relinquish his iron grip on guilt and self-flagellation; it's even less possible now, when Alhaitham wasn't there with him.
That's not to say Kaveh blames himself for everything, though. There are dozens of things Kaveh will never forgive himself for, things for which Kaveh wholeheartedly believes he has inarguable proof of his own fault. Those things are more than enough to haunt him. He doesn't need to grab for the parts that were out of his control, too.]
...There was--a girl. [Rather than responding to Alhaitham's sentiments, Kaveh sidesteps them, shifting the conversation in a new direction. He clears his throat when his voice breaks, but even when he continues, it remains a little shaky.] Rather--two girls, and one man. They were called Reapers. They were... meant to watch over us, I suppose. To ensure the "game" ran smoothly, in accordance with the rules of whoever was in charge, above them. But Ruby... she was tired of it all. She wanted to put an end to the games entirely.
[The sorrow on Kaveh's face shifts--it's still deep, and there's still something personal about it, but it's very different from before. His grip on Alhaitham's hand loosens as his focus shifts away from the memories of Nahida's execution, but he doesn't let go, utterly oblivious to the way Alhaitham's pulse races just outside his reach.]
I don't know much about what she'd been through. But she'd become convinced that the only way to end things, to stop others from going through the game, was to destroy it all. In her desperation, she turned herself into a weapon, and she intended to sacrifice herself, and us, to disrupt the system.
no subject
(Or from someone, at least. Maybe anyone. Alhaitham won't assume so much importance. He gives Kaveh what he needs because he wants to, whether or not that pays dividends in the end.)
There could be catharsis in Kaveh falling apart when he needs to, abandoning propriety and reason and all attempts to parse his feelings into words. Freshly released from whatever hell he was in, Kaveh deserves his shameless outbursts of pain and grief. Alhaitham will simply pick up his pieces and lacquer him together again.
Instead, Kaveh wipes his eyes and continues. Alhaitham's grip loosens as Kaveh's does, but not to the same extent. He won't be pulling back until it's distinctly called for, especially when Kaveh's expression becomes unreadable, deeply affected by the circumstances he's dredged up. As he listens, Alhaitham swallows back his probing questions for once. Understanding logistics can wait when Kaveh isn't in utter misery. ]
... You look as though you have something to say on the matter.
no subject
I was so sure we could save her. [Softly.] I thought... I knew we might have to fight her. But I thought, after that... that we'd be able to reason with her. I even promised the people I spoke to, before we went after her--that we wouldn't have to hurt anyone else. That it was done.
[...]
I should've seen the sign. That she'd--given up. [He knows what that looks like, after all. He saw it in his mother, before she found herself again overseas. He saw glimpses of it in his father, before his father resolved to travel into the desert, determined to fix things with his own two hands. He certainly saw it in Matsui, after Buzen's murder--to the point where he'd gently tried to encourage others to mourn Matsui, even before he died.
But he didn't. In fact, he barely even spoke to Ruby, let alone the other two. Would things have turned out differently, if he had? He doesn't think so, and that's the worst part.]
...One life cannot outweigh countless worlds. [He does know that. Even if it hurts, even if Kaveh stressed over and over that everyone deserved a chance to live, to fight. It's for the best that he didn't have to deal the killing blow--he never would've recovered.] But I... I don't think we even managed to change her mind. We couldn't save her life, and we couldn't grant her peace.
[Someday, in the future, Alhaitham will notice a new portrait in a frame on Kaveh's desk: a young girl in black and red, sitting atop a skyscraper with her face turned towards the moon, a content expression on her face. It won't be signed, but Alhaitham will recognize Kaveh's art style.
For now, though, Kaveh simply sits beside him, shoulders bowed under the weight of mourning.]
no subject
He cradles Kaveh's loose fingers carefully in his palm. He watches them, tracing their scars as he speaks. ]
I'm sure you've already recognized your first mistake. [ He has to point this out because he's Alhaitham, but he does so a little more quietly, leaning in. ] Regardless of your idealistic views, you shouldn't have guaranteed something without definite proof of its fruition. It's one thing to consider possibilities and another to set up false expectations. An unfavorable outcome becomes that much more devastating.
[ He looks at Kaveh, straightforward and steady. ]
If you were to hear of this situation from someone else, your answer would likely be thus: though the opportunity for Ruby's rescue and redemption may have been slim to none, what matters is that you, or someone at the very least, acted on that possibility. Without that, the probability of her survival would have been zero.
[ His fingers tighten. ]
It's Lessor Lord Kusanali's view that the most important thing isn't what state the world is in now, but what people hope it can become. For that time, foolishly or not, you embodied the hope for a better future for everyone involved.