[ after all is said and done, Dainsleif is left to piece together the broken pieces that were left behind. he doesn't leave the Chasm even after he and the Traveler have parted ways, electing to tie up loose ends, helping hilichurls that were uprooted from their final resting place because of what happened to make their way back. he checks up on what the remaining Black Serpent Knights were doing before he leaves them be. one of the last tasks he assigns himself is to take one of the Intevyat flowers to place near the device in order to honour Halfdan's sacrifice. it has been such a long and terribly lonely time since he last saw his beloved comrade and friend, so for their reunion to end like this—
well, he supposes a sinner like him had it coming.
the calming aura from the waters overhead almost feels like benediction, a once sought after token of forgiveness that he no longer thinks he deserves. every part of his aching body is still telling him to stay, to rest easy here because there's only suffering everywhere else. he chooses not to listen to its pleas. there are matters far more important than what he wants, and what he wants can always wait until he's finished what he has left to do. it doesn't matter if it will take another five hundred years to accomplish it, but he's losing time the longer he stays here, so once he's done honouring his friend, he finally turns to leave.
tracking down the Abyss Order has always been a complicated affair. once he gained access to their portal network, his search was made considerably easier, but he knows he can't rely on that for a certain amount of time, not when they're well aware of his reliance on them now. he doesn't think the Herald will take too kindly to him if he attempts to do anything now anyway, so it won't hurt to lay low and search for them the good ol' fashioned way — on foot and talking to locals if they've heard of anything strange. of courses, he stands out like a sore thumb no matter where he goes, but he's used to fielding questions about his origins by now.
most people's curiousities are usually placated by the time he mentions he's a traveler from far away, because he regales them with tales from the other nations, fantastical stories that they may have never heard of otherwise. it's how his presence has grown to be accepted in the nearby village, but he doesn't intend to stay here long. he only lingers because he is presently attempting to track down a certain villager who has been rumoured to see a gathering of creatures whose descriptions remind him too much the Abyss Order's pawns. the only thing he has to go by is that this person likes to frequent nearby taverns so he has been visiting them one after the other.
tonight shouldn't have been any different. just another visit to yet another local tavern in hopes of catching a conversation with this individual. he already planned to have this be his last night here whether or not he is successful, because he might have better luck searching for the Abyss Order himself. still, he enters the tavern as quietly as he usually does, ignoring any curious looks that might have been sent his way. he only has one purpose here and that's to find the person he has been looking for a few days by now.
the innkeeper looks up from behind the counter, eyes gleaming with delighted recognition. "Not as charming, perhaps, but no less mysterious!" her hands have already reached for the coin, fiddling with it as she gestures behind Kaeya with a nod of her head. "I haven't heard much about where he's from, but you can always ask him yourself, yeah?"
by then, Dainsleif has already noticed that she is looking her way. he may not have heard what she told the man right in front of her, but something compels him to engage in the conversation. there's no way he can see the other man's features right until the very last moment, when he stands right next to him and sends an inquiring look his way. the first thing he notices is a sudden sense of familiarity at first glance, an unshakeable one at that. something tells him that he's seen this person before but it's difficult to place exactly where.
the next thing that comes up is something that brings his entire world to a complete stop. when he meets the other man's eye, there's no mistaking it — starry, like the night sky. ]
You are...
[ his voice is quiet, breathless in a way. his words are spoken in a foreign, forgotten tongue, one that he's certain will answer all of his questions should the other man recognize it just as well. ]
[ the innkeeper glances behind him and kaeya follows her gaze, half turning in his seat to get a good look at the man now coming to stand next to him. from his lower vantage point he catches sight of black armored boots first, then sweeps his gaze up, taking mental notes as he goes - up towards the night-patterned cape, up towards the dark blue emblem that rings oddly familiar, up towards the striking mask, up towards the widening eyes with their unmistakable starry pupils--
the coin he'd been idly running over his knuckles drops to the floor from suddenly numb fingers; he barely hears the clattering over the sound of rushing blood to his ears, the thunder of his heart rattling his ribs. he's dreaming. he must be. there is no other explanation for what's standing before him now.
abruptly, he's thrown back to a memory from many months ago: the darknight hero seeking him out of his own initiative, a rare enough situation that kaeya had been instantly on guard for the worst - but the surprise there had been nothing compared to what diluc had said next. 'there was a masked man in the tavern,' he'd said, mouth thin in an uneasy line. 'he had eyes. like yours.'
it had been like lightning striking him from a clear blue sky. it was impossible. there should be only one other living person in all of modern teyvat with the distinct starry pupils of a long dead land, and if his erstwhile father had wandered into angel's share, diluc would have damn well noticed a lot more similarities between the two of them beyond just their eyes. further questioning had gotten him nowhere in figuring out just what hell was going on - and so he'd sent out his network to try to track the man down, and when they'd come back with nothing, he'd...left it at that.
it wasn't cowardice, he'd told himself, just practicality. unusual pupils were nothing new in teyvat - chances were diluc had simply mistaken the shape in the dim lighting of the tavern. and even if he hadn't, even if by some hideous miracle there was one more uncursed khaenri'an walking around than accounted for, well...he'd hardly want to draw their attention to a false hope in form of a lost dynasty, would he? best to just let it die quietly; this world was a vast one, after all, and it would take some twist of fate for two people across miles and miles of land and ocean and sky to ever stumble into each other's paths.
(the lie had tasted bitter on his tongue, even then.)
what a joke, what a fool he was for believing even for a second that he could avoid the whims of fate. of course that mysterious figure would show now, months after there'd been zero signs of him, months after kaeya had tried to push its existence from his mind. and what's worse is that - he knows that face. blond and blue-eyed had been plenty common in his homeland, but even behind a mask, even across a decade of memories, five centuries of time, he knows--
information. he needs more information. he's already given too much away as it is gaping like a slack-jawed idiot, too much visible shock on his face to excuse as mere confusion at the man's odd attire. snapping his mouth shut, he pulls himself together as best he can and smiles, letting the words float by over his head with no sign of recognition - words spoken in the language of the dead and the sinners, the language he still sometimes dreams in. ]
Mysterious indeed. [ he leans back casually against the bar, gesturing at the seat next to him. ] Well, as one foreigner to another, won't you let me buy you a drink? You look like you could have some interesting stories to tell, and I'm always in the mood for entertainment.
[ it feels like the world comes to a standstill in complete silence. Dainsleif had dreamt about this before, maybe not quite this exact scenario, but the idea remains the same: somehow, against all odds, he is reunited with the lost prince of Khaenri'ah again. their eyes meet, and just like his reality right now, recognition comes to life behind star-shaped pupils, followed by a realization that is quite daunting. this can't be real, he wants to say, night-coloured eyes still focused on the man before him. he has long since discarded this possibility as wishful thinking, a lonely man's weak desire for some semblance of hope.
what is he supposed to do now? ]
... A drink, you say? You're too generous.
[ he's thankful for the opening, for the temporary distraction from what they're both trying to avoid.
Dainsleif doesn't miss the way the other man looked at him — wide-eyed and in disbelif. it's too early to tell if that was because this person recognized him for who he is, or what he was (after all, starry eyes are only known to exist in a nation that is no longer around), but a broken emotion has started to take root in his chest. it's one that he hasn't allowed himself to believe in for so many years, and it would be hypocritical of him to start now given what he told the Traveler now too long ago. clinging to false hope is dangerous, he knows this best, and yet— he reaches down to pick up the fallen coin from the floor before he takes the seat that was gestured to him. his eyes haven't stopped looking at the man beside him the entire time he did this, and by the time he settles, the world decides to spin again.
he opens his palm where the coin now rests, as if waiting for it to be retrieved. ]
The kinds of stories I have might not be of particular interest to you, but you're welcome to ask if there is anything in particular you'd like to know.
[ the stories he holds close to his heart are born from forgotten hopes and lost dreams. neither of them are acknowledging how intimately familiar they are with what these stories could be about, but Dainsleif wouldn't dare to be the one to break the fragility of this moment.
as the Twilight Sword, the one who failed to protect the nation he was meant to serve, it's not his place to take the first step. ]
Generous, hm? Haha, I wouldn't flatter myself that far! I am repaying you for your time, after all.
[ it's almost a relief when he turns away from the intensity of that diamond stare to order the drinks, a pressure lifting as if he's been staring at the sun for too long. he takes advantage of the momentary break to collect himself again, trying to slow the thunder of his heart and the rush of adrenaline in his veins. it's just another mark, he tells himself. forget the starry eyes, forget the voice heralding from a distant memory, forget the fact that this thing wears the face of a person he'd long thought dead or lost to the horrors of the celestial curse - this is no different from interrogating an abyss mage or charming information from a hoarder. significantly more dangerous, perhaps, but since when has he ever shied away from that?
he's nearly managed to convince himself that he's got this under control by the time the drinks arrive, smile firmly affixed in place as he slides a glass over - only to falter when he sees the coin shining in the strange man's open palm. slowly, he reaches out to wrap his fingers around it, distantly noting how their hands were nearly the same size now.
it hadn't always been that way. the last time kaeya had slid his hand into that black-clad palm it had completely dwarfed his own, as the twilight sword knelt to swear his loyalty to the youngest member of the royal line. funny, all the things that change with time...for one of them, at any rate.
he withdraws his hand as quickly as if burned, running his thumb over the coin before flicking it up into the air. again and again, the coin spinning as it goes, flashing too quickly for anyone to tell which side it lands. heads or tails, truth or lies, the past or present - all those decisions left up in the air, or so he'd like to pretend. ]
Well, your name would be a good start. I can hardly keep calling you mister man of mystery, after all!
[ he knows the name of course; it sits heavy on the tip of his tongue, burns down his throat as he swallows it back. but he won't say it, not yet - naming the man in front of him would make him real, realer than all the abyss mages and hilichurls and monstrous remnants he's learned to divorce himself from. besides, maybe he's mistaken. maybe his memories have been fogged by time. or maybe the abyss has stolen away this man's identity as well. ]
[ the abyss has already stolen too much from him, but Dainsleif would argue that it's Celestia that has taken way more. not just from himself, but from the people of Khaenri'ah too, its royal family and those he failed to protect when they needed him the most. there are memories he can no longer remember, ones that were precious and fragile back when he could replay them night after night ever since the fall of the godless nation. they brought him comfort when nothing else could, when he had nothing left to hold onto but the grim reminder of his own failures. these memories are now faded around the edges, rotten to the core, lost to a curse that continues to eat away at whatever he has left.
Celestia has stolen too much from him, and yet somehow, they have failed to take this away—
(when their hands touched, he was brought back to a faraway land that glittered in gold and starlight. they both stood in the middle of a glorious chamber, surrounded by others with starry eyes and brilliant smiles. the crowd remained silent as the honourable knight knelt in front of the young prince, gaze downcast as he forgot what it was like to simply breathe.
this was an important moment in his life, and here he was about to make a fool of himself, but when he looked up, he watched as something warm, something innocent and yearning, bloomed on the prince's face.
that was all the encouragement he needed.) ]
... Dainsleif.
[ As Sir Dainsleif of the Black Serpent Knights, all that I am is yours to command.
—Celestia's curse couldn't diminish how important it was to him, to remember the vow he once swore, despite how it all ended. the event remains vivid in his mind, down to the vow he swore to keep on that day. he remembers it so well that he almost forgets where he is. the tavern's local patrons barely pay them any attention, and the innkeeper has already left them to their own devices, serving her next customers with a pretty smile and hearty laugh. there are snippets of conversation floating around about a strange phenomenon that made too many hilichurls suffer for no reason at all.
his own hand retreats once Kaeya's pulls away, almost apologetic for how things are turning out. he wonders if the coin will ever fall on a side that will be favourable to either of them. ]
I hail from a land far away from here. [ an outlander in every sense of the word. an outcast. ] I have been trying to find my way back, but... it has proven to be a difficult task lately.
[ he can only say it in so many different ways, but he has a feeling that the other man will understand. ]
[ he'd been expecting the name, bracing himself for it, but all the preparation in the world still wouldn't have stopped the electric shock that surges down his spine and through his veins at the mere sound of it, leaving every inch of his skin tingling and his hair standing on end. dainsleif. it echoes in his head, opening a door he thought he'd long locked shut.
he remembers. of course he does. no matter how much he lies to himself that he's left that part of him behind to wither in the dust, the golden halls and spiraling towers of his homeland shine as vividly in his mind's eye now as the day he'd left - and there gleaming ever bright in the eyes of the starstruck youth he'd once been, the twilight sword. khaenri'ah had offered little protection for a child growing up, not even for one of royal blood - perhaps especially not then, in a land whose rulers were expected to be as merciless as the machines of war they'd built. in the midst of the ruthless politics and powerclimbing, dainsleif had been one of the few safe havens he could trust, a protective shelter away from the storm.
part of him now feels like that terrified child again - abandoned in a strange land with stranger people, lost in a time not his own with a burden so heavy he can't begin to comprehend it, desperate to reach out to this promise of familiarity and connection that has suddenly appeared like a beacon of hope. it is eclipsed, however, by the far larger part of him who has grown up under wind and sky rather than machine and ground, who has sworn himself in service of a city not his own, the part that whispers in his head that he cannot trust this man. forget the name, forget their history, forget the starry eyes brimming with an emotion that's far too human - there's only two ways he knows of to stave off the effects of their celestial curse, and one of them currently resides underneath his eyepatch. as for the other...well, abyssal power might allow someone to retain their intelligence, but it kills off something vital in them nonetheless.
(he doesn't allow himself to hope for the possibility that there might be a third option, that someone else might have escaped the curse with their humanity intact too. he's known for a long time now that miracles don't exist.) ]
A pleasure. I'm Kaeya, of the Ordo Favonius.
[ he emphasizes favonius slightly, watching dainleif's face carefully for any reaction to a khaenri'an now working for the city of the enemy. no point in hiding it anyway, not when it would only take a few hours asking around to determine who the strange foreigner with the unusual attire could possibly be. his smile does falter at the man's confession of his shaky memory - the delayed symptoms of the curse? a side effect to abyssal corruption? all the more reason to keep up his guard. ]
A faraway land, hm? You sound like someone straight out of a storybook. [ he props his chin on his hand, his other fingers tracing the rim of his glass idly as if this really is just a casual conversation with a stranger in a bar. ] Why the eagerness to return? Perhaps you'll enjoy taking in the sights and making new memories where you are now.
... Of the Ordo Favonius. [ his voice is nearly breathless, but deep down, he feels like he is suffocating. ] What an honour that must be.
[ the implication behind the emphasis is not lost on Dainsleif. for a brief moment, his expression becomes unreadable, difficult to decipher what it is that's going through his mind, but it only lasts as long as it takes for the initial shock to fade away. what replaces it is something much more subdued, something equal parts lost and melancholic, as if he understands where khaenri'ah's last hope now stands. does this mean that it was all for nothing? or is it more like, he's more alone than ever when it comes to finding a way to right the wrongs that the gods have caused?
it's been so long since he last saw anyone with the stars in their eyes like he does that he's struggling to make sense of what he's experiencing. he tries not to let the wistfulness shows but it might be too late to hide it. in the end, he chooses to look away, to focus on the drink that was offered earlier, but he doesn't miss the way that Kaeya's smile just faltered right there and then.
too many questions, so little answers. ]
It has been a long time since I last returned home. [ five hundred years and counting, but he dares not breathe that out loud. ] I've almost forgotten what it's like.
[ in a way, it's an attempt to hint at something — how long he's been alive, how long he's lived alone for so many years. he wonders if Kaeya's voice will falter if he manages to pick up all the little hints that Dainsleif continues to leave behind. ]
I wouldn't even know where to go if I were to continue wandering around. [ this time, he looks at Kaeya again. ] Of course, I'm open to suggestions, should you have any.
[ if he has any secrets left to uncover, they're in the shape of the man sitting next to him. ]
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no subject
well, he supposes a sinner like him had it coming.
the calming aura from the waters overhead almost feels like benediction, a once sought after token of forgiveness that he no longer thinks he deserves. every part of his aching body is still telling him to stay, to rest easy here because there's only suffering everywhere else. he chooses not to listen to its pleas. there are matters far more important than what he wants, and what he wants can always wait until he's finished what he has left to do. it doesn't matter if it will take another five hundred years to accomplish it, but he's losing time the longer he stays here, so once he's done honouring his friend, he finally turns to leave.
tracking down the Abyss Order has always been a complicated affair. once he gained access to their portal network, his search was made considerably easier, but he knows he can't rely on that for a certain amount of time, not when they're well aware of his reliance on them now. he doesn't think the Herald will take too kindly to him if he attempts to do anything now anyway, so it won't hurt to lay low and search for them the good ol' fashioned way — on foot and talking to locals if they've heard of anything strange. of courses, he stands out like a sore thumb no matter where he goes, but he's used to fielding questions about his origins by now.
most people's curiousities are usually placated by the time he mentions he's a traveler from far away, because he regales them with tales from the other nations, fantastical stories that they may have never heard of otherwise. it's how his presence has grown to be accepted in the nearby village, but he doesn't intend to stay here long. he only lingers because he is presently attempting to track down a certain villager who has been rumoured to see a gathering of creatures whose descriptions remind him too much the Abyss Order's pawns. the only thing he has to go by is that this person likes to frequent nearby taverns so he has been visiting them one after the other.
tonight shouldn't have been any different. just another visit to yet another local tavern in hopes of catching a conversation with this individual. he already planned to have this be his last night here whether or not he is successful, because he might have better luck searching for the Abyss Order himself. still, he enters the tavern as quietly as he usually does, ignoring any curious looks that might have been sent his way. he only has one purpose here and that's to find the person he has been looking for a few days by now.
the innkeeper looks up from behind the counter, eyes gleaming with delighted recognition. "Not as charming, perhaps, but no less mysterious!" her hands have already reached for the coin, fiddling with it as she gestures behind Kaeya with a nod of her head. "I haven't heard much about where he's from, but you can always ask him yourself, yeah?"
by then, Dainsleif has already noticed that she is looking her way. he may not have heard what she told the man right in front of her, but something compels him to engage in the conversation. there's no way he can see the other man's features right until the very last moment, when he stands right next to him and sends an inquiring look his way. the first thing he notices is a sudden sense of familiarity at first glance, an unshakeable one at that. something tells him that he's seen this person before but it's difficult to place exactly where.
the next thing that comes up is something that brings his entire world to a complete stop. when he meets the other man's eye, there's no mistaking it — starry, like the night sky. ]
You are...
[ his voice is quiet, breathless in a way. his words are spoken in a foreign, forgotten tongue, one that he's certain will answer all of his questions should the other man recognize it just as well. ]
no subject
the coin he'd been idly running over his knuckles drops to the floor from suddenly numb fingers; he barely hears the clattering over the sound of rushing blood to his ears, the thunder of his heart rattling his ribs. he's dreaming. he must be. there is no other explanation for what's standing before him now.
abruptly, he's thrown back to a memory from many months ago: the darknight hero seeking him out of his own initiative, a rare enough situation that kaeya had been instantly on guard for the worst - but the surprise there had been nothing compared to what diluc had said next. 'there was a masked man in the tavern,' he'd said, mouth thin in an uneasy line. 'he had eyes. like yours.'
it had been like lightning striking him from a clear blue sky. it was impossible. there should be only one other living person in all of modern teyvat with the distinct starry pupils of a long dead land, and if his erstwhile father had wandered into angel's share, diluc would have damn well noticed a lot more similarities between the two of them beyond just their eyes. further questioning had gotten him nowhere in figuring out just what hell was going on - and so he'd sent out his network to try to track the man down, and when they'd come back with nothing, he'd...left it at that.
it wasn't cowardice, he'd told himself, just practicality. unusual pupils were nothing new in teyvat - chances were diluc had simply mistaken the shape in the dim lighting of the tavern. and even if he hadn't, even if by some hideous miracle there was one more uncursed khaenri'an walking around than accounted for, well...he'd hardly want to draw their attention to a false hope in form of a lost dynasty, would he? best to just let it die quietly; this world was a vast one, after all, and it would take some twist of fate for two people across miles and miles of land and ocean and sky to ever stumble into each other's paths.
(the lie had tasted bitter on his tongue, even then.)
what a joke, what a fool he was for believing even for a second that he could avoid the whims of fate. of course that mysterious figure would show now, months after there'd been zero signs of him, months after kaeya had tried to push its existence from his mind. and what's worse is that - he knows that face. blond and blue-eyed had been plenty common in his homeland, but even behind a mask, even across a decade of memories, five centuries of time, he knows--
information. he needs more information. he's already given too much away as it is gaping like a slack-jawed idiot, too much visible shock on his face to excuse as mere confusion at the man's odd attire. snapping his mouth shut, he pulls himself together as best he can and smiles, letting the words float by over his head with no sign of recognition - words spoken in the language of the dead and the sinners, the language he still sometimes dreams in. ]
Mysterious indeed. [ he leans back casually against the bar, gesturing at the seat next to him. ] Well, as one foreigner to another, won't you let me buy you a drink? You look like you could have some interesting stories to tell, and I'm always in the mood for entertainment.
no subject
what is he supposed to do now? ]
... A drink, you say? You're too generous.
[ he's thankful for the opening, for the temporary distraction from what they're both trying to avoid.
Dainsleif doesn't miss the way the other man looked at him — wide-eyed and in disbelif. it's too early to tell if that was because this person recognized him for who he is, or what he was (after all, starry eyes are only known to exist in a nation that is no longer around), but a broken emotion has started to take root in his chest. it's one that he hasn't allowed himself to believe in for so many years, and it would be hypocritical of him to start now given what he told the Traveler now too long ago. clinging to false hope is dangerous, he knows this best, and yet— he reaches down to pick up the fallen coin from the floor before he takes the seat that was gestured to him. his eyes haven't stopped looking at the man beside him the entire time he did this, and by the time he settles, the world decides to spin again.
he opens his palm where the coin now rests, as if waiting for it to be retrieved. ]
The kinds of stories I have might not be of particular interest to you, but you're welcome to ask if there is anything in particular you'd like to know.
[ the stories he holds close to his heart are born from forgotten hopes and lost dreams. neither of them are acknowledging how intimately familiar they are with what these stories could be about, but Dainsleif wouldn't dare to be the one to break the fragility of this moment.
as the Twilight Sword, the one who failed to protect the nation he was meant to serve, it's not his place to take the first step. ]
no subject
[ it's almost a relief when he turns away from the intensity of that diamond stare to order the drinks, a pressure lifting as if he's been staring at the sun for too long. he takes advantage of the momentary break to collect himself again, trying to slow the thunder of his heart and the rush of adrenaline in his veins. it's just another mark, he tells himself. forget the starry eyes, forget the voice heralding from a distant memory, forget the fact that this thing wears the face of a person he'd long thought dead or lost to the horrors of the celestial curse - this is no different from interrogating an abyss mage or charming information from a hoarder. significantly more dangerous, perhaps, but since when has he ever shied away from that?
he's nearly managed to convince himself that he's got this under control by the time the drinks arrive, smile firmly affixed in place as he slides a glass over - only to falter when he sees the coin shining in the strange man's open palm. slowly, he reaches out to wrap his fingers around it, distantly noting how their hands were nearly the same size now.
it hadn't always been that way. the last time kaeya had slid his hand into that black-clad palm it had completely dwarfed his own, as the twilight sword knelt to swear his loyalty to the youngest member of the royal line. funny, all the things that change with time...for one of them, at any rate.
he withdraws his hand as quickly as if burned, running his thumb over the coin before flicking it up into the air. again and again, the coin spinning as it goes, flashing too quickly for anyone to tell which side it lands. heads or tails, truth or lies, the past or present - all those decisions left up in the air, or so he'd like to pretend. ]
Well, your name would be a good start. I can hardly keep calling you mister man of mystery, after all!
[ he knows the name of course; it sits heavy on the tip of his tongue, burns down his throat as he swallows it back. but he won't say it, not yet - naming the man in front of him would make him real, realer than all the abyss mages and hilichurls and monstrous remnants he's learned to divorce himself from. besides, maybe he's mistaken. maybe his memories have been fogged by time. or maybe the abyss has stolen away this man's identity as well. ]
no subject
Celestia has stolen too much from him, and yet somehow, they have failed to take this away—
(when their hands touched, he was brought back to a faraway land that glittered in gold and starlight. they both stood in the middle of a glorious chamber, surrounded by others with starry eyes and brilliant smiles. the crowd remained silent as the honourable knight knelt in front of the young prince, gaze downcast as he forgot what it was like to simply breathe.
this was an important moment in his life, and here he was about to make a fool of himself, but when he looked up, he watched as something warm, something innocent and yearning, bloomed on the prince's face.
that was all the encouragement he needed.) ]
... Dainsleif.
[ As Sir Dainsleif of the Black Serpent Knights, all that I am is yours to command.
—Celestia's curse couldn't diminish how important it was to him, to remember the vow he once swore, despite how it all ended. the event remains vivid in his mind, down to the vow he swore to keep on that day. he remembers it so well that he almost forgets where he is. the tavern's local patrons barely pay them any attention, and the innkeeper has already left them to their own devices, serving her next customers with a pretty smile and hearty laugh. there are snippets of conversation floating around about a strange phenomenon that made too many hilichurls suffer for no reason at all.
his own hand retreats once Kaeya's pulls away, almost apologetic for how things are turning out. he wonders if the coin will ever fall on a side that will be favourable to either of them. ]
I hail from a land far away from here. [ an outlander in every sense of the word. an outcast. ] I have been trying to find my way back, but... it has proven to be a difficult task lately.
[ he can only say it in so many different ways, but he has a feeling that the other man will understand. ]
My memory is not quite what it used to be.
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he remembers. of course he does. no matter how much he lies to himself that he's left that part of him behind to wither in the dust, the golden halls and spiraling towers of his homeland shine as vividly in his mind's eye now as the day he'd left - and there gleaming ever bright in the eyes of the starstruck youth he'd once been, the twilight sword. khaenri'ah had offered little protection for a child growing up, not even for one of royal blood - perhaps especially not then, in a land whose rulers were expected to be as merciless as the machines of war they'd built. in the midst of the ruthless politics and powerclimbing, dainsleif had been one of the few safe havens he could trust, a protective shelter away from the storm.
part of him now feels like that terrified child again - abandoned in a strange land with stranger people, lost in a time not his own with a burden so heavy he can't begin to comprehend it, desperate to reach out to this promise of familiarity and connection that has suddenly appeared like a beacon of hope. it is eclipsed, however, by the far larger part of him who has grown up under wind and sky rather than machine and ground, who has sworn himself in service of a city not his own, the part that whispers in his head that he cannot trust this man. forget the name, forget their history, forget the starry eyes brimming with an emotion that's far too human - there's only two ways he knows of to stave off the effects of their celestial curse, and one of them currently resides underneath his eyepatch. as for the other...well, abyssal power might allow someone to retain their intelligence, but it kills off something vital in them nonetheless.
(he doesn't allow himself to hope for the possibility that there might be a third option, that someone else might have escaped the curse with their humanity intact too. he's known for a long time now that miracles don't exist.) ]
A pleasure. I'm Kaeya, of the Ordo Favonius.
[ he emphasizes favonius slightly, watching dainleif's face carefully for any reaction to a khaenri'an now working for the city of the enemy. no point in hiding it anyway, not when it would only take a few hours asking around to determine who the strange foreigner with the unusual attire could possibly be. his smile does falter at the man's confession of his shaky memory - the delayed symptoms of the curse? a side effect to abyssal corruption? all the more reason to keep up his guard. ]
A faraway land, hm? You sound like someone straight out of a storybook. [ he props his chin on his hand, his other fingers tracing the rim of his glass idly as if this really is just a casual conversation with a stranger in a bar. ] Why the eagerness to return? Perhaps you'll enjoy taking in the sights and making new memories where you are now.
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[ the implication behind the emphasis is not lost on Dainsleif. for a brief moment, his expression becomes unreadable, difficult to decipher what it is that's going through his mind, but it only lasts as long as it takes for the initial shock to fade away. what replaces it is something much more subdued, something equal parts lost and melancholic, as if he understands where khaenri'ah's last hope now stands. does this mean that it was all for nothing? or is it more like, he's more alone than ever when it comes to finding a way to right the wrongs that the gods have caused?
it's been so long since he last saw anyone with the stars in their eyes like he does that he's struggling to make sense of what he's experiencing. he tries not to let the wistfulness shows but it might be too late to hide it. in the end, he chooses to look away, to focus on the drink that was offered earlier, but he doesn't miss the way that Kaeya's smile just faltered right there and then.
too many questions, so little answers. ]
It has been a long time since I last returned home. [ five hundred years and counting, but he dares not breathe that out loud. ] I've almost forgotten what it's like.
[ in a way, it's an attempt to hint at something — how long he's been alive, how long he's lived alone for so many years. he wonders if Kaeya's voice will falter if he manages to pick up all the little hints that Dainsleif continues to leave behind. ]
I wouldn't even know where to go if I were to continue wandering around. [ this time, he looks at Kaeya again. ] Of course, I'm open to suggestions, should you have any.
[ if he has any secrets left to uncover, they're in the shape of the man sitting next to him. ]