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[ as the rise of the fierce sun in the morning sky is a story always told, so is the way kaveh's temper reaches its threshold: ]
Did you hear none of what I just said? I was being considerate! I was trying to reach a compromise, even! This has nothing to do with negotiating!
[ yet, still, in the same heartbeat, the same breath, the same burning flame: ] And in case you're curious, I was a perfectly fine negotiator!
[ it feels utterly foolish now, that kaveh allowed himself to see a hopeful future for the both of them. but no. absolutely not. not after he had put his heart out on display, behaved like a proper servant, even. so much for a proper, meaningful bond between a master and his servant. so much for trust.
kaveh crosses his arms, and looks away. ]
Good luck figuring out how to reconstruct that memory yourself.
[ speckles of golden light take kaveh's visage away, and in the blink of an eye, he is gone.
except, of course, he is still there — as though he could so easily turn his back to someone who needs him. ]
Did you hear none of what I just said? I was being considerate! I was trying to reach a compromise, even! This has nothing to do with negotiating!
[ yet, still, in the same heartbeat, the same breath, the same burning flame: ] And in case you're curious, I was a perfectly fine negotiator!
[ it feels utterly foolish now, that kaveh allowed himself to see a hopeful future for the both of them. but no. absolutely not. not after he had put his heart out on display, behaved like a proper servant, even. so much for a proper, meaningful bond between a master and his servant. so much for trust.
kaveh crosses his arms, and looks away. ]
Good luck figuring out how to reconstruct that memory yourself.
[ speckles of golden light take kaveh's visage away, and in the blink of an eye, he is gone.
except, of course, he is still there — as though he could so easily turn his back to someone who needs him. ]
[ that's the thing, alhaitham thinks. there is no entity in this world who can cast a moral judgment on the feelings of mankind. not god, nor devil, nor archon, nor abyss-sent, not celestia herself - not a single entity in this world who has the right to judge if alhaitham and kaveh are right or wrong. the only ones that alhaitham has ever allowed such judgment is from themselves. alhaitham, who is to judge himself by the actions he has chosen to take; kaveh, who is to judge himself by the choices he has not. but that is alhaitham and kaveh, that is their own, and theirs. greater lord rukkhadevata and lesser lord kusanali both could stand between the scales. it had always been there own.
is it bad, kaveh asks. and alhaitham thinks - it is bad, that alhaitham does not know. for it does not please alhaitham to be needed by kaveh. not really. because it does not please alhaitham to be needed by anyone. because kaveh needs alhaitham, but kaveh does not want alhaitham. because kaveh cannot allow himself to want, not as kaveh is the way he is now, curled along the riverbank with a smile like the waning sun.
alhaitham looks. of course he does. ]
You will think as you will, just as I will think as I will. [ alhaitham's hand reaches for kaveh. gently, he pushes back the unruly fringe of his hair. he pulls a spare clip from his pocket so that he can pin it back.
instead, what he says is the truth, and no more: ] You matter to me.
[ alhaitham shakes his head. ] What also matters to me is that you will attempt to draw the lotus of today once more tonight. Will you not like to see if your attempt is worse or better than mine?
is it bad, kaveh asks. and alhaitham thinks - it is bad, that alhaitham does not know. for it does not please alhaitham to be needed by kaveh. not really. because it does not please alhaitham to be needed by anyone. because kaveh needs alhaitham, but kaveh does not want alhaitham. because kaveh cannot allow himself to want, not as kaveh is the way he is now, curled along the riverbank with a smile like the waning sun.
alhaitham looks. of course he does. ]
You will think as you will, just as I will think as I will. [ alhaitham's hand reaches for kaveh. gently, he pushes back the unruly fringe of his hair. he pulls a spare clip from his pocket so that he can pin it back.
instead, what he says is the truth, and no more: ] You matter to me.
[ alhaitham shakes his head. ] What also matters to me is that you will attempt to draw the lotus of today once more tonight. Will you not like to see if your attempt is worse or better than mine?
[ kaveh stops. the hush goes with him. into the silent din comes three questions - two said, one unsaid. two regarding the clarification of task and presence. one in a way of a wayward child: who am i, to you? what am i? alhaitham is fluent in all three. it has him look up at last into the murk to the spotlight of kaveh at the kitchen counter, peering past it with eyes the colour of a titian sunset. kaveh takes a stand. alhaitham thinks - good.
no self-respecting individual wouldn't.
in turn, alhaitham puts down his chess piece. the click of the piece reverberates throughout the enclosed space of the apartment. it bridges a gap between him and kaveh, a single sound meant both as bridge and entendre. ]
I do not have a housekeeper because I do not need one. [ alhaitham says, in the verbal form of a shrug. and then: ] Are you saying no?
no self-respecting individual wouldn't.
in turn, alhaitham puts down his chess piece. the click of the piece reverberates throughout the enclosed space of the apartment. it bridges a gap between him and kaveh, a single sound meant both as bridge and entendre. ]
I do not have a housekeeper because I do not need one. [ alhaitham says, in the verbal form of a shrug. and then: ] Are you saying no?
[ kaveh rises to his feet. the umbrella rises with him. from above, the rain. from below, the proverbial river. alhaitham holds his umbrella as if it were an extension of his arm. the steady stretch of it obscures the high, dark clouds that have gathered, and the mere sliver of moon that shows between drifting ships. the evening is murk, and wet, and the world is freshly-washed for it.
the answer transparently amuses him. it starts with the curve of his eyes. it ends there, like a truncated sentence fragment. alhaitham considers the premise, and cants his head in acquiescence. it is grace in acknowledgement, a point offered and accepted. ]
And? [ he asks, ] What can one vampire make of a river of sorrow?
the answer transparently amuses him. it starts with the curve of his eyes. it ends there, like a truncated sentence fragment. alhaitham considers the premise, and cants his head in acquiescence. it is grace in acknowledgement, a point offered and accepted. ]
And? [ he asks, ] What can one vampire make of a river of sorrow?
There you are.
[ alhaitham says to the mere shadow of light in the room. kaveh vanishes in motes of gold and spinning stardust, and alhaitham looks into the space that he had once inhabited with the gentle curve of his eyes. his hands splay over his book, before he opens the journal once more. words tumble forth like a stream. alhaitham does not need to read to understand their meaning.
there had been a tale, once, of kaveh the saviour, who had met an army from across the river. thirty days and thirty nights of negotiation could not sway the army, for they held the high bank of the river and could not be approached. kaveh the saviour, who had finally run the course of his patience, came to the mouth of the river, and built an embankment to divert its flow. in a mere half a day, the camps of the enemy were nothing but knee-deep mire and swamp. the allied forces crossed the dampened river and routed them. there were other tales too - snippets of kaveh the saviour dancing witht the goddess, kaveh the saviour with his hair beset with dazzling jewels, paragraphs upon paragraphs of his delicate beauty like that of a fallen rose - but alhaitham had liked the story of the river best.
he says, to the sullen air: ]
There you are, Kaveh, Saviour of Sumeru, Light of the Kshahrewar and he who denied the yoke. I was wondering where you have been. [ alhaitham turns the page. ] Dimming yourself doesn't suit you. Before the diplomat, you were the flame. You saved Sumeru because you did not give the opposing armies what they wanted, when they wanted. Why should do so for me?
[ then: quieter - ]
Come out, or not - it matters not to me. Do as a proper negotiator will: I summoned a Servant to be my equal, not my slave. Tell me your wish, and I will tell you mine.
[ alhaitham says to the mere shadow of light in the room. kaveh vanishes in motes of gold and spinning stardust, and alhaitham looks into the space that he had once inhabited with the gentle curve of his eyes. his hands splay over his book, before he opens the journal once more. words tumble forth like a stream. alhaitham does not need to read to understand their meaning.
there had been a tale, once, of kaveh the saviour, who had met an army from across the river. thirty days and thirty nights of negotiation could not sway the army, for they held the high bank of the river and could not be approached. kaveh the saviour, who had finally run the course of his patience, came to the mouth of the river, and built an embankment to divert its flow. in a mere half a day, the camps of the enemy were nothing but knee-deep mire and swamp. the allied forces crossed the dampened river and routed them. there were other tales too - snippets of kaveh the saviour dancing witht the goddess, kaveh the saviour with his hair beset with dazzling jewels, paragraphs upon paragraphs of his delicate beauty like that of a fallen rose - but alhaitham had liked the story of the river best.
he says, to the sullen air: ]
There you are, Kaveh, Saviour of Sumeru, Light of the Kshahrewar and he who denied the yoke. I was wondering where you have been. [ alhaitham turns the page. ] Dimming yourself doesn't suit you. Before the diplomat, you were the flame. You saved Sumeru because you did not give the opposing armies what they wanted, when they wanted. Why should do so for me?
[ then: quieter - ]
Come out, or not - it matters not to me. Do as a proper negotiator will: I summoned a Servant to be my equal, not my slave. Tell me your wish, and I will tell you mine.
[ he feels seen.
he feels seen, because alhaitham inquires, yet does not await for an answer. he feels seen, inadequate in his own skin, knowing well the self-worth he keeps so well-hidden behind layers and layers of carefully crafted lies is slowly spilling out from the crevices of his mask. he feels bare, above all.
he feels, too, young. what makes children so special is that their view of the world is untampered, until it is tainted, until it is lost in the weight of reality. they see what no one else does: a world of pure light, of bright greens, of an endless sky. kaveh, who has not been a child for a long time, sees the words not as he would once have, but as it hurts to see:
he sees a world he cannot grasp any longer.
to bring him to avidya means to bring him outside. to bring him to avidya, of all places, is cruelty beyond words. it is what taints a child of their unique sight. it is what creates the crevices in his mask. it teases freedom, and his heart suffers for it. for how is kaveh to long for it, a fingertip away, when there are others who cannot grasp at it? how is he to want, when others only dream?
there is, indeed, a divide between vissudha and alhaitham. he has since learned such. however, kaveh has learned, too, how much nations live in their children. he finds, here, alhaitham just as cruel.
kaveh will continue to be seen, with a lowered gaze, with trembling hands, with his heart exposed. the gaps in his mask are wider. ]
... Then so be it.
[ kaveh rises, at last, so his body doesn't become entirely foreign to him. so it does not behave in ways he wishes not. his steps take him to the bed, and on top of it, that forgotten, luxurious box that has gone ignored for too long. he holds it up, and it does not serve its initial purpose. instead, it is means to a distraction. it is a request for a rewind. ]
And this?
he feels seen, because alhaitham inquires, yet does not await for an answer. he feels seen, inadequate in his own skin, knowing well the self-worth he keeps so well-hidden behind layers and layers of carefully crafted lies is slowly spilling out from the crevices of his mask. he feels bare, above all.
he feels, too, young. what makes children so special is that their view of the world is untampered, until it is tainted, until it is lost in the weight of reality. they see what no one else does: a world of pure light, of bright greens, of an endless sky. kaveh, who has not been a child for a long time, sees the words not as he would once have, but as it hurts to see:
he sees a world he cannot grasp any longer.
to bring him to avidya means to bring him outside. to bring him to avidya, of all places, is cruelty beyond words. it is what taints a child of their unique sight. it is what creates the crevices in his mask. it teases freedom, and his heart suffers for it. for how is kaveh to long for it, a fingertip away, when there are others who cannot grasp at it? how is he to want, when others only dream?
there is, indeed, a divide between vissudha and alhaitham. he has since learned such. however, kaveh has learned, too, how much nations live in their children. he finds, here, alhaitham just as cruel.
kaveh will continue to be seen, with a lowered gaze, with trembling hands, with his heart exposed. the gaps in his mask are wider. ]
... Then so be it.
[ kaveh rises, at last, so his body doesn't become entirely foreign to him. so it does not behave in ways he wishes not. his steps take him to the bed, and on top of it, that forgotten, luxurious box that has gone ignored for too long. he holds it up, and it does not serve its initial purpose. instead, it is means to a distraction. it is a request for a rewind. ]
And this?
[ the tales are exaggerated, he finds.
for a heroic spirit, kaveh is still just a man. he has always, eternally, since the moment of his birth, been just a man. he was not blessed with unmatched strength. his legs were not wind-kissed. he did not wield powers that others could not wield. his own dendro vision was just that— a vision, one that had been years too late, and one he relied on more for work than anything else. he had always, eternally, since moment one: been a person like any other, and found comfort in it.
what differed him was his wits, and the way he used them. but kaveh, savior of sumeru, light of kshahrewar, renowned architect; kaveh, just kaveh, believed in others as they did him. he has never been more special than his peers. he was simply more audacious. outspoken. stubborn. selfless. he was simply, always, eternally — kaveh.
it is a name he has not heard in a long time. ]
... Don't say my name so casually. What if someone hears you?
[ no one would, he knows. none of the other masters know where they stay. no servants had been nearby. yet, what is kaveh to say to that?
he relents, eventually, because of course he does. he does not, however, face alhaitham as his body materializes again; with his back against the table, it is much easier to hide the transparency of his emotions that run ever so carefree across his face. he's easy to read, for the most part. as a servant, he is hardly so special.
he should never be spoken of so highly. kaveh is, after all, still, even now — just a man. ]
Tell me yours first. I will consider it an apology for being so uncooperative until now.
[ the truth, untranslatable, is simply that kaveh must find his composure first. ]
for a heroic spirit, kaveh is still just a man. he has always, eternally, since the moment of his birth, been just a man. he was not blessed with unmatched strength. his legs were not wind-kissed. he did not wield powers that others could not wield. his own dendro vision was just that— a vision, one that had been years too late, and one he relied on more for work than anything else. he had always, eternally, since moment one: been a person like any other, and found comfort in it.
what differed him was his wits, and the way he used them. but kaveh, savior of sumeru, light of kshahrewar, renowned architect; kaveh, just kaveh, believed in others as they did him. he has never been more special than his peers. he was simply more audacious. outspoken. stubborn. selfless. he was simply, always, eternally — kaveh.
it is a name he has not heard in a long time. ]
... Don't say my name so casually. What if someone hears you?
[ no one would, he knows. none of the other masters know where they stay. no servants had been nearby. yet, what is kaveh to say to that?
he relents, eventually, because of course he does. he does not, however, face alhaitham as his body materializes again; with his back against the table, it is much easier to hide the transparency of his emotions that run ever so carefree across his face. he's easy to read, for the most part. as a servant, he is hardly so special.
he should never be spoken of so highly. kaveh is, after all, still, even now — just a man. ]
Tell me yours first. I will consider it an apology for being so uncooperative until now.
[ the truth, untranslatable, is simply that kaveh must find his composure first. ]
[ what could one vampire make of it? what could one who has lived for so much longer than the average human know of sorrow?
kaveh smiles, in response. a weak, fragile smile, that could break upon touch. a smile that confesses such: the river, flowing with water built from tears of sadness, is one he would have filled himself. a river that would have been named after him.
the answer he offers, instead, is: ] The same as any other person. Do you think vampires fe— Ah.
[ about time, of course. without much explanation, the towel meets his head, and though it provides very little shelter, kaveh still takes a wide, broad step back, out the umbrella, into the rain. it is, still not cold.
that pungent smell has caught up to him. it is always naive of kaveh to think that it would not. it is always foolish to reject who he is, he knows. one's nature shouldn't be looked down upon, and yet. and yet. ]
Sorry, um. I haven't... you know.
[ eaten, that is. in quite a while now. ]
kaveh smiles, in response. a weak, fragile smile, that could break upon touch. a smile that confesses such: the river, flowing with water built from tears of sadness, is one he would have filled himself. a river that would have been named after him.
the answer he offers, instead, is: ] The same as any other person. Do you think vampires fe— Ah.
[ about time, of course. without much explanation, the towel meets his head, and though it provides very little shelter, kaveh still takes a wide, broad step back, out the umbrella, into the rain. it is, still not cold.
that pungent smell has caught up to him. it is always naive of kaveh to think that it would not. it is always foolish to reject who he is, he knows. one's nature shouldn't be looked down upon, and yet. and yet. ]
Sorry, um. I haven't... you know.
[ eaten, that is. in quite a while now. ]
[ what a naive misconception.
kaveh takes a stand, not because he has an ounce of self-respect. it is exactly because he does not that he voices his concerns. it is because he would much rather be used the way he is meant to be that he speaks up. the normalcy is sickening. this is not a life he is meant to be part of.
still. still. the words make him recoil. it shows on his body, the way kaveh nearly cowers, the way he takes a step back, the way he lowers his head. what an embarrassing situation to be in. that a client could bring such a reaction out of him is repugnant. it eats at him, and kaveh feels himself bleed. saying no means defiance, and a want for autonomy. kaveh neither wants, nor has known independence in twenty years.
he looks away, and accepts defeat. ]
... What do you want to eat?
kaveh takes a stand, not because he has an ounce of self-respect. it is exactly because he does not that he voices his concerns. it is because he would much rather be used the way he is meant to be that he speaks up. the normalcy is sickening. this is not a life he is meant to be part of.
still. still. the words make him recoil. it shows on his body, the way kaveh nearly cowers, the way he takes a step back, the way he lowers his head. what an embarrassing situation to be in. that a client could bring such a reaction out of him is repugnant. it eats at him, and kaveh feels himself bleed. saying no means defiance, and a want for autonomy. kaveh neither wants, nor has known independence in twenty years.
he looks away, and accepts defeat. ]
... What do you want to eat?
[ kaveh's gaze lowers. alhaitham puts the fork aside. the discussion has reached its logical conclusion. the answer is the stark daylight shearing through the vissudhan canopy at daybreak: how can someone choose you, when you yourself do not choose yourself? but that premise is flawed. the choices of others cannot be contingent merely on the choices one makes for themselves. alhaitham looks to the flagstones of choice he has laid down in the past. the cost of each flagstone was exactly what alhaitham could allow. he looks to the choices he will make in the coming days, and tabulates cost. alhaitham has only ever chosen himself for himself. it is the only responsibility he can allow himself ot bear. this, he does not expand upon, for alhaitham can see the very moment kaveh realises the paradox.
a cage is still a cage, even if a gilded one.
the lowering of his gaze, the trembling of his hands. alhaitham, who does not hold the key, thinks - he has never promised to be fair, nor has he ever promised not to be cruel. he has not made any promises at all. this, alhaitham knows. but alhaitham's gaze lingers. the cost, this time, will not only be borne by himself. there was a saying like this from the depths of fontaine's seas: hope makes hollow the heart. ]
A solution. [ he says, bloodless as stone. alhaitham takes a hand-towel to clean himself off. ] However, it doesn't seem needed.
[ alhaitham shrugs. ] Leave it by the door if you find it offensive.
a cage is still a cage, even if a gilded one.
the lowering of his gaze, the trembling of his hands. alhaitham, who does not hold the key, thinks - he has never promised to be fair, nor has he ever promised not to be cruel. he has not made any promises at all. this, alhaitham knows. but alhaitham's gaze lingers. the cost, this time, will not only be borne by himself. there was a saying like this from the depths of fontaine's seas: hope makes hollow the heart. ]
A solution. [ he says, bloodless as stone. alhaitham takes a hand-towel to clean himself off. ] However, it doesn't seem needed.
[ alhaitham shrugs. ] Leave it by the door if you find it offensive.
Mine is that I do not have one.
[ alhaitham says this with the clarity of a man in an age long-past, standing in the forum of his peers, diction the simplicity of a struck bell. it is merely the truth. the absence of a wish is a wish unto itself. alhaitham knows, that what he is declaring is thus: that he is alhaitham, and that no wish can hold him.
he continues, in that self-same tone: ] To wish is to declare that your desire are outside the realm of your ability to obtain it. To that end, given that the Grail is a tool that actualises desire, no desire cast into the Grail can be considered a wish - it is akin to putting meat through a meat grinder, or water through a pump. If your desire is one outside your own capability to obtain, then either you must find the appropriate tool to actualise it, or you change your desire to one that can be obtained by your own abilities.
[ this alhaitham says, to the servant who has again materialised with his back to the table. kaveh is gold in the slant of the noon light. he does not look at alhaitham. he does not need to. alhaitham looks, and sees in the line of his back and the set of his shoulders a man who gazes into the mire of his own personal abyss.
alhaitham turns another page in his book. he concludes, quiet, dispassionate, like the sliding of page against vellum: ]
But if we speak of desires, I have many. The one that you are able to help me with is my desire for a reconstruction of a lost memory. In that sense, you are my Grail. This should be simple enough to understand.
[ alhaitham says this with the clarity of a man in an age long-past, standing in the forum of his peers, diction the simplicity of a struck bell. it is merely the truth. the absence of a wish is a wish unto itself. alhaitham knows, that what he is declaring is thus: that he is alhaitham, and that no wish can hold him.
he continues, in that self-same tone: ] To wish is to declare that your desire are outside the realm of your ability to obtain it. To that end, given that the Grail is a tool that actualises desire, no desire cast into the Grail can be considered a wish - it is akin to putting meat through a meat grinder, or water through a pump. If your desire is one outside your own capability to obtain, then either you must find the appropriate tool to actualise it, or you change your desire to one that can be obtained by your own abilities.
[ this alhaitham says, to the servant who has again materialised with his back to the table. kaveh is gold in the slant of the noon light. he does not look at alhaitham. he does not need to. alhaitham looks, and sees in the line of his back and the set of his shoulders a man who gazes into the mire of his own personal abyss.
alhaitham turns another page in his book. he concludes, quiet, dispassionate, like the sliding of page against vellum: ]
But if we speak of desires, I have many. The one that you are able to help me with is my desire for a reconstruction of a lost memory. In that sense, you are my Grail. This should be simple enough to understand.
[ alhaitham looks. rain falls. the fragility of kaveh's smile belies the steel in his backwards step, the one that takes him back out into the rain and the murk it brings. immediately, the droplets cling to the flaxen glint of his hair. he resembles, alhaitham thinks, a waterlogged bird, some golden species that take to branches but perhaps are a little too large for the protection of a tree's canopy. a little outsized, a little exceptional, perhaps with just a little too much pride to seek the eaves of a mere roof. it is behaviour that alhaitham cannot rationalise, but perhaps that is a condition of life: that all troubles begin with one's perspective on the world, and the trouble that you invite into your life by acting upon it.
alhaitham merely stands there as kaveh moves away. bloodless, without censure: ]
What made you choose, then, to sit outside a public institution well-known for its persistent foot traffic?
[ alhaitham says the word. vampirism has already been established; there does not seem any need to shy away from it.
he continues: ] If you were concerned about your lack of self-control, you should have stayed indoors. Or are you without home?
alhaitham merely stands there as kaveh moves away. bloodless, without censure: ]
What made you choose, then, to sit outside a public institution well-known for its persistent foot traffic?
[ alhaitham says the word. vampirism has already been established; there does not seem any need to shy away from it.
he continues: ] If you were concerned about your lack of self-control, you should have stayed indoors. Or are you without home?
[ and the folding of a house of cards. it begins like this: the backwards step that reverberates along the hardwood floors of alhaitham's apartment. in chess, the pieces cannot go backwards. it is a rule as ironclad as the game is old, more law than regulation; for all that you can discuss and prod and pry answers from era-defining plays and the psychology of players involved, there are certain things that are immutable. kaveh takes a single step back in the face of an advancing pawn, and alhaitham thinks -
that the walls of this apartment are not large enough to encompass the both of them. it would be the last time he thinks this, but the realisation comes first. there is always a first. a child saying yes to a stranger with a lifeline had his first. every other assent that comes after, then, are merely stones that follow the first, each laid down through relentless hands. kaveh looks away, and alhaitham looks - first at the line of his neck in the hallway light, and then, once again, back down to his board. ]
Order two portions from wherever that seems will deliver the soonest. [ in the shadows of the living room, alhaitham pulls out his credit card. he places it on the other side of the chessboard.
the sound is a soft rasp of plastic against wood. alhaitham's head lowers. ] Use my card.
that the walls of this apartment are not large enough to encompass the both of them. it would be the last time he thinks this, but the realisation comes first. there is always a first. a child saying yes to a stranger with a lifeline had his first. every other assent that comes after, then, are merely stones that follow the first, each laid down through relentless hands. kaveh looks away, and alhaitham looks - first at the line of his neck in the hallway light, and then, once again, back down to his board. ]
Order two portions from wherever that seems will deliver the soonest. [ in the shadows of the living room, alhaitham pulls out his credit card. he places it on the other side of the chessboard.
the sound is a soft rasp of plastic against wood. alhaitham's head lowers. ] Use my card.
come out of the circle of time; / happy birthday kaveh!!!
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haravatits
2023-07-09 08:55 am (UTC)(link)
[ good, kaveh thinks. there is, at least, an unspoken mercy at his behavior not being brought to light, or questioned, or acknowledged. there would have been clients before that would use it against him. exposing his weaknesses to them would be a death-sentence. here, there is no gratitude to be felt. instead, it comes in bouts of relief, and kaveh finds composure again. it has been a while since he has been this afraid. trauma, after all, doesn't go as easily. it settles its roots deep inside his skin, and feed off his existence.
it's always easier to relent and give in. that, kaveh has learned many, many years ago. life is kinder when one does not say no. he has scars, unseen, to back-up that belief. he takes one, then two, then three steps forward, and relents. what kaveh considers: the tea, the price, how long it would take to be prepared, and then, how long to be delivered.
the café nearby that sells pita pockets is his choice, and he places the order with the voice of a man who does not have the job that he does, that has not lived the life that he has, who is not nearly as broken as he is. to wear a well-polished mask is a necessity if he is to survive in this field of work. this much, kaveh has learned long ago. ]
They'll be here in fifteen minutes, [ is what he says, eventually, as he composes himself enough to approach the table again. he takes a look at the card, but does not take it yet. ] Anything else?
it's always easier to relent and give in. that, kaveh has learned many, many years ago. life is kinder when one does not say no. he has scars, unseen, to back-up that belief. he takes one, then two, then three steps forward, and relents. what kaveh considers: the tea, the price, how long it would take to be prepared, and then, how long to be delivered.
the café nearby that sells pita pockets is his choice, and he places the order with the voice of a man who does not have the job that he does, that has not lived the life that he has, who is not nearly as broken as he is. to wear a well-polished mask is a necessity if he is to survive in this field of work. this much, kaveh has learned long ago. ]
They'll be here in fifteen minutes, [ is what he says, eventually, as he composes himself enough to approach the table again. he takes a look at the card, but does not take it yet. ] Anything else?
[ the accusations come in spades, and they're as sharp as the edge of a blade. he is the one with sharp fangs, but kaveh finds, here, that alhaitham's words bite until he bleeds. it is the irony of his existence, a man of a species that thrive on feeding on others, but a man who rejects it so.
it comes as it would, in any other world, to any other kaveh: a frown, a pout, a huff. ever so transparent, a book always so easy to read for those who understand his language. it says: ] The rain makes it more bearable. Besides, this is a city. If I lacked so much self-control, I would situate myself in a forest.
[ then, a sigh, and a shake of his head. ] I would rather just not torture myself further by being that close. Why would I put myself through more unnecessary hassle? You should feel grateful that I'm being this considerate, if anything!
[ keywords are spoken, but never addressed. they hang in the air, together with an accusation that holds true: that he is, indeed, without a home. that needs not be known, though the hints are obvious. after all, for what reason would kaveh be out in the rain, if not for his lack of a roof? ]
it comes as it would, in any other world, to any other kaveh: a frown, a pout, a huff. ever so transparent, a book always so easy to read for those who understand his language. it says: ] The rain makes it more bearable. Besides, this is a city. If I lacked so much self-control, I would situate myself in a forest.
[ then, a sigh, and a shake of his head. ] I would rather just not torture myself further by being that close. Why would I put myself through more unnecessary hassle? You should feel grateful that I'm being this considerate, if anything!
[ keywords are spoken, but never addressed. they hang in the air, together with an accusation that holds true: that he is, indeed, without a home. that needs not be known, though the hints are obvious. after all, for what reason would kaveh be out in the rain, if not for his lack of a roof? ]
[ this, kaveh recognizes as a different answer. alhaitham speaks, and what he hears is simply an answer without one. alhaitham is, after all, hardly all-knowing, for what reason is there to live once one obtains all the knowledge in the world? not even their archons, embodiments of wisdom, are. alhaitham speaks, and relents, and kaveh smiles for it. he may not feel the texture of calloused fingers that brush so lightly against his skin, but at least the shape he recognizes. kaveh clings to it, and finds it soothing. ]
It will be worse, [ he begins, then, smile still on his face. a kaveh of the past would've flaunted his confidence, for which man who has dedicated his life to drawing would do worse than another who has just recently picked a pencil?
that, here, is not the case, for kaveh continues: ] My body is tired and I won't be able to draw straight lines. It will be worse, and you will use that as ammunition to have me try again tomorrow. You never ask when I'm well-rested.
[ it's about the routine, he knows. the consistency and the ambition to keep on trying, and keep on living, for what else motivates someone if not a hope to cling onto and a dream to chase? kaveh is, and has long been, a withering flower. to be fed sunlight and watered consistently only delay the inevitable, but at the very least, it makes him feel alive. that, he finds, is enough. ]
You know the routine is comforting. That's how you keep me grounded. I've had enough change in my life, after all.
It will be worse, [ he begins, then, smile still on his face. a kaveh of the past would've flaunted his confidence, for which man who has dedicated his life to drawing would do worse than another who has just recently picked a pencil?
that, here, is not the case, for kaveh continues: ] My body is tired and I won't be able to draw straight lines. It will be worse, and you will use that as ammunition to have me try again tomorrow. You never ask when I'm well-rested.
[ it's about the routine, he knows. the consistency and the ambition to keep on trying, and keep on living, for what else motivates someone if not a hope to cling onto and a dream to chase? kaveh is, and has long been, a withering flower. to be fed sunlight and watered consistently only delay the inevitable, but at the very least, it makes him feel alive. that, he finds, is enough. ]
You know the routine is comforting. That's how you keep me grounded. I've had enough change in my life, after all.
[ none of the words said come as a surprise. it's an explanation, kaveh finds, for the lack of will to chase victory. it is a complement to words said beforehand, to actions taken, to an uncooperative behavior. it is, kaveh thinks, an excuse, one he accepts wholeheartedly.
still, in the fashion of a man who has lived bleeding for others, who has always put the world before himself and died for it: the lack of a wish, he finds, is a melancholic little thing. the words his master speak are enchanting in their own way, and for the average person, it is motivation taken-form. it is a solidified ambition, and translated into the common language, is: you can chase your dream, and grasp at it with your own strength. that, kaveh agrees with.
what differs the average, reachable dream and his own is the sheer magnitude of it. kaveh dreams of the impossible. kaveh dreams with something much bigger than the world, because kaveh, savior of sumeru, light of kshahrewar — that kaveh is much bigger than the average sumeran resident. it makes sense. it makes, too, an uncomfortable feeling boil in his heart. he lets it go, and looks over his shoulder.
alhaitham is as big an entity as he is. for the first time, he finds their partnership to be a reasonable one.
a breath, a sigh, and a glance at the blue, endless sky outside later, kaveh says: ] My wish is to live again.
... It might be selfish of me, and I'm sure there are those who would think me ungrateful, but really, I'm not. I'm thankful for what I had, and what I accomplished. I'm not ashamed of anything I did when I was alive. But, [ because there is always, always a but in all that kaveh says: ] I don't want to be Sumeru's Savior, or the Light of Kshahrewar. I was never as particularly outstanding or special as the people made me out to be. I was just a person like everyone else. I just had bigger ambitions. Anyone else could have been in my place.
[ not to say his accomplishments were not something he was proud of, because they were. kaveh has always known he was outstanding as a student, knows well that his fame as sumeru's most talented architect was never for granted. that, he could agree with. but titles have always weighted and meant more than they ever should. he has never enjoyed being called a genius, or said to be a prodigy or born with talent. he was not archon-blessed, or a gift from celestia. he was, and has always been: just a man. ]
So I want to live again, as Kaveh, a normal person with a penchant for architecture. I don't want to be held on a pedestal anymore. I should never been put on one, to begin with.
still, in the fashion of a man who has lived bleeding for others, who has always put the world before himself and died for it: the lack of a wish, he finds, is a melancholic little thing. the words his master speak are enchanting in their own way, and for the average person, it is motivation taken-form. it is a solidified ambition, and translated into the common language, is: you can chase your dream, and grasp at it with your own strength. that, kaveh agrees with.
what differs the average, reachable dream and his own is the sheer magnitude of it. kaveh dreams of the impossible. kaveh dreams with something much bigger than the world, because kaveh, savior of sumeru, light of kshahrewar — that kaveh is much bigger than the average sumeran resident. it makes sense. it makes, too, an uncomfortable feeling boil in his heart. he lets it go, and looks over his shoulder.
alhaitham is as big an entity as he is. for the first time, he finds their partnership to be a reasonable one.
a breath, a sigh, and a glance at the blue, endless sky outside later, kaveh says: ] My wish is to live again.
... It might be selfish of me, and I'm sure there are those who would think me ungrateful, but really, I'm not. I'm thankful for what I had, and what I accomplished. I'm not ashamed of anything I did when I was alive. But, [ because there is always, always a but in all that kaveh says: ] I don't want to be Sumeru's Savior, or the Light of Kshahrewar. I was never as particularly outstanding or special as the people made me out to be. I was just a person like everyone else. I just had bigger ambitions. Anyone else could have been in my place.
[ not to say his accomplishments were not something he was proud of, because they were. kaveh has always known he was outstanding as a student, knows well that his fame as sumeru's most talented architect was never for granted. that, he could agree with. but titles have always weighted and meant more than they ever should. he has never enjoyed being called a genius, or said to be a prodigy or born with talent. he was not archon-blessed, or a gift from celestia. he was, and has always been: just a man. ]
So I want to live again, as Kaveh, a normal person with a penchant for architecture. I don't want to be held on a pedestal anymore. I should never been put on one, to begin with.
[ a thought runs across his mind, and kaveh, fatigued and defeated as he is, finds humiliation in it. a thought runs across his mind: that there is gratitude to be had at the fact the conversation dies there, and alhaitham does not continue it. whether kaveh is truly seen, transparent, easy to read; none of it matters. between four walls and a relationship he has had no say in, masks are bound to fall, and feelings will slip out from each and every crack so well-maintained. alhaitham is, after all, wise. that much kaveh is aware. alhaitham knows, kaveh knows that he does, and no words need to be said.
it reaches for his heart, but the fact it is not voiced is what keeps the feeling from crushing him. he should not be grateful for it. and so, he lets go. ]
... Heat aids? [ is what kaveh eventually says, instead, as the box is opened. vissudha does not rely on suppressants, after all. it makes sense. the surprise is there not for their methods, but for its presence in the room.
he should not be grateful for it. he should not ever recall elham's words. he should not think of the sketchpad, the earrings, his parents' rings. kaveh would be foolish to mask whatever this is with kindness and sympathy.
yet the more it happens, he just finds himself to be so very weak.
he closes the box, and does not think about it. ] I will keep it. [ a pause, and kaveh looks away. ] Induced heats can be unpredictable. Besides, it could happen again.
[ it won't. alhaitham would make sure. yet, still, it's easier on him to assume otherwise. ] And if Tighnari can't make the suppressants, these will be needed.
it reaches for his heart, but the fact it is not voiced is what keeps the feeling from crushing him. he should not be grateful for it. and so, he lets go. ]
... Heat aids? [ is what kaveh eventually says, instead, as the box is opened. vissudha does not rely on suppressants, after all. it makes sense. the surprise is there not for their methods, but for its presence in the room.
he should not be grateful for it. he should not ever recall elham's words. he should not think of the sketchpad, the earrings, his parents' rings. kaveh would be foolish to mask whatever this is with kindness and sympathy.
yet the more it happens, he just finds himself to be so very weak.
he closes the box, and does not think about it. ] I will keep it. [ a pause, and kaveh looks away. ] Induced heats can be unpredictable. Besides, it could happen again.
[ it won't. alhaitham would make sure. yet, still, it's easier on him to assume otherwise. ] And if Tighnari can't make the suppressants, these will be needed.
It won't.
[ alhaitham says. in a world where words cannot bend reality to its will, the very act of asserting it is more threat than promise. alhaitham says these two words with the lofty air of a prophet who has seen the ending to the long line of the universe. he says this as if asserting that the sky is blue or water is wet. he says this, because he is alhaitham, with the certainty of stone. it will not happen again. not an induced heat, not like this, and not to kaveh. words have little to do with the actions taken. but to alhaitham's world, which is shaped by words alone, alhaitham knows its weight.
alhaitham offers no explanation nor platitudes in its wake. kaveh is perched over the heat aids. alhaitham looks. the potential of tighnari of the avidya being unable to create the suppressants or being able to source what is needed to do so is a bigger hurdle that alhaitham is not inclined to make promises for. there are things outside of his control. these matters must be, though it does not please him to have them be so.
still: ]
In the interim, I will send word to your people. Think on when you would like new meeting times to be set.
[ alhaitham says. in a world where words cannot bend reality to its will, the very act of asserting it is more threat than promise. alhaitham says these two words with the lofty air of a prophet who has seen the ending to the long line of the universe. he says this as if asserting that the sky is blue or water is wet. he says this, because he is alhaitham, with the certainty of stone. it will not happen again. not an induced heat, not like this, and not to kaveh. words have little to do with the actions taken. but to alhaitham's world, which is shaped by words alone, alhaitham knows its weight.
alhaitham offers no explanation nor platitudes in its wake. kaveh is perched over the heat aids. alhaitham looks. the potential of tighnari of the avidya being unable to create the suppressants or being able to source what is needed to do so is a bigger hurdle that alhaitham is not inclined to make promises for. there are things outside of his control. these matters must be, though it does not please him to have them be so.
still: ]
In the interim, I will send word to your people. Think on when you would like new meeting times to be set.
[ my wish is to live again, kaveh of sumeru says. alhaitham listens. of course he does. in his first memories of the world, alhaitham had been but a single node in a network of nodes. the transference of magical energy does not require sentience. it only needs the existence of magic circuits, and energy willing to traverse along it. and so it goes, that alhaitham had existed as a mere component of an unending water wheel. it wasn't until the need for self-actualisation that sentience had been encouraged. but that does not mean, however, that there was never any thought. magic circuits run along the same principles as activated neurons. entire networks of them, through a complex exchange of chemicals, receivers and receiverships create the components needed for thought to actualise. in essence, it is like creating a computer through a network of vials of water. alhaitham has always had sentience. he merely didn't have any reason to care that he did.
but in the beginning, alhaitham had listened to the stories of the earth. sumeru is a country. sumeru is a state. sumeru is a collection of stories. sumeru is a land that sings beneath its awning soil. sumeru is a land that remembers its heroes. and there are no heroes that sumeru loves more so and more dearly than kaveh of sumeru.
he wishes to live again. a hush falls. sunlight falls. motes of dust glint in the unnatural stillness of alhaitham's cloistered workshop. even a reality marble would not have been as complete.
then: ]
Why would it be selfish of you? [ is what alhaitham says in the wake of it. in the wake of a wish as light as a feather, the kind of wish carried by mondstadtian dandelions floating on the wings of migratory birds. it's the kind of wish that a child would make; it is the kind of wish that a king would make; it is the kind of wish that a world would make. alhaitham says: ] From whose perspective is the judgment cast, and why would they be allowed to make such a judgment? Your wish is your own. From the very beginning, the very existence of life is predicated on their desire to live. To say that you are selfish in wanting this is to say that all life is selfish. As I, too, am living, I can assert that I reject that premise. I am not selfish, therefore you cannot be.
[ alhaitham looks. the lift of his gaze from his book is steady. kaveh seems golden for it. ]
Now we are met, Kaveh of Sumeru.
[ the declaration is thus: that this is their first meeting, the meeting of minds. alhaitham of the homunculi has met kaveh of sumeru, and known him. ]
but in the beginning, alhaitham had listened to the stories of the earth. sumeru is a country. sumeru is a state. sumeru is a collection of stories. sumeru is a land that sings beneath its awning soil. sumeru is a land that remembers its heroes. and there are no heroes that sumeru loves more so and more dearly than kaveh of sumeru.
he wishes to live again. a hush falls. sunlight falls. motes of dust glint in the unnatural stillness of alhaitham's cloistered workshop. even a reality marble would not have been as complete.
then: ]
Why would it be selfish of you? [ is what alhaitham says in the wake of it. in the wake of a wish as light as a feather, the kind of wish carried by mondstadtian dandelions floating on the wings of migratory birds. it's the kind of wish that a child would make; it is the kind of wish that a king would make; it is the kind of wish that a world would make. alhaitham says: ] From whose perspective is the judgment cast, and why would they be allowed to make such a judgment? Your wish is your own. From the very beginning, the very existence of life is predicated on their desire to live. To say that you are selfish in wanting this is to say that all life is selfish. As I, too, am living, I can assert that I reject that premise. I am not selfish, therefore you cannot be.
[ alhaitham looks. the lift of his gaze from his book is steady. kaveh seems golden for it. ]
Now we are met, Kaveh of Sumeru.
[ the declaration is thus: that this is their first meeting, the meeting of minds. alhaitham of the homunculi has met kaveh of sumeru, and known him. ]
[ i've had enough change in my life, after all, kaveh says. alhaitham thinks - that change becoming the only constant is a fact made through omission. it omits the lives where change only happens in little increments. it omits lives where change lilts towards an end where those who have the privilege to embrace it are rewarded with their fortune. it omits lives where change doesn't much happen at all. change being the only constant is a lie that one tells themselves so that they sleep better at night. alhaitham chose kaveh, a long time ago. if he were to be asked, he can pinpoint the exact hour, the exact minute, the exact second that decision had occurred. kaveh is change. alhaitham, too, has lived with change. but he is not a man who forgives omission, nor is he a man who forgives failure.
kaveh says this with the lightness of a man who knows the measure of his own fingers. in turn, alhaitham breathes out. the breath comes out not in the way of a sigh, but in the way of a scroll of a letter, the beginning of a paragraph, a bullet point of a chapter. his fingers fall from kaveh's face. the clip remains. it holds back the flaxen gold of his hair. it does nothing for the fatigue along the long lines of kaveh's face. it gathers, like rainwater, beneath the curve of his eyes and in the lilt of his lips.
what alhaitham does not say: that alhaitiham cannot be the world, because kaveh is not alhaitham. ]
If so, then shall I ask you to draw every day from now on? If the routine comforts you, then routine can be created. Though keep in mind: I have never asked you when you are well-rested, Kaveh, because you are never well-rested.
kaveh says this with the lightness of a man who knows the measure of his own fingers. in turn, alhaitham breathes out. the breath comes out not in the way of a sigh, but in the way of a scroll of a letter, the beginning of a paragraph, a bullet point of a chapter. his fingers fall from kaveh's face. the clip remains. it holds back the flaxen gold of his hair. it does nothing for the fatigue along the long lines of kaveh's face. it gathers, like rainwater, beneath the curve of his eyes and in the lilt of his lips.
what alhaitham does not say: that alhaitiham cannot be the world, because kaveh is not alhaitham. ]
If so, then shall I ask you to draw every day from now on? If the routine comforts you, then routine can be created. Though keep in mind: I have never asked you when you are well-rested, Kaveh, because you are never well-rested.
[ the slow rise of alhaitham's eyebrow says thus: ]
And I suppose that the library behind us would be grateful if you were more considerate, and did not loiter in front of the entrance.
[ what alhaitham omits: that this is his library, that nobody has ever complained, and that kaveh has made his choice. you are the choices that you make. this, alhaitham has known since he had been a child, and his grandmother had pressed her weathered hand in his, and asked - where is it that you would like to learn? the house had been bright, back then. it had steeped with the scent of old books, and the gentle drift of dust.
instead, what alhaitham says is this: ]
Come.
[ he begins to walk.
of course he does - this is the way that cats do it. through the rain bisected by the shape of a colourless umbrella, alhaitham takes the requisite steps that bring him to the end of the street. and then, in the way of all cats, he looks back with the expectant air of a man waiting to be followed. ]
And I suppose that the library behind us would be grateful if you were more considerate, and did not loiter in front of the entrance.
[ what alhaitham omits: that this is his library, that nobody has ever complained, and that kaveh has made his choice. you are the choices that you make. this, alhaitham has known since he had been a child, and his grandmother had pressed her weathered hand in his, and asked - where is it that you would like to learn? the house had been bright, back then. it had steeped with the scent of old books, and the gentle drift of dust.
instead, what alhaitham says is this: ]
Come.
[ he begins to walk.
of course he does - this is the way that cats do it. through the rain bisected by the shape of a colourless umbrella, alhaitham takes the requisite steps that bring him to the end of the street. and then, in the way of all cats, he looks back with the expectant air of a man waiting to be followed. ]
[ kaveh places the order. alhaitham listens to the cadence of his voice, not to the substance of it. it's deeper, but of course it is. the intervening years has filled out kaveh in ways that leave his younger self a mere figment of a shadow - the length of his hair, the shape of his face, the long line of his body and the way his fingers curve along the length of the phone. but he is still there, alhaitham thinks, that kaveh of years ago. that kaveh has never left him. it is in the steeped silence. it is in the gold of kaveh's hair and the red of his eyes. it's in the fear.
across the room, alhaitham continues to set the board. the pieces line themselves in orderly rows, the careful arrangement of which alhaitham knows in waking sleep. these are the pieces that have fought the battle most needed to be won. they now sit, prickled, in the gap between the act and the motion. the phone clicks off. kaveh speaks. and alhaitham, he lifts his head to look.
kaveh, like a polished mirror, looks back. he does not take alhaitham's card. ]
Come. [ alhaitham says. he gestures with the tip of his head. there is a seat across from him. the angle of his head says thus: sit with me. ]
across the room, alhaitham continues to set the board. the pieces line themselves in orderly rows, the careful arrangement of which alhaitham knows in waking sleep. these are the pieces that have fought the battle most needed to be won. they now sit, prickled, in the gap between the act and the motion. the phone clicks off. kaveh speaks. and alhaitham, he lifts his head to look.
kaveh, like a polished mirror, looks back. he does not take alhaitham's card. ]
Come. [ alhaitham says. he gestures with the tip of his head. there is a seat across from him. the angle of his head says thus: sit with me. ]
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