𝙞. 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐘 ( honkai star rail collection )
❝ the planet earth is blue and there's nothing
left to do. ❞
𝙞𝙞. in which ───── your bestie ( ???? ) aine
posts a bunch of drabbles and headcanons
because my wattpad's empty af.
𝙞𝙞𝙞...
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i. SYNOPSIS : his memories were fragments. his memories of you were faint and the warmth you brought with them was a dangerous thing. blade must make his choice at his crossroads ; his vengeance, or the lingering feeling of the peace he found with you. ( blade x reader )
ii. WARNING(S) : angst / no comfort, reader and blade knew each other, alternating flashbacks, takes place pre blade's arrest and post blade's escape with kafka, slipping between the past and present, blade being emotionally constipated, reader has a prosthetic arm , mentions of blood and death. the memory sections are basically the snippets blade comes to remember so they're pretty spaced out. SPOILERS FOR BLADE'S LORE. NOT PROOFREAD.
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I.
THE SOUL IS A CUP AND BLADE'S stayed empty. It was empty for years, for a time he could no longer recall with its passage blurred together in a mix of red and white and the taste of iron on his tongue. It didn't brim with ichor or venom, or of memories that weren't a medley of the faded senses and writhing, angry instinct. He would rather not recall it at all, floating within that space of what was known and what was not — a painting where the mountains bore no peaks and the sky stayed a stretch of lifeless white.
( Because memories bore sentiment and sentiment bore a softness and for his blessed death, he could not afford to be soft. )
Then came the trickle. It was small, a drop, a feeling and an emotion that wasn't steeped in bitterness. There was a face, its edges rimmed with gold and its features imperceptible in its clarity. It didn't bear the cruelty the others had, of another soul whose eyes pierced the clouds with a storm of determination — they were kinder to him. Gentler, holding the vestiges that made him and cradled him through the pain with an invisible hand.
He remembered a place, and the sharp smell of petrichor. He remembered a figure whose arm was braced and refined and hewn in iron. He remembered a clash of swords which bred no malice, and laughter and an exhilaration that rushed through his veins and sucked away all the air in his lungs.
