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100 » you think about me when you kiss her
[ When all is said and done, and the bloodied sands are turned over for new, clean silt, a young aristocrat named Eberhart walks through the gladiators' hall in Mondstadt in search of the man he calls his slave.
He is a bastard son who will never inherit anything, though many call him fortunate and privileged to at least be acknowledged by his father, who could have turned his slave mother out on the streets to die if he were not a more kind and generous soul. Kind and generous, Eberhart thinks with scornful cynicism as his heeled boots click against the tiles of the gladiators' quarters. Kind and generous, though his somewhat useless, rather foppish, pure-hearted older brothers will inherit the family fortune, and probably let everything go to ruin if they are left to their own devices. Kind and generous, though Landrich as good as raped Eberhart's mother — even though she didn't think of it that way, even though, when she was still alive, she only ever used to say It was never about love, Eberhart. Few things in this world allow people like us to love.
He is a bastard son and his father's perfect scion.
He has one vice. ]
...Ainsley.
[ A name for a man who should be nameless. Words for a man who should be silent. Eberhart's applause comes so slowly — one clap, then another, then a third, a fourth — silence — that it could be sarcastic. His cool gaze betrays nothing of his thoughts. ]
Well-fought, today. The Bringer of Dawn, they called him? I suppose he'll be bringing nothing now.
He is a bastard son who will never inherit anything, though many call him fortunate and privileged to at least be acknowledged by his father, who could have turned his slave mother out on the streets to die if he were not a more kind and generous soul. Kind and generous, Eberhart thinks with scornful cynicism as his heeled boots click against the tiles of the gladiators' quarters. Kind and generous, though his somewhat useless, rather foppish, pure-hearted older brothers will inherit the family fortune, and probably let everything go to ruin if they are left to their own devices. Kind and generous, though Landrich as good as raped Eberhart's mother — even though she didn't think of it that way, even though, when she was still alive, she only ever used to say It was never about love, Eberhart. Few things in this world allow people like us to love.
He is a bastard son and his father's perfect scion.
He has one vice. ]
...Ainsley.
[ A name for a man who should be nameless. Words for a man who should be silent. Eberhart's applause comes so slowly — one clap, then another, then a third, a fourth — silence — that it could be sarcastic. His cool gaze betrays nothing of his thoughts. ]
Well-fought, today. The Bringer of Dawn, they called him? I suppose he'll be bringing nothing now.