primos | all that's left could be ghosts, but you'd haunt me most

[ In his young life, Lyney had enough pride to bring his head to the clouds. He has to stand tall, to keep from drowning in the harsh waters of the world. The world was not kind to children like him, barely a 'man' and still he must protect so many of his family members... His loved ones.

"Lyney. He ensured I was safe. In his own way."
"In his own way?! He never should have touched you!"
"I do not think he is our enemy. Enter Logic Mode like me, you'll see."
"Do not. Lynette, you know what Father said!"
"I know. However, you saw what he did during all of this. He was like us."
"Like us?"
"He did things in the way he had to. Can you blame him, brother?"

He could. Time and time again – that smug grin and calm eyes... the ones that felt lonely and tired. Lyney will never forget the look on his face before that darling nurse shot him.

So, now... Lyney keeps an eye out for her as he walks down the hallways of the elevators leading to the Duke's headquarters. Meropide stunk like saltwater and metal, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Directed inside, he feels a sense of control stripped away as the Duke summons his guest in. Lynette insisted he make amends, to thank him for helping when he could. It wasn't needed, in his opinion. Why was he not thanking Lady Navia? Or Monsieur Neuvillette? Or Lady Furina herself? He's stuck with someone who he'd kill if it came down to it, challenged by his own masculinity and inability to keep his family safe.

Pah. Don't lose that mask... The giant doors shut behind him and the neatly wrapped package was gripped tighter in his arms. Lynette's idea was never one he'd question but... boy, did he hate it. Only she and Father could make him do something like this. Something that makes him feel small.

All Lyney does is look up to the staircase. ]

Edited 2024-01-20 07:58 (UTC)

[ It was self defense. He'll say it again and again. Lynette was a capable, beautiful woman with skills that any worker in their little home could home to achieve. Working in the shadows, Lynette couldn't be matched... which is why they wanted to shine line to her. When they do, they corner her. Enemies to the House, fat rich cats from Sumeru moved into the city of Fontaine, with cabins sprinkled in the countryside.

It took Lyney two days to find her, stowed away in the mountains and it took two minutes for the cabin to burn to the ground and leave an enemy of the Fatui crawling out with his face melting off. Someone who wronged Father and the kindness she showed... they survive, but barely.

Months pass and soon, Lyney stands trial in an arson and attempted murder.

The trial was long, arduous and with the right evidence – he is cleared of one charge, but not the other. The arson had ruined a quarter mile of sacred forest, legally protected and thus...

Six months, minimum.

That is what was deemed appropriate.

The clang of metal pipes and smell of saltwater brings him back to the Fortress. Back to the Duke's graces. It takes a long time to get Lyney to talk, but when he does... he doesn't shut up. ]

Here. Two stacks this week.

[ Of envelopes, letters sent to his siblings. 14 for Lynette, 6 for Freminet. One for Father. ]

You're sure they're not going to be slow in delivery?

[ With no other plans in place, Wriothesley intends to spend the evening unwinding with a book--a gift from a former inmate with a heartfelt note penned in the flyleaf, the plot some kind of fantasy affair. Quite the bold pick when mystery novels are all the rage. They are still all the rage, right? Such was the case on the surface the last time he checked.

It's not a bad book, no, but at some point the lines begin to blur. He reads a paragraph three times before realizing he's taken nothing from it. He might just be tired of reading, a consequence of running numbers most of the day. He's about to start in on a fourth attempt when a knock sounds at his office door. It's just as well. ]

Come in.

[ It isn’t long until letters return to Wriothesley’s office for Lyney. One for each one sent out. Unimaginative envelopes, plain white and blends in with the assortment received.

But for Lyney? It was noted to return to the Duke of anything suspicious was to arise.

Freminet’s letters were fine, if not a little lonely. He wants to show his new diving spot when Lyney returns to him most of all.

Lynette’s are mostly untouched except for a letter with a note on top: “inappropriate” it reads.

Lyney,

The hours feel like years and it brings me back to nights under a starless sky. Where the steam from the pipes would black out any twinkles…

I don’t like it.

However, you are already nearing a month or so. Those hours are inconsequential to you returning to me. You promised you always would and I know not to disbelieve you.

I am returning to work this week for Father. They are unhappy that Freminet is pulling your workload for mundane matters. Your usual day to days.

She scolded him enough to bring tears and I don’t know how to feel. How do you do this? Oh, my brother, your warmth has left us without. Left my bed cold, left my heart frigid.

I will do everything I can to provide. To stay strong when you have done so many times before. My promise to you, pinky promise like we made as children.

… The man went to a care facility today. He is trying to recuperate his throat. To give some Interview. I don’t like it.

The Gardes are ensuring he does not have total freedom but he has more than you.

It’s not fair.

Return to me.

Love, Lynette

The weight of that letter folds in two papers but the other marked one… only a few choice words.

“Do not stray from me again, lamb. -A”

Lyney is in his bunk, fiddling with the tension of the cotton sheets and trying his best to make such a thing comfortable. He really was having issues sleeping, but he feels cold beyond anything. The same as Lynette.

He finishes up and gets called — a demand from a subordinate that the Duke is requesting him for an update on some task he’s been focused on this week.

Technically true, but there’s something hanging in the air that Lyney isn’t picking up on. Secrets begging to be revealed, threats that don’t sit well.

Lyney knocks a sing-song way before entering. Eyes canvassing over the room before making the trek to that familiar desk. ]

You called? I told the guy it’s not able to be worked on until the water subsides in the overflow tank. So if it’s about that…

Edited 2024-01-22 16:52 (UTC)

[ Lyney didn't talk to Wriothesley about anything further. No talks of Father. Of Lynette. Of what past Lyney's tried to keep moving on from. It was pleasant enough, but he guarded himself out of shame for how vulnerable and small he felt in Wriothesley's office.

Doubting Father... thinking of taking Lynette away from Fontaine – who was he? Why did he let that Duke plant seeds that will never grow? They shouldn't.

He works his usual shifts, stuck on maintenance until his left hand bruises at the knuckles. He's not keen on speaking with that nurse, so he abandons going there in favor of that damn boxing ring. Archon's know there's enough bandages there for brutes wanting to punch into things. Lyney's ignoring the more bulky guys waiting to get their hits in, focusing on going to the supply bin in the corner. Cheers from the ring, curses and awes all the same – it was like a show. With his bandages dangling at his fingers, he's on his tip-toes to see the commotion.

...And then, of course, he sees it.

That damn Duke. ]

[ How else can he deal with confusion flushing through him? The same as he would in the overworld – he swallows it down and keeps that masquerade tight to his performance. It's taken years to perfect it, a confidence that was one part a wolf and one part a magician... the sums of his parts, sly and cunning when need be. Protective. Fierce.

It was a moment of weakness... wasn't it? He's lonely, without his beloved and ...

Wriothesley smiled more in a short moment than he had in months. Maybe Lyney views that as a win too.

And securing another win feels like something lingering in the air. A challenge... something that they both want to selfishly have whether they want to admit it or not.

Wriothesley wins with his invitation accepted.
Lyney wins with a contraband deck of cards provided, albeit... not in the pristine condition he is use to.

Seated on the floor of the coffee table, looking at the cards laid splayed out between him and Wriothesley – a few idle yawns indicate how hard he had worked and how late it was for them. The invitation, despite such circumstances, was still met with a challenge.

Of course, when Lyney thumbs at his cards, there's a disapproving huff. ]

These are ancient. The edges are peeling off. Truly, how can anyone even enjoy the feeling of the cards when they're in this state?

[ The coupons were a little more difficult this time around. It takes an extra week for him to accrue the coupons and tip for Wriothesley (always important) to send the bulk of his letters. The pipes had been in the best order they had been in years, Lyney hears, all because of his efforts. The bruises on his arms or the soft scratches on his thighs from squeezing in there was worth it, wasn't it?

With the lull of work, he takes to other means. Simple magic tricks, making this appear and disappear... guessing numbers... they were all based on anticipation and risk. Lyney knows the truth: magic and gambling relies on reading people.

So, as he had more often as of late, he ends up at the Duke's office. Ten letters for Lynette, five for Freminet, one for Father. Bunched in his hands and set carefully in front of Wriothesley, the coupons were laid shortly after.

It's ... an awkward subject, but their agreement was forged weeks ago and Lyney tends to hold Wriothesley responsible for it. Sure, he can change the rules any time he wishes but he didn't care. He'd follow them, break them, and get his way any means possible when it came to Lynette.

...And he knows he has to respond to Father. Plead for forgiveness in ways that weren't begging. She didn't like weakness, after all. It was a pledge, one forged of fear – but that loyalty... it was still blind. ]

This should be all. Less than last time, I think, but the coupons are there. [ Lyney almost sounds nervous. Different than the boy laughing and prodding old cards to his chin to hide his own amusement. ] How quickly will these ones leave?

Please hold the chili paste. It was too spicy.

[ Lynette finds her favorite cafe really has taken inspiration from Liyue in recent months. The impending events she hears about have culinary chefs going into a fits. The poor girl, sensitive as she was to smells and tastes, can't say she is fan. They don't consider the tongue, how each tastebud could be more sensitive for the last.

The umbrella shade keeps the sun from radiating too hard on her... but she's been here for hours. Sipping a third glass of tea, lost in a small book that provided a perfect cover. It's Observation Duty today, watching merchants deliver to the cafe and ensuring no extra crates were being smuggled in. Father was not happy with recent food qualities for the House of the Hearth, rumor that the quality of ingredients were being sacrificed and cut somewhere.

She'll take these missions over the ones that send her far away from Fontaine, away from her home. Those... have been happening more often.

But, an extra crate being smuggled in means despite the quality of food declining... something else would be added to deliveries. Suspicions, she hopes, were unfounded.

Her tail thumps against the side of her chair, a pencil circling page numbers she wishes to show Lyney when he comes out. This book was one he recommended her – The Windmill Warrior, a long story about a noble in Mondstadt defending her land from the horrors of impending beasts and monsters. Completely fantastical, but it was nice to get away, wasn't it?

The server returns to Lynette with three small pastries, all lacking that paste she requested. The girl has no shame taking a huge bite and munching, idle with her gaze flicking from delivery in the distance to the back of the cafe and her book. ]

[ Eight days pass and not a word is spoke between them. It's ... quiet, the pipes and rattle of steps distant and hollow keeps him up at night. He's angry, upset, and lonely. Three combinations to a cocktail that turns the boy into a incendiary grenade ready to explode.

At first, working more didn't get his mind off the Duke. The lingering taste, the way his body felt pressed in his, and that betrayal of trust – ugh. Why is he so bothered by this? It's one of the first times... he's actively wanted something. Out of reach, unable to pull from his magic hat. Lynette's letters grow longer and he writes her with confessions at first. Throwing those out shortly after in favor of the same long-lasting want for her.

It's fine.

He's just... lonely, that's why this stings so much. Right?

So. Lyney has to find a way to channel his feelings. So be it, he does it in a way that turns the pretty boy into a target. Lyney somehow convinces someone to work with him. They both bet coupons against Lyney but still – he tries. He talks his way into the ring, gives it his all but it's not enough. Each punch looks like a wet noodle flopping poorly with so-so form. Lyney works best with props, with proficiency in weapons but he's too ambitious and his strikes don't hit nearly as hard as they should.

Speed can't keep his back from the ropes and his head from hitting the mat. It'll still pay for a handful of letters.

The first day wasn't noticeable, a bruise under his eye barely blossomed, but the second day sends him to Sigewinne.

No tight-fitting clothes for four days! Let your body breathe, you're too tiny to stop growing.

That's... not how human works but Lyney doesn't argue. He isn't exactly most comfortable chatting with Sigewinne, but he does as he mentioned: he leaves an autograph as thanks which the nurse hangs up promptly after she bandages his ribs up.

The boy dangles his shirt between his fingers, limp as he carefully starts the trek back to his room, bare chest exposed and white bandages weaved up over his shoulder. He looks tired but... it's fine. Another week down. Another week closer to leaving. ]

fathoms below, tides call above [PART ONE]

when there's smoke, there's a fire [PART TWO]

caught up on a lotus [PART THREE]

and all those words turn to sand [PART FOUR]

all it took was a hook and you lured me in [PART FIVE]

and it all comes tumbling down [PART SIX]

don't take the magic out of that gaze [PART SEVEN]