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“What do you dream about?”
“Light.”
“Mm,” Rouge considered. They sat atop the statue of Barbatos, legs swinging over his fingertips. “I suppose I dream of the light, too.”
They watched as Mondstadt celebrated. Rouge didn't know what they were celebrating and Ásmundr couldn't care less.
“Have you been beyond the stars?”
“No, but our King has.”
“Mm.” He peered through the buildings, watching as Venti the bard sung whatever tale he decided would be today's ballad.
“I wonder when the Divine Seats are destroyed, if the Authority will go to you or me. Dvalin might even be a contender.”
“I don't understand your useless ponderings, Belial.”
Rouge laughed. “Going Celestial name are we? Feisty.” He changed his seating to stare at the statue directly in its face.
“Either the people of Mondstadt are blind, blissfully ignorant, or choose to let Venti parade around as human.”
“I think they're stupid.”
“Of course you do.” Out of the corner of his eye, Rouge spotted Celestia. “One more nail left. I wonder if it's weaker or more powerful with less nails…”
“It doesn't matter.”
“It might. You don't know the future, Asmo.”
A rumbling laughter sounded from inside Rouge's head. “No, no I don't. Neither do you.”
“Neither do I,” Rouge agreed, and disappeared, leaving nothing behind like he always did.