they would always talk about the gods.
his father sat beside him at night with a worn-out book in hand. well, all of their things were worn-out those days. kaeya smiled and scooted a bit closer to his dad, looking up at him expectantly. story-time had been getting rare as of late.
"story?" his voice squeaked rather painfully, gritty from the lack of usage. it doesn't make his father bat an eye, instead the tired man smiled.
his father always had a deep voice, lament with that harsh royal khaenri'ahn accent. it was the type of accent that made your throat vibrate from how deep your voice became. the voice of his father had always soothed him beyond the ability of anything else, not that much did.
"the story of barbatos."
he frowned solemnly, why would they talk about the gods? frankly, kaeya didn't even want to think about them.
after all that they'd done, the air between the remnants of khaenri'ah's people were full of hatred for the archons. yet, some continued to bear unabashed respect, and one of them were his father. his elder cousin, dainsleif never understood that part.
his father could see his questioning and somewhat sad gaze, his heart broke for the child.
he wished he could have gifted a life for his son of which he used to have, where they could sing songs of dreams for their people and tell tales of their once beloved gods of celestia. practice alkemi and magik, tell stories of their dragons and the creations built from mankind. a time where they worshiped the holy irminsul tree and lived among the ley lines in peace.
a bitter taste entered his mouth, for that wasn't how the world worked anymore. not any longer.
"come now, child. do not be so downcast."
"could we do a different one?" he pleaded.
his father shook his head just as he'd expected and he slumps, still disappointed even if he already knew what his father would answer. he would always talk about barbatos and the other gods as if they were so merciful and compassionate. then, why do they lay here now in the dark with little to no food? rotting.
dying.
there were no real gods.
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
of the loved and the unloved
Fanfictionthe last time diluc had seen the harbinger was at a dark time in his life. so, when the man walks in his tavern hours past midnight, he's flabbergasted. and maybe, eager as well, not that'd he'd tarnish his pride and admit it. or kaeya generously (a...
