okay so hhfjr basically i wrote a tedtalk about xiaolumi in one of my friend's discord DMs and that lead to me getting a wattpad account. bc they said so, yknow? as i say, anything is possible with enough peer pressure. and they peer pressured me en...
heres some fanart i made... wouldve done it digitally but my chromebook touchscreen decided to no longer work. F. well, goodbye to all the wips i had on there. i am now condemned to traditional art due to lack of a suitable device now...
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i hope u like it!! i had to color so hard to get all the shades right that my hand is now pretty broken. i mean not like broken broken but yea my thumb rlly hurts lol
well anyways here we go, happy birthday
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Warm air sweeps through leaves, against rock, and through Xiao's hair. Each breeze is like a whisper, and if he focuses, he swears he can understand a language he's long since forgotten. The air is different from manipulating Anemo. When Xiao fights, he commands the winds, understands how to direct them and how to use them. But calm breezes on a warm day are entirely separate, with different words, different feelings. The Vigilant Yaksha knew them once, long before he had that title. Before his wings were torn, before his ability to fly was ripped away along with his feathers. He is unable to understand these kinds of winds. Their tranquility is foreign to him, as how a hawk is foreign to the sea. They flow like water, carefree and calm. Xiao has forgotten how it feels to experience such things. And for once, he finds himself wanting to remember.
The events of the previous day play over and over in his head, trapping him in words and faces...
Her eyes trailed to his shoulders, wide with surprise and concern, moving just slightly beyond. He knew exactly where she was looking.
"What... What happened to you?"
Her hand reached out to touch him. His body reacted before his mind could, and the next thing he knew, the distance between them was further.
The look on her face reminded him of a wilted flower. Disappointment and sadness fought in her face until finally acceptance claimed her entire body and she lowered her arm. The look makes him feel... Something. Something he doesn't know, something he can't deal with... She understands, he can see that. But she's also... Sad?
So he looked at the floor and offered her a quiet response, willing his mind to not revisit the memories-
"It is best if you do not concern yourself with me. It..."
He had to fight back the urge to cry all of a sudden. Don't remember it. Don't remember it. Don't remember it.
" ...was a long time ago."
Don't think about it, he had told himself. Think about right now.
And currently, the day after...
Xiao was tired. Tired and confused, about, about... Everything. All of this. His only purpose is to serve as a weapon, to exterminate any evils that plague Liyue... Weapons do not have feelings. So why does he? Years had passed with him pondering the question, and no progress was ever made. Still it nagged at him. And what is he supposed to do about that? He can't find an answer to his problems, and he would not, cannot bring them to someone else. No one is obliged to care about him. Why should they? He's tainted. His hands are stained with centuries of bloodshed, filth, and pain. As far as Xiao was concerned, the only thing he was useful for was purging demons, and protecting Liyue. He had been doing exactly that for thousands of years, and never once had he failed. Slaughter was his only purpose, yet his damn feelings tell him something else, that he's worth something... more.
