peepo | the morning sun and the night sky.

[ morning comes. the sun rises. time passes. and what kaveh will thusly wake up to is this: a fresh change of clothes on a little pedestal by his divan, fit to his size and carefully embroidered in the colours of black and green, save for the blood-red needlework along the inside of its seams. new toiletries, pale silver bangles fit for thin wrists, a silk bathrobe faint with the scent of fresh silkflowers, a comb carefully carved and inlaid with mother of pearl.

a dark, woven blanket draped over his back, curved like the tail of a long, ancient beast.

at noon, a servant comes in her swaying skirts and brings in a profusely blooming bouquet. sumeru roses flower alongside of the gentle sway of padisarahs. not true padisarahs, never true ones. not since the last ones along the hills of vissudha river faded, never to return, never to the land where it is said the goddess of flower shed her last tear. the card reads thusly: long may the eagle's eyes adjudge.

alhaitham doesn't return. not on the first day, not on the second. the third day, music fills the halls, loud enough to permeate even the deepest of rooms. zithers and sitars, the pattering footfalls of light-spun dancers. gentle laughter and the wafting smell of food. kaveh gets his. dinner rug by dinner rug, day by day, savoury curries and herb-like stews and little paper-thin layered desserts topped with dried green ajilenakh nuts. on the third day, there's a portion of a sumpterbeast turducken, layered with crocodile, and deer, and avidyan peacock, and rabbit, all wrapped up in one another in carefully designed layers. it is, in fact, a significantly proper cut of meat.

it's not until the evening of the fourth day, long after the quiet servant in her swaying dress had come and gone to leave kaveh with a sketchpad and charcoal - drafting paper woven from the toughest fibers of lotus stems; charcoal ever-burnt from the sprouts of adhigama trees - that alhaitham re-emerges from the depths of the palace. the steel of his gaze glances past kaveh as if he were decoration. it lingers upon the bouquet, still-blooming, just a little less profusely, and ignoring it, lets the door fall behind him before his shoulders shift. his cloak is discarded half-way across the floor as he steps to his bed. his face meets its covers, and he is still.

god would have at least made it to day seven, but alhaitham is no god after all. ]

[ this is, surely, an elaborate joke.

at first, he had not questioned his waking to be so quiet. kaveh did not sleep soundly, plagued by nightmares as he had been, but he slept, and was not roused. the room is empty, he figures, because alhaitham is crown prince, and he has duties and responsibilities. kaveh had been the same way once.

on the first day, his thoughts are nicer to him. it is not as excruciating to be by himself, and he doesn't hate the quiet. the clothes, he rejects them until he's uncomfortable in his own filth, and finds that greens do not suit him nearly as well as lokapala's whites do. he spends the night reminiscing over it. the bouquet goes completely ignored.

on the following days, when alhaitham doesn't return, the weight of his thoughts are heavier. he overthinks, overassumes, makes up impossible scenarios that didn't feel so impossible anymore. alhaitham is making plans to sell him again. alhaitham is having meetings to find all the lokapalans that weren't in the kingdom at the time of the raid. alhaitham is torturing the other slaves. alhaitham, alhaitham, alhaitham.

he has nightmares on the third day, and forces himself to eat that night as well.

on the fourth day, the sketchpad had been appreciated, and it's the first time he feels gratitude since his capture. it's a moment too late, but better than nothing. here, he then wonders, someone surely must be requesting such things of the slaves and servants. alhaitham isn't dead, of course not. there had not been bells rung announcing the crown prince's passing, no mourning rituals. the idea that alhaitham has been thinking of kaveh is one that upsets his stomach, and he figures eating will be hard on the fourth day, too.

except it is on the fourth day that alhaitham returns, without a word, without a glance. kaveh is decoration. that much was obvious on day zero.

here, kaveh learns to despite the quiet.

he does not move from his divan (his, now, that he had spent enough time on to rid it of alhaitham's smell, only to be replaced by his own), but he sets the sketchpad and charcoal down, as though they are his, too, and not a commodity at all. ]

Where have you been?

[ kaveh speaks. his voice rises in outrage. it's the most novel thing that alhaitham has heard in four days, so much so that he is compelled to turn his head to look at him. kaveh, in vissudha greens and blacks, putting down the sketchpad that alhaitham had asked the head servant to requisition from the engineers. he has been kept busy. he can't quite gauge how much kaveh has eaten, though given that the kitchens have not been a flurry of belts and whips, perhaps he had taken some of what alhaitham has said to heart. he still has energy to be angry. alhaitham supposes that that, if nothing else, is progress.

he is looking at him, and his eyes are terribly red. alhaitham suddenly feels terribly tired. ]

Tending to my duties. [ is what he says. speaking through half a cheek becomes tedious fairly quickly. it warps his words and strains his mouth. alhaitham flips onto his back after a beat, and breathes out. his head is still turned. ] I have those, you see. I may not be paid for it, but it is work nonetheless. [ and because kaveh expects it: ] Would you know what work is? What have you achieved these last for days, former prince of the Lokapalans?

[ the days spent in silence surrounded by his own thoughts had him almost forget that this is alhaitham, insufferable prince, and that talking to him without feeling that selfsame rage of days and days ago is nigh impossible.

kaveh's voice rises, and so does kaveh. on day four, he doesn't mind his distance, and stands by the foot of the bed. had his mind not been clouded by a red-hot anger, he'd almost have thought that looking down on alhaitham is a good look on him. ]

What could I possibly have achieved, locked in your room as I was? You've made me into decoration. You left without a word or warning. What was I to do for four days all by myself?!

[ kaveh's voice rises. kaveh stands at the foot of his bed, a golden toss of righteous fury. alhaitham looks at him with a tilt of his chin. four days alone had given him pent up energy. the lack of purpose has sunken in. alhaitham cannot sympathise, but he can, as he would, understand. he has put kaveh into this situation with deliberation. he now reaps the consequences.

alhaitham rolls his eyes. ]

Were you expecting me to stay behind and keep you company, Kaveh? Lounge about in sleepwear so that I can trade barbs with you, perhaps? I wasn't aware you had such an expectation. As an honoured guest, perhaps you can file a formal complaint. I'll receive it with grace.

[ and then, in the exact same tone: ] Your meeting with Elham is tomorrow night. You will be provided with directions. She cannot leave the slave quarters for long, but you will have an hour before she is missed. You may do with that time as you wish.

[ had he expected it? no, of course not. what does he even expect out of alhaitham, to begin with? they had told him one thing: he'd be alhaitham's bed slave. he had not, at any point, done anything of the kind. alhaitham hasn't touched him. alhaitham hasn't forced him to sleep on his bed. he hadn't even used his body to warm his bed, at best.

the lack of purpose is crushing. he doesn't hate the faux freedom, the way he's not, frankly, violated, but he hates not being able to do anything.

until alhaitham speaks, as always. it's the first time he's given a reason to do anything. ]

You weren't lying. [ he had genuinely though it'd be a lie. why would he not? ] Why? Answer me at least this one time. Why are you letting me meet up with her?

[ kaveh's tone rings of genuine surprise. alhaitham had expected as much. a part of earning trust is in increments. it will always, from an objective perspective, start from zero. surprise in this case is to be expected; kaveh hasn't believed a thing he's said since, and it's likely he will continue to disbelieve no matter what reality says. alhaitham doesn't owe him an explanation; he doesn't owe anybody anything, and hasn't in a very long time.

the bed is soft, and warm. the temptation to just close his eyes is very real. but the night is long, and he has a few things he needs to complete before then. alhaitham's gaze flips up to the ceiling in a gesture that reads that if the archons won't grant him patience, then allow them to at least grant him strength. ]

I have been providing answers to you. That you dislike them, disbelieve them or can't understand them is none of my concern. [ is what he says first. and then: ] Do you not wish to meet her?

[ unhelpful, as always. after enough times, kaveh will learn not to ask, but his innate curiosity would stop him no matter what. curiosity, and frustration, and sheer anger. he doesn't understand alhaitham, and how else would one come to understand another if they do not converse, and question, and learn from them?

would he come to understand alhaitham, one day? does he want to? ]

I do, but why? You've taken both of us as slaves. If anything, most people wouldn't let a captured prince meet with their people. You're aware I worry about her, so why are you being...

[ nice, but kaveh refuses to say it. ]

[ kaveh does not finish his sentence. alhaitham does not allow him to. ]

You worry about each and every one of your people. If I were arranging this meeting solely because of your penchant to worry, I would, by necessity, arrange meetings between you and each of your countrymen. Does that seem possible to you?

[ and what would that achieve, aside from keeping kaveh busy? as each individual is met with, the next one begs worry, and the one left behind as well. it would only compound his worries. his rage would burn into despair. as busywork goes, it is ineffective, and it achieves nothing - not on kaveh's part, not on alhaitham's part.

alhaitham shrugs. ]

Rather than guessing at my intentions or lack thereof, you should be taking time to think what you wish to say to her, and how to treat her. If there is anything you wish to pass to her, you will tell me now, so that I can arrange it in the morning.

[ the stubborn side of him says yes, it is possible alhaitham is crown prince, he has authority, and power, and he knows how to exert it. the wiser part of him knows that would be suicide. there would be people who would surely be suspicious of him. why allow a slave, former-prince, to meet with his people? what does that achieve? wouldn't it be dangerous?

the blood-red of his eyes stare at alhaitham, as though trying to uncover the secret in his words. kaveh always fails to do so. ]

Will we be alone?

[ the obvious answer would be no, but isn't alhaitham king in doing the unexpected? ]

[ alhaitham looks at him. ]

Yes.

[ his eyebrow quirks. ] Why would I go to the trouble of arranging a clandestine meeting between yourself and one of your countrymen, and have someone else there for it? If I suspected the two of you were capable of discussing anything of importance, I would not have arranged the meeting to begin with.

[ the truth of the matter is, what he needs is for the two to meet. anything that comes from it is beside the point. alhaitham knows kaveh. he knows the warmth of his empathy and the depth of his care. he would not put any of his countrymen in danger. it is, in fact, what is needed at this juncture.

this, he does not say. instead: ] Elham will keep the time. She is aware of the one hour time restriction. You will do well to remind her as well; I will not be responsible for the consequences should the two of you overstay.

[ if kaveh is any surprised at the answer, it does not show on his expression.

alone with one of his people, at the heart of the enemy kingdom. alhaitham is right in assuming there is nothing of importance they can discuss. he'd have considered, for a moment, writing her a note to keep with her, something to reassure her, anything. the idea is immediately discarded when he considers someone finding the note, and what would befall elham if such a thing came to happen.

they will talk. he will reassure him that he is fine, and he will bleed for her instead. he will make promises alhaitham would shame him for, baseless promises that hold no water. he would have argued that he wants to give her the hope to keep going, the strength to survive. that's all that matters to him.

he will run several different what ifs in his mind throughout the night. for now, however: ]

You still haven't told me why you're doing this. There's no reason for you to go out of your way to arrange this meeting.

[ it's obvious when kaveh's demeanor shifts. the fury of impotence has burned to cinders, leaving behind the bloodlet look of a predator on the hunt. kaveh's eyes narrow when he's thinking. he puts the weight of his entire, tremendous focus on the subject at hand. alhaitham imagines he must look much the same way in front of a drafting board, pen moving itself across page as an entire building is wrested from the annals of his imagination into calculated reality. this is what it means for kaveh to have purpose, no matter how little.

if alhaitham were in any mood to explain, this would be one such reason.

as for the other - the gimlet weight of alhaitham's full attention falls upon kaveh and pins him there. ]

Tell me this. Is there any answer I can provide that would dissuade you from meeting Elham tomorrow? Any answer that would sway your decision, and prevent you from doing exactly as you will however you'd like while speaking to her? Any answer that will make you think twice about meeting her to comfort and offer solace?

[ alhaitham asks questions he already knows the answer to.

kaveh's conviction isn't as strong as one would have thought it to be. he is not the ever-bright, burning son of the sun that he was in lokapala, he does not illuminate the nights with his presence alone. here, he is a dim flame, ever so close to being extinguished. at times, it burns hotter, combusts into flames. other times, it barely provides a light that even flies would come to ignore.

the wrong answer, and he would soon come to be the latter.

but kaveh is stubborn all the same. ]

What does it matter to you? Whether it influences in my decision, or it plants a seed of doubt. Why does how I feel about it matter to you so much, that you would withhold an answer from me?

[ the question lands; kaveh bites back. eels twist like dragons when caught. riboshland tigers extend their claws. kaveh is like a cornered animal without avail; he is not, however, willing to draw blood. there are other thing he could have said to do so. alhaitham is aware that he is taking advantage. it is, after all, the way of things.

so instead, he looks at kaveh. ]

Because no matter what reasoning I give, in the long run, it impacts nothing. There is nothing you can do, or say, that will stop the wheels that have already been set in motion. When you walk, do you stop to assess each ant before you? Are you owed an answer simply because you believe it yourself? I would be wasting breath.

[ the message given: you are unimportant. you are nothing. ]

Accept the premise, and attend your meeting. The logic should not be difficult to understand.

[ don't blow up. don't yell. hold it in. kaveh breathes in, breathes out.

he has never been someone to feel such unfiltered anger towards someone. there had been gossip, once, through the halls of alcazarzaray, about their radiant prince. the servants would giggle and wonder, has prince kaveh ever expressed a negative emotion in his life?

he has shown sadness, but his tears are noble, towards another each and every time. he does not get angry, does not lose sight of reason. they wonder, too, has anyone ever seen prince kaveh not smiling? he is the sun's favorite child, blessed with its fervor and brightness.

blessed with its red-hot anger too, all the same. kaveh is, after all, human like everyone else. he feels joy, he feels sadness, he feels anger. all it took was someone to unlock that side of him. ]

I should be owed an answer because this is my life you saw fit to play with. Is it fun to you?

[ kaveh breathes in, and kaveh breathes out. once again, the question comes. stubborn, alhaitham thinks, but that is to be expected. he is, after all, the prince that insisted that the palace of alcazarzaray be built exactly where it is, at that location, with those materials, with that design, at that cost, within that timeframe. no-one else on teyvat could have willed it so. kaveh, as an architect, has the requisite strength to take reality into his hands and force them into the shape of his people's dreams. that is what it means to be an architect and prince both.

it does not move alhaithiam, for alhaitham exists not in the realm of kaveh's dreams, but in the realm of his nightmare. alhaitham shakes his head. ]

Is a slave owed an answer? [ is what he says to that. ] You first complain that you are not being oppressed enough. Now, you complain that you are not being treated fairly. Do you wish to be treated as a slave or as a prince, Kaveh? Decide.

[ the question is one that does not need to be asked, for alhaitham knows well what kaveh's answer will be. it's on the tip of his tongue, an answer that does not require time or thought. as soon as kaveh opens his mouth, alhaitham could follow suit, and their voices would resonate in unison under the same answer: ]

I want to be treated as a person, not an object you keep around in your room and give it your attention when you see fit.

Then act like a person.

[ alhaitham says. the clip of his voice is flint. the strike of his syllables is hammer on the taut pull of piano wire. alhaitham looks at kaveh, the titian sunset of his eyes like a brand. there, too, is blood in vissudha. ]

Know self-preservation. Listen to reason. Think. Are you asking out of self-satisfaction, or is there a purpose to your demand? What is it that you want for Elham? [ and then, because he is alhaitham, his world's focus narrows down to but a singular focal point. he says, quietly: ] What is it that you want for yourself?

[ alhaitham always knows what to say. so fluent in the language that is kaveh, he reads him like an open book, as though the words are memorized. he speaks, and kaveh flinches, and the emotion shows. it is salt on the wound, and it burns kaveh into silence.

what is it that he wants for elham? freedom. safety. a home to return to, and the promise that she won't live her every moment in fear. what is it that he wants for himself? that's... ]

What is it that you want from me? [ he does not answer. the answer belongs to himself, and there's no need to voice it. so instead, of course, he returns a question with another. ] I will meet Elham, we will talk, we will return to our respective duties. And then, what? What will the next thing you will surprise me with be?

[ kaveh has no answer. a question for a question is no answer at all. alhaitham would know. it is the first thing he learned on his grandmother's lap, fingers running itself over the worn leather of his parents' journals. while other children were learning letters and playing with blocks, he learned the lesson that built the foundation of his survival: never stop thinking, my alhaitham. ask until the world has run out of answers to give, and then, ask again. the red rose of the eastern rise has always acted on behalf of others. this is known. there is a reason why the epitaphs for the prince of the lokapalans has been numerous in nature. there's a reason why they never refer to him as kaveh.

what is it that you want from me? kaveh asks, and alhaitham knows - that no answer to this question will suffice. no truth will satisfying. another question pose to a world where such questions hold little meaning. there is only reality; there is only time. ]

Am I a rtawahist seer, to know such futures? Shall I invite a palm-reader to keep you company tomorrow so that you feel more secure on your divan? Whatever happens after will be as much of a surprise to you as it will be to me.

Kaveh, if there is anything you must do, you must do so for Elham. See to it that she is well. Is that not your sole duty? You do not need my input or permission to perform it.

[ color him surprised, that the crown prince of vissudha does not manipulate time as he sees fit. color him surprised, that alhaitham is no puppetmaster, and that he has yet to tie all of his strings in each of kaveh's limbs. he could try, that is for certain. he could try, and kaveh would rip them off, and that would be routine.

but alhaitham knows how to control kaveh even without strings. he knows what to say, what to provide him, how to keep him in a cage fit for a bird that has always only known of spreading out his wings and taking flight. many would find no room to complain: alhaitham's room is wide, and kaveh is given space to walk. he is not chained, and the red of his wrists and ankles have long healed. he is given no purpose, and some would argue, no purpose is far better than an ill-intentioned one.

alhaitham speaks, and kaveh stares. as the engines of his mind continue to turn and move, he asks: ]

What am I to you? A slave, or a prince?

[ ask, until the world has run out of answers to give. ]

[ kaveh asks.

he asks again. the world does not contain all the answers to questions posed. this, alhaitham knows. if the world did, then there would be no reason for mankind to know how to think. if answers were truths, then the world would only ever be what it seemed. the refraction of mirrors tell otherwise. unchained manacles, the red of blood, a bleeding pair of eyes looking into alhaitham's. a price spread across his own bed - a prince standing on the precipice. they make for a mirror polished with nothing but the dredges of distance and time. once, there had been two children and an ivory tower. once, the world had been whole.

alhaitham, who has never once lied to kaveh, merely says this: ]

Kaveh.

[ and then: ] You are Kaveh to me. That is who you are. How can you be anyone else?

[ the answer, as alhaitham knows, is not one that satisfies him. it raises the argument: does kaveh want the truth, or does kaveh want answers that are forged to his liking?

he would argue the former, of course. he would argue, too, that the truth is something he is not scared of, not something he turns a blind eye to. but answers come in many shapes and forms. after all, kaveh doesn't believe for a moment that alhaitham has never once lied to him.

isn't he lying right now? ]

Am I Kaveh, prince of Lokapala, or Kaveh, slave of Vissudha? What title do you wish for me to wield, so that I may know how to best please you?

[ kaveh asks again.

in the moment between waking and dreaming, in a room long-since abandoned by anyone who has ever loved it, alhaitham looks at kaveh, and thinks - his grandmother would have liked him, the boy with the red eyes, and the unflinching set of his spine. but she no longer likes anything; she is dead, and alhaitham is not. ]

So long as you are Kaveh, I will never be pleased by you. [ he says this with precision, each word chosen for their most exact meaning. so long as kaveh is kaveh, he will never please alhaitham - because alhaitham does not need to be pleased by kaveh.

that kaveh must never know is only incidental. after all, it is only alhaitham's truth. ]

Is your curiosity satisfied? [ bloodless, ] I have had a long several days holding together a kingdom that doesn't wish to be so. I would like to sleep.

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happy to announce i did not die :)

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

just one more tag...

looks... at...

i went to sleep!!!! i was good!!!

good!!! as you should!!!

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