Archive of Our Own

❝ The universe is the dark essence of the true starry sky, and the earth is the accumulated memories of time and lives. The chalk: that is you. The earth is where alchemy gets its name, and is the basis of all life. And this...

This is new birth. ❞

When Albedo turns twelve, his master sends him on his own for the first time.

It is not his first lesson.

Far from it. Not the most difficult, either. He has had far more difficulties in the past, on far more complex missions.

But he has never left without his master. Certainly not far from their encampment.

He does not fear what he will find alone. He does not fear her disappointment, either. He never has.

“Albedo,” 

Silence.

“I have a lesson for you, today.” 

“I need you to answer me a question,” She had pulled a blank notebook out of her satchel. “And I would like you to take this with you.” She had handed him the notebook carefully, along with a pen. Not a pencil, but a pen. One of her many fountain pens, beautifully carved and thin at the tip.

 “When shall we start?” She shook her head. “You will be going alone today,” She turned around to face the horizon. Even with her back turned, Albedo could see her close her eyes, in an almost tired way.

He wasn’t sure what to gather from her expression.  

“What is my question?”

A beat of silence passed. “I would like to know,” She held her hands behind her. “What classifies something as alive?”

Alive.

He isn't exactly familiar with the living.

“Yes, master. I will not disappoint you.” She regarded him with a curt nod, and he'd left.

He had set out only around an hour later that morning, heading for the mountain range she had her eyes set on. Surely that's where she'd intended, if she was that fixated on it.

Pine forests. Quiet, smelling of sap. Bitter. They're alive, right?  Trees are alive. The animals are alive. 

A desert isn't alive. 

Is it?

A mountain isn't alive. Rock, stone, granite, dirt, snow. They aren't alive. The mountain itself isn't. The birds and the worms in the soil and the grass are alive, though, aren't they? 

He holds his hand out in front of him. 

Pale, small, narrow. There's an ant sitting in his palm. 

He flexes his fingers.

The ant falls. He doesn't feel anything.

Is he alive?

He looks onto the plains beyond the peaks.

What classifies something as alive? 

A tree is alive. An ant is alive. A house cat is alive, just as alive as a wild lynx or a bobcat. A wolf is just as alive as a dog half its size, a towering redwood is just as alive as a bean sprout. They live to keep living, and that makes them alive.

A human is alive. A human is alive and knows of all of the life in the world down to how it operates. A human lives and creates and nourishes all of the life it finds. A human can do all that everything else that lives can. 

Does that not, then, make them more alive?

His trip back is a slow one. He hardly even notices the cold.

“Welcome back, Albedo,”

His master is waiting. She looks the same as when he'd left.

She holds her hands out in front of her. Her gloves are absent. He wonders when that happened. Her bare hands are a rare sight.

He places his journal and pen in her hands and watches as she opens it carefully.

He almost apologizes for a lack of proper research. Her expression hardly changes. He mentally disposes of his previous notion quietly. He looks to the horizon, instead of looking past her.

It feels wrong staring at her. It always has. 

There's something hard to bear about looking at her for too long. Looking at someone so obviously alive, yet so pristine and clean and so inhuman in their demeanor.

 He usually chooses not to think about it much.

The sun spills out onto ledges and outcroppings with its descent. The light leaks out onto the land below, gleaming and visible in the dimness.

He wonders if the sun ever grows tired.

Rising and falling every day with the same results.

He wonders if the eclipse is refreshing, for the sun and for the moon and the sky and stars. If the sheer empty of the sky for such a short time feels like living, or if it feels like dying.

Does it feel like a deep breath? Does it feel like drowning? Is it beautiful, to be so clean of your duties, or is it horrifying, to be completely black and void of anything?

Does it hurt to be worth no more than your name, if even for just a moment? Do you dread the day that it arrives, or do you spend your years and decades and millennium waiting for the brief moment in which you will be clean?

“Albedo,” 

The sun is not alive.

The sun does not feel. Not like humans do.

“What is your answer to my question,” She hands him the notebook. “To be alive?” 

To be alive.

A V formation of geese is flying their way. If he looks on further, he can see a stray, behind all the rest.

Wings just slightly too frail. Resolve just a little bit weak.

He looks at his hands. Back at the evening stained sky.

The geese haven't slowed their pace. 

There is no guarantee of sympathy in that which breathes. 

The geese are nearly above them now, the sounds of wings flapping accompanying their flight. The final, the slacker, still lagging behind. If he were human, maybe, he could feel that despair. Maybe he could picture it, conjure a mental image strong enough to make him truly feel it.

There is a calm. The nature does not stir, he does not speak. His master's eyes are closed, as are her lips. There is no other sound, no other struggle.

The calm breaks, as the last of them finds itself in the front row of its formation. Albedo watches the slacker, the born inferior, fly the fastest. Poetic, truly. 

He wills himself to speak. "I cannot speak with certainty, master. I only may speak with honesty." 

She nods.

"When something is alive, it must posses the will to continue doing so." 

The geese pass. It's quiet without them.

"To be alive, as an answer to your question, is not only to function and to process, but want to live. To want to continue,"  He breathes in. He feels the world breathe with him. "There is no fundamental difference between how or why a plant or a human lives,"

"A plant is alive to live, to nurture, to continue. A human lives to fulfill its purpose, to continue, to complete. There is purpose there. There is no true discrimination between the living."

The wind blows his hair between his eyes. He feels himself exhale.

"That is all."

Beside him, his master smiles. 

"If I may, Albedo, I'd like to ask you something."

A cool breeze tussles his hair. 

"With what you just said in mind," Her expression is directed at him. It's level. Serene. "Are you alive?" 

Albedo falters. Hesitation is something he's only ever seen, never experienced. 

Am I alive?

He wonders if there are any humans that feel like he does.

If there are humans that don't feel at all, that never have and never will. He's heard many times of many humans who feel nothing of the wrong they've caused. Are they human? Awful people can be human, can't they?

Even if a human doesn't feel anything at all, if a human means nothing to anyone or anything, if that human has no will to live or to continue at all, are they still a human? Are they still even alive?

He wonders if he could pass himself off as a human. If he could pretend he was, if that would ever ease him. If feeling and thinking that you walk and breathe like a human would truly make you one.

Could he?

Or is there an invisible distinction, a clear, transparent line between him and humanity?

There's a hand on his shoulder. 

She's always said she doesn't like when he overthinks.

"Albedo." 

He stiffens. "Yes," He doesn't meet her eyes when she turns to look at him.

"Take a moment to look at the view, won't you?"

He clears his throat. "Yeah. Sorry." She smiles.

"No need to apologize,"

The sun is still going down.

He has a hard time imagining the patience for such a slow descent. There's hardly any noise, still.

Only her voice.

"You're thinking so hard about this question, I didn't expect it," She laughs. It's airy, clean. "You've such a head on your shoulders, you could probably think about this your whole life," 

He doesn't speak. She takes his silence in her stride, as she tends to do. "Think of it this way," She sits next to him, hand not moving from its place.

"Humans, yes? You have a very clear cut image of them," Albedo nods solemnly. "Emotional, practical, goal driven. Not to say you're wrong, of course." She breathes deeply.

"A lot of humans are like that. Perhaps even a majority of them." Her hand releases him from her grip as she stands up. "But," She gazes into the horizon, eyes half lidded. 

"Humans aren't a monolith. Some will be determined, like the ones you picture, but some won't have any particular goal. Some don't know what to do with themselves, or they aren't sure where their life is going to lead,"

 "All of these people, they are equally human." 

He wants to stand up with her. He wonders what it would be like to see through her eyes, if it's more beautiful.

"Just as you said, there is no true discrimination between the living. Humans are the same way," She sighs. "Humans can hate each other all they want, they can be angry for their own differences and they can criticize each other until the ends of the Earth, but humans, like all that lives, are all equally alive." 

She snaps her fingers. A golden leaf appears in between them.

"For humans, there is many reasons to doubt their humanity. They may think they are different, they may think they're extraordinary, but to the core, they are human," The leaf dissolves in her grip. "That is what defines them until it can't."

She smiles. "Anyone can be as horrible as they like, they could be emotionless, even, and no matter what, they'll still be a living being."

She turns her head over her shoulder to look at him. Her eyes are kind.

"If that's what you are worried about, you are as alive as they come."

When Albedo turns fourteen, his master asks him a second question.

On that day, she ends up taking him to a market near the place where they are staying. She lets him rummage through herbs and crystals and spices in bottles, before bringing him back to their camp.  She doesn't buy anything. That doesn't surprise him. 

It is more of a celebration than any of his birthdays in the past. He's grateful in way he can't describe.

When they return, she sits at her desk, writing a report. He's always thought it was a little odd. She doesn't report to anyone other than herself.

There's a common calmness when they return. Nothing unordinary.

Albedo is tampering with copper wire at the head of the cave, watching the snowfall. Watching birds cross the sky in their patterns; rodents from large to small flee from the cold.

Neither of them has anything to say.

Unusual.

“Albedo,” 

“Tell me,” She pauses. “What do you think it means to live?”

He blinks. He’d already answered this question, all those years ago. He remembers the day better than any other, in distinct clarity. The way the sun clung to the sky and the way the air stuck to his lungs, the trees and the mountains and every word.

"I am afraid I have already answered this question,” He shuts his eyes on reflex. It feels a bit disrespectful to regard her in such a manner.

She hums. “Not to be alive,” There is a small pause. “To live.”

He furrows. “To continue living, to keep yourself alive. That is living, isn't it?” 

She shakes her head silently.

“What you are describing, Albedo, is survival.”

She dips her pen in ink. “What about living? Continuing not because you must, but because it is what you desire? That is what I ask.”

There is a long pause. She does not continue. 

“Humans,” He finally says. He looks to the snow in front of him. A squirrel scurries past their cave, going home to its young. Feeding them. Continuing. “They do not choose to live, do they?”

She hums again. “No, I am afraid not.” More sounds of her pen follow her voice. He can picture the ink bleeding into the margins of her notebook, handwriting clean.

He nods. “If that is the case, what motivates a human to live?” He stops fidgeting with the metal between his ring and index fingers. “If you are born with no plan,"

"Humans find beauty in all things,

There is always something to live for. Even when life reaches pointlessness, they will always find something."

"What keeps you alive?"

Why?

"What makes you want to do things other than,” He blinks slowly.  “Surviving?”

He looks over to her desk. She's smiling.

“That is the question I have asked you, Albedo.” Her expression does not falter. “What do you think?”  He frowns. For the first time in what he feels to be a millennium, he cannot find an answer to one of her questions.

Albedo has yet to answer. Before he has the chance to, she laughs softly. 

“You’re free not to answer,” She sets down her fountain pen, the metal tip clinking on mahogany. “I wanted to tell you something,” He doesn't understand the expression she wears.

He stands.

“What is it you would like to tell me, master?” 

She sighs, pauses. Smiles. “You did not know the answer, did you not?” 

“No, master. I am afraid not.” Her smile widens. She's never been the most expressive; it barely reaches her eyes.

“I prefer you don’t stress about it,” She backs away from her small desk on the ground. “I figured you wouldn’t have anything to say.” She stands, hands going to brush out her dress. She straightens, then allows her posture to relax. 

She's tall. Taller than he is, by a fair amount. Her elegant stature used to tower over him. Even more so than right now.

She's always made him feel small. 

“I’ve always known the kind of person you are. This answer wasn’t unlike the others before it,” She looks directly back at him. Her eye contact is far softer than his. Less deliberate. Even so, it feels somewhat as if she is looking through him. Like she can see all that he holds inside of his mind.

“However, until you can understand, I want you to figure it out yourself, Albedo.”

Her eyes are still on him, yet to have broken eye contact. Her words are spoken with yet another emotion Albedo cannot identify.

His master is not what he would classify as emotional. She is calm, eloquent. Confident. He might've envied her, had he not held himself to the same standards.

Maybe he does.

“Of course, master,” Her eyes dim a little, just barely noticeable. “I will not disappoint you.” There is a moment of quiet, her looking through him, his relentless staring back.

He doesn't say anything.

She approaches him, hands behind her back. She examines his expression, deep brown eyes taking in his features. She appears to be looking for something. What this something is, is unclear.

Albedo does not speak.

She hesitates. After a moment, she places a gentle hand between his neck and shoulder. Her gaze is odd, to him. Something he has never seen, especially not from someone like her.

“I have never expected anything of you, Albedo,” With her opposite hand, she pulls a strand of hair behind his ear. Her hand lingers there for a moment before it falls back to her side.

“Only that you may someday find what it is you are looking for.” 

His stance is rigid under her touch. Once again, Albedo finds he does not know what to say.

He wonders if all humans are like her. If all of them speak and feel like she does. If they care, care as she does.

He looks up at her, once again. “If I may?” Her eyes crinkle. She huffs, then nods.

“I promise you, that one day, I will find the answer to your question.” 

She smiles. “I am sure you will, Albedo.” Her already gentle grip on his shoulder loosens.

“I look forward to that day.” 

When Albedo turns sixteen, he is given his final assignment.

It's a beautiful day. His birthdays tend to be.

The sky is clear, with pleasant breezes and white, silky clouds. They are long since out of the high mountain ranges, no longer surrounded by snow and its blanket of cold.  He can smell the last of summer fading from the air. The leaves on the trees turning a shade darker.

His master is waiting for him, at the edge of a waterfall. They tower above the land far below, standing in silence. 

He's always felt elevated from the world. It feels wrong to describe him on the same level as humans, with all their love for themselves and the world they walk on. 

He doesn't like phrasing it like that. He doesn't like the self-centered.

"Albedo."

Her voice is soft, subdued. It's difficult for him to hear over the crashing of the running water beside them.

"Yes," 

A pause. Neither of them speaks.

She does not look at him. He does not reply.

"I have written a letter for an old friend of mine in Mondstadt." He does not look over, he does not react. "I want you to deliver it for me."

"One day, Albedo. One day, you will be on your own."

His hair is tousled by the breeze. A few strands fall away to cover his eye. "This journey," He mutters.

He had known this day would come, he's known for a long time. It does not surprise him, nor does the way it was brought up surprise him. It is all an event he'd predicted. Happenstance.

"This journey," He repeats, clearer. "It is not just a letter, is it?" After a long moment, void of a response or reaction, he continues.

"You've said before, that you've wanted me to live on my own. Learn things on my own," He hears her inhale deeply from his left. "This is you sending me away, is it not?" He pivots his head to peer over his shoulder. She is still looking forward silently, an expression similar, if not near the same, to the one she wore on his fourteenth birthday. 

He turns away. Her response would only solidify the answer to his question, there is no need to demand one. 

"You truly are an interesting child, Albedo," She smiles weakly. "I'd hadn't assumed that you'd known, but here you are, predicting my plans." She glances over at him. Her gaze feels heavy.

She sighs. "My message, it is a recommendation letter," Her eyes divert for a moment.

"I would like for you to live there, in Mondstadt." Her eyes fall closed. "I was hoping you could study there, as well," 

The sound of rushing water feels distant in his senses. Albedo does not interrupt her, only looks forward and allows the wind to ruffle his hair and nip at his ears.

"Perhaps, there, you will find answers." 

His silence is deafening, maybe even tangible. He can feel her words sinking into the crevices of his mind, cementing themselves there. No matter how much speculation or intuition, nothing will ever match hearing what you have expected to hear. 

A bird chirps, somewhere. A fish splashes. A mouse dashes across a rock.

All unbearably alive.

"Will I," 

"I've never expected anything from you, Albedo. Only that someday, you may find what you are looking for."

"Will I see you again?"

He speaks, and he feels vaguely like a child, hopeless and bumbling around for answers. Even when he is about to leave, her presence, perhaps even just her existence, makes him feel small, young. Insignificant. 

He'll never match the standard she has set by living.

Her eyes crinkle with the force of her smile. 

"I'm not sure,"

Albedo furrows. 

"But if I have the right, I would certainly like to." He looks down to his feet.

"Okay," He mutters.

He isn't sure if she hears him.

She turns on her feet to approach him. She looks at him, eyes dark and benign. Calm.

Again, she hesitates, places a hand on his back, then wraps a gentle arm around him.  Her chin rests atop his head, tickled by his hair in the breeze.

He finds he cannot speak, perhaps as not to disturb the quiet. She smells like lemongrass and freshly cleaned leather, like spring and earth and newly printed paper. He wonders, somewhere, in the caverns of his thoughts, if this is what a mother feels like.

If this is what it feels like to be the son of a human.

"If that's what you're worried about,"

"Albedo," She murmurs into his hair. The word is muffled by the surrounding noise. 

"No matter where you are, no matter if we meet again or otherwise," She holds him a little bit tighter. "I will always be proud of you."

"You're as alive as they come."

"Thank you."

The breeze sticks to his airways. He thinks of a mountain, the sun, and being twelve.

"As my final words to you," She says, carefully pulling away from him, her hands still on his shoulders.

"I want you to find me the truth. The meaning of this world."

In time with the world, Albedo smiles.

"Don't they ever grow tired of being who they are?"

"It's very possible, yes. Some people do grow restless with their limitations,"

"But any person truly in touch with themselves will know,

Being alive is truly a gift."

A week passes.

Her voice dies out amongst the noise of the world.

He's sure she disappeared with a smile.

Just before he leaves, he places a cecilia at the head of the cave where he turned fourteen.

When Albedo is halfway to turning eighteen, he arrives in Mondstadt.

His trek lasts him eighteen months, months of seemingly aimless wandering, no matter if he did have a goal.

He'd be a liar if he said he hadn't considered going back, even when he would've returned a failure. When he would've returned to the absence of a space impossible to fill.

His arrival hardly changes this feeling.

He does end up finding an inn, though. It's a quaint, narrow building near the outskirts of the city walls. The stay doesn't end up costing him as much as he'd expected, for which he is grateful. He thanks the innkeeper, but she brushes off his thanks. 

Sleep does not come easily, for him. It hasn't for a year.

Early in the morning, there is a knock on his bedroom door.

He's sitting at the room's provided desk at the time, reviewing his most recent notes. "Come in," He mutters. He didn't think he would be audible, but he supposes the walls are thin.

The innkeeper, the woman from the evening before, opens the door carefully. "I fear there is a visitor for you, sir," Her voice is quiet, timid.

 "I'll be out in a moment, thank you." The woman shuts the door gently.

Albedo sighs. 

He opens the door. In front of him stands a young girl.

"Good morning," He says, careful to keep his voice steady. "How can I help you?" 

The girl stares at him for just a second, then shakes her head repeatedly, as if breaking herself out of some sort of trance. 

"Hello!" She's cheerful, more so than he would've expected. "Sorry to bother you, sir! I saw you checking in here last night, and I wanna know something," She rummages around in her backpack, before pulling out an envelope. It's a tad bent at the edges and appears to have already been opened once over.

She hands the envelope to him and stares. He quirks an eyebrow. Inside, lies a piece of thick parchment. It, too, is torn around the edges. 

He pulls it out carefully.

The handwriting.

Dear Alice,

I hope you and your daughter have been well.

I have a student of mine, who will be passing through Mondstadt in the next two years or so. He will have a message for you, from me. I hope you will welcome him. Take care.

Sincerely,

Rhinedottir

Before Albedo can process, the little girl speaks once more. "Sorry for showing up kinda early in the morning," She doesn't look the least bit apologetic. "But I gotta know, sir," She pauses as if processing her thoughts. "Are you Aunt Rhine's student?!" 

Albedo blinks. "Aunt Rhine?"

The girl nods aggressively. "Yeah! This letter is about you, isn't it?" Albedo looks at her blankly. He frowns. 

"My master's name was Rhinedottir," He says. "If that is who you are referring to."

She gapes. It's a little endearing.

"So you are her student! That's so cool..." She gazes at him in wonder. The look holds a strange amount of weight; he feels a bit like he is being examined. "I'm Klee, by the way! Spark Knight of the Knights of Favonius!"

Albedo's eyebrows raise. This girl is a Knight?  He's a little skeptical, but he nods anyway, bending down to her eye-level. He puts his hand out, and she shakes it almost immediately, with a strong fervor. 

"It is an honor to meet you, Klee." He says, his voice calm and serene in comparison to hers. "My name is Albedo."

She stares at him again. "Albedo..." She repeats thoughtfully. "I like your name!" 

He snorts. "Thank you." He offers her a small, somewhat forced, smile, and she looks like she was gifted the world. 

After just a brief moment, she jumps. "Oh, right," She takes back the envelope from his hand. "I gotta introduce you to mom!" Albedo looks at her curiously.

"Your mother?"

If he's honest, she confuses him a little.

"Aw shoot, I should've said that first," She frowns. It loses its effect on her small face. "The letter I just showed you, was for my mom."

Albedo nods. Klee nods, too, but with far more vigor.

"I see," He says. "Do you know where to go?" Klee thinks for a moment. For a brief moment, he considers interrupting her, but that idea retreats as quickly as it arrives.

"I think so!" She beams. Albedo represses a sigh. 

"Alright," He stands up. "Go ahead." Klee grins.

"Leave it to me!" This time, Albedo does sigh.

By some sort of miracle, Klee does lead him to the correct location.

She brings him to a house, a medium height one, with a tall, pillar-like entrance, and an extension to the side. It's a beautiful house.

If Albedo had to come up with a mental image of what a home looks like, this would be it. 

Klee tugs on his hand, forcefully enough that she manages to drag him along with her. She pulls him to the front door, where he carefully pulls himself from her grip and straightens his stance. Klee knocks on the door a few times.

"Mama," She says, loud enough that whoever is on the other side is sure to hear her. "I found Aunt Rhine's student at the inn," There's a large pause, and Albedo thinks that perhaps nobody is going to answer. 

A woman stands in front of him. Her eyes are red, her hair long and blonde. 

She looks just like Klee.

An old friend.

She isn't exactly like he'd pictured.

She's shorter than he expected; only around four or five inches taller than himself. Despite this, she really does look like Klee, with the same pointed ears and bright, mischievous eyes.

She looks down at her daughter, then at Albedo. Her stare carries the same weight as her daughter's, oddly piercing. "I believe you have something for me," She says.

He nods. Klee looks a bit lost, but she continues to wear a wide smile.

He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a delicate, off-white envelope. He holds it out in front of him cautiously. The woman takes it from his hands just as carefully. 

She knows, then. If she's as careful as I am with what she's created.

She pulls open the letter, holding it cautiously between her hands. Her eyes skim over it, moving left to right with each line. Neither he nor she speaks, though Klee does pull her mother's arm down slightly so that she can see what she is reading. They stand like this for quite a while; her rereading the letter, him standing so straight that he can feel his spine cramping.  

She does end up speaking, though. 

"Good morning," She says, smiling. "The name's Alice, I see you've already met my daughter, Klee. Welcome to Mondstadt." Albedo's brow raises. Alice, writer, and adventurer. Known mostly for her destructive nature and reputation; though famous for her works throughout Teyvat. 

Albedo bows. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Alice. My name is Albedo, student of Rhinedottir."

Alice chuckles. "She must've taught you well, for you to greet me like that," She shakes her head, her grin still intact on her face. "How old are you, Albedo?" Albedo holds his hands behind his back. Habit. 

"Seventeen," He looks her in the eye to ensure his point is getting across. Another habit. "I will be turning eighteen this September." Alice quirks an eyebrow.

"Just what kinda kid are you," She laughs, then shakes her head again, though with humor. "You talk like she does, too." Albedo chooses not to react to this comment. 

"Well," She says, letting Klee run past her, exclaiming something he does not quite catch. "Come on in, we have a few things to talk about." Albedo nods curtly, and steps inside after her.

"Pardon the intrusion," Is muttered, but not heard.

Albedo looks around.

It truly is a beautiful home.

He finds Alice and Klee both sitting on their couch, Alice holding the letter and Klee pointing at the words on it. Sometimes she looks up at her, and Alice will tell her what it says. Albedo resorts to standing.

He feels a bit wrong in someone else's home. Out of place.

"Your master here says you need a laboratory. Not one just a citizen could build, either." 

He nods. "Yes, it would appear so." Alice hums thoughtfully. 

"Well, I've got an idea," She simpers. "But it'll have to be up to you." Albedo inclines his head, waiting for her to continue. 

"I'm sure you're familiar with the Knights of Favonius," Albedo nods.  "I could forward this letter to them, and you could work something out from there. if that's fine with you." Albedo hums. He nearly offers to deliver the letter himself, then realizes that someone delivering their own recommendation is a little strange.

He bows again, ignoring how she rolls her eyes.

"That would be appreciated," His hands migrate to join each other at his back once more. "Thank you."  

"One more thing," Just as he readies himself to leave, she speaks again.  "We're a family now. You can stay in our guest room for as long as you like. And Klee's your sister, you better act like it. Got that?"

Ah.

Albedo nods. "I will do my best." Alice rolls her eyes again. 

"Alright," She says, standing to clap a hand down on his shoulder. "Good luck!"

Albedo responds with a small smile. "Thank you. I appreciate your help." 

The Headquarters of The Knights of Favonius, Albedo comes to learn, can be entered through the city library. Despite the restrictions likely in place, he can't help but find it a little bit obvious as a place for the central protection for the city.

Though he does not know very much about Mondstadt as a whole, perhaps there is something else he is unaware of. 

Jean, the supposed Acting Grand Master, turns out to be a kind, humble woman.

Overworked, for sure. 

"We have word of a letter delivered by Alice," Jean says, shuffling through papers in front of her. "I haven't looked it over myself, but I know it is about you."

Albedo nods. Jean sighs.

"I have had several of my advisors read over her recommendation," She looks at him. "In exchange for a laboratory, we have arranged for you to work as an alchemist, here in Mondstadt. How does that sound?" Albedo stares back. He didn't expect them to accept him so quickly.

"I would appreciate it," He bows. "Thank you."

Jean gives him a small, tight smile. "No need to thank me," She places her hands in her lap, dusting off her clothing. "We have all decided you are fit for the job." Albedo gives her a curt nod. 

"Ah," She says as he is about to exit her office. "One more thing. Before we recruit you for the Knights, I would at least like to know your name," 

Albedo inclines his head. His eyes fall shut with the gesture.

"I am Albedo, student of Rhinedottir. It is a pleasure to meet you."

She looks a little startled, but she smiles in response.

"I am happy to welcome you to the Knights of Favonius, Albedo. Thank you for your cooperation."

In the evening, when he returns, he finds Alice cooking dinner, Klee missing from her usual spot at their dining table.

"Welcome back," Alice exclaims, opening the door further before he has the chance to step in. "Klee's doing Barbatos knows what up in her room, so don't worry about that one,"

He snorts. "Thank you."

He slips his shoes off at the doorway, leaving them neatly aligned beside their shoe rack. He stands near the doorway for a while. He should probably go somewhere, but he doesn't know exactly where that somewhere is.

Alice quirks an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you gonna sit down?" 

"Ah," He pauses. "Right."

"So," Alice starts, still facing the stove. "How did your meeting go?" 

"It was alright," He says. It sounds dry to his own ears. "I've been accepted."

She hums. "Well," She pivots and grins at him. "I'm glad t'hear! You're gonna be in the Knights with Klee and I, then, huh?"

Her hands sit on her hips, a ladle still in her right. She truly does look like a mother.

"Yes, I suppose so,"

She laughs. It's a hearty, joyful sound.

"No need to be so formal, kid," Her smirk softens into a smile.

"You're only seventeen, y'know?" She chuckles. "You already know so much, maybe even more than most of us adults. I was doing who knows what at seventeen, but--" She shakes her head. "I think you should be a kid first, don't you think?" 

"Sometimes, I wish you could've grown up normally. That we could've lived in Mondstadt, or somewhere, maybe even Liyue. I wonder, if you could've gone to school. You'd be an overachiever, I'm sure."

"Happy birthday, Albedo. Don't go growing up too fast."

He sighs.

"Maybe." 

When Albedo turns eighteen, Alice leaves Mondstadt, leaving Klee with him. 

She does not leave without notice, she leaves a letter, though he finds her penmanship a tad poor. Ironically, he thinks, since she is a writer. 

Dear Albedo,

My husband and I have decided to go on a trip, just the two of us. I am not sure when we get back, but I doubt it'll be any sooner than a year or two from now.  I already told Klee, don't worry. She'll be alright, she has the Knights to worry about. She was pretty happy to see me off, I bet. She's always looking for ways to stir up trouble when I'm not around. 

I'll be dropping in every once in a while, just to make sure the house is still standing. Hope y'look forward to it, brat.

For a while, you'll be in charge of Klee, alright? I better not come back and see the house destroyed. 

Take care of yourself, kid. I look forward to seeing you again when we return!

Sincerely, 

Alice.

Her leaving does not surprise him. It was always within her character to grow restless.

It does surprise him that she should entrust him, a teenager she only recently met, with her young daughter. He does his best to take care of her, anyway. 

He spends his mornings and evenings observing.

Writing.

He looks into Mondstadt's local inhabitance. He writes and he writes and he theorizes and researches and reads. He looks for elements that could bring utility for the people of Mondstadt, their doctors, their writers. He works tirelessly.

He works nearly all day, he doesn't say.

Nearly, because he still has Klee to deal with. 

As sweet as she is, Albedo has no idea how Alice kept up with her for so long without blowing some sort of fuse herself.

Perhaps it runs in the family. 

Looking after Klee ends up being what requires a majority of his remaining energy, considering that she always manages to worm her way into some sort of issue, self-inflicted or otherwise. 

He still feels a bit odd, sleeping in somebody else's home. Somewhere where they've lived all their life, filled with keepsakes and love and proof of their residency. 

"I want you to find me the truth, the meaning behind this world."

He feels wrong, living a mundane life in a city full of humans.

He isn't content, either.

He wonders if he ever will be.

When Albedo is only a few months past turning eighteen, his laboratory is complete.

Dear Albedo,

I hope this letter is to find you in good health. This is merely a notice to inform you that construction work on your laboratory is complete.

Feel free to visit the Acting Grand Master's office on your own time to let us know when you have received such notice. 

Thank you for your time.

Sent from, 

The desk of Jean Gunnhildr

Albedo looks over the letter. 

This news not exactly does not exactly come as a surprise.

Jean has hardly changed when they speak again. She carries herself with an air of uncertainty, still. She has gotten better at masking this fact.

He feels a little bad for her. He knows she has been dealing with Mondstadt for far longer than he has, and even now the presence of a large, busy environment tires him.

"Ah,"

Distracted.

"You're here to discuss your laboratory, correct?" 

"Correct." 

She sighs.

"We've pretty much finished, and you could likely take a look any one of these days," She pauses. "If that's what you want, of course. It's all the way up in Dragonspine, so no rush. I'd assumed you'd wanted to stay a little longer in town, but pay no mind to my assumptions."

Albedo doesn't bother telling her of the bleakness and itch and the drowning feeling of schedules that go nowhere.

He nods.

"Thank you. I hope it was not too much of a bother." Jean chuckles at his tone.

"Not at all," He has a feeling this is a lie, somewhat, but does not press. "I hope it will be sufficient for your studies." 

Albedo bows, as he tends to do. Jean waves him off, still. "If that will be all, I will be going now." Jean hums. 

"Alright. Have a good day, Albedo. Good luck."

Not long after Albedo begins his study in Dragonspine, he receives a Vision.  An acknowledgment of excellence. A contract.

It doesn't come as much of a shock. A useful tool, certainly.

When he is promoted to Chief Alchemist, it too, does not surprise him. 

He makes sure to be polite with Jean, on that day. He doubts she could stand his discontentment with such a title.

On a day between his eighteenth and nineteenth birthday, Albedo meets Kaeya Alberich.

"Mr. Albedo," A knock. "Klee again! Not just me, though," 

Klee, Another knock. please stop bringing visitors up here. 

He opens the door.

Low and behold, in his doorway, stands the Calvary Captain.

Kaeya of the Knights of Favonius. Known for his charming personality and pretty face. Liked throughout Mondstadt. All hearsay, since I have never properly interacted with him.

A long beat of silence passes. Albedo slowly regards him with a nod, cautiously. He doesn't reply, only smiles, giving something he could almost call a wave.

Odd.

"Good afternoon, Klee," He ruffles her hair through her hat. She snickers. "Sir Kaeya. How may I help you today?" 

"My," Kaeya smiles. "No need to be so formal. It's about time we introduced ourselves, don't you think?" 

He lets Klee run past him, ignoring whatever it is she has decided to do inside.  "I appreciate your familiarity," Kaeya quirks an eyebrow. "Though I would not prefer to be disrespectful."

"If we are done discussing terms of address, I would like to ask what has caused your visit." Oddly enough, he laughs.

"Well, well, I do suppose you are entitled to that," His smile doesn't waver.

Albedo stares in question.

Kaeya sighs. "Not even going to invite me in? So cold, Chief. I thought we could be civil," Albedo inspects his expression. He's... strange.

He opens the door wider, allowing the both of them to enter, and sits behind his desk, paying no mind to where Kaeya opts to stand.  "If I may, I’d ask that you make this brief," He turns his attention to the notes written in the sketchbook afront him.

"Of course, Chief,"

A pause.

"Say, you haven't happened to have heard from Jean recently, have you?" 

It has been a while since he's been down to visit the acting Grand Master, he rarely ever goes down the mountain outside of shopping and filing reports. He feels a bit bad. She always does try her very best. "Not to my knowledge," He settles for. "Though I rarely keep up with Mondstadt’s affairs."

Kaeya exhales dramatically. "A shame, really. Someone has to keep the people informed, you know?"

Albedo huffs.

"There's word of a new alchemist who's been scouted for the Knights, hm? Could be simple gossip, of course, but Jean might want to speak with you soon," Another pause. 

"I haven't met her personally, at least not as of current," He hears something clink, not unlike the flipping of a coin. "But I'm sure she's brilliant. Another bright mind on our forces." Albedo hums. 

"I see," Albedo glances up to examine him. He really is Mondstadt's charmer. More... direct than I expected. Yet another oversight of mine, I suppose. I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting.

"Why is it you came so far into Dragonspine just to tell me in person? Though I most certainly appreciate your effort, you could have simply sent a letter,"

He glances across the room where Klee is sitting at his low table, drawing.

All over his diagrams. He suppresses a sigh.

"I'm sure Klee would have loved to deliver it." His eyes return to the man in front of him.

Kaeya chuckles. "That would be rather shallow of me, no? I figured we needed to be introduced properly, it'll only be so long until we have to work together," Their eye contact doesn't break. "Is it truly so odd for me to go to greater lengths than usual for such a matter?"

Albedo's eyes flutter downwards. He inhales deeply. "I suppose not."

"Well," Kaeya grins. "If that'll be all, Chief, then I'll be off. An honor to meet you,"

"One more thing," He stands from behind his desk. Kaeya looks over his shoulder to meet his eyes. 

"You can call me Albedo," He inclines his head slightly. "It has been a pleasure to meet you, Kaeya. I hope to see you again soon."

Kaeya's expression is subdued, for a moment, almost as if he was caught off guard. "Farewell then, Albedo. You too, Klee, don't cause him too much trouble."

Klee giggles, shouting a farewell after him just as he leaves.

Interesting.

When Albedo is nineteen, he meets Sucrose. 

"Are you sure it's okay for me to-- impose? In such a way?"

Albedo quirks an eyebrow. "In what way?"

"Well I just--" Sucrose scratches behind her ear. "I'd feel a little... Bad. If I were to-- interrupt anything."

Albedo shakes his head. "I'm not in the middle of anything. Not as of right now." She averts her eyes. "I think my new assistant is a little more important than whatever experiment I would've been working on, anyway. You aren't intruding, I assure you."

Sucrose squeaks. "Of-- of course! My apologies." Albedo smiles.

"No need to apologize."

He stands at his canvas. It's been a while since he's painted.

"What variety of alchemy do you usually specialize in, Sucrose?" 

Green, blue. Teal. Aquamarine. White.

"Oh! I didn't mean to get distracted..."

Small strokes. Soft brush, cleaned, trimmed. Thinned white. Grey.

"I typically study bio-alchemy, though all forms of the art fascinate me," Be slow to detail. Thin brush, soft edge. "I hope this is alright, of course! Plants really do interest me..."

Ah.

"I truly do look forward to working with you, Sir!"

Mistakes don't obstruct the big picture. Be steady. Calm.

"Sir? Pardon me, have I been monologuing? I really am sorry--"

Wash out any errors. Take them in your stride.

"No need," Flick. Take a step back.

"I was simply focusing." He smiles. "Bio-alchemy, was it?"

Sucrose nods.

"Yes, that will do just fine."

When Albedo is still only nineteen, he has a conversation.

"You never did tell me what you do on this mountain, all alone. All day."

Albedo scoffs. "I'm not always alone, you are aware, correct?"

Kaeya quirks an eyebrow. "Really now? Tell me who else would abandon all else to sit up here, then."

"Sucrose is here often enough, thank you," Kaeya continues to look at him skeptically. "As well as Klee, and you. That is plenty company,"

He shuffles through the graphs on his desk. Incomplete. Unfinished. Unsuccessful. Unclear. 

"Where has Sucrose been lately, hm? I haven't seen her in a few," Albedo rubs his pointer finger at his temple. 

"I sent her on mandatory vacation," He marks To be completed on a schedule sheet. "I've heard she isn't enjoying it very much, unfortunately."

Kaeya hums. "If I could, I'd send you on one, too," He mutters. He takes a seat on a painting stool near his desk. "Alas. What was your last experiment? Was it successful?"

Albedo sighs. "Oh, it's nothing significant," He has a letter to write. "Just something self indulgent. I was running a few tests on a newly discovered metal just north of Dragonspine," He stands sift through his bookshelf.

"Oh really? How did that go, then?" Kaeya flips a coin. 

"It went fine. The metal has less electric properties, but more-so in engineering... I still have to write that letter to Jean's assistant about it," 

Another day, another letter to write.

He's pretty sure he's running low on ink. She did always used to say it was bad luck to run out.

"You seem tired, hm?" Kaeya's voice takes on a questioning tone. More curious than accusing, he'd say. "How long exactly were you working on that experiment?"

Albedo furrows. He breathes in deeply, taking a sip of his tea. It's cold, now. He forgot when he'd made it.

He sets it down, holding his hands behind him. "Five days, I believe."

Kaeya pauses. "Straight?" 

Albedo takes another sip of his tea. "Yes, straight," Kaeya blinks. 

"You're serious, aren't you?"

Albedo quirks an eyebrow. "Yes?"

He exhales audibly. "Yeah, alright. That's it," 

Albedo stares at him in question. "What's what?" 

"You're coming with me, that's what," Kaeya holds his hand out in front of him. It's less of an invitation, and more of a command. You're coming with me, whether you like it or not.

He takes it, of course.

"Do you have enough energy to walk all the way down?"

Albedo continues to stare at him. 

"I think I'll be just fine, thank you," Kaeya stares back, almost staring through him. He's taking this very seriously, for whatever reason.

"Are you completely sure about that? I don't want you collapsing half way down the mountain--"

"Kaeya." His attention averts back to him, almost completely. "I'm alright."

He seems to be contented with this answer, somewhat, because he stops pressing.

Kaeya sighs. "Alright."

It's cold in Dragonspine. Not that it bothers him, but he'd forgotten the harshness of the seasons.

Maybe he is inside too much, if he's forgotten even what the outside felt like. His fingers are numb.

He doesn't ask Kaeya where they're going. He doesn't tell him.

They end up in Mondstadt far faster than he would've expected, had he gone himself. Kaeya seems to be a little less on edge once they enter the city walls, though it's certainly still there. 

He still isn't exactly sure what he's so worked up over. He's not sure if it'll come up, either, considering who he's with.

They end up finding themselves at the doorstep of an inn. One he hasn't seen before.

Kaeya looks at him from his side. "Do you want to wait out here? I'm just going to go flirt my way into a nicer room, unless you're the jealous type." Albedo snorts.

"I'll be fine right here. Good luck." Kaeya chuckles, running fingers through his hair in a way that would be slightly obnoxious had it not been amusing. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I won't need it. The ladies love me. Guys too," Albedo huffs.

He takes a seat on the bench outside.

It looks like it's going to rain, soon. Mondstadt is quite beautiful when it's quiet. 

He can see Dragonspine in the distance.

There are so many things that he could be discovering, right now. His promise hangs in the balance, every hour he isn't searching.

So many things he could be doing, so many letters, so many experiments and diagrams--

"Albedo," He can practically hear her chastising him. "You mustn't exhaust yourself. Your energy is worth more than you'd believe."

"Hey," He jerks at the sound of Kaeya's voice. "I'm done. Worked like a charm, as usual. Just my charisma, I know," Kaeya smirks to himself. "My apologies for the wait,"

Albedo clears his throat. "It's not problem." Kaeya takes his hand, again. It's warm, even with his gloves on.

"Come on, we have a room waiting," Albedo stares at him. 

What is he trying to do?

"Have something on your mind?" Albedo snaps back to attention.

"Ah. No, it's alright,"

Kaeya's eye on him feels heavier than he assumes it should. 

"If you say so."

The room Kaeya gets for them, to say the least, is nicer than anything he's been staying in. 

I knew he was charming, He thinks, looking at the floor to ceiling windows and silk sheets lining the beds. But isn't this a little excessive? What exactly did he say?

He makes the wise decision not to ask. 

"I am incredibly grateful, but," He stares on as Kaeya rummages through what looks to be an alchohol fridge. "What are we doing here, exactly?" 

Kaeya's head jolts up at the sound of his voice. "Not much, actually," He stands up, clearly disappointed with the lack of wine. "I just wanted to take you somewhere." 

Albedo quirks an eyebrow. "Aren't there more... affordable places to go?" Kaeya, for some reason, laughs.

"Of course," He places his hands on his hips. "But I wanted to take you here, hm? I thought you deserved to sleep somewhere nice," 

He sighs. "If I'm honest, I just couldn't stand to let you keep yourself up there," He runs a hand through his hair. "So here we are. Let me know if you want to go anywhere else, though."

I thought you deserved to sleep somewhere nice.

Albedo isn't sure if he's ever used the word chivalrous  to describe Kaeya before today, but here he is.

The evening is quiet. He never does find any wine.

"Say," He says. Albedo looks across the room, where Kaeya is musing in front of one of the many windows. "You wouldn't happen to play chess, would you?" 

Albedo hums. "Of course," 

He has many memories of playing chess with her. She always took black. On the rare occasion that he should beat her, she would let him take it, instead.

"Would you be up for a match?" 

Albedo smiles. "I don't see why I shouldn't." 

Kaeya, as it turns out, is an exceptional chess player.

Not better than he is, though.

"Are you sure you don't play often? This is getting a little absurd," Albedo chuckles.

"No, not really. I play with Timaues, when he visits, which isn't frequent," He moves his knight to the left. He ends up taking Kaeya's rook, which he hadn't exactly intended on. "So no, I'm afraid not. I haven't owned a set in a long time." 

He supposes he's getting distracted.

Kaeya scoffs. "Yeah, sure," He moves his knight in return, taking Albedo's pawn. "Mr. Genius is a chess master, too. Who would've known?"

Albedo huffs amusedly, but shakes his head slowly. "I wouldn't say I'm a genius,"

He looks out the window beside them. The sun is going down, slowly. Quietly.

"Though if you asked me, I don't think I could tell you what I think a genius is. The people's image of a genius, however. That; that is not how I'd describe myself." 

Kaeya stares at him from across the table. "I've been meaning to ask you something, if you wouldn't mind,"

Albedo hums. "Not at all."

"What drove you to come to Mondstadt, of all places?" Kaeya fidgets with one of Albedo's taken pawns between his fingers. "I knew nothing of you, before you arrived. What brought you here?"

Albedo sighs. This is it, then. This is the conversation I thought I'd never have.

"My master did," He says. It feels unreal to address her like that, after so many years of her proving herself to be worth so much more than a mere master. "She sent me here, as her final mission for me."

He can feel Kaeya's eye examining him. "I didn't know you had a master,"

Albedo laughs. "Most people don't."

"Her final mission," Kaeya repeats quietly. "Have you seen her since?"

Albedo's eyes fall shut, gently. He shakes his head.

"She disappeared, a week before I left," He smiles weakly. "I promised to answer one of her questions, years ago. I was young, of course." He breathes in the evening air and the smell of freshly cleaned bedding. "Unfortunately, I don't think she'll ever be hearing from me again."

He opens his eyes to the sun. It must be calming, he thinks. To rise, fall. So sweetly and slowly, for the entire world to see.

He feels Kaeya's hand in his. 

"That's what you're doing up there, then." His voice is quiet. It isn't rough, nor is it sweet. Somewhere in the middle, he thinks. "You're doing all that research, all for her legacy."

Albedo sighs, and looks into Kaeya's single, exposed eye. "I suppose you could say that, yes."

Kaeya smiles. It's lopsided, unlike his smile that he usually wears around women or the other members of the Knights. "I still am glad to get you off that cliff, you know," He places down the chess piece in his hand. "You can loathe me all you want, but I'll never regret it."

Albedo, too, smiles.

"I wouldn't dream of it, thank you."

Kaeya starts visiting more. Albedo finds his presence to be welcomed.

When Albedo is twenty, he falls in love.

"If you never had a home," Kaeya does his best to sit still under his gaze. "Where did you go?" Albedo stands before his canvas, eyes narrowed in focus. 

Kaeya is an interesting subject for a painting. All those small details the realist couldn't imagine capturing, had they not noticed them beforehand.

"We traveled often," Hair that lies somewhere between navy and gunmetal grey. Hard color match, he thinks. "We camped out wherever my apprenticeship and her research took us. We didn't stay in one place for any longer than two weeks, usually,"

Kaeya hums. Albedo starts work on his single, deep eye.

"Didn't you ever grow lonely, out there?" Albedo pauses.

Lonely. Perhaps not lonely, but maybe more so...

"Not exactly."

Detached.

"I rarely mingled with people, at that age. Since we never lived or camped out in any large cities, I never knew what it was like, so I couldn't miss it," He has a hard time capturing his eye. Something about it. "Even if I did, I doubt I would've participated with social affairs at that point."

Kaeya looks at him thoughtfully. "How old were you, when you left? If you don't mind me asking."

Albedo exhales audibly. Quietly.

"Sixteen. I'd grown up with her my entire life, up until that point." Kaeya stares at his expression.

He sure asks a lot of questions, for someone so shrouded in mystery.

"So we both have odd upbringings, then. Though, I can't say I expected yours," He laughs, and Albedo raises an eyebrow.

"Really, now? What was so strange about yours, then?" 

Kaeya waves it off. "Oh, you know. Nothing too unusual," He perches his chin on his hand, ignoring Albedo's murmur of stay still. "Adopted family, deceased father. I'm sure you've heard it all before,"

Albedo frowns. "I haven't," He directs his attention to cleaning up the painting's jawline, narrowing his eyes in focus. "At least not from you." 

Kaeya hums, turning away from his gaze. His eyes are downcast, so blue he can almost see his reflection in them. "Maybe so."

Until he's had him as a painting subject, Albedo hasn't exactly had much time to admire his features.

How his hair frames his face, how his eyelashes are that much more visible when he closes his eyes. His hands without his gloves on, the tiny scars scattered across his arms. One on his collarbone, pale and thin.

He's never been this close, before. He's never felt this close.

"Kaeya," 

His eye widens. "Yes?"

"Tell me a story."

Kaeya looks at him in confusion. "A story?"

Albedo nods. "Yes,"

He goes silent for a moment. "Of what?"

"Anything," His eyes fall shut. "Anything you'd like. Something about you, preferably."

Kaeya breathes in, out. His eye, first closed, opens slowly.

"Whatever you'd like--"

"No, not me," He reaches out to tuck a bundle of Kaeya's hair behind his ear. "You. What do you want me to hear, Kaeya?"

Close.

His hand doesn't move, after he does. It stays, holding so much he doesn't know. It's a striking sense of mystery, not at all like the never-ending inconsistencies of his research.

It's beautiful. 

He's beautiful. 

Albedo decides he likes when Kaeya speaks. When he trusts him with his words.

He couldn't tell someone exactly what story he tells him, something about him, as a child. Young. Naive.

He doesn't miss the way his eyes shine with nostalgia, or when he pauses for just a little too long. 

"You must be quite patient," He says, while Albedo listens, mindlessly. "For you to have put up with my nonsense for this long."

This long, He thinks. It's been two hours.

Albedo stares at his canvas. Kaeya's portrait looks back at him, looking the same as he did when Albedo was nineteen. Now, too. The same warm, pleased expression stares into his eyes.

"I wouldn't say that,"

You don't exhaust me, you know, He wants to say.

"We both know the real reason I stay here, in Mondstadt," He gazes out his window. Quiet. Empty. "I wouldn't describe that as patience."

He can feel Kaeya staring at him. 

"Though," He says, still not meeting his eyes. "I would wait," 

"If it was for you."

Kaeya goes silent.

"Really, now," He chuckles. It sounds bitter to Albedo's ears, on his tongue. "For how long?" 

"However long you'd need," He speaks with the utmost certainty.

"And what if that day never comes," Kaeya's voice sounds far away, washed out. Unsettlingly calm. "What then?"

It would never matter, to me. 

"I'll wait forever," Albedo looks at him quietly. He, too, is calm. Serene. "For you."

Kaeya eyes him thoughtfully. 

"I'd do the same for you, you know."

Albedo raises an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Wait for you," He smiles. "Forever."

Albedo huffs amusedly, reaching to leave his final brushstroke. "Doesn't it sound lonely, for the both of us to be waiting for the other, for all eternity?"

Kaeya hums, watching. "Not if we're doing it together, hm?"

With his entire heart, Albedo laughs.

"No, I suppose not."

The painting, the first he's done since he painted Sucrose, all those months ago, becomes his favorite. He frames it.

When Albedo is twenty-one, he sits up in a bed of camilla flowers.

"Wake up, Albedo," Say a voice, echoing amongst the sounds of the scenery. A breeze tousles his hair. Snow falls onto the tip of his nose. "There is a day ahead of you."

Ah.

Another.

There's nothing he can do. Only let it play out, allow the sequence to commence.

She haunts his dreams more than he'd prefer.

"Good morning, master,"

She turns her head to look at him. She smiles, and Albedo wishes he could go back to sleep.

"Good morning, Albedo," She's hardly changed. Not that she could, since he doubts she lived. "It is good to see you."

He goes silent.

"Likewise," He mutters. His own voice sounds foreign to his ears.

"How have you been?" Without me, she doesn't say.

The flowers, crushed with his weight, are unbearably soft beneath him. He wants to sink into them, fade away.

Dissolve into chalk.

"I've been well," He looks past her. He evades her eyes, eyes that know him far too well. "Thank you."

She hums, then goes quiet.

He wonders if his grief is etched into him. If her absence will ever, well and truly, be filled.

"I'm proud of where you've come," There it is. "I always will be."

"Where I've come," He repeats. "Where do you think that is?"

The silence is deafening. He wonders if he could grasp it, granted he focus hard enough.

"You've grown," She decides on. "You're a brilliant young man. A Knight, too," 

He wonders if he could cry. If that would be possible, for somebody like him.

"That is more than I could've asked for," He barely even notices her presence before him, too focused on avoiding her gaze. "If only you knew."

He decidedly does not speak. 

"No matter if you realize it or otherwise," She says, quietly. "You have found your meaning."

Her hand finds itself on his shoulder. He refrains from recoiling.

"I never," He whispers. "Answered your question." 

She smiles, again.

"I know," Her eyes are far too knowing, far too wise.

He feels like a child again.

"That question was never for me, Albedo."

I know.

"I hope you will find an answer that satisfies you, one day."

One day. Always.

"Until then,"

His senses fade, leaving only her voice and the feeling of her arms around him.

"I will wait for you."

When Albedo wakes, he is no longer among the camilla flowers, nor the scent of thyme and green tea or soft snowfall.

When Albedo is twenty-one, in time with the world, he smiles.