[ a day starts and ends not when the sun rises and sets, but when his body decides.
a day, sometimes, is twenty-four hours. a day, sometimes, is only four. if he is less fortunate, sometimes kaveh skips a day in his life, then two, then three. when he is bed-ridden and a victim of the eleazar, he cannot walk. cannot perform his routine, cannot see the blue sky outside, what color the trees will be, water his plants. it is excruciating. it is limiting. it is, he finds, so unbearably unfair.
kaveh finds, too, that sometimes he hates not being able to touch the floor. it grounds him. it is a privilege of the masses, and what good are his legs if he cannot use them? alhaitham eases him up into his arms, and the motion is not unfamiliar. it is home as alhaitham's house is. it is, still, broadcasted weakness.
the motion is routine: he holds onto alhaitham, bites into his lip. their argument now long forgotten. ]
I can walk. I don't want to go home yet. [ yet, still, he does not fight back. ] At least take me elsewhere.
https://twitter.com/chikological/status/1666816652141531142 and now im revived... thank u friend ;o;
[ kaveh is light. it is not, however, worryingly so. alhaitham knows the cycles of kaveh's weight, tied intrinsically to the cycle of his illness and what it will allow him to eat or not eat. the fragility of his body is belied by the voracity of his mind. kaveh has always wanted what he could not allow himself to have. a wound gives off its own light, or so the doctors of the bimarstan say. if all the lamps in sumeru were turned out, you could dress this wound by what shines from it. it is only with alhaitham that kaveh's desires, the selfish light of them, can take on form.
elsewhere, he says. alhaitham thinks - there is nowhere where he can take kaveh that is not here, in this place, where his illness roots. where kaveh wants to be taken is not a place for his body, but a place for his mind. there had been a field of padisarahs beneath a sky so ravishingly blue, that one could lean up and drink from it.
the akasha had taken the dreams of the people and used them as fuel for a new god. this, alhaitham can never forgive. but that is neither here, nor there. kaveh's dream remains elusive; this, alhaitham cannot compromise on. not on this, not on kaveh. ]
You may be able to walk, but your manners are atrophied. Is this how you ask someone to take you elsewhere, Senior? [ alhaitham begins to walk. his steps are sure. they take him, with unyielding assurance, down the wending path circling the divine tree. ] In any case, elsewhere is not a location. Be specific.
[ elsewhere, he says. kaveh thinks — there is nowhere where alhaitham can take him that is not here, in this place, where his illness roots. elsewhere, he says. kaveh thinks — alhaitham is the only one who could distract him from reality, sometimes. they argue, still. kaveh is less willing to engage nowadays, but he appreciates in alhaitham what he has not done; he has not changed. not his treatment of kaveh, not how he sees kaveh. he has not once thought of kaveh as the kshahrewar student with eleazar. kaveh has always just been that — kaveh, the light of kshahrewar, sumeru's most renowned architect.
elsewhere, he says. kaveh thinks — anywhere with you is fine. anywhere where it's just us.
alhaitham walks down the wending path. kaveh finds his body trembling, even in alhaitham's grasp. he finds, too, his grip on him tightening. it is an automatic response. it is the fear of being seen. it is, after all, broadcasted weakness.
alhaitham has lifted him up before, in their home, to take him to the bed, once he has fallen asleep on the divan, on his desk. alhaitham has picked him up in his arms before, in lambad's tavern, to take him home, after kaveh has drowned his sorrows in beer and wine. those are routine. this is not. if they are seen, he thinks, people will know. people will assume. they will look. they will pity him. the once light of kshahrewar, sumeru's most talented architect, cursed with eleazar. his legs do not work today. tomorrow, his hands. he will never draw again. he will be forgotten, his designs remembered not for his mastery of the arts, but for the eleazar-ridden hands that have created them.
kaveh bites down on his lip, and tastes iron. he has grown to despise the public eye. ]
Anywhere, [ his voice trembles with his body. it is, too, as weak as he is. he does not, either, have much control on it. not even that. ] Outside of the city. By the river, I don't know. Anywhere with just us.
[ kaveh does not say it this time. please, however, hangs on the tip of his tongue. it is implied. his tone is, by itself, as heavy as the plea. ]
[ anyway, kaveh says. what alhaitham hears: that kaveh hates the public eye. that kaveh hates his hatred; that it festers like something gangrenous, an amputation made form. the darkness is like the disease. what it obscures is hope. but the paradox of alhaitham is that the weight in his arms and the trembling of kaveh's voice is, in itself, comforting. to draw comfort from such a thing is monstrous. this, alhaitham, too, believes. but it speaks to a fundamental truth that even the illness could not rob: that kaveh is yet to be apathetic to the gazes of others. that if you can hate, it means you still care. if you still care, it means you have the will to fight. and if you have the will to fight, then you have not lost.
kaveh has not been unmade. alhaitham draws him close. if his lips skim the gold of kaveh's hair, it is but a mere coincidence. the canting of his head is for the microcosm that he holds in his arms: the wind, the sky, the sea. that is what makes up kaveh. ]
Fine. [ is what alhaitham saids. and then, in that self-same, flint-edged tone: ] Hold on, then. Do not let go.
[ because what the lunatic of the akademiya does next lives up to the reputation of his name. the wind rises. alhaitham's strides lengthen. the barrier between tree and path approaches and is vaulted. a young woman's voice calls out in warning. she is ever so faraway - the world seems ever so far away. the ground drops out beneath them, and they are flying.
alhaitham's glider snaps out behind them with the finality of a chapter shut. the world spins, dizzying, and then -
[ the land, and the sky. it continues to be them, even here. even in a world where kaveh is eleazar-ridden, and alhaitham is still the same, unshakable, unchanged, impossible friend. it is routine. it is them. it is 'kaveh' and it is 'alhaitham', in all their forms, in all their needs, in what makes them them. it is, most importantly, where it's safe. it's home.
kaveh cannot feel the breeze, cold come autumn and winter, dry come spring and summer. his skin has long forfeit the need for touch, yet they fall, they float, they fly — and kaveh, impossibly so, feels the breeze. it is numb against his skin, as though he is wearing five layers instead of one. but he feels it. chill. gentle. a pinch ticklish.
darkness is like the disease, at times. darkness is, too, a canvas. it can be anything the painter wishes. kaveh paints it blue, with gentle greens. his grip on alhaitham tightens. it is natural to fear heights. it is primal. but alhaitham, he knows, would always catch him. always, he knows better, wouldn't allow the possibility to come where kaveh would slip, where kaveh would fall.
he holds. he keeps him safe. he remains unchanged, a pillar through time. ever unmoving, ever reliable. ever the same. ]
... What a show-off. [ a whisper into secrecy, shared between two. ] You could just have walked out the gates... Most people are in the Grand Baazar around this time. What are you doing?
What am I doing? [ alhaitham breathes out much in the way of a laugh. the eddying breeze takes it and whips it behind them like the lofty flight of a half-formed flower petal, the sweet of its fragrance carried far. ] I am taking you away.
[ sumeru city sprawls out beneath the wings of alhaitham's glider. this must be, alhaitham thinks, the view that birds see from above. perspective has always been key to a life lived. who you are, and where you are, and when you are dictates the view that you see when you leap. a vahumana driyosh will see the teeming lines of people as social contracts made bare, a city bound by the lifeblood of order imposed not by others but by the shackles of civilisation itself. an amurta herbad will see veins and arteries and the potential of spilled blood, a burgeoning population serviced by a single, understaffed and underfunded hospital in the beginnings of a crisis of healthcare. a harvatat scribe may see the potential for language flowing like water, each economic exchange tabulated and recorded through spoken contracts and written word, because without language there is no exchange, and where there is no exchange, there is no creation.
a kshahrewar with eleazar -
alhaitham allows them to glide over the spiraled peaks of the akademiya's gazebos. even the rtawahists never look up this time of the day. they are above prying eyes in both senses of the world - the metaphor and the reality coming together in a midday dream.
in the far distance, the palace of alcazarzaray rises from the canopy. ]
[ a kshahrewar with eleazar sees a painted canvas, sees history that has been made, sees dreams that have come true. it is a colorful world, it is tales to be told and memories to cherish. it is said that kshahrewar darshan is made of wide-eyed people, that kshahrewar students must think outside the box, and see beyond what is shown. alhaitham, he thinks, does not show him the landscape of sumeru city, the evergreen trees past it, a part of himself out into the distance. he shows him a world that has not yet abandoned him. a world that exists, beautiful and eternal, eleazar or not.
a world that has not at all been swallowed by darkness. ]
... That's why I told just walking out the gates is fine.
[ it would be simple. it would the guilt of dependency weigh less. it would make him far less happy. kaveh would have succumbed to the loneliness of it all. kaveh would have seen a world yellow and blue and green, and thought, in spite of everything, that he is utterly disconnected from it.
alhaitham, however, is always one step ahead. alhaitham reads him like a book, each and every time, a book he has long memorized, a book he knows by heart. alhaitham never allows him to fall.
he rests his head on alhaitham's shoulder. the breeze, the little kaveh can feel of it, is nice. the scenery is one he will keep to memory, and when his hands work, he will sketch it out. a memory to cherish, a tale to be told. ]
We should camp out, one of these days. Go fishing. Maybe trying out next things aren't so bad.
[ that's why i told you just walking out the gates is fine, kaveh says. what alhaitham hears: that the wind is gentle today, that the sun illuminates the myriad of colours that make up sumeru city, and kaveh, his kaveh, who cannot allow himself to want, once again has no choice but to turn his eyes back to the world. sumeru city glides out from beneath their feet. the canopy casts uneven sheathes of shadow over the flaxen gold of kaveh's hair. alhaitham corrects their course, checks the heading of the wind, and begins to bank. a wing dips just so. the divine tree's trunk is like the fulcrum of a shifting world.
kaveh speaks of fishing, of camping. alhaitham, who has never enjoyed either of these things, considers it. there are ponds, and lakes. there are enough sickly-looking shrubbery dotting the landscape for kaveh to force alhaitham to practice his sketching as they wait for fish to bite. there are the stars out from beneath the canopy of the rainforest, should they choose to pursue it.
the world is vast. the world is also not kind. the medication it would take and the amenities to bring on such a trip to ease kaveh's comfort would be substantial. ]
Is learning a new craft alone not enough novelty for my life?
... Have you ever regretted something before, Alhaitham?
[ the answer, he thinks, is no. alhaitham, he knows well, never does anything that he does not want to do. a man so in touch with his own wants, needs, and feelings has no room to regret. if he wishes to pursue something, he will. failure and success are both part of life. what need is there to regret, then, he would ask.
but kaveh, who tends to do things that he does not want to do, who is not half as in touch with his own wants, and needs, and feelings, has plenty of room to regret. he does. he has. the weight it provides is not one anyone should ever be burdened to feel. regret is haunting. regret is demonizing. regret has made him sick, has made him scared.
and kaveh, who does not have much time left for him, should not have time to regret. he will crumble under its weight before the eleazar takes him. if he does not pursue his selfish wants and meaningless needs, when else will he?
the wind is gentle. the sun paints sumeru the most vibrant colors. kaveh, too, wishes to be part of this painting. ]
Scholars should always seek the knowledge that comes with experience. We may read accounts of Driyoshes who have had to camp out in the woods of Mondstadt or fish in the tenebrous waters surrounding Inazuma, but nothing is more valuable than living through such experiences yourself.
... It could be fun, besides. Isn't that what matters the most?
[ kaveh asks as if the answer is a foregone conclusion. alhaitham thinks - in what universe could anyone answer no? if every decision is made with maximum efficiency, could every outcome, too, be maximally efficient? the world passes alhaitham by beneath him. the wind whistles as he takes him over the heads of vendors and the spread branches of the divine tree, across the rushing blue of aqueducts that make up the lifeblood of a society built on rain and green and loam - and takes them to the frayed edges of the city where the wilderness clips the shape of gardens and the well-worn footpaths that separate sumeru from the rest of the world. there had been another life, once, that alhaitham does not claim as his own. there had been a goddess who danced, and laughed, and died. there had been the purple of the padisarahs. there had been no more. alhaitham does not regret the trajectory of the past so much as he regrets his lack of understanding of it. but therein lies the difference:
that the regret that kaveh speaks of is one that consumes kaveh at night. that the regret kaveh speaks of whispers its name in the rustle of the trees and the eddying of the night breeze. that the regret that kaveh speaks of is thought with such ardent longing that it has become a third person haunting the eaves of alhaitham's roof, a mere emotion made form and given teeth. alhaitham, who has regrets, has chosen not to allow them to haunt him. you could not live without experiencing regret, but you did not have to live with it. or so alhaitham believed. but kaveh, alhaitham thinks, kaveh does not know how to live without regret. he does not believe he has the ability to choose.
once, alhaitham, sitting the akademiya gardens and watching the red of kaveh's eyes bleed, had wanted kaveh, who put others before himself each and every turn, who only ever allowed himself to get in line as the last and final participant to a want so faraway that it might as well not exist, to want without guilt.
but not like this. never like this. ]
Is that what matters to you? Mind your feet. [ but the question is asked without censure. one cannot examine their own thoughts and truths without questions; one cannot understand without questions. alhaitham banks and, finally, allows the two of them to land.
his feet take them forward on a few, long, running steps, the world coming into jostling focus before it, too, stills. around them, the purple of sumeru roses bloom. beyond: the lake. alhaitham's eyes skim the field. he gently, then, lowers kaveh into it. ] It is said that in Inazuma, the fish that grow in the inky depths of Enkanomiya lack eyes.
[ shouldn't it be?, he thinks. that in spite of everything, if one has fun, then maybe it's worth it. the time. the expenses. the regrets.
does fun outweigh guilt?
does kaveh's? ]
What would you think matters the most, if not fun?
[ a question for a question, for kaveh does not want to answer his own, in fear of his own answer. in fear of his own feelings.
the foliage that hugs sumeru is a beautiful green still, a reminder of the summer that greeted them. his skin cannot feel the way it tingles against it, uncomfortable but harmless. the lake beyond, he wonders, must be cold. this is what his life has become.
guesses, and assumptions, and wonders, wonders, wonders.
nothing is ever of certainty anymore. how is he, then, to answer such question, to give himself the room for regret? it is a door that opens. it is a window to his heart, shackled, bound. would having fun be a cure-all for his problems? would it rid him of the nightmares? would it prolong his life? does kaveh remember what it is to have fun, and laugh, and smile?
he kneels by the water. his reflection does not look like him. ]
Are you going to verify its credibility? It is quite the claim. Think of how it could change the lives of Amurta students and graduates both. Tighnari would know no peace.
[ at this, alhaitham shakes his head. the motion is low, and slow. he waits until kaveh is on both feet, before he sheathes his wings, drawing them in and close and then dissipating away into where the primoradial elements sleep. ]
If Tighnari were not already aware of their existence, then he would have to be blind himself to miss the existence of salamanders in our cave systems with the same evolutionary trend. Though unless the quality of Amurta graduates have significantly increased since our graduation, I doubt the undergraduates would be aware.
[ thereby causing tighnari headaches anyway, when spelunkers in caves inevitably stumble upon the poor, hapless, eyeless, albino creatures swimming deep in the murk. but that is tighnari's headache to handle, as he sees fit. tighnari's responsibility is to the forest. alhaitham's responsibility stands in a field of sumeru roses, languishing.
he follows kaveh to the water's edge. the ripples distort the flaxen gold of kaveh's hair; the sallow pale of his face seems ever more prominent when contrasted with the light blue of the reflected sky. alhaitham's eyes check kaveh's clips for flyaway hairs, and then, gently, readjusts his cloak upon kaveh's shoulders. ]
In any case, what you have always deemed as important has always been at odds with my definition. Does it seem likely that I will agree with you now, as it were?
Well, it's not as though Inazuma is quite around the corner. Sumeru's rainforest already has plenty to offer. I don't blame them for being unaware.
[ here, in a throwaway, mindless discussion, kaveh finds himself still ever the apologist. he has known for long that alhaitham's opinion on the quality of amurta students has deteriorated since their time, that tighnari might as well have been their last prodigy. kaveh might have held the same opinion once, but has, too, always found himself unable to truly undervalue someone's efforts. what one presents at surface-level is not what one shows underneath layers of carefully built walls.
he would know well.
the red of his eyes follow alhaitham's reflection in the water. it, at the very least, looks like alhaitham. kaveh finds it comforting. ]
I'm not always out to argue with you, you know. I just want your opinion. Besides, I know you don't hate talking, and I enjoy listening.
[ it grounds him, after all. alhaitham's voice, too, above all else. his head turns and follows the breeze, always taking him the same direction. he gestures at alhaitham to sit with him. the distance is never comforting. ]
[ kaveh gestures for alhaitham to sit. alhaitham, who cannot deny kaveh, joins him. the two of them squeeze in along the water's edge. the lily pads float aloft. the lotuses, alhaitham knows, bloom only at night, when the edgeless slant of moonlight bathes their petals to their core. there is a time and a season for everything in sumeru. the natural order is something meant to be studied, to be lived alongside, and to allow and let live. the rules and regulations that govern their world creates a box in which creativity is allowed to flourish, for without restriction, there cannot be creation.
this, alhaitham knows. but the rules and regulations of the world have never been accused of being kind, nor fair. nor, in a court of law, could they be judged as such. mankind has never signed a contract with nature. the rules that they follow are their own. and alhaitham has never been good at following the rules of others. ]
You do. Up until you disagree. [ but there's a secret joke there between two people who have argued long enough that the mere notion of right or wrong no longer apply. alhaitham cants his head, acquiescence in a moment of grace as he considers his words. ] My answer has never changed, not when it comes to the matter of mattering. One must always have something they hold onto to the very end, lest the vicissitudes of life lead you astray. If one has made the decision to value something, whether weal nor woe, one must hold it to the higher standard in decision-making.
For example, if you were to value fun above all else, then your choice today to hide from the eyes of the common people runs against that value; your instinct is to minimise your embarrassment, rather than to maximise amusement. I have no critique for one whose views are congruent with one's actions. However, living in contradiction only ensures that each choice you make takes you further from your ideal.
[ alhaitham slowly shakes his head. the motion is like that of ripples upon water, the barest shadow of which cants towards the depths. ] Therefore, my position is thus: that what is important is congruence between choice and action. There is nothing more to it.
[ and so, in spite of it all, alhaitham talks, and kaveh listens.
in a distant reality where kaveh is not born with a shortened lifespan, he would have seen fit to disagree. he would have frowned, the wrinkles on his forehead taking shape, and said that no, fun is something highly personal, that whether one is at the heart of a festival does not mean they are enjoying themselves. away from the hustle and bustle of the celebration of a god's birth, it is easily feasible that here, by the water's edge, kaveh is having fun.
a kaveh who has his days counted does not exert himself in the same way. it is criticism, and he knows alhaitham does not say words to hurt him. hurt is, after all, rather subjective. it is something a person must allow into their heart, and permit it to fester. kaveh does not. there is plenty that his body does not feel already. he would not want hurt to be something it does.
his fingers dance in the water, and he does not feel its temperature. it's wet, and kaveh finds that to be enough. ]
Quite a lot of words to say you value people who are true to themselves. [ a smile begins to form on his lips. it is neither hollow nor weak. ] So according to you, I'm not having fun right now? Then, what do you suppose I'm feeling right now?
[ as if the very veil of kaveh's thoughts were not lifted before alhaitham's eyes. alhaitham does not need to look. his hands join kaveh's as he skims the water, and then, because he can, he gathers dendro. green flits across his fingertips. three small mirrors appear, vanish with the angle of light, and then elongate into something long, lean and with a barbed hook curved into its end. ]
Now, you are.
[ is what alhaitham says. he reaches with his refracted hook. the dendro blends in deceptively with the green of the nearby lilypad, right up until alhaitham begins to pull. the kalpalata lotus has petals the colour of a midday sky. he gently cups the flower in his hand, and staps the stem with the other.
alhaitham lifts the flower from its pond. it weighs heavy with lakewater; he allows it to drain into the grass. ]
You have allowed yourself to become congruent with your actions, but it's an easy decision to make. It is only us. [ and then, in that self-same tone: ] Hold the flower still.
[ it is, indeed, only them. that, kaveh finds, is enough for him to have fun.
a kaveh of days past would have found room to argue that alhaitham, who would not have been seen at the heart of the festival, was missing out on true fun. a kaveh who is not cursed with eleazar would have thought the same. the current kaveh, detached from all his other selves, prefers the quiet. has learned to prioritize it. it is much easier on his decaying body to enjoy the company of someone who does not see him for his illness than a crowd who just might.
that, too, kaveh does not allow in his heart. at the very least, he has learned to pick and choose which poison he will drink each day. ]
Then wouldn't you say I've been 'congruent with my actions' from the beginning? I claimed that fun is what matters, and asked you to whisk me away. [ kaveh holds his hands out, side by side, to welcome the flower. kalpalata lotuses are much prettier come nightfall, when they bask in moonlight, and bloom to their full potential.
he has always found them much different from him. ] I knew that no matter where you took me, I would have fun. Because you would be there with me.
[ the light playful debate of an eddying breeze. alhaitham gently arranges the flower in kaveh's palm. the lakewater is cool, and free. the stem sits slotted between kaveh's fingers. its petals splay, as if breathing out in the way of a sigh. blue, and the gentle gradient of a budding purple, with the golden yellow of a clustered stamen. objectively speaking, the lotus is beautiful. it becomes something else in kaveh's hands.
in turn, alhaitham reaches into his pouch. the vial that he takes out is empty. he begins to gently press its open lip to the flower's stamen. pollen gathers, tumbling into the glass vial like golden motes of light. ]
You would have fun, so long as the two of us were not walking down the hill in plain sight of the world.
[ because it had been kaveh who had wished to be carried anywhere. through process of elimination, it implies that it, too, had been kaveh, who had been dissatisfied with being where he was. alhaitham thinks, there truly is no-one comfortable in the mere guise of their own skin. but people as a whole would live happier lives if they were.
alhaitham shakes his head. ]
Your premise, as usual, forgets the limitations of your own comfort.
[ anywhere, kaveh had said. anywhere that it is only us.
the truth of the matter is that he never hates being seen with alhaitham. they are, impossibly so, friends. they are what each other has left. to hate being seen alongside another person is to insult their person, to claim unspoken embarrassment not for being seen, but for being with them. none of those are true. that he would ever be seen with alhaitham is as logical as claiming the sun and the moon cohabit the same sky.
what kaveh hates is himself. it is being known for something he has not asked for. it is attributing his identity to something out of his grasp. something he was never given a chance to control.
yes, he thinks. it's far easier to live if kaveh forgets himself in his entirety.
his fingers twitch under the lotus. it is subtle, but it is telling. ]
Exactly as you had. You simply should not have allowed yourself to feel shame.
[ the vial collects pollen. alhaitham takes its measure, and then, watching the little bottle of the vial fill with motes of gold, nods before he caps it. the flower bloom profusely in kaveh's hand. he leaves it there, signaling the completion of his task with the dip of his head, before the vial disappears into a pocket.
kaveh asks alhaitham what he should have done. alhaitham's answer has always been the same. congruency is only achieved by what you can control. and alhaitham's response is always, as always, from alhaitham's point of view. but that does not mean that alhaitham is unaware of the spiral that has taken ahold of kaveh. kaveh's emotions are the one thing he cannot, will not, cede.
so instead: ]
You are yourself when you are with me. [ alhaitham says, with clarity. ] You do not need to be anything or anyone else. If you choose to want something, you should choose not to want to be someone else.
Instead, you should choose to merely want.
tell my brain to stop hyperfocusing on the wrong thing i cant tag u like this...
[ it is, he thinks, far easier said than done. regret, guilt, shame. those have all been the three things closest to kaveh for a long, long time. guilt for ruining his family. regret for lying to his mother. at the very least, shame is always something that is there while also not. it is only when kaveh is at his worst that he allows himself to be ashamed of himself. he is, and has always been, far too prideful. there had easily been some, back in their akademiya days, that dared gossip about how kaveh of kshahrewar was so impossibly arrogant. bouts of inspiration would turn the red of his eyes into the most rare jewels, and no matter where he would be, he would have a piece of chalk between his fingers and scribble away his ideas, right there, right then, for the world to see.
he has argued with classmates. he has disagreed with mentors. he has certainly been arrogant quite a few times, but if he is not— if he's not proud of his craft, of his creations, of the work he pours blood and sweat and love into, who would? if he himself is not his biggest fan, who would?
(kaveh knows well the answer to such questions. if he trips and falls, someone would catch him, without fail. if he trips, he would not ever fall, for that same someone would prevent the fall from ever happening. he knows. he knows.)
it is, of course, as alhaitham said. kaveh is himself when he's with alhaitham. it is an undeniable, unquestionable truth. ]
You are a terrible enabler. Do you do this to everyone else? [ the question is rhetorical. they're both more than aware of the answer.
kaveh lays the lotus down on the water. he gives it a gentle nudge, and watches it stream down the river. ]
And how much, exactly, should I want? At the cost of greed? Wanting is human nature. Don't you think the problem lies elsewhere?
[ not for his lack of want, no. it is, instead, his inability of judging himself worth of selfishness. ]
i will if u tell my brain to stop being depressed, because this week's killin me hahaaaah
[ there had been a time in the akademiya where you could walk down the halls of the kshahrewar and step into a world of another's making. the chalk drawings had paved the flagstones of myths and dreams into stolid stone halls. geometric wonders competed with the spirals of golden proportions, glinting with the unearthly touch of a wayward sun. not even the rtawahists dared step into the intangible for fear of invoking the shift of something very tangible beneath their feet; it was the kshahrewar that murmured with the kind of fear one only gained standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking a world emobodying a mysterium tremendum et fascinans. it was as if you looked into the face of your archon. you couldn't accept it, you couldn't look away, and moreover, you couldn't help but see yourself reflected: it wasn't you, this wasn't you, this couldn't be you, and why?
kaveh did that to people. one could never see their own inadequacy without looking into the eyes of something greater. it was only alhaitham who stopped at the foot of the drawing and looked to its spires without flinching; it was only alhaitham, the sashay of his black robes around the still-thin lines of his legs, who bent down and moved a piece of chalk away from kaveh's encroaching feet.
today's alhaitham observes the drift of the lotus down the river. he turns back to kaveh. the curve of his eyes hide the brittle of red there; for a moment, alhaitham seems almost tired. ]
As always, you ask questions to which you already know the answers. [ it doesn't suit you, is alhaitham's silent rejoinder, said across time and universes with the same confidence one might indicate the rising of the sun or the migration of birds south for the winter - it doesn't suit kaveh because kaveh ought not diminish his flame for anyone. not kaveh, never kaveh. ] If you can identify the problem to my premise, then you are also able to work your way through the selfsame logic to another. You do not want me to provide you an answer; you merely need it.
But this is not an answer you need me to voice for you. [ alhaitham looks. ] Only you understand your guilt. It is beyond me.
prayin so hard this new week treats u better otherwise i'll have to kick its ass?
[ no, it is not. it is not an answer kaveh would want voiced at all, to begin with. he knows where the problem lies. he has known for a long, long time. he has known since the first lie escaped his tongue: i'll be fine, mother.
the thing with kaveh is that he has always been aware of himself. it is there where the root of the problem lies, as though he is a growing tree whose roots have settled on poisoned soil. he knows. he knows, he knows, he knows. it is why he wishes he did not. it is why he drinks, it is why he does so just enough to forget. escapism is not inherently a toxic, irresponsible way to cope. it is when done in abundance. it is when kaveh had formed an unhealthy dependency on it.
alhaitham has always ground him to that familiar, despicable soil. the weight of self-awareness is crushing. it's so much easier to live wearing a mask, a protective shield that allows no one in. if he covers his ears, there will be no sound. if he closes his eyes, he can pretend it is not there.
his reflection on the water is not one kaveh wishes to look at. there are times, rare, that even mirrors he comes to avoid. they always make him aware of himself. alhaitham, most of all. ]
If you know the answer, then you would know it's not so easy for me to do what you want me to do. What does it matter, anyways? Haven't I been living just fine until now?
[ it is not, he knows, as though kaveh has room to continuously sacrifice himself for others. as though he has any room to do anything at his own expense. were he to try, wouldn't most people stop him? wouldn't the public eye target him as pitiful?
isn't, then, the problem solved, without his consent? ]
I know enough greed to hog your time during a holiday. Isn't it enough that I'm familiar with wanting without burning myself into dust when I'm with you?
thank u friend... i'm sure the week will be scared into compliance 🙏
[ just fine, kaveh says. just fine is a day where kaveh's joints ache to the extent that he can't quite climb out of bed, and must be fed by hand. just fine is a day where kaveh opens the window, and the fresh air makes him ill. just fine is a day where kaveh sleeps, and alhaitham does not know when or where he will wake as the nexus of dreams takes, and takes, and takes. just fine, kaveh says, and alhaitham says, in turn: ]
No.
[ because the kaveh that had put himself onto alhaitham's mindmap had been the one to draw it. the world of delicate spires, of golden ratios and harrowing foundations and vectors to take monuments to glory and engineering and bring them down to their crying knees. kaveh had drawn that day a cityscape that sumeru would never see. he had humbled a blind land down to its very marrow. it was kaveh who first held the world in his hand and said, in more than just words, that he would go beyond what has already existed.
alhaitham says, with the knowledge of a man gazing unto a shadow: ]
Because I am not the world.
[ and the kaveh that ought to exist is not kaveh the goddess or kaveh the ill - but the kaveh who once looked at the world, and said - i will rebuild you. ]
[ looking is always the one thing kaveh always has. the eleazar takes, but this, at the very least, is something he has always been able to retain. when his arms do not work the intended way, kaveh looks, and watches, and observes. when his legs do not move, he reads a book or plans out a world or two onto several scattered papers all over his room. when it is just kaveh and alhaitham, he continues to look, as though the vermillion of his eyes could see the unseen.
alhaitham, he knows, is a man that begs observation. so many judge him a riddle without a solution, but kaveh, whose wits are ever only equal to one other person, whose reflection is always, solely, and exclusively on green-red eyes; kaveh thinks, instead, that alhaitham has never been a riddle, and has never needed a solution. he's a book as open as kaveh, and one only need look.
kaveh shakes his head. ]
Of course not. You wouldn't be so condescending to think so. But,
[ his arms meet his knees, and his head is laid to rest. such a weak, fragile body, that so little it has done, yet finds itself tired. kaveh doesn't think much of it. at the very least, he still has the strength to smile — here, it is small, but it does not lack sincerity. ]
Is it so bad of me to think you are? Doesn't it ground me, and isn't that what matters to you?
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https://twitter.com/ToraeKi0319/status/1666804755992313857 a hkvh a day keeps the pain away
a day, sometimes, is twenty-four hours. a day, sometimes, is only four. if he is less fortunate, sometimes kaveh skips a day in his life, then two, then three. when he is bed-ridden and a victim of the eleazar, he cannot walk. cannot perform his routine, cannot see the blue sky outside, what color the trees will be, water his plants. it is excruciating. it is limiting. it is, he finds, so unbearably unfair.
kaveh finds, too, that sometimes he hates not being able to touch the floor. it grounds him. it is a privilege of the masses, and what good are his legs if he cannot use them? alhaitham eases him up into his arms, and the motion is not unfamiliar. it is home as alhaitham's house is. it is, still, broadcasted weakness.
the motion is routine: he holds onto alhaitham, bites into his lip. their argument now long forgotten. ]
I can walk. I don't want to go home yet. [ yet, still, he does not fight back. ] At least take me elsewhere.
https://twitter.com/chikological/status/1666816652141531142 and now im revived... thank u friend ;o;
elsewhere, he says. alhaitham thinks - there is nowhere where he can take kaveh that is not here, in this place, where his illness roots. where kaveh wants to be taken is not a place for his body, but a place for his mind. there had been a field of padisarahs beneath a sky so ravishingly blue, that one could lean up and drink from it.
the akasha had taken the dreams of the people and used them as fuel for a new god. this, alhaitham can never forgive. but that is neither here, nor there. kaveh's dream remains elusive; this, alhaitham cannot compromise on. not on this, not on kaveh. ]
You may be able to walk, but your manners are atrophied. Is this how you ask someone to take you elsewhere, Senior? [ alhaitham begins to walk. his steps are sure. they take him, with unyielding assurance, down the wending path circling the divine tree. ] In any case, elsewhere is not a location. Be specific.
anything to help u recover friend!!!!
elsewhere, he says. kaveh thinks — anywhere with you is fine. anywhere where it's just us.
alhaitham walks down the wending path. kaveh finds his body trembling, even in alhaitham's grasp. he finds, too, his grip on him tightening. it is an automatic response. it is the fear of being seen. it is, after all, broadcasted weakness.
alhaitham has lifted him up before, in their home, to take him to the bed, once he has fallen asleep on the divan, on his desk. alhaitham has picked him up in his arms before, in lambad's tavern, to take him home, after kaveh has drowned his sorrows in beer and wine. those are routine. this is not. if they are seen, he thinks, people will know. people will assume. they will look. they will pity him. the once light of kshahrewar, sumeru's most talented architect, cursed with eleazar. his legs do not work today. tomorrow, his hands. he will never draw again. he will be forgotten, his designs remembered not for his mastery of the arts, but for the eleazar-ridden hands that have created them.
kaveh bites down on his lip, and tastes iron. he has grown to despise the public eye. ]
Anywhere, [ his voice trembles with his body. it is, too, as weak as he is. he does not, either, have much control on it. not even that. ] Outside of the city. By the river, I don't know. Anywhere with just us.
[ kaveh does not say it this time. please, however, hangs on the tip of his tongue. it is implied. his tone is, by itself, as heavy as the plea. ]
thank u friend... u are a godsend ;u;
kaveh has not been unmade. alhaitham draws him close. if his lips skim the gold of kaveh's hair, it is but a mere coincidence. the canting of his head is for the microcosm that he holds in his arms: the wind, the sky, the sea. that is what makes up kaveh. ]
Fine. [ is what alhaitham saids. and then, in that self-same, flint-edged tone: ] Hold on, then. Do not let go.
[ because what the lunatic of the akademiya does next lives up to the reputation of his name. the wind rises. alhaitham's strides lengthen. the barrier between tree and path approaches and is vaulted. a young woman's voice calls out in warning. she is ever so faraway - the world seems ever so far away. the ground drops out beneath them, and they are flying.
alhaitham's glider snaps out behind them with the finality of a chapter shut. the world spins, dizzying, and then -
the sky. the sky. the sky. ]
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kaveh cannot feel the breeze, cold come autumn and winter, dry come spring and summer. his skin has long forfeit the need for touch, yet they fall, they float, they fly — and kaveh, impossibly so, feels the breeze. it is numb against his skin, as though he is wearing five layers instead of one. but he feels it. chill. gentle. a pinch ticklish.
darkness is like the disease, at times. darkness is, too, a canvas. it can be anything the painter wishes. kaveh paints it blue, with gentle greens. his grip on alhaitham tightens. it is natural to fear heights. it is primal. but alhaitham, he knows, would always catch him. always, he knows better, wouldn't allow the possibility to come where kaveh would slip, where kaveh would fall.
he holds. he keeps him safe. he remains unchanged, a pillar through time. ever unmoving, ever reliable. ever the same. ]
... What a show-off. [ a whisper into secrecy, shared between two. ] You could just have walked out the gates... Most people are in the Grand Baazar around this time. What are you doing?
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[ sumeru city sprawls out beneath the wings of alhaitham's glider. this must be, alhaitham thinks, the view that birds see from above. perspective has always been key to a life lived. who you are, and where you are, and when you are dictates the view that you see when you leap. a vahumana driyosh will see the teeming lines of people as social contracts made bare, a city bound by the lifeblood of order imposed not by others but by the shackles of civilisation itself. an amurta herbad will see veins and arteries and the potential of spilled blood, a burgeoning population serviced by a single, understaffed and underfunded hospital in the beginnings of a crisis of healthcare. a harvatat scribe may see the potential for language flowing like water, each economic exchange tabulated and recorded through spoken contracts and written word, because without language there is no exchange, and where there is no exchange, there is no creation.
a kshahrewar with eleazar -
alhaitham allows them to glide over the spiraled peaks of the akademiya's gazebos. even the rtawahists never look up this time of the day. they are above prying eyes in both senses of the world - the metaphor and the reality coming together in a midday dream.
in the far distance, the palace of alcazarzaray rises from the canopy. ]
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a world that has not at all been swallowed by darkness. ]
... That's why I told just walking out the gates is fine.
[ it would be simple. it would the guilt of dependency weigh less. it would make him far less happy. kaveh would have succumbed to the loneliness of it all. kaveh would have seen a world yellow and blue and green, and thought, in spite of everything, that he is utterly disconnected from it.
alhaitham, however, is always one step ahead. alhaitham reads him like a book, each and every time, a book he has long memorized, a book he knows by heart. alhaitham never allows him to fall.
he rests his head on alhaitham's shoulder. the breeze, the little kaveh can feel of it, is nice. the scenery is one he will keep to memory, and when his hands work, he will sketch it out. a memory to cherish, a tale to be told. ]
We should camp out, one of these days. Go fishing. Maybe trying out next things aren't so bad.
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kaveh speaks of fishing, of camping. alhaitham, who has never enjoyed either of these things, considers it. there are ponds, and lakes. there are enough sickly-looking shrubbery dotting the landscape for kaveh to force alhaitham to practice his sketching as they wait for fish to bite. there are the stars out from beneath the canopy of the rainforest, should they choose to pursue it.
the world is vast. the world is also not kind. the medication it would take and the amenities to bring on such a trip to ease kaveh's comfort would be substantial. ]
Is learning a new craft alone not enough novelty for my life?
[ but alhaitham considers it. ]
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[ the answer, he thinks, is no. alhaitham, he knows well, never does anything that he does not want to do. a man so in touch with his own wants, needs, and feelings has no room to regret. if he wishes to pursue something, he will. failure and success are both part of life. what need is there to regret, then, he would ask.
but kaveh, who tends to do things that he does not want to do, who is not half as in touch with his own wants, and needs, and feelings, has plenty of room to regret. he does. he has. the weight it provides is not one anyone should ever be burdened to feel. regret is haunting. regret is demonizing. regret has made him sick, has made him scared.
and kaveh, who does not have much time left for him, should not have time to regret. he will crumble under its weight before the eleazar takes him. if he does not pursue his selfish wants and meaningless needs, when else will he?
the wind is gentle. the sun paints sumeru the most vibrant colors. kaveh, too, wishes to be part of this painting. ]
Scholars should always seek the knowledge that comes with experience. We may read accounts of Driyoshes who have had to camp out in the woods of Mondstadt or fish in the tenebrous waters surrounding Inazuma, but nothing is more valuable than living through such experiences yourself.
... It could be fun, besides. Isn't that what matters the most?
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that the regret that kaveh speaks of is one that consumes kaveh at night. that the regret kaveh speaks of whispers its name in the rustle of the trees and the eddying of the night breeze. that the regret that kaveh speaks of is thought with such ardent longing that it has become a third person haunting the eaves of alhaitham's roof, a mere emotion made form and given teeth. alhaitham, who has regrets, has chosen not to allow them to haunt him. you could not live without experiencing regret, but you did not have to live with it. or so alhaitham believed. but kaveh, alhaitham thinks, kaveh does not know how to live without regret. he does not believe he has the ability to choose.
once, alhaitham, sitting the akademiya gardens and watching the red of kaveh's eyes bleed, had wanted kaveh, who put others before himself each and every turn, who only ever allowed himself to get in line as the last and final participant to a want so faraway that it might as well not exist, to want without guilt.
but not like this. never like this. ]
Is that what matters to you? Mind your feet. [ but the question is asked without censure. one cannot examine their own thoughts and truths without questions; one cannot understand without questions. alhaitham banks and, finally, allows the two of them to land.
his feet take them forward on a few, long, running steps, the world coming into jostling focus before it, too, stills. around them, the purple of sumeru roses bloom. beyond: the lake. alhaitham's eyes skim the field. he gently, then, lowers kaveh into it. ] It is said that in Inazuma, the fish that grow in the inky depths of Enkanomiya lack eyes.
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does fun outweigh guilt?
does kaveh's? ]
What would you think matters the most, if not fun?
[ a question for a question, for kaveh does not want to answer his own, in fear of his own answer. in fear of his own feelings.
the foliage that hugs sumeru is a beautiful green still, a reminder of the summer that greeted them. his skin cannot feel the way it tingles against it, uncomfortable but harmless. the lake beyond, he wonders, must be cold. this is what his life has become.
guesses, and assumptions, and wonders, wonders, wonders.
nothing is ever of certainty anymore. how is he, then, to answer such question, to give himself the room for regret? it is a door that opens. it is a window to his heart, shackled, bound. would having fun be a cure-all for his problems? would it rid him of the nightmares? would it prolong his life? does kaveh remember what it is to have fun, and laugh, and smile?
he kneels by the water. his reflection does not look like him. ]
Are you going to verify its credibility? It is quite the claim. Think of how it could change the lives of Amurta students and graduates both. Tighnari would know no peace.
[ ... ] That, too, could be fun.
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If Tighnari were not already aware of their existence, then he would have to be blind himself to miss the existence of salamanders in our cave systems with the same evolutionary trend. Though unless the quality of Amurta graduates have significantly increased since our graduation, I doubt the undergraduates would be aware.
[ thereby causing tighnari headaches anyway, when spelunkers in caves inevitably stumble upon the poor, hapless, eyeless, albino creatures swimming deep in the murk. but that is tighnari's headache to handle, as he sees fit. tighnari's responsibility is to the forest. alhaitham's responsibility stands in a field of sumeru roses, languishing.
he follows kaveh to the water's edge. the ripples distort the flaxen gold of kaveh's hair; the sallow pale of his face seems ever more prominent when contrasted with the light blue of the reflected sky. alhaitham's eyes check kaveh's clips for flyaway hairs, and then, gently, readjusts his cloak upon kaveh's shoulders. ]
In any case, what you have always deemed as important has always been at odds with my definition. Does it seem likely that I will agree with you now, as it were?
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[ here, in a throwaway, mindless discussion, kaveh finds himself still ever the apologist. he has known for long that alhaitham's opinion on the quality of amurta students has deteriorated since their time, that tighnari might as well have been their last prodigy. kaveh might have held the same opinion once, but has, too, always found himself unable to truly undervalue someone's efforts. what one presents at surface-level is not what one shows underneath layers of carefully built walls.
he would know well.
the red of his eyes follow alhaitham's reflection in the water. it, at the very least, looks like alhaitham. kaveh finds it comforting. ]
I'm not always out to argue with you, you know. I just want your opinion. Besides, I know you don't hate talking, and I enjoy listening.
[ it grounds him, after all. alhaitham's voice, too, above all else. his head turns and follows the breeze, always taking him the same direction. he gestures at alhaitham to sit with him. the distance is never comforting. ]
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this, alhaitham knows. but the rules and regulations of the world have never been accused of being kind, nor fair. nor, in a court of law, could they be judged as such. mankind has never signed a contract with nature. the rules that they follow are their own. and alhaitham has never been good at following the rules of others. ]
You do. Up until you disagree. [ but there's a secret joke there between two people who have argued long enough that the mere notion of right or wrong no longer apply. alhaitham cants his head, acquiescence in a moment of grace as he considers his words. ] My answer has never changed, not when it comes to the matter of mattering. One must always have something they hold onto to the very end, lest the vicissitudes of life lead you astray. If one has made the decision to value something, whether weal nor woe, one must hold it to the higher standard in decision-making.
For example, if you were to value fun above all else, then your choice today to hide from the eyes of the common people runs against that value; your instinct is to minimise your embarrassment, rather than to maximise amusement. I have no critique for one whose views are congruent with one's actions. However, living in contradiction only ensures that each choice you make takes you further from your ideal.
[ alhaitham slowly shakes his head. the motion is like that of ripples upon water, the barest shadow of which cants towards the depths. ] Therefore, my position is thus: that what is important is congruence between choice and action. There is nothing more to it.
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in a distant reality where kaveh is not born with a shortened lifespan, he would have seen fit to disagree. he would have frowned, the wrinkles on his forehead taking shape, and said that no, fun is something highly personal, that whether one is at the heart of a festival does not mean they are enjoying themselves. away from the hustle and bustle of the celebration of a god's birth, it is easily feasible that here, by the water's edge, kaveh is having fun.
a kaveh who has his days counted does not exert himself in the same way. it is criticism, and he knows alhaitham does not say words to hurt him. hurt is, after all, rather subjective. it is something a person must allow into their heart, and permit it to fester. kaveh does not. there is plenty that his body does not feel already. he would not want hurt to be something it does.
his fingers dance in the water, and he does not feel its temperature. it's wet, and kaveh finds that to be enough. ]
Quite a lot of words to say you value people who are true to themselves. [ a smile begins to form on his lips. it is neither hollow nor weak. ] So according to you, I'm not having fun right now? Then, what do you suppose I'm feeling right now?
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Now, you are.
[ is what alhaitham says. he reaches with his refracted hook. the dendro blends in deceptively with the green of the nearby lilypad, right up until alhaitham begins to pull. the kalpalata lotus has petals the colour of a midday sky. he gently cups the flower in his hand, and staps the stem with the other.
alhaitham lifts the flower from its pond. it weighs heavy with lakewater; he allows it to drain into the grass. ]
You have allowed yourself to become congruent with your actions, but it's an easy decision to make. It is only us. [ and then, in that self-same tone: ] Hold the flower still.
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a kaveh of days past would have found room to argue that alhaitham, who would not have been seen at the heart of the festival, was missing out on true fun. a kaveh who is not cursed with eleazar would have thought the same. the current kaveh, detached from all his other selves, prefers the quiet. has learned to prioritize it. it is much easier on his decaying body to enjoy the company of someone who does not see him for his illness than a crowd who just might.
that, too, kaveh does not allow in his heart. at the very least, he has learned to pick and choose which poison he will drink each day. ]
Then wouldn't you say I've been 'congruent with my actions' from the beginning? I claimed that fun is what matters, and asked you to whisk me away. [ kaveh holds his hands out, side by side, to welcome the flower. kalpalata lotuses are much prettier come nightfall, when they bask in moonlight, and bloom to their full potential.
he has always found them much different from him. ] I knew that no matter where you took me, I would have fun. Because you would be there with me.
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in turn, alhaitham reaches into his pouch. the vial that he takes out is empty. he begins to gently press its open lip to the flower's stamen. pollen gathers, tumbling into the glass vial like golden motes of light. ]
You would have fun, so long as the two of us were not walking down the hill in plain sight of the world.
[ because it had been kaveh who had wished to be carried anywhere. through process of elimination, it implies that it, too, had been kaveh, who had been dissatisfied with being where he was. alhaitham thinks, there truly is no-one comfortable in the mere guise of their own skin. but people as a whole would live happier lives if they were.
alhaitham shakes his head. ]
Your premise, as usual, forgets the limitations of your own comfort.
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[ anywhere, kaveh had said. anywhere that it is only us.
the truth of the matter is that he never hates being seen with alhaitham. they are, impossibly so, friends. they are what each other has left. to hate being seen alongside another person is to insult their person, to claim unspoken embarrassment not for being seen, but for being with them. none of those are true. that he would ever be seen with alhaitham is as logical as claiming the sun and the moon cohabit the same sky.
what kaveh hates is himself. it is being known for something he has not asked for. it is attributing his identity to something out of his grasp. something he was never given a chance to control.
yes, he thinks. it's far easier to live if kaveh forgets himself in his entirety.
his fingers twitch under the lotus. it is subtle, but it is telling. ]
What do you think I should have done, then?
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[ the vial collects pollen. alhaitham takes its measure, and then, watching the little bottle of the vial fill with motes of gold, nods before he caps it. the flower bloom profusely in kaveh's hand. he leaves it there, signaling the completion of his task with the dip of his head, before the vial disappears into a pocket.
kaveh asks alhaitham what he should have done. alhaitham's answer has always been the same. congruency is only achieved by what you can control. and alhaitham's response is always, as always, from alhaitham's point of view. but that does not mean that alhaitham is unaware of the spiral that has taken ahold of kaveh. kaveh's emotions are the one thing he cannot, will not, cede.
so instead: ]
You are yourself when you are with me. [ alhaitham says, with clarity. ] You do not need to be anything or anyone else. If you choose to want something, you should choose not to want to be someone else.
Instead, you should choose to merely want.
tell my brain to stop hyperfocusing on the wrong thing i cant tag u like this...
he has argued with classmates. he has disagreed with mentors. he has certainly been arrogant quite a few times, but if he is not— if he's not proud of his craft, of his creations, of the work he pours blood and sweat and love into, who would? if he himself is not his biggest fan, who would?
(kaveh knows well the answer to such questions. if he trips and falls, someone would catch him, without fail. if he trips, he would not ever fall, for that same someone would prevent the fall from ever happening. he knows. he knows.)
it is, of course, as alhaitham said. kaveh is himself when he's with alhaitham. it is an undeniable, unquestionable truth. ]
You are a terrible enabler. Do you do this to everyone else? [ the question is rhetorical. they're both more than aware of the answer.
kaveh lays the lotus down on the water. he gives it a gentle nudge, and watches it stream down the river. ]
And how much, exactly, should I want? At the cost of greed? Wanting is human nature. Don't you think the problem lies elsewhere?
[ not for his lack of want, no. it is, instead, his inability of judging himself worth of selfishness. ]
i will if u tell my brain to stop being depressed, because this week's killin me hahaaaah
kaveh did that to people. one could never see their own inadequacy without looking into the eyes of something greater. it was only alhaitham who stopped at the foot of the drawing and looked to its spires without flinching; it was only alhaitham, the sashay of his black robes around the still-thin lines of his legs, who bent down and moved a piece of chalk away from kaveh's encroaching feet.
today's alhaitham observes the drift of the lotus down the river. he turns back to kaveh. the curve of his eyes hide the brittle of red there; for a moment, alhaitham seems almost tired. ]
As always, you ask questions to which you already know the answers. [ it doesn't suit you, is alhaitham's silent rejoinder, said across time and universes with the same confidence one might indicate the rising of the sun or the migration of birds south for the winter - it doesn't suit kaveh because kaveh ought not diminish his flame for anyone. not kaveh, never kaveh. ] If you can identify the problem to my premise, then you are also able to work your way through the selfsame logic to another. You do not want me to provide you an answer; you merely need it.
But this is not an answer you need me to voice for you. [ alhaitham looks. ] Only you understand your guilt. It is beyond me.
prayin so hard this new week treats u better otherwise i'll have to kick its ass?
the thing with kaveh is that he has always been aware of himself. it is there where the root of the problem lies, as though he is a growing tree whose roots have settled on poisoned soil. he knows. he knows, he knows, he knows. it is why he wishes he did not. it is why he drinks, it is why he does so just enough to forget. escapism is not inherently a toxic, irresponsible way to cope. it is when done in abundance. it is when kaveh had formed an unhealthy dependency on it.
alhaitham has always ground him to that familiar, despicable soil. the weight of self-awareness is crushing. it's so much easier to live wearing a mask, a protective shield that allows no one in. if he covers his ears, there will be no sound. if he closes his eyes, he can pretend it is not there.
his reflection on the water is not one kaveh wishes to look at. there are times, rare, that even mirrors he comes to avoid. they always make him aware of himself. alhaitham, most of all. ]
If you know the answer, then you would know it's not so easy for me to do what you want me to do. What does it matter, anyways? Haven't I been living just fine until now?
[ it is not, he knows, as though kaveh has room to continuously sacrifice himself for others. as though he has any room to do anything at his own expense. were he to try, wouldn't most people stop him? wouldn't the public eye target him as pitiful?
isn't, then, the problem solved, without his consent? ]
I know enough greed to hog your time during a holiday. Isn't it enough that I'm familiar with wanting without burning myself into dust when I'm with you?
thank u friend... i'm sure the week will be scared into compliance 🙏
No.
[ because the kaveh that had put himself onto alhaitham's mindmap had been the one to draw it. the world of delicate spires, of golden ratios and harrowing foundations and vectors to take monuments to glory and engineering and bring them down to their crying knees. kaveh had drawn that day a cityscape that sumeru would never see. he had humbled a blind land down to its very marrow. it was kaveh who first held the world in his hand and said, in more than just words, that he would go beyond what has already existed.
alhaitham says, with the knowledge of a man gazing unto a shadow: ]
Because I am not the world.
[ and the kaveh that ought to exist is not kaveh the goddess or kaveh the ill - but the kaveh who once looked at the world, and said - i will rebuild you. ]
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alhaitham, he knows, is a man that begs observation. so many judge him a riddle without a solution, but kaveh, whose wits are ever only equal to one other person, whose reflection is always, solely, and exclusively on green-red eyes; kaveh thinks, instead, that alhaitham has never been a riddle, and has never needed a solution. he's a book as open as kaveh, and one only need look.
kaveh shakes his head. ]
Of course not. You wouldn't be so condescending to think so. But,
[ his arms meet his knees, and his head is laid to rest. such a weak, fragile body, that so little it has done, yet finds itself tired. kaveh doesn't think much of it. at the very least, he still has the strength to smile — here, it is small, but it does not lack sincerity. ]
Is it so bad of me to think you are? Doesn't it ground me, and isn't that what matters to you?
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