[Dohalim had thrown himself into this party, giving it one hundred percent of his attention; he's able to actually enjoy a party of this scale rather than act as host, and has been taking full advantage of it. and, by taking advantage, mostly just dipping into the offered libations all night. though, he was able to dance a bit of the night away with friends and strangers with naught a care in the world for once.
however, the (embarrassing) conversations about himself are something left to be desired; he had no intention of laying himself out open to the random passerby, or even his friends, but really, did it matter at this point? he's still holding onto his past regrets, and too many people know about his past, but if time was going to reset itself, then why should he care? the friends he'd met in Nippon would all forget who he is, and he'd forget them, and he'd be alone all over again. it's a prospect less desired than having those closest to him here know every gritty detail of his past, and while he's used to being alone (and would often prefer it, to reflect on his own thought), the very idea of the relationships he'd formed getting stricken from their memories hurt. when the realisation of that started to sink in, Dohalim had left to get some fresh air in an attempt to perish all of those thoughts. at least he doesn't have any wine with him, which is a bit of an improvement. hopefully, he doesn't regret that choice.
but it's when he sees familiar ginger hair that Dohalim stops for a moment, watching Childe, and debating whether or not he should stay. the last couple of interactions has him wondering just what the outcome of this one would be if he were to engage; he frowns softly to himself as another thought forms in his mind. at least, if time were to reset, he'd forget just what happened on that night in October. is that worth more than forgetting everything else that happened? Dohalim can't lie to himself, he'd rather forget it than try to work through it, and the rest of his traumas. but, then again, that truly is the type of person he really is. he'd rather run from the core of the problem at hand, or blanket it with something pretty and virtuous, so he can look at the surface of it, dust his hands and tell himself that it's fixed.
the last encounter they had didn't allow for any such conversations of lamentations, but now that he's presented with the opportunity now, Dohalim wants nothing more than to just turn on his heel, and walk the other way. he still sees those images from that night, he can still smell the blood, and, like Fahria as she declared her hatred for him, he can hear the angry roar of Zhongli's voice. the man had already forgiven him, yes, but he still hasn't been able to forgive himself, taking full responsibility for everything that had happened.
what compels him to step forward and join Childe, he isn't sure what it is, but he's soon by his side, an arm crossed over his chest, hand resting on his shoulder. he stands there for a moment or two, staring up at the clear sky, before speaking]
...Good evening.
[his words are soft, as if he doesn't want to break the fragile peace and quiet around them, and hesitant, as if he debated whether or not to open this conversation at all]
3
however, the (embarrassing) conversations about himself are something left to be desired; he had no intention of laying himself out open to the random passerby, or even his friends, but really, did it matter at this point? he's still holding onto his past regrets, and too many people know about his past, but if time was going to reset itself, then why should he care? the friends he'd met in Nippon would all forget who he is, and he'd forget them, and he'd be alone all over again. it's a prospect less desired than having those closest to him here know every gritty detail of his past, and while he's used to being alone (and would often prefer it, to reflect on his own thought), the very idea of the relationships he'd formed getting stricken from their memories hurt. when the realisation of that started to sink in, Dohalim had left to get some fresh air in an attempt to perish all of those thoughts. at least he doesn't have any wine with him, which is a bit of an improvement. hopefully, he doesn't regret that choice.
but it's when he sees familiar ginger hair that Dohalim stops for a moment, watching Childe, and debating whether or not he should stay. the last couple of interactions has him wondering just what the outcome of this one would be if he were to engage; he frowns softly to himself as another thought forms in his mind. at least, if time were to reset, he'd forget just what happened on that night in October. is that worth more than forgetting everything else that happened? Dohalim can't lie to himself, he'd rather forget it than try to work through it, and the rest of his traumas. but, then again, that truly is the type of person he really is. he'd rather run from the core of the problem at hand, or blanket it with something pretty and virtuous, so he can look at the surface of it, dust his hands and tell himself that it's fixed.
the last encounter they had didn't allow for any such conversations of lamentations, but now that he's presented with the opportunity now, Dohalim wants nothing more than to just turn on his heel, and walk the other way. he still sees those images from that night, he can still smell the blood, and, like Fahria as she declared her hatred for him, he can hear the angry roar of Zhongli's voice. the man had already forgiven him, yes, but he still hasn't been able to forgive himself, taking full responsibility for everything that had happened.
what compels him to step forward and join Childe, he isn't sure what it is, but he's soon by his side, an arm crossed over his chest, hand resting on his shoulder. he stands there for a moment or two, staring up at the clear sky, before speaking]
...Good evening.
[his words are soft, as if he doesn't want to break the fragile peace and quiet around them, and hesitant, as if he debated whether or not to open this conversation at all]