crescentview | 🔪 i'm a fish inside a birdcage; open with some closed prompts

🔪 i'm a fish inside a birdcage; open with some closed prompts

🔪 WHO: Akechi and anyone who chooses to tolerate him (I'm sorry).
🔪 WHAT: December Shenanigans
🔪 WHEN: Nebulously December, possibly into January, time is fake.
🔪 WHERE: Wherever, whenever, we're meant to... No, actually.
🔪 WARNINGS: Strong language, emotional constipation, Childe, Twister. Any NSFW will be tagged within the thread but it may happen. Also Kaeya and Akechi are making out, so that's a thing.

🔪 b-b-b-bingo!

[Frequently, Akechi can be found just about anywhere within Crescentview perched neatly on something chair-shaped. He has one leg folded over the other like a prick, one arm folded against his ribs and the elbow of the other resting on his wrist, allowing him to set his chin in his hand. It's a pretentious way to sit, but it's stable, and comfortable despite how it looks. He's poring over his Bingo card for the umpteenth time, and should anyone come within a five-foot radius of him, he snaps his head up.] For our mutual benefit, would you mind cross-referencing cards?

[He's made figurative copies of his card-- on the backs of old casework from his briefcase, he's hand-written out a few lists of squares, content to always ignore the smut squares when interacting with anyone. His penmanship is neat and concise, and there are occasional footnotes alongside them.]

🔪 mountainside farming

[He has no idea how to be a farmer. He has no idea how to be self-sufficient without the internet and a paycheck garnered from murder, he's realizing, but he does have a vague know-how of a variety of things included in farming. Planting seeds, for instance, he has some degree of understanding of. His farm is set away from others, blissfully allowing him solitude, but by no means unreachable or even remotely difficult to find. He's found some old shitty tools and an old shitty sun hat, and his slacks are rolled up to his knees. He's given up on his shirt entirely, given it's white, and his shoes and socks are somewhere out of eyesight, leaving him barefoot and shirtless attempting to tear up the earth for planting things with a rusted old backhoe. There is only so much his shitty little twink arms can handle, someone want to teach him proper technique?]

pt. 2; paddle boats. [Childe]

[At some point he's given up on tearing up his land, and is standing at the bank of a small lake near his farm. More specifically, he's staring at a paddle boat just chilling, rope-tied to a questionable dock. It's pretty gnarly, covered in grime and algae, but if there's one thing Goro is relatively decent at in household tasks, it's cleaning.]

[Tartaglia will find him scooping water in and out of the thing, the legs of his slacks still rolled up to his knees-- not that it really matters anymore, given he's basically swimming fully clothed. His hair is tied back with some kind of twine into a dinky-ass little ponytail, and he pauses with some manner of bucket half-poured into the second bucket seat of the boat to look up at the ginger.] Does your staring serve a purpose, or should I pretend you're less conspicuous? I don't believe we've met.

pt. 3; twister. [Lucia]

[He's yet to figure out how to solve the issue of proper lighting, so he's moved his bizarre find while dusting out to the front yard of his plot of land. Said bizarre find, as it happens, is a classic old game known as Twister, in a banged-up old square cardboard box. It's simple enough, the spin-board in tact and the mat suffering only a few questionable stains, and Goro is seated cross-legged beside the mat reading the instructions for what has to be the fourth time. It's a very straightforward game, but he keeps waiting for something to leap out at him from between the lines to make it more complicated.]

[Movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention and he angles his head toward it, but his eyes remain on the paper until he finishes the sentence he was in the middle of reading. His eyes then meet Lucia's, and after a beat of silence, she can likely see the gears in his little rat brain turning. A slow grin pulls his mouth crooked.] Care to test something with me?

🔪 wildcard

[Akechi spends most of his time at his farm to avoid others, trying to figure out how to make this whole farming thing work without being sociable or accepting, much less asking for, help. His plotting post can be found here, but I'm open for literally anything. I can make additional prompts or you can toss me whatever you like! Please harass my shitlord. :>b]

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[Childe how are you extrapolating even stranger assumptions than Akechi himself would! That's his ballgame, don't take his one skill. He frowns, regardless, shaking his head slowly.] Not specifically, though in retrospect it does make it pose a more functional purpose than solely for sport.

[A chuckle, and he reaches out to pluck one of the crane's feathers, twisting it between his fingers.] I'm outright dangerous in a kitchen, so I assure you, you'll do just fine. [And his kitchen is still very basic because he's a little afraid of setting his entire house on fire, so he avoids it.] I'm not opposed.

Oh, so for fun?

[ Such a funny guy, Goro. Tartaglia can't make up his mind on your stance regarding living beings at all.

Breezily, he leads the way. ]

This'll be a first for me, but I'm not too bad in the kitchen. [ He's... fairly decent. Nothing too spectacular, but not awful, either. Growing up a huge household with many, many mouths to feed saw to that much. That descriptor did catch his notice, however. ] Never cooked before?

[ Dangerous mostly implies that Goro's brought mortal peril upon himself, but that's a given when spending any amount of time in Childe's company. ]

You told me to give you a target, I didn’t really have much in the way of motive in my mind when I offered you one. [It’s a rather strange use of the word, but— Well, Akechi is a rather strange young man, isn’t he. His stance on living beings is no exception, but he’ll leave Childe to deduce his own ideas of it and follow after him, taking to the subject change fluidly.]

I believe I could make use of the feathers— particularly so because I’m in the market for some arrows. [He hums, then, shaking his head.] My upbringing was a bit…, lacking, in several core teachings and experiences, so by the time I was looking after myself at fourteen I hadn’t quite hit the milsetone of learning my way around a kitchen. Thankfully, frozen meals are quite nutritious and surprisingly palatable. [Ignoring that Childe probably has no idea what a TV dinner is.]

[ Impulse, then? But that's something he can live with just fine, striding off towards his farmstead. Nearing the outskirts, he kicks the fence open, continuing down to the doorstep. Home sweet home.

Seems Akechi led a lonely, solitary life. Childe doesn't comment on it, though, in a rare show of empathy? It'll probably make this conversation a lot more awkward than it personally warrants. Pushing the door open, he leads Goro down the hallway and into the kitchen. ]

Either way, we'll need to pluck out all the excess. I'm glad that you can find some use in them. [ It'll make for cool-looking arrows, at least? ] Interesting that you'd eat your food frozen, though...

[ what the hell is a tv dinner ]

[Solitary for sure, but he'd never admit to being lonely. Doesn't change the fact that he absolutely was, but-- details! Childe is smart to not comment on it, regardless, as it's easily one of the quickest ways to piss Akechi off, and he's more of a pain in the ass than usual when pissed off.]

[He takes idle note of Childe's farmstead as he's lead through it, for no real reason other than to look, and smiles when they reach the kitchen.] Feathers can be very useful in a variety of ways, I just haven't quite come up with how to use most of them. [But he'll come up with something, surely. The ones he has in mind will absolutely make for cool-looking arrows. He looks up, then, taking a moment to realize that Childe must have completely misunderstood his meaning of frozen meals.]

...oh, no, they... They aren't frozen when I eat them, they're just stored that way. I believe it's one of those home world differences between us, frozen meals are a convenience item where I'm from that allow me to keep things I merely have to reheat to eat in my place of living. It certainly does put me at a disadvantage in places like this, however.

Convenience... yeah, the ice would keep it intact, I'd imagine. Wouldn't it change the texture of the food, though?

[ Don't eat mushy, reheated slop, Goro. Treat yourself to the fineries of life, as evidenced by Childe's willingness to take this rare, exotic bird to the sink and begin the very arduous task of plucking out its feathers, leaving them amassed in a pile on the countertop. Only other thing that comes to mind as far as using them is pillow stuffing, but it's probably a waste to use them in such a way where they'll never be seen. ]

Help yourself to a drink, if you'd like. I don't mind. [ There's a bottle of fire-water (fantasy vodka) just sitting on the table? It's already been opened, roughly a sixth of it gone. Just ransack the cabinets for a glass. ] Sounds like you might need it for what lies ahead.

[ A life where frozen meals aren't in overwhelming surplus. Gotta start cooking for yourself, pretty boy. ]

[How in the fuck does he explain flash frozen TV dinners to someone from Teyvat who clearly has no fucking idea what he's talking about. This isn't a matter of taking yesterday's spaghetti and covering it in actual ice, Childe. Goro makes a sincere attempt at boring this knowledge into Childe's skull from behind him for a long moment watching him defeather the crane, but his attention shifts to the table and the fire-water on it when it's spoken of.]

[The bottle certainly looks like alcohol, not that he's particularly knowledgeable (yet), and he glances from it to the growing pile of feathers on the counter, to the back of Childe's ginger head a few times before he moves forward to the cabinets. He claims a glass, then a second, and pours each about half-full.]

[He brings the second to the sink and offers it as he raises his own to his lips.]

Oh, you're a bold one. [ Bloody-fingered, Childe rinses off the worst of the gore to take the cup offered up to him, although the heavy stink on his hands remains. The bird's been plucked bare, but he hasn't gotten around to cutting it open and discarding the entrails. The sight of it is ghastly. ] It'll burn you if you drink that much.

[ Like fire licking down the throat. Word has it that a certain redheaded winery owner had a glassful and was knocked out for three days straight. The suspicion of poisoning runs so strong when the liquor is this stinging and torturous on the palate, but that's where the thrill comes in, too. Pleasure hand-in-hand with torment, you know how it is. ]

... Well, bottoms up!

[ Try not to sputter. Abruptly, Childe tilts his drink up, draining the glass in a heartbeat. ]

[He watches Childe just drain the glass after claiming it'll burn, and-- well, he could tell by the smell of it that it would burn, but now it just feels like a challenge. It's approximately the tenth time he's ever imbibed An Alcohol in his life, but he is physically, mentally, spiritually and every other sort of -lly incapable of backing down from a challenge, even if it isn't one intentionally issued. So there's a beat of startled silence and then he knocks his own glass backward, chugging it and oh God.]

[He somehow manages not to sputter or spit any of it out, but it's a wonder the glass doesn't shatter from the force of him slamming it back down on the counter and wheezing once the liquid is traveling its molten course down his esophagus and into his stomach.] Fuck, what is that?

[ Even he can't keep a straight face after downing what is essentially several shots in one go, and Childe's slow to tip the glass back down, breath hitching up in hoarseness. He's a whole lot more red in the face than before, but as always, Childe comes out of trouble looking triumphant. ]

Snezhnayan fire-water. [ Fantasy vodka that was imported straight from the homeland, judging by the label. Funny that the Harvest Goddess just gifted him this present, since he wasn't in possession of any liquor upon abduction. Not that he's thinking about the particulars now, what with laughing his ass off. ] Hahahaha! I can only respect a man who'd disregard his own limits. Come now, comrade. You're proven yourself capable, so have a seat before you keel over.

[ Pulling up a chair for them both, Childe abandons the prospect of cooking the bird for now. ]

Your first time? You're welcome to more, if you'd like.

[ After he's settled, Childe's poured himself another cup, albeit a mere fraction of what Goro inadvertently dared them both to imbibe. ]

[Akechi wheezes an ugly sound, guttural in how it drags out of his abused throat, and actually accepts both being called comrade and the proffered chair. He drops into it and folds his arms neatly over the table, setting his forehead against the backs of his hands.]

First time with something like that, at least. I suppose if you'd told me it was called fire-water to start I'd have been somewhat more appropriately apprehensive. [He picks his head up and grimaces at Childe, then, because the idea of inflicting more of that upon himself is... Well, he's not that masochistic, at least.] No, thank you. I imagine it's an acquired taste, but it's one I'll pass on acquiring.

Haha. You're sensible, I'll give you that much!

[ Dang, what a funny guy you are. Taking feather-light sips of his drink, Childe does a loosey-goosey motion with one hand, reclining in the seat. Give him a second and he'll get back to turning the bird into lunch, but he's laughing it up at Goro's expense. Ahahaha, his sides hurt! He's snickering between the words. ]

Don't force yourself. It's— seriously— nothing to kick up a fuss about.

[ Not like all the Snezhnayan dignitaries and wine merchants make it out to be, and certainly not something to be grimaced through, either. ]

Want something to wash it down? Help yourself to what's in the fridge. [ There are plenty of non-alcoholic refreshments in there, so no need to worry about guzzling down any more fire-water. ] I take it that drinking isn't a common practice where you're from?

[He's resisting the urge to stick his tongue out and leave it that way, but it's a childish thought and he knows it won't actually do him any good, so he abstains. He does make a thoroughly displeased face at Childe anyway, though.]

I've been my own guardian since I was a young age, if I didn't have some degree of sense I'd be dead several times over. [He stands up with that statement and does as suggested, checking out Childe's fridge for something distinctly not-fiery. Returning with some such thing, he sits back down and crosses one leg over the other, humming and shaking his head.] Drinking is very common, but I'm technically not of legal age to do it, back home.

Neither am I. [ Here Childe is, embodying the evils of underage drinking. No plausible deniability to speak of, since he's outright admitting it. ] If you've been fending for yourself this long, then you know better than most that age has little to do with maturity.

[ Some people are forced to grow up faster than others. Finally, Childe gets to cleaning out the bird in preparation for cooking it, doing a neat but grisly job of slicing it apart in the sink. ]

Seems kind of lonely to live that way.

[ Alone, isolated, no one to love or be loved by. While Childe empathizes, he can't understand Akechi's predicament— outside of his fanaticism for the Tsaritsa, he cares so deeply for his family that it scares him sometimes, the lengths he's willing to go to ensure their safety. ]

[The fire-water slowly seeps into his extremities like a strange, warm balm that buffs out his sharp edges, and Goro just hums at the assessment. It's true, of course-- he's been lonely for as long as he can remember, but he certainly can't go admitting to that. A part of him distantly wonders what harm it would do, here in a place where no one knew who he was or what he'd done, to admit to loneliness and maybe even attempt to live a normal life, but the guilt and the bitter, vicious inability to move past the wrongs done to him, and that he'd subsequently done as a result, prevented it.]

[So he just shrugs one shoulder, sipping at whatever drink he's claimed out of Childe's fridge that seems reasonably safe and un-fire-like.] Age is just a number, as they say, but I suppose despite being no stranger to solitude, I don't overmuch find it lonely. [Liar.]

[ The reality of absolute isolation sounds so irrepressibly bitter, nothing to be hurt by but also nothing much to feel. What a terrible way to live.

He leaves Goro to those contemplations, hacking the bird apart and cleaning up its remains, freezing what he won't cook. Over on the stovetop where he's laid a newly-seasoned cut of it out on a pan, he returns to fetch a bag for all of those feathers, setting it down on the table. While Childe doesn't sit, it's only out of pragmatism, glancing at the flames more than he's regarding Goro. ]

Fair enough. No one's stopping you. [ He doesn't turn to see if he's landed his mark, or if Goro's boring livid holes into him with his stare. ] Couldn't hurt to go for a change of pace if you're sick of all that.

[ Maybe even Goro could stand to be a lot less lonely. ]

May as well try something new, just so you know for sure.

[He's dulled a little, so livid is more of a tired leer, but Childe's mark has most certainly landed. It helps that Goro isn't difficult to irritate. He shrugs again despite the ginger not facing him to see it, instead folding his arms over his table and oozing forward to pillow his head on them.]

...change is terrifying, though, isn't it? Or perhaps I'm just a coward.

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🔪 i'm a fish inside a birdcage; open with some closed prompts

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