Date: 2023-04-02 06:58 am (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16354455)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ all stories start with a first meeting.

the eremites have been waiting since dawn. the slave markets open for trade at the rising of the sun, the theory being that the earlier the riser, the keener you are to have another set of hands for the rest of your day. the journey to the palace overnight with their caravan of goods bound from the recent conquered territories, then, is a loss in revenue. what you do not sell at the market, you are not paid for. if it were up to azar, the eremites would be waiting for days, standing on their feet in the marbled waiting room of the ali qapu, the crimson crown jewel of the vissudha rainforests, a single, bleeding crimson gash within the heart of a land bound by the forests and the rivers and the rain.

for the desert tribes, nothing is more wasteful than ostentatious displays with water. today, the ali qapu lets down her proverbial hair, her aqueducts opening to drape an endless waterfall over her facade. the unending streams caress the mosaiced windows, the masterful frescos that change the surface of her walls and direct water into shapes the way a conductor draws together the disparate pieces of an orchestra. she, the proud mistress, celebrates the victorious return of her artesh, their banners flying the blues and whites of azar's household as they stream in through her city's gates. vissudha will be ostenatious in their celebrations tonight. bonfires will be lit, and a festival will be declared. maidens with kalpana lotuses braided into their long, dark hair will dance with young men of the victorious artesh; the night's wine will flow like the vissudha is long, the joy of a city-state conquest a song for its people. but the desert tribes, who led the vanguard and had done the dirty work of prying open the city gates of vissudha's enemies will not be allowed to partake. they will watch, the way they watch now, as wasteful water streams down the side of ali qapu's great gates, as it splashes along the carved grooves and channels that lead the water back to its source - they will watch, and they will wait, and they will resent.

alhaitham does not have them wait long. he allows them into the audience chamber in mid-morning with their tribute. matters of the treasury are not within his purview; azar had ensured that with a smile when he was seven, and the world still reeled of loss and blood, and its coffers will fill itself without alhaitham's involvement. this, however, is a personal tribute, a sweetener in alhaitham's morning coffee to distract the way you would distract a riboshland tiger from its prey with a carved rabbit. the seven attendants lining the walls of the audience chamber are his in the sense that avidya vultures belong to avidya forest. he pays the shrewd, sharp lancelet of their gazes no mind as he bids in the desert tribes with a wave of a silver hand. azar's presence seeps in through the cracks of the floor. the walls have eyes, and ears. but this, too, is none of alhaitham's concern. not yet.

the eremites prostrate themselves, as they do, one knee to the ground, a palm, the long, low dip of their foreheads. and then - the slaves. one by one, they bend their knees the way alhaitham had once seen willows do along the long, gentle lines of liyuen rivers, their jeweled hair glinting in the sunlight, refracted in through cleverly placed windows and silvered mirrors. the musical fall of their bracelets are like that of a baroque waterfall befitting of ali qapu's name. young men and women, eleven in total, five of one sex and six of the other, and cleaned and decorated like divine jewels. alhaitham's gaze skims over each the way you would a page of figures, and lands on one.

the flaxen gold of his hair contrasts with the red of the rubies woven in with deft fingers. the red of his eyes are like blood drops on a newly woven sheet of cotton. as the slaves kneel, one by one, he is the only one standing, and then - kneeling, head pushed down to reveal the clatter of golden manacles looped back into a thin, golden chain. he is the eleventh, and the one that azar intended for him to see. alhaitham's gaze allows for itself to rest upon the curve of his neck, the set of his shoulders, and then, it rises to the eremites and the audience beyond.

flowery words, meaningless praise. a curt speech of gratitude that have echoed within these halls since its conception. sumeru is a land of strife. alhaitham sits in his chair, and observes as the room kneels. but he is not finished. azar had intended a show. he raises a silvered hand, the rings on his fingers like refracted sunlight, and points. the air in the room stills. every soul bates their breath.
]

Bring that one to me.

[ today, he meets the eleventh man. ]

Date: 2023-04-04 02:06 am (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16354456)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ there are those who know of kaveh. it's not difficult to. the palace of alcazarzaray sits in the heartlands of lokapala nation-state. an avidyan poet of some renown once wrote of it with gentle affection: how pleasing to see growing in profusion / lai-ka-nyo creepers living among the paddy rows / with blue khatauk its fragrance filling the air. surrounded here by such beauty / i cannot help missing my lover.

as the green slopping rooves emerge from the viridescent canopy, the first of its famous gazebos rise from the precarious clifftops leading to its summit. it was said to have been impossible to build at that location, in that style, with rooves that steep, for that cost, in that timeframe, and within that kingdom. it hadn't only been the liyuen stonemasons, who had affection for the palace they lent their expertise to in the heartlands of a people so welcoming that they all but flung open their doors to share their homes and hearth. it hadn't only been the natlan glassblowers, bringing with them the tools of their trade forged under a volcanic mountain, who would later return to natlan with songs about the jeweled mosaics of alcazarzaray's frescos, which came to life under the touch of the morning sun. the name alcazarzaray was, in fact, synonymous with master architect kaveh, who boomed from the waterfields of lokapala's jungles and whom his people crowned not from blood, but out of love.

it was said that the ali qapu held not a candle to her green sister rising from the rolling lokapala rice-fields, swathed in the purple of the goddess's favoured flower. they ought to have scorned them, the brothers and sisters of lokapala. they already did. a lokapala maiden raises her head, terror overcome from worry for her prince. it's such a reflexive gesture that alhaitham, who had been watching, knows that she will pay dearly for it. but prince kaveh of the lokapalas, the gol-e sorkh of the eastern rise, he whom the planets move for in their sorrowful cry - he is kneeling, and he is not pleased.

if looks could kill, alhaitham suspects he would have been dead had the moment kaveh entered this room. the light of the sun filters through the glassblown mosaics, refracted through ali qapu's unending waterfalls. it adds green and red to flaxen gold, the shimmer of which bleeds. kaveh is gold, and the red of blood. alhaitham only has to look at the bruise of his lips, prominent even beneath the lip-paint that someone had gently applied to cover so, and see plainly what he is meant to see.

so, of course, he smiles. he lifts a ringed finger. at once, the room tenses up, anticipatory - waiting.
]

You may let Azar, the grand sage, he who safeguards beneath the wings of the great eagle, know that I accept what he wishes me to receive. [ alhaitham says, each word deliberate in its choice. ] Have them brought to the baths, and then to the slave quarters to be prepared.

[ and as for the eleventh man. alhaitham's gaze falls upon him, and never quite lifts. ]

As for him - bring him to me.

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i love ur fanfics, chinhands

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good. now sleep!!!! doctor tomorrow!!!

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looks... at...

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good!!! as you should!!!

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Date: 2023-04-14 04:42 am (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16347983)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ this time, the dream begins as thus: the ravishing blue sky above a sea of tender purple. he knows the colours well. once, his civilisation had dreamt it themselves. the blue of the sky was the water of an endless oasis, brimming to completion; you only had to reach for it to taste its waters upon the tip of your tongue, to soothe the parch of your throat in its bountiful embrace. the purple of the flowers was a land fertile with promise, the petals of which part for laughing feet as vegetables and grasses took root to feed the soul of those who lived and died upon it. you could dance upon the sand; the fleeting rhythm of your footsteps shift in the wind, and come daybreak, they, too, will be gone like dust. but rock and stone were forever. you could build the bones of a civilisation like that. you could enshrine love. hadn't his civilisation done so in honour of that rare purple? hadn't he done so for the taste of something eternal? he looks to the clear, ravishing blue of the sky, and thinks -

he is not deshret.

he is alhaitham.

and alhaitham is dreaming.

he knows this is true because in the field of flowers stands kaveh the way like he has not seen of kaveh in days. the purple flowers spring to life, nipping playfully along his heels. their petals shower in joyful celebration of a reunion that had never, will never be, meant to be. flowers do not dream. they only know of dreams. and theirs is in an oasis of eternal sleep, still-dreaming, still-eternal, waiting for the day that time will allow its course once more. that is not, however, today. kaveh is here instead, surrounded by flowers, and light, and the gentle playful lilt of an agonised breeze, and alhaitham thinks - he needs to see his hands.

instead, alhaitham wades through the flowers. they allow him to pass. gossip flits through them with the breeze. their shiver their petals and he brushes them from his cape, his hands, and, then, allowing them to become a lost cause, still the shake of his head.
]

I am surprised you are not sneezing. Does the pollen not get to you this time of the year?

Date: 2023-04-15 11:57 pm (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16354448)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ more than the fields beneath his feet: kaveh blooms. he blooms profusely. he is nourished by the perfect golden slant of the sun. he is fed by the fertile loam of the mud. he blooms as if he were on the verge of apocalypse, a single flower against the veritable coming end. all dreams eventually come to an end. this one is no different.

alhaitham observes the bloom of his smile, and begins, as always, to mourn it. he crosses the purple sea to stand before him, his feet carefully navigating the stems of whispering purple and the gentle caress of green. alhaitham leans down, and takes kaveh's hands into his own.
]

Should I? Name me a padisarah this purple, and I will tell you when it went extinct. We do not have an allergy baseline for extinct species.

[ kaveh's hands are warm. it is, in fact, another key component of this dream. it has been some time since kaveh's hands were this warm. the calluses of alhaitham's hand seeks the long line of kaveh's. his thumb runs itself down the curve of his palm, the edge of his index, the curl of his littlest one, like the pantomime of a long-held promise. ]

Your calluses have receded.

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fanfic good... touches

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✨✨✨

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thank u friend... u are a godsend ;u;

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Date: 2023-06-05 02:05 am (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16497801)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ change, by definition, needs time.

one can sift through the annals of history to behold humanity's leaps and bounds, and merely attribute it to fate. one cannot have history without change; therefore, one cannot have humanity without the inevitability of change. however, correlation has never found its equal in causation. for every era in human history that has seen tumult is an era where very little actually happened. it follows, then, that change is active. need and want bite each other in the throat and refuse to let go, and the ensuing bloodshed brings a new era kicking and screaming through the traumatic birth of creation. for every era that passes peacefully into a new form is an era where a small handful of people sought to change the world because they could not bear to leave it be. to do so has always required the cooperation of time. whether time gave enough of itself to set the battleground has always been up to its own discretion; this, alhaitham knows well.

it had been in the third iteration of the holy grail war, wherein the jungles of the avidya had burned overhead sending great plumes of smoke like the harbinger of the end of times that alhaitham, who had laid in the great magic circuits beneath the land and who had opened his eyes to think - that change is needed. it had been the fifth iteration that alhaitham remembered. today, time had taken him to the divan by the open window. the slanting sunlight is like ribboned honey this time in the afternoon. a cat could steep in dreams curled up beneath its lazy light. a cat does.

the little orange tabby that kaveh had fished into the household the very first night alhaitham had grasped his hand and pulled him from the summoning circle sits now-curled in alhaitham's lap, its head turned and buried into the circles of its paws. in contrast, alhaitham merely reads. he reads with the precision of something tuned to do so, each page turn timed like a clockwork machine. he does not, in fact, look up. he did not need to look up.
]

Yes.

[ as answer to which question? pick one. but alhaitham knows without looking up - kaveh is gold in the atrium. he fusses as he hands alhaitham the notebook. the weight of the pages is merely the weight of time, collected and coalesced into physical form. he puts aside his own book so he can heft its weight. and then, because he is alhaitham, he merely sits back to allow the cat a bit more room to stretch, and thumbs it open. ]

And the cat food?

Date: 2023-06-06 03:47 am (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16497806)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ the cat is like the vibration of a warm little sun. it purrs, as cats down when met with ceaseless attention, and curls in on the stoic lap it has taken shelter in. the stoic lap: alhaitham's fingers draw itself over the rough-hewn pages of the journal. it is the scent of paper and memory, of dust and a time long spent. it is a life lived condensed into the form of mere ink and paper; it is a life lived that alhaitham has never, and will never experience. alhaitham handles it with the reverence of a man picking through the scripture of something holy. his seeking fingers are not meant for the ears of a cat, who stretches and turns its body so it can sun its other side.

for kaveh, the mere briefest of flickers - as if attention is a finite resource meant to be conserved:
]

Why? So I can observe for myself my Servant running from battle, dogged, like a hunted criminal?

[ and then, in the same, bland tone: ] Which Servant?

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Date: 2023-06-24 02:12 am (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16354461)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ twenty years ago on the fifth of may, alhaitham passed away. this is a metaphor reaching its inevitable conclusion, filtered through a poet's way of perceiving the world. through the looking glass, one can see the pieces align: a child barely five years of age, dead parents, a grandmother on life support and the fragments of an entire life before him shattered like fractal stars. alhaitham should have ceased to exist that day. children tend to do so when passed through the crucible of an overtaxed foster care system. but there had been a question posed that day - and alhaitham, who had looked to the choices before him scattered upon the broken flagstones of the path leading into an uncertain galaxy, had looked back, and merely said: yes.

they say chess is a primordial game that has existed since mankind have known games. if alhaitham were to describe it, he would akin it to a sea. its depths are known, but not mapped. its perils are described, but not catalogued. the colour of it on a sunlit day is the blue of a ravishing sky at dawn; the colour of it in storm is deeper than the far reaches of a hallowed galaxy. one could skim along its shores and make a good living. to wade too far into it is an ever-decreasing ratio of returns; to sink into its depth without a tether is folly. but if described in plain terms, alhaitham would akin it to this: chess is merely a means of survival. as a five year old child, he'd understood it as such. even now, the analogy stands. to win, one merely needs to be the last one standing.

tonight: alhaitham stands. the ticking of the grandfather clock reverberates beneath the rumble of the incoming storm. sumeru city has always been like this, with its roiling clouds tearing themselves apart over the peaks of jagged mountain tops, only to descend into its fertile, rainforest valleys before scattering over the expanse of an endless desert. the tailend of the monsoon season brings fresh migrants to its doors. there are those who live and die by the seasons. alhaitham's home nestles itself above the floodplains. its sloped rooves need seasonal cleaning. his gardens need biweekly trimming. his fences need yearly mending. there is always work to be done for those who look for it. and within its cloistered walls, alhaitham sends messages into the void, and waits.

the ritual is thus: a message to the service, a three-day waiting period. an appointment booked. in a fortnight, disappointment. it has been like so ever since alhaitham moved to the city proper with nothing but a slip of paper in hand and the knowledge that he owes a debt. at five years of age, he had not thought the debt could ever be repaid. but time has a way of whiling away the impossible. alhaitham works seven days a month. he finds solace in a private wall-to-wall library; he has found time to learn twenty languages. and every week, alhaitham sends a message to the service, and allows the wrong person in through his doors.

this, too, is a debt.

this week, alhaitham bends over his board and makes it his world. the doorbell chimes; a mere swipe of his phone, and the door unlocks itself. alhaitham does not bother to look up. he never does. the silence of the house steeps within the pages of the books that it keeps, muffled by the thick, dark carpet that wends its way through the sole animal trail that allows footfalls. the kettle boils. it whistles, announcing the completion of it task. and through the murk, alhaitham says:
]

Make tea.

Date: 2023-07-04 12:48 am (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16409107)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ tea is not being made. it takes alhaitham a moment in the murk to understand why. they say the best stories are ones not worth repeating, the ones that each life lived knows down to its very marrow its beat and turn. alhaitham looks at the repetition of one such story standing there in his doorway. the motion-activated lights flicker on one after another, carving a path into the chiaroscuro of alhaitham's living room. in direct opposition: the spotlight lingering upon flaxen gold, the moonlit silver in the living room before the grid of a chessboard. surprise has always been worn in glinting threads upon the tapestry of alhaitham's self-expression: the barest flicker of his gaze, the curve of his eyes widening just enough to catch the moonlight. and then - no more.

it had not been the expected disappointment. alhaitham does not know what it means. but kaveh, the orphan, stands in alhaitham's entranceway like a wayward deer, LEDs refracting off of the deep, sanguine red of his eyes the way saline lights do in the unfettered dark. he is wearing little. alhaitham is aware of the service he has called and been calling. the two are congruent, but without true meaning: what alhaitham searches for is not relief, but release. tonight, however, can only be described by a word that has yet to be invented. alhaitham does not know if it will be, or by whom.

still, the gaze lingers, before it flickers downward. three chess pieces are moved in succession before alhaitham speaks again, his voice echoed and clear across the length of the apartment:
]

I said to make tea. [ the click of piece against board. it reverberates, as it has always done so, like clipped moonlight.

then, as if in afterthought:
] Can you cook?

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Date: 2023-07-02 08:13 am (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16354432)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ the thing about vampires is that they can't help but develop a codependency. it is in their very nature as creatures who drink the blood of others - to crave sustenance from other living beings is to be denied independence. on thursday evening, with the day's rain still wending its way down the muddy alleyways of sumeru city's streets, alhaitham tips his umbrella down as he observes the vampire still-sitting there perched along the railings of the partition between library property and the diner next door. it hadn't been the first time alhaitham has seen him there. it won't be, alhaitham surmises, the last. but alhaitham's sense tell him a far more complete tale. what he knows without a shadow of a doubt: the scent of blood has never lingered.

it is a paradox, an oxymoron seen fit to wend its way through a city that has always, at minimum, attempted to make some kind of sense.

tonight, alhaitham's umbrella tips as it blocks the incoming fat droplets of rain shedding from the dark, towering clouds sailing forth like ships in the night. the set of his gaze peers down on the drenched, golden flax of the vampire's hair.

without premable:
]

Here.

[ a towel, from a nearby convenience store that alhaitham ducked into after leaving the library. he tosses it to the vampire with a lazy flick of his wrist. ] Are you coherent?

anything for friendo... ✨

Date: 2023-07-04 12:37 am (UTC)
haravatits: (pic#16354432)
From: [personal profile] haravatits
[ what alhaitham had seen in kaveh: the blond of his hair, and the sanguine of his eyes. the long line of his jaw upon which rainwater wends in a rivulet down beneath the soaked ends of his collar. the flyaway hairs that cling to the pale of his temple speaking to the sordid, post-monsoon weather. the way the long length of his fingers curl around the towel as if it has not held one in some time. alhaitham thinks - what he sees is a ghost. there had been a picture of a young woman, once. that picture is still there pressed between the pages of a book that only alhaitham knows the location of, bound in silk the colour of dyed blood. by the interference of casual genetics, the dead wont to come back to life. only in this universe is that not a miracle of happenstance.

instead, the green red of his eyes shift so that the harrowing red burn of his iris focus first on the unsteady lilt of kaveh's hands, and then down to the soaked tail of his clothing.
]

The towel has already become soaked from the moisture on your hands. [ is what alhaitham says. ] I no longer want it back. Therefore, do with it as you like.

[ and then, in that selfsame tone: ] Answer this for me: a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river. What does he have left?

my repayment for tags is your tags??? hello?????

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Seasons may change, winter to spring,
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