I Plead, Your Majesty, For Forgiveness

Chapter 8

TW: Arrow in eye (still), object pulled out of eye

~~~

Watch as your soul frees from its shackles here.

-

The whole walk was ethereal to him. He didn't believe he'd be in the presence of the Divine Creator in such a casual setting, let alone being sought out for help by them. He believed the first time he had directed them away, they'd never return. He was still processing the embrace, trying to keep his composure as he eyed the ground and their form.

They were nervous, and he knew that, but he was never able to find the words to comfort them. He wasn't made for social interactions, he wasn't sure what he had been made for. Either way, he had failed his use and he was thrown away. He knew he shouldn't have survived, but he did. And he was beginning to think of reasons as to why.

The border arrived quicker than he had hoped. A numb feeling overtaking his once suffering of inferiority, leaving him to watch absent-mindedly as the Creator squirmed and struggled with their words.

He couldn't quite fathom the ideal they had of him, even after the warm embrace, but he let his feet take him back into Dragonspine. The voice of the Creator only followed him. He turned, freezing in place as he noticed the second arrow flying through the air. He blinked, and the helpful soul took them from the scene.

No wonder they didn't promise their safety. His eyes softened, trembling with unshed tears, as his mind whirled. How useless was he?

◇◆◇◆

An aggravated, stressed sigh escaped from the Yaksha as he stood idly, running a gloved hand through his locks of hair as he tried to wrack his brain with any ideas that'll help. All of his training and all of his knowledge paused, reminding him he had to be better than he was as of right now. How could he be their weapon if he couldn't be their healer?

His bottom lip ached as his teeth pierced into it, calling him back to Teyvat as his polearm lay upon the ground. "I don't know what to do." He hesitantly admitted to himself, drawing in a breath as he sunk to his knees by their side. "Tell me what to do." He whispered desperately, eyeing the arrow lodged in their eye with a look of longing. He couldn't prevent it. He knew that, but he wished he was the victim instead.

As though they heard his plea, [Name] stirred awake before the pain hit them once again. "Fuck-!" The vulgarity stunned him for a moment, but he cleared his throat as his eyes reverted back to their original size. A thin stream of water (or was it a tear?) slid down their cheek, dropping mere centimetres from his shoe, as they sat themselves up.