I Plead, Your Majesty, For Forgiveness

Chapter 6

Everyone is a mere toy for the Creator.

-

For once, Teyvat is silent.

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The hurried steps of the Alchemist's assistant caught [Name]'s ears, rushing the end of the conversation between the two as Albedo subtly gestured for them to take their leave. With a silent nod, they quickly made their way toward the closest exit.

With a heavy heart, their steps followed the weight as each lift of their foot seemed upset them more and more. Keeping their gaze to the floor, they observed the grass beneath them as they climbed a steep slope. The light from the sun caused them to lift their head, pausing as they stared towards the sun that sat above their head. The rest of the horizon was clear as the view from Starsnatch Cliff engrained into their mind and memory. Sitting down at the edge, [Name] let themselves take the time to settle their mind and growing nerves as the adrenaline sped their heart.

It was exhausting: having to run at every moment, having to listen to anything and everything, and having to figure out who they were all over again. Their palm lifted from their lap, resting against their ribcage as they feel their pulsating heart through the flesh and bones. The pressure helped to relieve some stress, but it was very little. The fatigue was still around, and they managed to figure out the difference between their physical fatigue and their mental fatigue.

They were tired.

So, so tired.

Their fingers tapped against their chest as their eyes darted towards the beach below, struggling to deal with the wind pressure in their ears as their mind drilled anxieties over and over again whilst their heart failed to soothe.

Why did they always have to run? No matter where they were. Teyvat, their realm... their home? They couldn't have a sense of comfort, or normality, could they? Nothing that can remind them and ground them on whatever flooring they were on. They were outcasted, no matter what.

They always feared the time their function would be the death of them.

A sense of escape in more ways than one is never a good sign. They knew this. They delved too deep into it, and then they'd complain of how far they fell. The amount of money spent, the time consumed, the outside ignored. They searched, and searched, and searched for anything to feel normal. But every time they did, they felt more abnormal. Nowhere and nothing could be a straightforward comfort: from their interests, to their room, to their home.

How could it be a home if it only felt like a house?