[ kaeya infuses his voice with as much obnoxious faux-innocence as possible, delighting as always in rousing any sort of reaction from his far too stoic lover. once, it had stemmed from a twisted need to get under diluc's skin as much as possible, to dig all his thorns in as deep as they could go until there was no escaping the blood of his brambles no matter how much diluc tried to brush him off. now...well, he can admit there's still a little of that selfish sentiment lingering, but the cold curl of his gut accompanying every time he'd lashed out has melted into springtime sun, a frisson of warmth licking through his veins whenever diluc's brow furrows in fond exasperation as he reaches out anyways and stays.
there are no happy endings for a sinner like him, he knows. one day, he will hurt diluc so terribly that the man will have no choice but to leave him for good, whether it be walking away permanently this time or incinerating him until there's nothing left of the worst mistake he's ever made. or perhaps before he gets the chance, khaenri'ah will have dragged him down into the bones and crypts of the earth where no light can ever reach. until then though, he'll take advantage of whatever little moments he can to prod and poke and annoy and wake diluc up at ridiculous hours in the morning just to hear him grumble but pull him in closer anyway, all so he can think with relief: not today.
in the moonlight, diluc's skin shines silver like the glow of an irminsul tree, every scattered scar a leyline holding the memories of this body. kaeya traces his finger down one idly, following the willowy line from chest to rib; branch and bark and root, beauty and pain and strength carved in the map of his skin. how lovely it would be, he thinks, if they could actually be irminsul trees, roots entwined so deeply underground that they sup from the same soil, that the same water and life runs through their veins. how lovely it would be, if he could snap a branch off himself as his people once did, so that diluc could carry a piece of him around no matter how vast the distance between them may grow.
lovely...and also a bit too psychotic. so instead, what he says is, ]
no subject
[ kaeya infuses his voice with as much obnoxious faux-innocence as possible, delighting as always in rousing any sort of reaction from his far too stoic lover. once, it had stemmed from a twisted need to get under diluc's skin as much as possible, to dig all his thorns in as deep as they could go until there was no escaping the blood of his brambles no matter how much diluc tried to brush him off. now...well, he can admit there's still a little of that selfish sentiment lingering, but the cold curl of his gut accompanying every time he'd lashed out has melted into springtime sun, a frisson of warmth licking through his veins whenever diluc's brow furrows in fond exasperation as he reaches out anyways and stays.
there are no happy endings for a sinner like him, he knows. one day, he will hurt diluc so terribly that the man will have no choice but to leave him for good, whether it be walking away permanently this time or incinerating him until there's nothing left of the worst mistake he's ever made. or perhaps before he gets the chance, khaenri'ah will have dragged him down into the bones and crypts of the earth where no light can ever reach. until then though, he'll take advantage of whatever little moments he can to prod and poke and annoy and wake diluc up at ridiculous hours in the morning just to hear him grumble but pull him in closer anyway, all so he can think with relief: not today.
in the moonlight, diluc's skin shines silver like the glow of an irminsul tree, every scattered scar a leyline holding the memories of this body. kaeya traces his finger down one idly, following the willowy line from chest to rib; branch and bark and root, beauty and pain and strength carved in the map of his skin. how lovely it would be, he thinks, if they could actually be irminsul trees, roots entwined so deeply underground that they sup from the same soil, that the same water and life runs through their veins. how lovely it would be, if he could snap a branch off himself as his people once did, so that diluc could carry a piece of him around no matter how vast the distance between them may grow.
lovely...and also a bit too psychotic. so instead, what he says is, ]
Hey, if I turned into a tree, what would you do?