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archoniic · 11 months

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They seemed to come from all direction: the mountains to the South, the sea to the East, the ruins of the Guili Assembly to the North, Mt. Tianheng to the West, and every inch of life far beyond each corner of Teyvat— each speck of ash, of chalk, of dust. It was as if all were called to an instinct ever innate, beckoned by some maker only they knew, and ached to see return. And so this night, beneath the poignant glow of the moon ever full, when the night surrounding her drew darker than it had in aeons of time, they gathered into a zephyr atop the cliff that left the lone presence of its lily untouched as if by divine intervention itself. They seemed enraptured within this gust almost as gentle as she, or so the oft unread tales of legends could recount to the children of the harbor. But here, within that embrace, one could swear for even a moment in time, that the moon overhead seemed to dim, a luminosity stolen for a second in which the space that each grain inhabited lightened, brightened, or...

Perhaps it was what seemed to form within that held the sudden vigor of the moon almost more comfortably, or perhaps it was the shadow therein that craved the light such a celestial body held so very carelessly— or perhaps, it wasn't a shadow at all, at least no longer. A shadow hardly bore the detail of garments of white and blue long forgotten by days of present, a shadow hardly bore the tone of pale skin illuminated from within and overhead alike, a shadow hardly held any competence to feel the air within human lungs, or the trivial need to breathe. And yet she, closer to any corporeal form than any spirit could ever long to possess, before bare feet ever touched the blades of grass beneath them— craved it,longed to breathe in the same air that caressed the bare of her back and the palms of her hands as they lifted at her scrutiny. She could feel it, as clear as she remembered it too long ago. And as the light within and around her lessened to merely the tips of grey tresses, and as her toes finally felt the crunch of green tickle— the specks of dust seemed to have gone, or perhaps they were still there, for were she and they not one and the same? She had stolen it, selfishly, the light of the moon whose signature she wore; for it surely illuminated her now as kindly as it ever had, if not more so. If one were close enough to listen, to overhear, then perhaps the smile that formed too slowly in wonderment could be heard; as if a secret kept from humanity forevermore. She had missed all of it; this sensation, the air within her lungs, the gentle touch of a breeze to her cheeks.

And then, as the night that blanketed the harbor that remained behind and away from her still regained its peace and the breeze around her settled to stillness, when her gaze finally drew up in gesture so intrinsic— it all faltered to unimportance in an instant. There was no breath, nothing after it had caught in her chest at the sight of him, the real sight of him. She'd moved so barely on instinct in response before she halted almost immediately, as if any approach of him was a right that had long since been lost, a right taken from her tar too soon in the ages that had passed them. And yet, and yet, her hand craved and longed, and her fingertips physically ached to touch him, to touch him before any and all else.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 bittersweet memories for the Lord of Geo. Each year; as though taunting him from afar, the moon would cast its effervescent glow upon him. Hidden from the view of the mortals; his sleeves rolled to the elbows. Golden marks burning ever brighter where the silvery glow would touch; much the same as the caress of someone once so dear to him. Lost now; a memory locked deep within his heart. Unspoken, yet remembered. Eyes of amber would close, and her laugh would chime much like a bell; he could almost recall the scent from the field of lilies that she loved so dearly. For once every year, he would allow himself that one night of reflection. That one night to truly feel the weight of all he had lost. Adding yet another fresh crack into the stone that had long since been his heart. Such feelings were not one he could put into words, nor truly understand himself. All he could do was experience. For every crack that was added to his heart, his soul; his life. It took him one step closer to her. He welcomed it like an old friend; familiar in the most devastating of ways. For one with a memory as long and clear as his, those feelings of despair were as prevalent now as they always had been.

This year, the Moon's glow did not seem quite as bright; its touch did not warm his skin in the ways it had done each year before. It was different. Zhongli; much the same as he did year upon year, found himself making the same trip up the cliff which overlooked the harbour. Where a single lily prevailed above all the others. Strong, fierce, determined. It should not have been able to survive there the way it did. Yet it blossomed perfectly. Footsteps stilled on the path upwards; amber gaze falling to the very tip. What is that? Misplaced, a shadow. One that moved in such a way as should not be possible to be simply cast by the glow of the moon. It took him too long to realise truly what it was he was looking at. It was not a shadow at all.

But dust.

It felt as though everything stilled; no longer did he hear the sounds from the harbour or the rustle of the trees. No longer did he hear the footsteps on the path travelled. All he could hear was his heartbeat, echoing much too loud in his ears. For the first time he could remember; his footsteps faltered. A single misstep had the Lord of Geo almost tumble. Too consumed by thoughts he should not allow; for hope of that nature, what was within his heart was much too foolish. Yet the swirl of the dust was simply unnatural for it to be simply guided by the breeze.

One step, then another; chasing what was likely to be the single most foolish desire of his heart. Eyes never once dared to leave the gathering of dust. Watching as each grain seemed to steal the very moonlight itself; shining, as though mocking him. Yet this could not be simply another memory conjured by his mind. For as much as he had perfect clarity; he could not envision something that had never happened.

Whatever this may be; it was real.

Reaching the top took far too long; his steps were heavy, weighed down almost. The cracks in his heart almost became too large to bear. As he reached his destination; the dust had shifted, giving life to a form he thought he would never gaze upon again. Fabrics of blue and white and silver; the galaxy itself hidden within the sleeves. While not tangible in her entirety; the vision of her was unmistakable. Yet with every passing second; that vision grew more visible. He could barely catch his breath as he took in every moment; each swirl of the dust, each glance of the moonlight illuminating her skin; and as she turned to face him. The smile he remembered oh so clearly. The Lord of Geo was no longer made of stone.

He cracked apart, completely. As though she, herself was the hammer and him; weatherworn and beaten, finally succumbed to those splinters he had long since tried to hide.

He attempted to reach her; as she did him, but no longer would his legs support him. The once mighty Rex Lapis, Morax; was brought to his knees in front of his Goddess. How long had it been since he had shed a tear for anything? Never once, in thousands of years; even upon her death, he had reacted with anger. Then with sheer focus on their people and realising her dream for both the mortals and the land. Now, with nothing more to truly focus on; no great battle to be fought, the mortals no longer needed their Archon. But he needed her. Perhaps a thought of his that he had not truly considered in all of those years. For while he walked on; her memory was always close. Those tears fell silently, his gaze never once wavering from her; in fear of her disappearing from his view once again.

"Are you truly real?" A voice of a man that had held in too much, for much too long. Disbelief; confusion. Hope.

This was not a memory that he could have conjured from his imagination, never before had she appeared for him in such a way. Each time; it had simply been a memory of her in a way that had already transpired. This was new. Each emotion he had tried to bury almost had the man break at the seams; for a while, he had convinced himself that he had forgiven himself for the past. It became entirely obvious at that moment that he simply had not. How could he when he felt he had let her down in the worst way possible? Had he not promised to protect them? Their land, their people; her? Morax, Rex Lapis, had failed in that; and in doing so, had lost her to the dust.

Yet; she stood before him now, as real as she had been back then. Forcing himself to his feet, he ventured closer; a hand reaching out, met with the solidity of her. He made a sound that could only be described as human. A half huff of disbelief, yet entirely happy. That hand would travel up her arm, brushing along to her shoulder and her neck. He remembered this, how her skin felt. Warmer now, bathed in the glow of the moon. How many emotions passed along his face? It mattered not to him. She was real. He could touch her. He could see her. She was not a memory any longer. Palm would settle against her cheek, his thumb tracing along gently as he had done countless times before; another lifetime ago.

#yuelun #↱ guili ↲ with shortness of breath i’ll try to explain the infinite - how rare and beautiful it is to even exist . / 𝐃𝐘𝐍 : yuelun #↱ IC ↲ every journey has it’s final day – don’t rush . / 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 #tw: long post #i literally... cant even comment on this...#the utter emotions i felt both while reading this and responding to it

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lichtecht · 2 months

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PART 20

of the dfk 2023 audiobook translation

@cnka

Narrator (audiobook): Robert puts another piece of wood on the trunk and swings the axe.

Bökh: „And you never wanted to get in touch?"

The Nichtraucher picks up a piece of wood.

Silence.

Nichtraucher: „Why should I? We didn’t see each other for the past ten years either.“

He rips the piece of wood apart with his bare hands. While holding eye contact with Justus.

Silence.

Justus lowers his head.

Jo: „Uh.. weren’t you-" Martina, quietly: „Jo, leave it. Lets go.“

Martina, louder: „We need to go! We still have something to do.“

The kids leave. Jo and Martina are holding hands as they walk away.

Bökh: „Yeah… Thank you, kids.“

Jo, whispering as they walk away: "What was that just now?!"

Robert picks up the chopped wood and walks back to his wagon. Justus looks after him.

Narrator (audiobook): If the two friends will find back together? Matze isn’t so sure of that.

Matze, sarcastically: „Well, that was a great success!“ Jo: „Yeah, so much for friendship between Internals and Externs.“

Narrator (audiobook): At least Robert granted Herr Bökh access to his wagon. He looks around lost in thought more or less, while Robert washes the dishes.

Dishes clatter. There is silence otherwise.

Justus stares wistfully at Robert while he washes the dishes.

Justus takes his eyes off Robert and starts looking around while Robert continues to ignore him.

Bökh: „I thought you were living in London.“ Nichtraucher: (silence) Bökh: „It's nice here.“ Nichtraucher: (silence)

Justus starts walking around.

Bökh: „I told the kids about our friendship.“ Nichtraucher: „As a cautionary tale?“ Bökh: (chuckles/scoffs) „No. Of course not.“

Narrator (audiobook): Bökh spots the poster of „the Bandits“, the same one hanging in his apartment.

Bökh: „The 'Wild Dog' that we always played in is still there.“

Nichtraucher: (silence)

Bökh: „Should we meet there sometime? For a beer?“

Robert looks up.

He lets out a small huff, almost like an incredulous laugh or a scoff.

He dries his hands on a towel and folds it.

Nichtraucher: (silence) Nichtraucher: „I don’t know what we would have to say to each other.“

Bökh: „Hm. Well. A lot of time has passed.“

Narrator (audiobook): Robert sits down at the table and lights himself a cigarette.

Justus turns as well and starts looking around again.

Nichtraucher: „Why didn’t you come to Marie’s funeral back then?“

Nichtraucher: „You didn’t even get in touch.“

[„You didn't even get in touch“ -> parallels to „And you never wanted to get in touch?“]

Justus is silent. He starts fiddling with his jacket and pulls it off his shoulder. He lets out a deep, shaky sigh and is silent for another few moments.

Bökh: „…I don’t know, you met her and… and suddenly you were gone.“