Dusk-Kniade

Script, characters Jinto & Yingqin belong to @DKniade Blue belongs to @lukewarm.iq (IG) with Dusk’s interpretations. ------------------------------ BLUE. A righteous but direct birdman lieutenant who's in charge of the knights. The second in command under King Frederick Lyon Williams III. JINTO. A money-loving, jewelry-seeking goat thief and self-proclaimed engineer who’s a wanted criminal in the kingdom he lives in. YINGQIN. A green parrot and a non-binary bard who uses flowery imagery and literary language in their speech. Jinto’s travelling companion. Forest clearing. Midday. BLUE is in the air and about to fly down to grab JINTO. YINGQIN is watching from the side. YINGQIN: Thy feet doth carry thy weight! Be nimble as lightning and dodge the villain’s incoming talons! BLUE: Who is this yelling citizen? JINTO dodges BLUE and slides across the ground, resulting in dust flying up from his hooves. JINTO: Just a bard. Focus on me, you birdbrain! BLUE pulls out his sword and

i. Beneath the warmth of the afternoon sun, I’m taking a stroll on a familiar path with scenery I had once ignored. Seeing this delicate scarf flutter in the wind as I hold onto an edge gently, it makes me feel as though something else is alive. The wind. The spring breeze, they’re here. And the name they bear: Zephyros. ii. It’s a gentle breeze, of course, not one strong enough to be considered dangerous or even eager, so I’m not much aware of its presence. Though, feeling it rustle through the leaves and my hair is comforting, like the answer to a touch-starved body. Which of the four winds is this? This scarf of mine has grown wrinkled and stiff from being bunched up for too long, folded wings not exactly used to flying or even gliding, yet the breeze nuzzles it anyway. And the fabric is gently stretched out, fluttering against their touch. iii. A westerly wind, a laugh, and the arrival of a monarch butterfly. It feels as though I haven’t been touched for so long.

Original Japanese lyrics: Neru English interpretation & translyrics: Dusk Content Warning: violent imagery, death ideation ------- With tears drowning your design As you declare war to your mind Fight as hard as you were laughed at Draw your boundary line Do not use a bomb or knife Do not take away a life Because kindness goes a longer way Than hate, in time From now on just promise me You’ll make this wish reality Defined values of your life You’re more than you could be To the day that rots away Gotta wipe tears off your face Everyday’s a new day with more hopes to chase Once again, as I ponder about my life Within this station I’ll reside Tomorrow’s me will be waiting and trembling, alive Because you’re the boss Cause to my loss My life’s across Your finishing line Even if we’d live to see the day when cars are soaring high Even if we’d live to see when robots talk like they’re alive Whatever you want to say Before you say it’s your way Heal the wound upon my heart Your

i. Recently, all the snow has melted in the backyard, and I can finally see the colour of the grass again. But really. How could I forget what, or rather who, got me through these first months of 2021? ii. A certain event a few years ago has tainted my feelings towards snow. But seeing the silhouette of that knight standing in the pure white distance with a single frost-patterned wing somehow calms me down. An angel, dare I say, with an asymmetrically balanced outfit that seems to suggest he’s not of Mondstadt. The silhouette of that Cryro Swordsman Kaeya himself. iii. Perhaps it’s because of that friendly smile, or that welcoming voice behind which lingers a teasing tone, but somehow, Kaeya’s presence feels familiar. It’s as though he naturally gets along with everyone in Mondstadt, a fitting reputation for a knight and a captain, I suppose. Filled with intricate white lies and charming words that force the truth out of others, so it seems this captain does not

i. On my way out from my house, I saw that northern white cedar (or so I now assume) out in the yard. The golden colour of the warm afternoon sunlight against that deep green caught my eye immediately. And how could it not? No surprise, natural light is irresistible. I stood there, vaguely mesmerized by that light, and it suddenly hit me: this was the colour of Edwin’s eyes. That brilliant shade of lime green (or maybe even chartreuse?) was unique to him. His clear vision behind which hides god knows what sort of history was exactly what came to mind. ii. One could even say he’s the embodiment of nature during autumn. His short hair matches the colour of saturated leaves pierced through by rays of sunshine, with a smell that reminds one of walking through an orange aspen forest floor beneath the flaky sky. Faded red, yellow-orange, grey-green. That jacket with bright patterns and that signature shirt encompass the entire palette of a deciduous forest in the height of the

act i. If You See Me Crying “I live my days dazed, confused, and without a clear answer nor meaning.” Though you fall / you walk / you call / you talk— Come and knock on my door! Questioning this status quo / is better than accepting, So I ask you for a later ending. And yet it would seem / the wound is mending / upon my heart that bleeds no more... Don’t stop. Don’t drop. Forgive without delay. Don’t back down and don’t back away. If you see me crying, then give me a reason to keep on: fighting / breathing / thinking / walking living living living living. act ii. Tell Me How Tell me how: How to cross this line of fire? How to conquer blazing flames? How to know I’m not a liar? How to have this feeling tamed?! I refuse to accept such a miserable state of life. Because if I do, it’ll be hell going forward. Acting on a tragic thought is / not a final option. Thinking that the future’s useless— No dreams? / No hopes? / And no protection?! I refuse to just lie upon

Resting against that winter coat, sleep comes easily to these heavy eyelids. And eventful days drown beneath the pitch-black sky. I can still feel your leftover warmth lingering within the softness, so allow me to call it compassion and home. Murmurs. Groans. A noise where the words have lost their path. Such a state is bliss compared to those icy touches and those cold quilts I’ve held close to me but could not feel the warmth of. And somehow a restful sofa provides more comfort. Within the deep night, I lay awake, yet the warm afternoon beckons me. The hours pass. The arms move slowly. Could the black cat not rest in the night? Once again I fall under your lethargic spell. A charm. Will I respond to my name? Have you called out to me with your voice? It’s all a haze. A blur of lights I may not remember. Yet I yearn for your warmth, still. Towards this winter night, I ask: When can I find comfort beneath this blanket again…

Content warning: disordered eating, wounds FIRST NIGHT Why do I walk with a tremble in my feet? Why is it that balance escapes me? Why, oh, why is my mind plagued by nightmarish thoughts? And tell me, dear heart: Why do you speak in such violent metaphors? I cannot be at peace, so please! Answer me from this writer’s heart… 03.23.2020. Dusk / @DKniade SECOND NIGHT Welcome to a ballroom of dancing with the edge of our heels and targets taped onto our most vulnerable spots. You’ve returned yet again... On and off, I’m under the hands of this jester, but I suppose the one tying and pulling the strings is me. Dear mutual name, you’re secretly into this, aren’t you? Into this fancy lights act and us calling out names? Welcome back, I guess. This message is considered as “a typical, preset concept”, isn’t it… 05.06.2020. Dusk / @DKniade THIRD NIGHT, BIG NIGHT I drafted a poem that came to me at 01:19 A.M., and I continued it in the morning. Under the darkness

poem: Dusk / @DKniade inspired by ippo.tsk’s song and MV, “your sky, my name” i Black feathers enter my line of sight. ii An unspeakable loneliness Swells up within me As I look down from the sky. The path I once walked on Is out of my reach. The trail leading back home Is gone. But for my grand design to work There has to be miles of Suffocating distance between us. We haven’t reached that point yet, No. So won’t you please Just speak to me? I beg of you to Say something! All eyes shall be on you In this monologue, this one-act play. The spotlight is stolen And I’m nothing but your shadow. Is your heart devoid of regrets? These eyes don’t fall on me. Got no dialogue, the silent face. The curtains are swollen. You’re their comet and their light show. Is my heart consumed by sorrow? I’m taking back the pride That was bound to your name. I’m taking back the name That was consumed by pride. iii Scorched feathers caress my skin. It’s unknown whose they are, But

i Under the warm sun, I walk around the neighbourhood. Only, there’s something missing from this tranquility: Other people’s footsteps. The sight of another group. The field is filled with dandelion fluffs. A soft wind blows on my face— I wish I can share this moment with another person... ii Like dandelion seeds in the wind, my wishes are carried far away. Maybe they’ll find a resting place and settle down once they’re fulfilled, or maybe they’ll be forever drifting, never arriving at a destination. iii There’s a small circle of bare soil amidst a field of green. I stand upon this circle. The other plants can’t reach me, who’s too far away. A small drone flying overhead— I mistake it for a buzzing bee. In the calmness of the summer afternoon, I peek between the silhouettes of leaves. The shade of two trees offer refuge to me, who has no words to describe myself. iv Standing amidst a field, it seems it’s not yet time for the sun to set. If that’s the