[ he did, in fact, achieve something. without his stubbornness, wouldn't kaveh have long given up? stubbornness gives him room to argue, to inquire, to stand his ground and put his foot down. what is a kaveh who is not stubborn, a kaveh who goes with the flow of the river that surrounds the alcazarzaray, but not a kaveh who shines so bright he could challenge the sun itself?
he doesn't have to be certain of the future. if he has the hope to keep going, and if he's stubborn enough to defy reason and logic, stubborn enough to keep himself alive, isn't that enough? hasn't it been his stubbornness, as an architect, that allowed the palace of alcazarzaray come to life? he will sit. he will think. he will lose sleep in order to find a new road to stubbornly walk through.
what does alhaitham know about him, his ideals, his goals and dreams?
kaveh stands. this conversation has run its course. ]
What other way is there to know that a foundation cannot be built one way, if not to persist until you exhaust all options? I will, then, think, as you want me to, and continue to push my way through no matter whether it rewards my attempts or not. Some people, who are not handed everything on a silver plate like you are, would rather not live with the regret of not trying their best, or not trying hard enough. Can you still say stubbornness is so inconducive as you think?
[ kaveh speaks of regret. he speaks of trying. he speaks of stubbornness as a conduit. alhaitham thinks - that he is finally moving. the quirk of alhaitham's brow is that of a conversation unto itself - assessment, observation, the recording of facts and the collating of phenomena. but it is not, in fact, judgement. there is no need for it. there has never been, not from alhaitham.
kaveh stands. the righteousness of his fury is like a burning brand. alhaitham, who has never been burned, finally puts down his plate. ]
Then, you agree, Kaveh, that stubbornness combined with persisting through a variety of options is a better use of your time and energy. [ is what he says. his hand towel cleanses his fingers; he wipes his mouth. ] As you have just demonstrated, your vocabulary has enough variety that the word 'why' is not the only question you are capable of asking, nor is it the only thought you are capable of forming. I suggest that you continue to use your vocabulary and your stubbornness to its fullest extent. After all, did you not want to try your best?
[ and then, in the selfsame tone: ] Shall I leave food here for the night for consumption later, or shall I send the platter back to the kitchen?
[ there is still, in fact, a significant amount of tahchin. ]
[ alhaitham speaks, each and every time, and kaveh finds himself despising conversation with him. it is a natural back-and-forth between enemy kingdoms, between two crown princes that should never be in the same room as they are. kaveh has lied down on his bed before, in the warmth of the alcazarzaray, and wondered how different sumeru would be if the future kings of opposing nations had met when young, formed a friendship between them.
it is a hopeful dream kaveh discarded not long after he met alhaitham, clad in golden manacles that, despite all, hardly matched him.
the blood-red of his eyes, a jewel lost outside its home, stares alhaitham up and down. if looks could kill. ]
Leave it. I will eat before sunrise.
[ whether he's awake. whether he wakes himself up. would kaveh be able to sleep at all? has he, in the past days?
he sits on the divan, the same way as he does. legs close to his chest, head on his knees, and the view outside has long been memorized in his eyes. kaveh is slowly getting used to life in the ali qapu, and the thought itself is sickening. ]
[ if looks could kill. alhaitham considers the line of kaveh's back as he walks away. azar would enjoy him, he thinks. he has always enjoyed the veneer of rebelliousness. the thought leaves him cold. leave it, kaveh says, and so alhaitham makes the arrangements. slaves return to take the food; he bids for them to set it aside beneath iron cloches. the room smells like tahchin; the scent lingers. alhaitham considers the hour of the night, and, because he still has work to do, returns to his desk to write.
in a few hours, the servant with the swaying skirt enters to the sound of a silver bell. alhaitham does not bother looking up; a gesture of his hand sends her towards kaveh. she approaches with deference, holding out the bud of a small, pink flower. from elham, she says, as a token of thank you. there were flowers in the hall of numbers. this is the only one she could take. ]
[ for the hours that follows, kaveh abandons his stubbornness in favor of being more comfortable. he does not sleep before alhaitham does, and finds solace in the sketchpad he has been given to keep his mind busy. he sketches, draws, writes. most, he has noticed, are drawings of the palace of alcazazaray, so he does not forget its glory. the idea itself is terrifying.
kaveh looks when slaves and servants come and go, each and every time. that one of them (familiar, too, he recognizes her) approaches him is a difference in routine, the flower a surprise. from elham. a budding flower, yet to bloom. kaveh, being kaveh, finds meaning in it. associates hope to a flower that matures. he stands from his divan.
though he had once searched through alhaitham's room, kaveh does it again. shelves, no matter how high or low. most he finds, of course, are books, with few decorations. a vase. just a damn vase, how hard is it to find a vase of all things? he huffs, and sighs, and paces around, and looks over and over again through the same shelves, as though magically, a vase would appear where once it was not.
he's not going to ask alhaitham for one. he refuses. ]
[ kaveh draws. kaveh writes. kaveh searches. after the first foray around the room, it becomes more and more obvious as to just what he is searching. the bookshelves hold no clues; alhaitham knows. the books, sorted first by language and then by font - though it gets a little messy in the liyuen ones - collect knowledge and dust, not flowers. but kaveh's gaze skims them all the same, that same, red, hunting look of a riboshland tiger when keyed to prey. no riboshland tiger has a temper that kaveh does. it is not his temper, however, that kaveh is known for. for a moment, alhaitham wonders if his energy and mind will keep up. strain builds when one's fury does not match one's constitution. kaveh is not so weak - however, kaveh is just a man. a man that bleeds when cut. a man that bruises when hurt. a man that burns when put to the torch.
what kaveh is known for: the dancing of petals on the eve of the lesser lord's birthday. the proclamation of laughter as he venerates his countrymen. the carving of a rose that still sits in alhaitham's lockbox, the one on his shelf that contains the letters that were written between their parents, before the murder of his own.
it's a pity, alhaitham thinks, that alhaitham himself cannot be the anchor to flame.
kaveh makes a third round of the room. alhaitham, finally, says: ]
In the bathroom, to the right of the waterfall. Take out the stick of incense, and use it as you wish.
[ kaveh's assessment had been wrong. he would have readily believed that alhaitham would find joy in watching him struggle, unsuccessful in his search, until he put pride down to inquire for what he wants. instead, it is the tone of his voice that catches him off guard, and the words are not processed in his mind as they come. it takes a while — in the bathroom, to the right of the waterfall —, but once kaveh understands their purpose, he clicks his tongue. ]
I didn't need your help.
[ surely, his search would take him to the bathroom, eventually. he would be a fool who looks for something so easy to find in the wrong place, for the longest time, but it is that selfsame stubbornness that allows his flame to burn ever bright.
the vase will suffice. the flower is pruned already, he finds, and will bloom with time. kaveh adds some water to it, then the flower, and brings it back to his divan. it will sit next to his sketchpad, by the window, so it makes use of the sunlight at high noon. it will bloom. he would make sure.
[ the click of kaveh's tongue reverberates. the room that pir kavekavus built with his own two hands would allow no less. it allows alhaitham to track kaveh's movements as he searches in the bathroom, the careful padding of bare feet along moist tiles until he has identified the vase in question. kaveh tends to the flower as if it were a child. he waters it, and places it by the window so that it will be able to soak up the light of the sun. the lifespan of a cut flower is short. it does not seem like a good use of energy to keep such things alive, knowing that they will soon die. this, alhaitham does not say.
instead, kaveh turns to alhaitham. alhaitham's pen skims across his manuscript. ]
Are you seeking from me help, permission or an opinion?
[ alhaitham looks up. kaveh's hands, still-wet from watering his flower - his fingers gleam in the torchlight. he observes him for a moment. it would be a return of gratitude for the flower sent. it is harmless, so long as it isn't intercepted. ]
Prepare the message. You have paper, and you are capable of writing. [ his gaze dips back down to his manuscript. his hand continues to write. ] Azadeh will take your message to her, provided that she deems the process safe.
[ neither, kaveh would have answered. it is neither help, nor permission, let alone an opinion. it is a demand from a prince, but prince of vissudha kaveh is not. he cannot call for servants or slaves, cannot order them to deliver messages. that has to be something alhaitham does, and it is something kaveh has to ask of him.
it is not help, permission, or an opinion. therefore, this he can rely on him for. kaveh comes closer, by his desk, and does not bother to read what alhaitham writes. despite all, he has decency, and bigger things to worry about.
he holds his hand out. ]
Give me a letter paper. The ones from my sketchpad are unsuited for this.
[ they are far thicker, suited for rough strokes of graphite and charcoal. those, kaveh thinks, will not do for what he has in mind. letter papers are thinner, easier to handle. loathe as he is to ask anything of alhaitham, even he himself knows when to set pride aside for a moment in order to achieve his own goals. ]
[ kaveh holds his hand out. alhaitham's pen stills. he looks. this is, he thinks, the first time that kaveh has insisted on an outcome, rather than seeking answers frrom alhaitham's pre-planned paths. kaveh needed food and sleep. he needed arguments to take his mind away from the grief, and his countrymen to give him hope. but there are things that alhaitham cannot provide until kaveh is ready for it. kaveh, now, for the first time, wants.
and in no universe would alhaitham ever stand in its way. ]
How so? Is paper not paper? Or do you assert that the paper manufactured from Vissudha is of lesser quality than the ones from Lokapala?
[ is what he says, however. best to reassert a reminder: alhaitham is not inherently kind. he can never be. ]
[ alhaitham speaks words that only he would dare, and for once, kaveh finds himself not falling for them. it does not, after all, have anything to do with the quality of paper, and it almost, just almost, makes kaveh feel superior. as though this is a piece of knowledge he has that alhaitham does not. it wouldn't be entirely surprising — it is, after all, something he has learned from being an architect, designer, artist. has the prince of vissudha ever bothered to touch a sketchpad, and feel its papers?
kaveh sighs, hand still out. ]
Uncoated paper and embossed paper are entirely different. Parchment, for your letters, is far thinner, more malleable. Linen paper is thicker, textured. I can't use those. [ he gestures with his fingers. ] If you fancy reading so much, I'm sure there are books on different types of papers. I don't have to give you a lecture. Now, give me. I won't stand here all evening.
[ alhaitham, who had been tutored by the haravatat, and whose work on archival reforms continues to influence the preservation of runes, relics and books from ages long past using techniques synthesizes from corners of teyvat, who has a pair of archival-grade gloves sitting in his desk drawer for handling paper that cannot be handled by normal means in uncontrolled conditions - smiles. alhaitham's smiles start with the eyes. the crinkle of its edges soften the curve of his cheek, lines itself down the pull of his shoulders and the shifting of his body. the smile does not make it to his lips. it never has. the amusement shifts his grip on his pen, which he finally puts down.
kaveh, who asserts he doesn't have to give alhaitham a lecture, speaks of paper. alhaitham picks up a sheet. uncoated parchment, pressed from the untanned skins of sheep from the rolling hills of mondstadt, treated with cecilia flower extract that maintains basic malleability for soaking in ink, and presents a floral scent. he holds it up to kaveh. ]
And I suppose you will also complain that your current inks cannot be used? A former prince is difficult to keep indeed.
[ a dismissive flick of his fingers. the inks on the table have already been laid out: a fine, dark pigment with an animal glue base from mondstadt, a peacock blue ground fine with minerals from liyue wafting with the scent of soot, a muted ocher ground with bone meant for needle-point. ]
[ not former, he would have had half the mind to reply, but kaveh does not. he takes the paper, eyes the inks. none of them will serve their purpose. kaveh huffs through his nose, and returns to his divan.
there, between charcoal and graphite, he fetches the later. it will work on parchment, and would cause no harm. he lays it on top of his sketchpad for support, and sets to write. it is, after all, a short message of gratitude for the flower. kaveh makes a promise to return it to elham once the flower blooms, which it will, he promises as well. he would tend to it until it does, and waxes poetry on its meaning. it seals the reassurance he wanted to provide her with.
in typical lokapalan dialect, at the bottom, he adds: burn this letter at your earliest convenience, and if you are not able to do so, tear it and swallow it. do not give room to others to find it. i will be speaking with akram and kurash. you may rely on them. linen paper wouldn't do, nor would ink or charcoal.
he stands again. ]
Send for Azadeh. As long as this letter makes it to Elham unintercepted, it should be fine. You know I wouldn't dare put her in harm's way.
[ that is to say, it is not a letter he wants others to read. ]
[ a missive not meant to last, then. kaveh gets to work; alhaitham finishes his. he does not look up until kaveh approaches once more. with the imperative tones of nobility, looking down on his nose. alhaitham, who is amused, considers the way kaveh looks. he then reaches for a sheathe of feathers that sit on his desk. blue, green, in the way of fanned peacocks and the imperious crown of lyrebirds - he takes one feather from the stack, and hands it to kaveh.
a shoulderless shrug: ]
There is no need to bother me every time you wish to send for her. There is a pneumatic tube by the door. Put the feather through. It will reach her, and she will be here.
[ the permission is implicit - do as you like. alhaitham's authority in this is conferred to kaveh. ]
[ kaveh stares. alhaitham speaks, and kaveh thinks, how easy would it be to forget what he is meant to be? had it not been the walls that confine him to a room not designed by him (pir kavikavus' designs had been inspiration for his own, still), the scenery outside his window that is not one he grew up in, the presence that haunts him day after day, kaveh would have soon forgotten he is, still, held captive, a slave.
later, as he lies on the divan, he would wonder, why bother igniting the flames of his stubbornness, if he is meant to submit? it is not yet time to ponder such thoughts.
kaveh takes the feather without a word, and as told, slips it through the tube. it does not take long at all for that same servant with the swaying skirt to knock on the door and let herself in, with that selfsame deference. kaveh notes here that he's becoming fonder of her, little by little. he proceeds to apologize for calling her so late, entrusts her the letter, asks if it could be delivered to elham with the utmost care. she reassures him alongside a bow, and kaveh thanks her as she makes her way out.
he is, indeed, becoming fonder of her. he's yet unsure how good of a thing that is. ]
[ azadeh bows, her skirts swaying as she departs. alhaitham has known her since childhood. she is trustworthy. this is not said lightly. but the knowledge of trust and the reality of the vissudha have always been two sides of a coin. there is simply a fundamental truth: whatever that alhaitham trusts is what azar will take away. he has not done so in some time. azadeh has been careful. but alhaitham has a contingency for when azar's eyes inevitably fall upon her; that day, he supposes that kaveh will blame him for it, too. that is none of his concern. from the day he enacted his plan, sitting on his throne observing the eleventh man in the room, alhaitham had known - he will bear blame. it hardly matters, for what he is about to accomplish.
the final missive is sealed, and signed. alhaitham leaves them in a pile on his desk; they can be tended to in the morning. kaveh addresses him once more, and he lets his pen rest as he stretches out his left hand. first thumb, then index, then in order the rest. his palm braces against air. alhaitham breathes out. he reaches for a book. ]
In two days' time. [ is what alhaitham says, as he flips the first page of a book entitled 'treatise of etymons from deshret-era runes'. his attention finds focus - that does not mean, however, there is less attention for kaveh. ] Both have been told there will be a meeting. Tomorrow, they will know when, and where, as will you.
[ two days. he would have time to revise what to say to either of them, the flame of stubbornness burning their hottest. he would sit on his divan, plan out several different ways their conversation could go, what words to say, which ones would make the most impact. it is, he knows, a prince-like mindset. he hasn't lost his touch just yet.
akram and kurash. he digs through the shelves of his mind for the information he has on them. ]
They're fraternal twins. Kurash is a retired guard, and he tended to our stables. Animals always seem rather fond of him. He preferred a quiet life, which his brother didn't quite agree.
[ kaveh had overseen the guards' training one day, only to hear akram vent about his goals and hopes for the future. he wants kurash to return to the guard, and would do so by force if he had to — which then meant he would have to train to surpass him, despite being the elder brother. ]
Akram was, of course, one of our guards. He's talented, albeit a tad emotional. As a Lokapala-born, he has a heart of gold. I've always thought he could easily succeed in whatever he puts his mind to, but he has always been set on the way of the sword. He means well.
[ and that alone, of course, brings rise to feelings of worry. he knows kurash could fend for himself, but how has akram been faring? that, too, is something to consider when he meets with them. ]
[ fraternal twins. retired guard, and emotional guard. inefficient, alhaitham thinks. it is not the first time he has had that thought. the ali qapu, crimson jewel of the vissudha, is a machine run on inefficiencies. neither individual were screened for their skills upon entering slavehood; both were simply assessed based on their physicality and presenting gender, and not for what they were capable of contributing. azar has never seen slaves as anything less than animal. it had not been worthwhile to ask after their immediate strengths; moving more than just elham through the channels into an appropriate role had already been just within alhaitham's risk tolerance. that does not mean long-term adjustments can't be done; they simply must be done with intentionality.
but he listens. kaveh's assessment of his people always follows as thus: their skills, their temperament, his opinion. ]
Akram has been assigned to the stables. Kurash to the kitchens. [ kaveh will learn this later. there would be no real detriment towards him doing so; there is not, as a matter of fact, anything he can do with the information, nor will it be conducive to him sleeping at night. so alhaitham does not say: that akram has been taken to the lash on the regular, for his temper. he is gentle with the horses, but not with the rider of the horses. he lives with that deficet. instead, what alhaitham says, is this: ] The Lokapalan desserts, or so I have gathered, is Kurash's suggestion.
[ kaveh listens, because it's the only thing he can do. listen, and retain information, and bear the weight of guilt. akram, alhaitham starts, has been assigned to the stables. akram, whose fingers bear calluses deeper than half of lokapala's, has been tasked to handling animals so easy to scare. akram, emotional, kind-hearted akram, with a temper as short as the lives of the butterflies that surround the alcazarzaray come spring, has been assigned to deal with horses, and their riders, vissudha-born. he wonders for a moment, has akram been punished for his sharp tongue? the thought is haunting, and alhaitham continues.
kurash, he says, to the kitchens. kurash is level-headed. kurash, kaveh believes, or brings himself to believe, wouldn't see himself to trouble. kurash, alhaitham adds, had suggested lokapalan desserts, the same that kaveh had loathed to eat, and loathed to keep in his body.
of course. it would make sense. kaveh, in his spite, in his anger, ever so blinding, had believed them to be a mockery. had believe the desserts to be made by vissudhan hands, suggested by vissudhan people, with no care, guidance, or worry for their meaning and history.
the color drains from kaveh's face, and he sits on the divan. ]
I... I see. That's— I will keep it in mind. [ akram, the stables. kurash, the kitchens. when was the last time they met? ] Will I have one hour with them as well?
[ guilt worries away at kaveh's fierce temper. it has him drained of colour against his divan. alhaitham observes. nothing will bring kaveh comfort. not for guilt. it has only been a handful of days since the death of his people and the fall of his country. it follows that his mood will swing; anyone would. but kaveh and guilt have lived side by side since the earliest of days. this, alhaitham knows, because he has met kaveh. once as a child. once at his coming of age. once, elsewhere, in a story that is lost to time, one that only alhaitham remembers. everyone knows the story of the depression that took hold of lokapala's queen. everyone knows how kaveh, the architect, the brilliant sunburst of the lokapala, had sought to make her smile.
today, kaveh sits on the divan and begins to contemplate. alhaitham observes the spiral. it's obvious what he is thinking. he turns another page in his book. ]
Yes. [ alhaitham answers the question first, ] One hour, for both of them. Take care to let them leave early, as always - both have far to travel through the palace to return to their posts. The meeting will be at night. There are no other details. Like I said, you will know tomorrow, though you should prepare as much as you. An hour is brief when there are two.
[ an hour is brief enough with just one of your dispossessed citizens.
he continues, in that same voice - but quieter, perhaps, the words carrying across the room: ] Your guilt is misplaced. You did not know.
[ one hour for two, who must travel far through the castle to return to their posts. kaveh thinks, then, that he only has half an hour instead. half an hour to reassure them of his safety, to rekindle their hope, and to hear about their days, so he may carry their burden, as a prince should.
your guilt is misplaced, alhaitham speaks, and kaveh looks away. of course he knows of it. kaveh only wishes he were not so transparent, that emotions did not show clear on his face, that his actions were unseen by all. but kaveh, so honest to a fault, so sincere in his pain, does not know how to sharpen his mask against someone who sees right through it. ]
I will be careful. [ is what he says first. half an hour. kaveh would hate to endanger his people further than he already has.
then, quieter as well, with a voice that speaks of guilt: ] ... Could you, um, let the kitchen servants know that the dessert was well-received, and to send for more come dinner?
[ a small solace, he thinks, and a favor he's loathe to ask of alhaitham. but if there's praise from the crown prince, then it would do kurash well. ]
[ a quieter voice, like the vestiges of smoke. alhaitham, who does not believe that kaveh ought to dim the flame of his existence for anyone, merely sighs into his book. but he lets kaveh finish - this is something that is needed. for kaveh to speak his mind, for kaveh to figure out what he needs to do, for kaveh to find his bearing. one cannot survive solely on the flames of anger; one cannot live solely on the tears of regret. but one can find a balance in order to move forward. this, alhaitham does not only know in theory. he, too, understands the slaves beneath the high-vaulted ceilings of the ali qapu. it is sympathy, not empathy - but this, too, must be enough.
being asked for a favour is not surprising, not in the wake of the small revelation between the marble columns of alhaitham's room. ]
Am I a mouthpiece for the prince in my room, now? [ is what alhaitham says, ] Or did you forget how to speak to those of lower rank? Or have you finally accepted your status as a slave, and no longer feel worthy of speaking to servants? Which is it? Either way, your ability to use language seems unimpeded; the kitchen staff will be here in the morning with our breakfast. You may pass along your message then, if you still have the courage to do so.
[ because the only way to balance guilt is with fury. ]
[ indeed, the only way to balance guilt is with fury, and alhaitham excels at setting alight the flame of kaveh's fury.
kaveh is, after all, a humble prince. lokapala sees her people as equals, and kaveh behaves as such. the servants who once tended to the palace of alcazarzaray, he saw as family. the brothers and sisters of the sun, whose faces and names he keeps close to heart. he has not forgotten how to speak of those of lower rank, because kaveh has never acknowledged such a thing. he has not, either, accepted that he is a slave, for the flame of stubbornness burns much brighter than the one of fury.
kaveh clicks his tongue. the answer is, then, obvious. ]
You are their prince, not I. Your word is of far more importance than mine. What does it matter if I praise them, but you berate their craft? Whose opinion do you think they would take to heart?
[ kaveh clicks his tongue, as if contending with a particularly stubborn horse. the sound resounds throughout the bedchamber. alhaitham allows him to do so. he turns another page of his book; the line of his book hides a not-smile, one that begins with the curve of alhaitham's eyes, and ends along the shifting of his shoulders. it never quite makes it to his mouth. it has never needed to. it has always been enough for alhaitham to know for himself that he is amused.
instead: ]
First: your argument relies on the premise that I have berated their craft. On which day and at which meal did I do so? If you are accusing me of such behaviour, should you not have the evidence to back up your claim?
Second: which is best received, the words said for the sake of them, or words said with sincerity? Or have the Lokapalans always preferred lip service to heart-worthy praise? The difference in cultures between our kingdoms must be wider than anticipated.
[ the more alhaitham speaks, the more his guilt washes away. at times, kaveh finds he almost loathes the sound of alhaitham's voice. he speaks, and there's berating, there's arguing, there's poking and prodding at matters that should never concern him. time and time again, kaveh feels as though he is in the center of a room covered in mirrors, and there is nowhere to hide.
he shouldn't have asked anything of alhaitham. there is no worth in letting go of pride. ]
Do the Vissudhans have no respect for their prince, if words from his personal slave weight the same? [ kaveh bites back, the burning red of his eyes shooting daggers at alhaitham's visage. ] What need is there for caste, then, if between the Ali Qapu's walls, your servants hold pride in a slave's praise?
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2023-04-27 11:07 pm (UTC)he doesn't have to be certain of the future. if he has the hope to keep going, and if he's stubborn enough to defy reason and logic, stubborn enough to keep himself alive, isn't that enough? hasn't it been his stubbornness, as an architect, that allowed the palace of alcazarzaray come to life? he will sit. he will think. he will lose sleep in order to find a new road to stubbornly walk through.
what does alhaitham know about him, his ideals, his goals and dreams?
kaveh stands. this conversation has run its course. ]
What other way is there to know that a foundation cannot be built one way, if not to persist until you exhaust all options? I will, then, think, as you want me to, and continue to push my way through no matter whether it rewards my attempts or not. Some people, who are not handed everything on a silver plate like you are, would rather not live with the regret of not trying their best, or not trying hard enough. Can you still say stubbornness is so inconducive as you think?
no subject
Date: 2023-04-29 05:37 am (UTC)kaveh stands. the righteousness of his fury is like a burning brand. alhaitham, who has never been burned, finally puts down his plate. ]
Then, you agree, Kaveh, that stubbornness combined with persisting through a variety of options is a better use of your time and energy. [ is what he says. his hand towel cleanses his fingers; he wipes his mouth. ] As you have just demonstrated, your vocabulary has enough variety that the word 'why' is not the only question you are capable of asking, nor is it the only thought you are capable of forming. I suggest that you continue to use your vocabulary and your stubbornness to its fullest extent. After all, did you not want to try your best?
[ and then, in the selfsame tone: ] Shall I leave food here for the night for consumption later, or shall I send the platter back to the kitchen?
[ there is still, in fact, a significant amount of tahchin. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-01 04:43 am (UTC)it is a hopeful dream kaveh discarded not long after he met alhaitham, clad in golden manacles that, despite all, hardly matched him.
the blood-red of his eyes, a jewel lost outside its home, stares alhaitham up and down. if looks could kill. ]
Leave it. I will eat before sunrise.
[ whether he's awake. whether he wakes himself up. would kaveh be able to sleep at all? has he, in the past days?
he sits on the divan, the same way as he does. legs close to his chest, head on his knees, and the view outside has long been memorized in his eyes. kaveh is slowly getting used to life in the ali qapu, and the thought itself is sickening. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-02 04:57 pm (UTC)in a few hours, the servant with the swaying skirt enters to the sound of a silver bell. alhaitham does not bother looking up; a gesture of his hand sends her towards kaveh. she approaches with deference, holding out the bud of a small, pink flower. from elham, she says, as a token of thank you. there were flowers in the hall of numbers. this is the only one she could take. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-02 10:37 pm (UTC)kaveh looks when slaves and servants come and go, each and every time. that one of them (familiar, too, he recognizes her) approaches him is a difference in routine, the flower a surprise. from elham. a budding flower, yet to bloom. kaveh, being kaveh, finds meaning in it. associates hope to a flower that matures. he stands from his divan.
though he had once searched through alhaitham's room, kaveh does it again. shelves, no matter how high or low. most he finds, of course, are books, with few decorations. a vase. just a damn vase, how hard is it to find a vase of all things? he huffs, and sighs, and paces around, and looks over and over again through the same shelves, as though magically, a vase would appear where once it was not.
he's not going to ask alhaitham for one. he refuses. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-04 03:22 am (UTC)what kaveh is known for: the dancing of petals on the eve of the lesser lord's birthday. the proclamation of laughter as he venerates his countrymen. the carving of a rose that still sits in alhaitham's lockbox, the one on his shelf that contains the letters that were written between their parents, before the murder of his own.
it's a pity, alhaitham thinks, that alhaitham himself cannot be the anchor to flame.
kaveh makes a third round of the room. alhaitham, finally, says: ]
In the bathroom, to the right of the waterfall. Take out the stick of incense, and use it as you wish.
[ he speaks of a small, high-lipped vase. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-05 03:39 am (UTC)I didn't need your help.
[ surely, his search would take him to the bathroom, eventually. he would be a fool who looks for something so easy to find in the wrong place, for the longest time, but it is that selfsame stubbornness that allows his flame to burn ever bright.
the vase will suffice. the flower is pruned already, he finds, and will bloom with time. kaveh adds some water to it, then the flower, and brings it back to his divan. it will sit next to his sketchpad, by the window, so it makes use of the sunlight at high noon. it will bloom. he would make sure.
it is only then that kaveh turns to alhaitham. ]
I would like to send Elham a note.
no subject
Date: 2023-05-05 04:00 am (UTC)instead, kaveh turns to alhaitham. alhaitham's pen skims across his manuscript. ]
Are you seeking from me help, permission or an opinion?
[ alhaitham looks up. kaveh's hands, still-wet from watering his flower - his fingers gleam in the torchlight. he observes him for a moment. it would be a return of gratitude for the flower sent. it is harmless, so long as it isn't intercepted. ]
Prepare the message. You have paper, and you are capable of writing. [ his gaze dips back down to his manuscript. his hand continues to write. ] Azadeh will take your message to her, provided that she deems the process safe.
no subject
Date: 2023-05-06 12:40 am (UTC)it is not help, permission, or an opinion. therefore, this he can rely on him for. kaveh comes closer, by his desk, and does not bother to read what alhaitham writes. despite all, he has decency, and bigger things to worry about.
he holds his hand out. ]
Give me a letter paper. The ones from my sketchpad are unsuited for this.
[ they are far thicker, suited for rough strokes of graphite and charcoal. those, kaveh thinks, will not do for what he has in mind. letter papers are thinner, easier to handle. loathe as he is to ask anything of alhaitham, even he himself knows when to set pride aside for a moment in order to achieve his own goals. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-06 05:42 am (UTC)and in no universe would alhaitham ever stand in its way. ]
How so? Is paper not paper? Or do you assert that the paper manufactured from Vissudha is of lesser quality than the ones from Lokapala?
[ is what he says, however. best to reassert a reminder: alhaitham is not inherently kind. he can never be. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-06 05:03 pm (UTC)kaveh sighs, hand still out. ]
Uncoated paper and embossed paper are entirely different. Parchment, for your letters, is far thinner, more malleable. Linen paper is thicker, textured. I can't use those. [ he gestures with his fingers. ] If you fancy reading so much, I'm sure there are books on different types of papers. I don't have to give you a lecture. Now, give me. I won't stand here all evening.
no subject
Date: 2023-05-06 05:55 pm (UTC)kaveh, who asserts he doesn't have to give alhaitham a lecture, speaks of paper. alhaitham picks up a sheet. uncoated parchment, pressed from the untanned skins of sheep from the rolling hills of mondstadt, treated with cecilia flower extract that maintains basic malleability for soaking in ink, and presents a floral scent. he holds it up to kaveh. ]
And I suppose you will also complain that your current inks cannot be used? A former prince is difficult to keep indeed.
[ a dismissive flick of his fingers. the inks on the table have already been laid out: a fine, dark pigment with an animal glue base from mondstadt, a peacock blue ground fine with minerals from liyue wafting with the scent of soot, a muted ocher ground with bone meant for needle-point. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-06 07:21 pm (UTC)there, between charcoal and graphite, he fetches the later. it will work on parchment, and would cause no harm. he lays it on top of his sketchpad for support, and sets to write. it is, after all, a short message of gratitude for the flower. kaveh makes a promise to return it to elham once the flower blooms, which it will, he promises as well. he would tend to it until it does, and waxes poetry on its meaning. it seals the reassurance he wanted to provide her with.
in typical lokapalan dialect, at the bottom, he adds: burn this letter at your earliest convenience, and if you are not able to do so, tear it and swallow it. do not give room to others to find it. i will be speaking with akram and kurash. you may rely on them. linen paper wouldn't do, nor would ink or charcoal.
he stands again. ]
Send for Azadeh. As long as this letter makes it to Elham unintercepted, it should be fine. You know I wouldn't dare put her in harm's way.
[ that is to say, it is not a letter he wants others to read. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-07 01:30 am (UTC)a shoulderless shrug: ]
There is no need to bother me every time you wish to send for her. There is a pneumatic tube by the door. Put the feather through. It will reach her, and she will be here.
[ the permission is implicit - do as you like. alhaitham's authority in this is conferred to kaveh. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-07 04:58 am (UTC)later, as he lies on the divan, he would wonder, why bother igniting the flames of his stubbornness, if he is meant to submit? it is not yet time to ponder such thoughts.
kaveh takes the feather without a word, and as told, slips it through the tube. it does not take long at all for that same servant with the swaying skirt to knock on the door and let herself in, with that selfsame deference. kaveh notes here that he's becoming fonder of her, little by little. he proceeds to apologize for calling her so late, entrusts her the letter, asks if it could be delivered to elham with the utmost care. she reassures him alongside a bow, and kaveh thanks her as she makes her way out.
he is, indeed, becoming fonder of her. he's yet unsure how good of a thing that is. ]
When am I to meet Akram and Kurash?
no subject
Date: 2023-05-07 05:21 am (UTC)the final missive is sealed, and signed. alhaitham leaves them in a pile on his desk; they can be tended to in the morning. kaveh addresses him once more, and he lets his pen rest as he stretches out his left hand. first thumb, then index, then in order the rest. his palm braces against air. alhaitham breathes out. he reaches for a book. ]
In two days' time. [ is what alhaitham says, as he flips the first page of a book entitled 'treatise of etymons from deshret-era runes'. his attention finds focus - that does not mean, however, there is less attention for kaveh. ] Both have been told there will be a meeting. Tomorrow, they will know when, and where, as will you.
Tell me of their strengths.
no subject
Date: 2023-05-07 06:43 am (UTC)akram and kurash. he digs through the shelves of his mind for the information he has on them. ]
They're fraternal twins. Kurash is a retired guard, and he tended to our stables. Animals always seem rather fond of him. He preferred a quiet life, which his brother didn't quite agree.
[ kaveh had overseen the guards' training one day, only to hear akram vent about his goals and hopes for the future. he wants kurash to return to the guard, and would do so by force if he had to — which then meant he would have to train to surpass him, despite being the elder brother. ]
Akram was, of course, one of our guards. He's talented, albeit a tad emotional. As a Lokapala-born, he has a heart of gold. I've always thought he could easily succeed in whatever he puts his mind to, but he has always been set on the way of the sword. He means well.
[ and that alone, of course, brings rise to feelings of worry. he knows kurash could fend for himself, but how has akram been faring? that, too, is something to consider when he meets with them. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-08 01:28 am (UTC)but he listens. kaveh's assessment of his people always follows as thus: their skills, their temperament, his opinion. ]
Akram has been assigned to the stables. Kurash to the kitchens. [ kaveh will learn this later. there would be no real detriment towards him doing so; there is not, as a matter of fact, anything he can do with the information, nor will it be conducive to him sleeping at night. so alhaitham does not say: that akram has been taken to the lash on the regular, for his temper. he is gentle with the horses, but not with the rider of the horses. he lives with that deficet. instead, what alhaitham says, is this: ] The Lokapalan desserts, or so I have gathered, is Kurash's suggestion.
no subject
Date: 2023-05-12 01:34 am (UTC)kurash, he says, to the kitchens. kurash is level-headed. kurash, kaveh believes, or brings himself to believe, wouldn't see himself to trouble. kurash, alhaitham adds, had suggested lokapalan desserts, the same that kaveh had loathed to eat, and loathed to keep in his body.
of course. it would make sense. kaveh, in his spite, in his anger, ever so blinding, had believed them to be a mockery. had believe the desserts to be made by vissudhan hands, suggested by vissudhan people, with no care, guidance, or worry for their meaning and history.
the color drains from kaveh's face, and he sits on the divan. ]
I... I see. That's— I will keep it in mind. [ akram, the stables. kurash, the kitchens. when was the last time they met? ] Will I have one hour with them as well?
no subject
Date: 2023-05-12 03:21 am (UTC)today, kaveh sits on the divan and begins to contemplate. alhaitham observes the spiral. it's obvious what he is thinking. he turns another page in his book. ]
Yes. [ alhaitham answers the question first, ] One hour, for both of them. Take care to let them leave early, as always - both have far to travel through the palace to return to their posts. The meeting will be at night. There are no other details. Like I said, you will know tomorrow, though you should prepare as much as you. An hour is brief when there are two.
[ an hour is brief enough with just one of your dispossessed citizens.
he continues, in that same voice - but quieter, perhaps, the words carrying across the room: ] Your guilt is misplaced. You did not know.
no subject
Date: 2023-05-12 05:23 am (UTC)your guilt is misplaced, alhaitham speaks, and kaveh looks away. of course he knows of it. kaveh only wishes he were not so transparent, that emotions did not show clear on his face, that his actions were unseen by all. but kaveh, so honest to a fault, so sincere in his pain, does not know how to sharpen his mask against someone who sees right through it. ]
I will be careful. [ is what he says first. half an hour. kaveh would hate to endanger his people further than he already has.
then, quieter as well, with a voice that speaks of guilt: ] ... Could you, um, let the kitchen servants know that the dessert was well-received, and to send for more come dinner?
[ a small solace, he thinks, and a favor he's loathe to ask of alhaitham. but if there's praise from the crown prince, then it would do kurash well. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-13 01:26 am (UTC)being asked for a favour is not surprising, not in the wake of the small revelation between the marble columns of alhaitham's room. ]
Am I a mouthpiece for the prince in my room, now? [ is what alhaitham says, ] Or did you forget how to speak to those of lower rank? Or have you finally accepted your status as a slave, and no longer feel worthy of speaking to servants? Which is it? Either way, your ability to use language seems unimpeded; the kitchen staff will be here in the morning with our breakfast. You may pass along your message then, if you still have the courage to do so.
[ because the only way to balance guilt is with fury. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-05-15 03:20 am (UTC)kaveh is, after all, a humble prince. lokapala sees her people as equals, and kaveh behaves as such. the servants who once tended to the palace of alcazarzaray, he saw as family. the brothers and sisters of the sun, whose faces and names he keeps close to heart. he has not forgotten how to speak of those of lower rank, because kaveh has never acknowledged such a thing. he has not, either, accepted that he is a slave, for the flame of stubbornness burns much brighter than the one of fury.
kaveh clicks his tongue. the answer is, then, obvious. ]
You are their prince, not I. Your word is of far more importance than mine. What does it matter if I praise them, but you berate their craft? Whose opinion do you think they would take to heart?
no subject
Date: 2023-05-15 07:57 pm (UTC)instead: ]
First: your argument relies on the premise that I have berated their craft. On which day and at which meal did I do so? If you are accusing me of such behaviour, should you not have the evidence to back up your claim?
Second: which is best received, the words said for the sake of them, or words said with sincerity? Or have the Lokapalans always preferred lip service to heart-worthy praise? The difference in cultures between our kingdoms must be wider than anticipated.
no subject
Date: 2023-05-15 10:05 pm (UTC)he shouldn't have asked anything of alhaitham. there is no worth in letting go of pride. ]
Do the Vissudhans have no respect for their prince, if words from his personal slave weight the same? [ kaveh bites back, the burning red of his eyes shooting daggers at alhaitham's visage. ] What need is there for caste, then, if between the Ali Qapu's walls, your servants hold pride in a slave's praise?
i never got this notif wtf ????
From:dw thinks we've had too much fun with gay men
From:ur not wrong tbh
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:"welcome back to rp", you say, forcing me to write this. sick in the HEAD!!!!!!!!!
From:HAHAH you know u love it ✨✨✨
From:.......... i shall neither confirm nor deny it thank you,
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:im going to kill you one of these days it is a Promise
From:sparkles!!!
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: