this is en's private musebox
you don't need a shooting star; the magic's right there in your heart
January 15th, 2021 
ironwind: (057)
[Aether had just bathed and redressed himself in his quarters when an Abyss Mage came to report that they'd captured a human intruder on the premises.

Interesting, was all he'd said in response. Nothing more or less than interesting. Evidently, the intruder tore through two contingents of their soldiers and nearly slew a lesser dragon before the mages finished their spell and paralyzed his limbs. The man is in the dungeons now. His Vision and other baubles have been confiscated. His attire and choice of weaponry suggests that he's a member of the Fatui, and his level of skill suggests that he's a Fatui Harbinger. Given enough time, their intelligence services will be able to tell Aether exactly which one.

There's more to the story, too: evidently, the intruder seemed to have a sense of where he was, despite having just fallen into the Abyss.

That last piece of information informed the prince exactly of who the man might be, and therefore, who might be best suited to deal with him. At least, that's what he tells himself. The truth of it is that there is still a part of Aether that is kind, that is considerate, that wouldn't want to harm a child one of his lieutenants once trained. It's that part of him that takes the time to locate a certain swordswoman, just to see if she would recommend mercy for the boy with whom she once traveled.

But Skirk only laughed it off. Ajax? she asked. Sure, I caught a glimpse of him before they brought him down. He's grown! But I can't have taught him very well if he went and got himself captured.

Then the swordsmaster's smile faded, and her gaze steeled over. Hefting her blade over her shoulder, she turned away. Do what you want with him, Your Highness. He's of no further use to me.

The Abyss, predictably, is a dark place, with little in the way of natural life, but Aether's "palace" boasts what few luxuries their forces can manage. The lifeless branches of petrified trees decorate the cold stone walls, as if in imitation of floral arrangements; rugs of tattered silk line the halls. Defying gravity, streams of water run upward along the walls in violation of the laws of Celestia.

Aether's footsteps take him to Childe's cell, where he stops, and simply stares at his prisoner with eyes of cold amber.

He's not sure what he expected. Unlike Skirk, Aether didn't watch their soldiers bring the Harbinger to his knees, and he's never known Tartaglia as a young boy named Ajax. He didn't expect the man to be quite so handsome, or to have such startlingly blue eyes.

In any case, Childe is their only guest for the moment. The dungeons are otherwise empty. Besides, there are only six cells in total, so this is not a place built to accommodate scores of prisoners. The implication is this: if anyone else was ever in Childe's position, they are now no longer here. ]


How kind of you to pay the Abyss another visit, Tartaglia of the Fatui Harbingers.

[ Aether's voice is soft and quiet, perhaps even unexpectedly so. His face —

Well, that explains why she would always ask people if they'd seen a boy who looked like her, no? ]


...Or do you prefer to be called Ajax?
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