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Hat Guy.
Hat Guy.
Mr. Guy.
Hat Guy.
Cat Guy.
Our friend in a hat.
“Hey, Hat Guy. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
He spins around at the familiar voice, nearly twisting his ankle with the hurried motion he forces through as his calm boredom quickly sparks into irritation. His eyes meet ones of golden hue, their clarity as brilliant as the stars at night reflecting the stories of the world back towards it – just like it does his scowl and furrowed brows beneath his wide-brimmed hat. “Don’t you start with that.”
Lumine hides a giggle behind delicately lithe fingers capable of both squeezing the neck of her adversaries into suffocation and pulling someone drowning under turbulent waters up for air. “Don’t start with what?”
“You know what.” He rolls his eyes at her, arms crossing in front of his chest.
“So, I can’t call you by the name everyone else does?” Lumine tilts her head far enough for one of the longer locks of her hair to sway. “Then what do you want me to call you? A pet name? I thought you said you’d cringe out in public.”
The rough grinding of his teeth grates against his inner ears, reverberating inside his cranium like broken edges barely put back together with a glue stick slipping out of place. “I’m going to be insulted if you don’t remember.”
A bitter tang more potent than the lowest quality teas steeped for far too long spreads in an aching flame within his hollow chest; a surge coursing through his veins as though a heart had truly gasped at betrayal. He quickly binds the emotions in rattling chains.
Lumine notices the flash of vulnerability even so—can read him like an open book despite his tightly closed hard covers. She raises her hands up in surrender, even daring to reach one out and sweep against his cheek with the back of her fingers.
He turns his head away from it in petulance, even if he mourns the loss when she lowers her arm.
Despite his attitude—seeing right through it all, rather—Lumine gives him a quiet smile. “Of course, I remember your name. How could I possibly forget it? You just never seem to use it, so I wanted to use the name you do. I figured you grew quite fond of it over time.”
The tightness in his chest eases.
“As if.” He scoffs, turning his nose up. “Buer—ugh, never mind. You know how she is.”
Lumine is snickering again. “Then, Wanderer, shall we be off? You’re the one who asked to meet up. I even sent Paimon off to sneak treats with Aino.”
He clicks his tongue, the sound swiftly followed by a hissing sharp inhale. “You’re really dead set on testing me today, aren’t you?”
Taking an intimidating step nearer and staring down at her, he obscures the both of them from the brightness of the midday sun beneath his hat. This close, he sees the twinkle of mischief dance across her golden irises like a shower of shining, falling stars despite the shadow he casts over her light. This close, his nose tickles with the familiar unfamiliar scent of what he assumes to be a stain imparted upon her skin by the universe—by the sky beyond the forged curtains draped over the stage of Teyvat he may one day stare longingly into.
If that day ever comes, he wonders just what he will do. Find himself a place within the ruins of civilizations just as abandoned as he and attempt a system shut down, allowing moss and vines to grow over his artificial form era after era? Or will he go on another nameless journey listlessly, waiting for yet another new title just as superficial to be shackled upon him; the label playing him like the puppet he is? Perhaps he’d reject them all this time around—the names, the emotions, the world. Reject, reject, reject, reject, reject—!
He feels ghosts begin caressing his skin too intimately—too invasively—then, clamping their cold hands all across his body to plunge him into both the clinging humid verdure and the scratching arid sands. His nose twitches at the familiar scents he thinks he smells; the only aromas around.
Then noise. Too much noise, enough to drown out even the whirring cogs in his head.
Insistent yapping over colorful Genius Invokation. Trivial Akademiya gossip amidst books. Chatter with the clunks of tableware and tavern guests alike. Pitiful wails muddled with the echoes of toppling toy blocks. All of it, resounding from deep within his memories, yanks him from his fracturing thoughts and drops him back into the present time blindingly – not in a future unwritten nor within a past with unerasable ink already staining the pages.
He sharply and vehemently tethers his focus on the pretty smirk still playing on Lumine’s glossed lips.
Her breath as she speaks in a whisper puffing into his personal space tastes like the cream from those too sweet krumkakes he’s seen around. The ones made by that robot girl, and mostly eaten by her young creator.
If Lumine notices anything amiss, she doesn’t say – anchors him with normality instead. Briefly, however, her gaze does rove over his face. “I just miss teasing you, is all.”
He’s—fine. She’s here.
And she’s insufferable; but he will never admit aloud the way her brashness against him blooms the gentlest, most delicate flower bud he has ever had the privilege of being gifted in his chest– careful to never allow his cracked edges to harm it.
“Yeah? Well, knock it off.”
“Make me.” Then, Lumine does that thing he sometimes does to her behind Nahida’s back: Stick her tongue out at him.
The high-speed whirling of his thoughts settles.
He’s not genuinely mad, and she knows it. Takes advantage of it. Still, his eyebrow ticks upwards in irritation. “There isn’t a proper law enforcement established in Nasha Town, you know.”
“I can go for letting off a little steam.”
Inching closer, the tip of his nose nearly rubs against hers. “Oh? Pent up, are you?”
Lumine’s cheeks flush as red as the vibrant brush of color around the corners of his eyes. “Don’t say it like that! It’s not—”
“What a loyal girlfriend I have, hm? Were you waiting for me? As you should. You better.” With the same sadistic smirk he’s accustomed to using, he raises her chin with a single finger, lips brushing against hers as featherlight as the breeze.
Although he has turned the tables on her satisfyingly, if someone or something is hurting her in Nod-Krai—
—He’ll kill them.
Lumine wraps her hand around his wrist and pulls the offending finger from her chin. “There’s the snarky Vahumana Driyosh I know.”
“Why are you complaining? I’m only giving you the hello you wanted, Traveler.”
A small vortex forms in the palm of the hand she still holds captive, drawing in the air always tinged with iron and machine grease. With increasing fervor, the familiar dash of teal dyes the currents of wind being inhaled towards him; papers flapping, bolts knocked astray to the ground, and produce stands rocking joining the chaotic sound.
He doesn’t mind indulging her once in a while. Besides, he’s a little interested in the fangs she got sharpened since last they fought side-by-side; or even, since she had last sunk them into him.
And anything to shake off the very last, clingy threads of his putrid thoughts.
A merchant somewhere protests as their wares are sent flying, the people milling about and minding their own businesses yelping when their clothes are sent askew and loose items ram into them.
The disgruntled merchant yells. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Seriously?! Is someone starting a fight again?!”
What are they going to do about it? This seemingly every day norm in Nasha Town. No one steps up to stop them either.
Still, even as he throws the orb of a spatial black hole at Lumine, he’s careful to avoid the people. And equally, his girlfriend is as morally conscientious as she always is, batting the vortex away with her sword towards the sky to implode on itself rather than further disturb the—already disrupted—peace.
Locals and visitors both give their attention to the flickering illuminations rupturing the clouds, mesmerized by all the wrong things that would keep mortals alive another day.
He takes to the air, sending a series of wind blades at his sparring partner this day; and for many more odd days within the long future ahead if he has any say in it. The rhythmic clanging against her sword draws surprised squeaks from their unbidden audience members, piercing notes joining the grinding of gears. Frail humans cover their heads with similarly as frail hands as if it would do anything at all in this realm where gods exist.
And yet, it is with those hands that humans have persisted where gods fall.
Good for them.
He means it.
The tip of Lumine’s sword slices by his cheek, the stream of air in between screaming silently as it is knifed down, flayed edges roughly scalping along his unnaturally pristine skin. Twisting his shoulders sharply, he skirts across the ground in avoidance, picking up wayward dust and litter into a whirlwind. A stray scrap of someone’s shopping list careens with the intersection of winds he tosses out, the paper getting caught in the middle and ripping into tiny shreds in front of Lumine’s face.
A hat is caught up in their antics, tumbling at their feet with the turbulent gusts.
Are the stories kept within the physical land more long lasting than the tales carried by the winds? Will rock erode first, or will the breeze be forgotten with time?
With a wide swing from her, a shower of chipped pebbles sprays out.
The rocks are pushed in random directions as the two forces of geo and anemo go head-to-head with nothing but brute force swarming their contrasting energies into a broken flurry. Amidst the drizzle of gravel, however, Lumine takes the time to pick up the hat with a scroop of her hand, dancing around his aerial assault with a cheeky smile to plop it onto the head of one of the little girls hiding behind a metal crate nearby.
He chases after her, wind whistling in his ears. Treading by the two kids himself, he steals the hat back only to twist midair and drop it onto the other girl – the hat’s original owner – before he darts off.
Very few know that the prim and proper hero of many nations loved to cause a little trouble every now and again. And he was fortunately unfortunate to be her most favorite accomplice to rile into all such mischief. Lucky for her, he refuses to have it any other way. Let him be the keeper of her secrets—let him, and him alone, see the real stars behind the veil, even if they shatter into dazzling stardust at her worst. He never needed all that hopeless propriety anyways.
Behind the curve of the street and surrounding buildings, he loses sight of Lumine; doesn’t even hear the echoes of her dashing footsteps on metal sheets anymore. The only indication that she still wishes to play this game with him is the tornado that whirls towards him from the other end of the alleyway, vacuuming any items weightless enough into its center and inhaling the stagnant puddle that never seems to evaporate.
Fat droplets of dirty water fly into his cheek with harsh splatters as he comes to a stop. He chuckles meanly to himself, eyeing the disaster barring his path forward. “Surely you know that’s not enough to stop me.”
A tinkling bell tolls in his ears.
Stomping his foot into the ground, treating the very world like it was a filled balloon meant—deserved—to be popped, he forces the air out from the bursting core of the earth and manipulates the anemo to rise towards the endless sky beyond, destroying the dross unworthy in the middle of it all. Namely, the mini tornado.
“Obviously~”
Hopping higher into the air and tucking his knees closer to himself, he narrowly avoids getting his foot skewered by Lumine’s sword, the weapon making a rattling clang against the scuffed ground. Swiftly, he ascends even further upwards, his Vision and the anemo around him both hissing loudly. “Are surprise attacks all you’ve learned since last we met? Have you fallen that low, Traveler?”
“Only sometimes, but definitely just for you.” Lumine jests right back as she leaps after him.
With practiced movements, her experienced swordplay deflects the non-lethal wind blades he throws at her, the dull ding on steel barely loud enough to be heard over the howling winds they force themselves through. After all, neither of them is taking this match seriously enough to put destructive levels of strength into their attacks; nothing nearly enough to damage property or people should something go a little awry in their careful and beautiful dance.
Yet, like all land-locked beings, Lumine can’t be leaping towards the sky forever—not without wings.
Her ascension speed slows high into the air, only enough power put into her legs to follow him just beyond the roofs of the tallest buildings nearby. He tilts his head away from a swing of her sword, catching the wrist that flies by his face and twisting his body, taking her with him. With the extra momentum for power, he throws her towards one of the flat rooftops.
Nevertheless, even if he had been the one to do so, he can’t stop the nauseous lurch in his stomach as Lumine is engulfed in a foreign light – body evaporating in front of his eyes and disappearing. Surrounded by buildings put together with makeshift scrap, despite being in open air and free to roam anywhere, he feels them closing in on him suffocatingly.
He hadn’t done anything like that; he isn’t capable of anything like that, not anymore—
He twists and turns, gaze darting back and forth, frantically searching. One of those curious creatures native to Nod-Krai glides from one building to the next nearby.
Where did Lumine go? She didn’t get hurt, did she?
From the corner of his eye, that glowing kuuhenki that had been playing shoots out from one of the Moonlanes he has read about back at the Akademiya, the slinging momentum propelling it directly at him.
As though Time has slackened its ever-persistent march towards the next cycle anew, everything around him, including himself, lazes into slow motion.
Every millimeter his eyes widen, he feels dreadfully slowly. The way his survival instincts kick in and moves his body without his conscious thought has his back curling like a hissing cat to protect his defenseless abdomen one vertebrae at a time. His hand, too, is already swiping in front of him before his mind can catch up, creating with its afterimage a paper-thin shield of tumultuous anemo meant only to block the worse that is to come and barely anything more.
An emergency measure he enacts subconsciously.
Even the way Lumine’s visage pops out of the kuuhenki’s form with a puff of soft moonlit glitter is like those moments when pathetic, sheltered, mortal boys are awestruck into silence with mouths agape by a beautiful woman walking into the room.
“Gotcha.” She murmurs in pride.
Violet sparks crackle around them, the anemo in his hand picking up the electro and buzzing it into a fierce lightning storm. Static quickly accumulates between them, his small forcefield shattering akin to glass as the highspeed winds rub electricity into heated friction.
Soon, Lumine is looking as surprised as he is as the congregated mess in between them blows up in a fiery plume—both of their tricks up their sleeves a worthy match.
The force careens him backwards, over the rooftops and towards the lone patch of beach nestled between cliffsides. Flickers of electro clinging onto his clothing flake off like falling leaves from a branch in autumn as he summersaults in the air to eventually come to a stop. When he steadies himself, anemo calming around him into the same rhythm as the ocean breeze, he spies Lumine hopping onto the last building at the border of Nasha Town, overlooking where sky meets water.
“Didn’t know Teyvat’s hero was such a dirty cheater!” He yells towards her.
“It’s called using the environment!” Lumine retorts with a satisfied grin. Widening her stance, she readies her sword – body and weapon alike alighting with the sun-hued flames of Natlan. “Final match, winner takes all?!”
Loser must do anything winner says?
He gathers high pressured winds to his hand once more, sucking up the oxygen in the area and thinning out the air. “Fine by me!”
In the distance, the dark grey smoke they’ve left behind begins to disperse, wisps of pollution diluting into the clouds.
Lumine leaps; not that he waits for her. The ribbons of wind weaving between his fingers are manipulated into outwardly sharp blades as he tosses his arm forward and loosens the leash that holds his control over them.
A magenta flame darts towards them from the side – its pinkish hue so staggering it steals both of their attentions away from the measured violence in their hands.
“Don’t—!” A breathless and anxious voice gasps, its owner’s body bowling in between them.
Dragon wings spread out wide, shadowing the sun.
A metaphoric bucket of cold water is poured over his head then, freezing solid the heart he does not have and stilling its life-giving beats. Hastily, he tightens his reigns over anemo once more, gnashing his teeth together and nearly biting his tongue clean in half.
It’s almost a degree too late, the teal tinted tempests winding around the right wing enough to hinder its movements of flight, plummeting the boy it belongs to a gut-lurching meter before he catches himself.
The inelegant clang of steel on steel that rings out with the same sensation of raking nails on a chalkboard tells him Lumine has also attempted an emergency halt, her wrists probably aching with the awkward angle she has collided into their little interloper with.
One of two present swords falls towards the sandy beach, abandoned and twisting midair until it clatters with a few wobbly hops.
“Sis!”
What did Durin just say?
The dragon born from a witch’s pen, of whom they both know well, grabs at the arm Lumine is not using to hold her weapon, his gloved fingers clenching tightly as he flaps his wings with extra effort to keep her from falling.
From this height, Lumine is more than capable of landing on her feet just fine – whatever weird lifeform she is allows her such safeties, unlike most Teyvatian mortals, and especially unlike Teyvatian mortals without Visions.
The moment Durin lowers Lumine to the ground as softly as possible, he is on the boy. “Idiot!”
“Hat Guy—”
He doesn’t wait, stomping through the sand and grabbing Durin’s shoulder to hold him still, fingers light despite his rough tone. “Can you move your wings without pain? Did you get hurt anywhere else?”
“I…”
The whimper makes him look up from his inspection, noticing the tears building in the corners of Durin’s eyes.
His crumbling expression takes them both aback. Durin’s interweaving concern and guilt are real—as honest as it gets even in this cruel world that will only punish such vulnerabilities.
Their little dragon collapses to his knees in a heap, sitting on his legs and shoes. Lumine goes down with him hurriedly. “Where does it hurt?”
At this, Durin shakes his head. He raises his hands to cover half of his face in shame. “No, it’s—I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean it! I didn’t want to raise my sword at you two!”
“Huh?” Lumine is rightfully surprised, the shock stilling her movements briefly until she swiftly knocks herself out of it and tenderly grasp Durin’s wrists to lower. “It wasn’t like that. We know you didn’t mean it like that, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
Silently, he kneels as well and continues his examination of the mini dragon turned boy – taking the magenta wing in a delicate hold and feeling for any wounds invisible to the naked eye.
Thank the real stars neither he nor Lumine were all that serious in their bout to begin with, even until the final decisive blow; the blades of wind he had manifested weren’t nearly as sharp as they could be, if at all able to cut skin and shatter bones. The wing seems no worse for wear.
“Still…” Durin snivels piteously.
It takes only a moment longer, but Durin plucks up his courage and makes up his mind. Twisting in the sand sharply and inadvertently pulling the wing out of his hold, Durin grabs at both his and Lumine’s hands to bring them together between his own. Durin’s knees dig deeper into the moist silt, dirtying his pants uncaringly. “Please, please don’t fight! I know Hat Guy has a short fuse, but humans can talk things out with words, can’t they?”
“Hey…” He complains dryly at the accusation.
Durin ignores his irk. “And you two are friends, right? Friends—are patient with each other. They apologize and forgive each other, and work to right their wrongs together.”
…Sure, he supposes he and Lumine are friends when it comes down to it, but—
—Now that he thinks about it, did they ever tell Durin? The question of whether a little dragon from a fairytale understands the intricacies of romance and intimate partnership is one thing, but Lumine has a rather hectic lifestyle when push comes to shove.
When they had first exited Simulanka, he focused on little more than Nahida’s world-saving requests and ensuring Durin’s experiences in this new reality of his, both good and bad, weren’t breaking the innocent being beyond recognition without comforts.
Of course, he and Lumine exchanged letters regularly and met up when possible during that time, but, in recent months, he supposes acting like stereotypical and obnoxious lovers that would clue Durin in – not that they ever did openly – was a rare occurrence.
“Tsk,” He clicks his tongue instead of answering the query. “You’re still a fool. Don’t treat your body like an expendable tool and shield just because someone out there knows the particulars of how to put you back together. Experiments like that aren’t worth it.”
He feels Lumine’s gaze on him then; but, for once, he disregards her attention.
His hand is gripped tighter, squeezed hard enough that the appendage begins to ache.
The guilt, the worry, the dread sluices off Durin’s expression; that pure, boyish face he received through masterful feats of alchemy scrunching into stubborn frustration laced in anguished anger – a look he is, at least partially, certain Durin had learned to make from him. “I’m not! I just don’t want two important people to me to hate each other!”
Subconsciously, Durin brings his and Lumine’s hands to his chest, pressing them over the heart embellished into his clothing. The warmth that seeps from Durin’s skin pulses out strongly with every beat of that borrowed, pilfered, rewritten heart nesting inside Durin’s chest – much unlike the physical emptiness within his own.
Whether Rhinedottir’s Durin’s story is as coldly erased from the world as the snowy mountain he had been laid to rest upon, or the merged fairytales – even if one appears eclipsed into nothingness within the shadows of the shining other – journey into a shared happily ever after together of Anya’s Durin’s own making, he supposes it is Durin’s tender benevolence to ponder. A thread of the past getting taken along the journey without it looping around one’s neck like a suffocating collar, unable to move beyond the leash, or getting snipped clean off to prevent such.
He already knows Durin’s answer, even so; even if Durin, himself, doesn’t realize he is even doing anything at all.
A wish can be made to come true without ever knowing the wish, itself.
“Who said anything about hate?” He asks. That goes for everything.
“Well not now, and hopefully not ever.” The furrow in Durin’s brows does not wane despite the pout his lips now purse. “But when people keep butting heads without resolution, you’ll continue being angry at each other. That’s what Albedo said and how some influential Mondstadt families are like. I’ll be sad if we couldn’t meet up together like this again, or that you two only tolerate each other just for my sake, or worse, you guys become real enemies who… can’t do even that.”
He flicks his eyes to Lumine briefly who seems to have done the same towards him.
Enemies, huh. Real enemies.
Love and hate are two sides of one coin perpetually laid atop the slimy, viscous, abhorrent pool of obsession, waiting for a singular moment its weight becomes heavy enough to slip in and sink deep. What would it take for that coin to flip back onto the side it had originally landed on? By then, would it already have sunken to the bottom, unable to surface for air, as well?
They’ve already tasted each other’s blood on their tongues; wore the vibrant crimson pigment like a victory badge to flaunt every time their paths so much as grazed and even when they didn’t.
Yet, to Durin, to everyone else in the entirety of Teyvat, he and Lumine were always merely longtime friends. Friends with clean, unmarred slates and kind memories between them.
To be able to persist through the violent vertigo of falling and crashing into the extreme opposite end of that love and hate spectrum is one miracle – whether touched and twisted and manipulated by the gods or not – he does not wish to let go of and turn back—even if it means never telling another soul.
“Durin, it’s not like that.” Lumine coos softly. Leaning forward, she reaches out her free hand and smooths over the crinkles between Durin’s brows with a gentle thumb, moving the fingers lower thereafter to caress over Durin’s baby-soft cheek. “We were just—um, sparring.”
“Sparring?” Durin looks unconvinced. Still, his shoulders relax and his expression mellows, even nudging into her fingers before she pulls them away. “That explosion didn’t look very sparring friendly.”
Would it be better to call it flirting then? He keeps this dry remark to himself, however. “Elemental energies are volatile, pliable yet rigid, and completely unpredictable at times, especially when they meet. Accidents happen; we know it and are prepared for them. Unlike a certain someone putting themselves in danger. Think next time you’re throwing yourself into the line of fire. It’s more than just you getting hurt, the people who care about you will too.”
Durin deflates a little, wings drooping and tail curling inwards. Their hands that Durin still holds are lowered to his lap to cradle. “I understand. I’m sorry for making you two worried, Hat Guy, Lumine, but still, I don’t regret it, even if you two were far less skilled and I had gotten hurt for real. I don’t want you two to fight and be on bad terms. If there are consequences to that wish, I’ll carry them with pride.”
He clicks his tongue again. “Tch, stubborn.”
Lumine rolls her eyes at him. “And who do you think he got it from? But Durin, we’re fine. See? Hat Guy won’t even snap back and bite.”
With her free hand, she pokes at his cheek.
They’re fine, but he will absolutely bite back later.
Durin’s eyes track the gesture. “Promise? You’re not just making up a white lie to spare my feelings?”
Durin is one to talk about white lies and sparing feelings, being one such offender himself. Blunt honesty, even if cruel, is better, in his humble opinion.
Lumine giggles, taking both her hands back to cup at Durin’s cheeks and rise higher on her knees. With an exceeding calm, she lowers her forehead to the top of Durin’s head, tilting slightly to bump against one of the horns that protrude from there. A gesture of dragons clashing horns to express friendship, as Durin would say. “Promise! Would Hat Guy ever lie to you on serious matters?”
Durin releases a relieved and amused huff of breath. Placing his hands over Lumine’s, he squishes them into his own cheeks closer, refusing to move his head otherwise and remaining entirely still. “You’re right. He would be blunt and honest, even if it sounds cruel.”
He sniffs. His thoughts exactly. “If you knew, why were you crying like a little kid all this time?”
“Because I like you two a lot. You’re as much my family as my mother is. Albedo, Klee, Aunt Alice, and all the other witches, of course, too.” Durin replies earnestly, looking towards the both of them one-by-one as Lumine returns to her own bubble of personal space. “I love you.”
If the words make his stomach lurch, twist, and feel heavy with exploding warmth sunken in, he doesn’t let it show.
Swallowing the sharp lump suddenly in his throat down harshly, he begins to stand now that everything is settled and Durin is checked over, brushing any sand that has speckled onto him as he does so just to shift his gaze away. Bluntly honest when he doesn’t need to be, this boy…
Has Durin not learned any tact all this time?
Despite trying not to lock eyes, he feels Durin’s stare on him intensely enough to peer over. Durin doesn’t look away when their gazes meet. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Durin remains silent. Staring. From the corner of his eyes, he spies Lumine getting up from the ground as well, hiding a wide grin behind her hand.
Durin doesn’t waver. Still staring. Beseeching.
Inwardly, he hisses an inhale. “Ugh, alright, fine.”
Stepping closer, he bends at the hips and mildly knocks his head into Durin’s own, rigid horns scraping along his scalp.
…ouch…
But Durin looks pleased, so he keeps his sentiments to himself; it’s his own fault anyways. Last Durin had made him do this, it was a lot more uncoordinated and with Durin moving around nuzzling. In comparison, this is gentle. Likely hence why Durin keeps completely still nowadays when just absolutely begging for positive affirmation.
He has to laugh, however. Back then, too, Durin had appeared just as devastated as he did when apologizing for raising his sword at Lumine, thinking he had seriously hurt him with his horns.
After Durin gets his emotional fill, he straightens himself up and offers a hand up to the little dragon. Durin accepts without hesitation, coming to a stand as well. And, as expected, the knees of his once pristine white pants are stained in mucky brown sand; but Durin doesn’t seem bothered.
“Though I guess it did look pretty bad without context,” Lumine begins. “I’m curious. Have you never sparred with Hat Guy before, Durin? From my observation, your fighting style is somewhat like his and Albedo’s at times.”
Durin’s eyes light up more eagerly and innocently than they already shine regularly. “I have! They taught me how to use a sword and even how to handle my Vision better once I got used to—well, having a human body and thumbs.” Then, at last, after all this time outside of his fairytale, that lighthearted, accusatory gaze is aimed at someone other than him – Lumine being the one under Durin’s reprimand for once. “We never used so much strength on each other to cause a big explosion in the sky seen kilometers away though. That’s usually reserved for training dummies or rocks, open areas with nothing and no one nearby.”
Lumine is right to look—facetiously—contrite at Durin’s words, raising her hands again this day in surrender. She’s the one who had the audacity to start all this, after all.
Over Durin’s shoulder, he sticks his tongue out mockingly at his girlfriend. Just returning the favor from earlier.
“Sorry, sorry. I admit, we went overboard.”
We?
He almost snorts.
Durin nods approvingly before extending his pinky finger out in the middle of the three of them. “Pinky promise on it. That you two won’t be so reckless with your training in the future, and that you’ll always try to talk it out before your arguments and grievances escalate.”
“Hah?” He can’t help but spit out incredulously. “For one, about being reckless, shouldn’t that be our line? And two, you’ve been so adamant that you’re all grown up now, yet you want to do something as childish as a pinky promise?”
Despite the nagging, Durin still bobs his head confidently, undeterred and keeping his pinky held out. “Klee taught it to me. She says people won’t ever break these kinds of promises after sealing the deal.”
Oh, childlike innocence, if only the world was so.
But he’d still protect such youthful thinking for as long as possible, even if he has none left in himself. For kids like Klee, and for the glimmers that haven’t been snuffed out as people grow older, maturing in the face of all the world has to offer. It’s harmless, anyways.
With a dramatic sigh and an annoyed side glance he doesn’t seriously insinuate, he hooks his pinky around Durin’s own; Lumine soon joining in with her own soft amusements brightening her expression.
Durin curls his gloved pinky finger around theirs happily.
“There you are, Durin.”
The three of them turn to the new voice arriving onto the scene, just in time to watch as Albedo lower himself from the cliffside where Nasha Town rests to the hidden patch of beach they stand upon below with one of his Solar Isotoma constructs.
“Ah—Albedo! I’m sorry, I—” Durin pales at the sight, immediately apologetic.
The alchemist waves a quiet hand, his teal eyes diligently dragging over each of them inch by careful inch. “It’s alright. Is everyone safe? Durin rushed off quickly at the sight of the explosion; clear across the region, I might add.”
“We’re good, sorry for concerning you two.” Lumine quickly replies. “Our sparring got a little out of hand, is all.”
Albedo nods, a relieved yet entertained smirk playing on his lips. “I see. Durin’s vision is spectacular, however, even I had not realized just how much so. Although, perhaps, it is only in regards to you two?”
“They’re your friends too, you know.” Durin argues grumpily.
“Yes. And thus, I am quite pleased that your distraught aerial race from the northern region of Nod-Krai all the way back to Nasha Town was in vain.”
“Albedo…” Durin pouts now. “You also got here pretty fast on foot.”
“Indeed. I was concerned as well, after all.”
Huh. He didn’t realize these two bantered like this. They are close, that much he’s without any doubts on, but usually the pair of brothers were much more stiffly… proper.
“Something wrong up north?” He interjects sharply, setting the thought aside for now.
Albedo hums in contemplation. “Grand Master Varka is having us run some tests. I wouldn’t necessarily conclude that anything is wrong, per se, as of right now, but we’ll know well enough soon.”
“We apologize for interrupting your work.” Lumine says remorsefully, putting her hands together. “If there’s something we can help with, just say the word. You know that we’ll always come to your aid.”
“I am grateful for the sentiment, though our assignments matter little in comparison to your well beings, even with it turning out to be nothing. I’m sure Grand Master Varka will agree, so don’t worry about it.” Albedo chuckles lowly. “But if you’re finished with your non-negotiable, Klee endorsed pinky promises, I must ask to take my brother back. We still have a few more sites to check off before the sun sets.”
Albedo had waited before speaking up. He quietly harrumphs at the realization.
“And I’m sure,” Albedo adds, motioning with his head towards the tall landform at their side, an infuriatingly knowing smirk still on his lips. “You two would very much enjoy the view from those cliffs. Even if the weather isn’t perfect, perhaps it sets the mood and makes the atmosphere all that much more magical, huddled close together. Like a fairytale ending to the day, I would say.”
Durin tilts his own head confusedly at some of the strangely out of place words from his brother’s mouth. “Hm? Oh, were you two hanging out together and not just meeting up for a spar? Albedo’s right, watching the sun set below the horizon is really pretty from up there.”
And Albedo not only knows without being told – at least, not from him – but is more than capable of finishing these tests by himself, yet will be taking Durin with him regardless.
He sees.
He’s grateful, and won’t complain – not that he’s against spending time with Durin – but what an underhanded family member Durin has.
Mentally, he sighs an expletive. Just what kind of twisted family has he gotten himself caught up in?
How many “families” has he been a part of now? One, two, three… Did the Harbingers consider each other – consider him – family, or was he tossed aside in the “too fucked up and involved with the fucked up experiments conducted by the fucked up Dottore” category too defiled to even touch with a ten-meter pole? Not that he made it easy on them either way. He’s sure he would’ve scoffed at the notion at the time anyways; called it a disgusting human sentiment and ruined their little tea parties with his moods. It’s better that they didn’t include him.
Not that they remember.
Is this his fifth then? Though it’s hard to say what he’d do if he and his fourth family’s AWOL sibling, Aether, just so happen to cross paths out of the blue, or even purposefully. Perhaps these artificially created beings pulling him into their bubble might even be his sixth family, since Lessor Lord Kusanali is so insistent on his place within Sumeru.
Fate must be laughing. Again.
Though he supposes he doesn’t mind it this time around. Maybe… Maybe he never really did, in this regard. They’re worth the trouble. And he can stop counting now—they’re alive together in the present moment, looking forward towards a tomorrow they’ll make with their own hands today. With Lumine guiding everyone together with gentle words and beckoning fingers, they can merge into a single, screwed up, yet somehow functional family.
“If we run into Paimon on the way back, we’ll take her to dinner with us and keep her occupied for the night.” Albedo says, turning to take his leave. “Perhaps she can convince Durin to try some vegetables after seeing how deliciously she consumes them herself.”
“Tsk…”
He snaps his head in Durin’s direction in surprise. Did Durin just click his tongue? The sound is less on the annoyed spectrum and more so like a kicked puppy, but usually Durin is much more polite. Durin… might be soaking in like a sponge one too many rude habits from him.
The strangled noise at Albedo’s insinuations that Lumine makes, however, is much louder, drawing all the attention to her reddening cheeks.
“Appreciated.” He replies punctually, saving her from the direct embarrassment.
Albedo merely smiles amusedly in goodbye, already beginning to take his first steps away while motioning for Durin to do the same.
The little dragon agrees without fuss. “I have to go now. See you later, brother, sist—”
In the same way Durin stops himself short with a sharp gasp, the rest of them also freeze to a halt.
Silence ensues.
The briny breeze sweeps onto the land from the vast ocean, rushing over the sand and colliding into the cliffsides with strands of their hair picked up and played with along the way.
A panicked noise is muffled behind Durin’s hands then as he brings both of them up to his face and smothers his mouth with the white gloves. The dragon blood rushes to his face faster than the abyss locked within his heart can take possession of his body, turning his pale skin sunburnt and glowing brighter than his Pyro Vision.
So, he had heard Durin correctly when the boy caught Lumine midair.
“Oh?” Albedo smirks, turning his shoulders back to face them and crossing his arms loosely. “Today has turned quite fascinating.”
Durin’s jewel-like eyes flick to all of them in a frenzied pattern before settling onto one very captivating grain of sand at his feet. He stutters, lips still hidden behind his hands, “I—I didn’t… say anything…”
“Hmm~” Lumine sing-songs with the melody drifting through, the symphony coming from the ocean currents. “Say what? I didn’t hear anything.”
“I did.” He disagrees brusquely.
Durin’s face is flushing redder now, tail twitching erratically in embarrassment. He can only roll his eyes at the human dragon, light in mind and full in heart.
“H-Hat Guy!”
“Didn’t you just say you loved us and called us family? What? Are you taking it back already?”
Albedo chuckles. “I didn’t realize I had such steep competition.”
“No! I mean—that’s—it’s—I….” Durin’s eyes are beginning to swirl.
Lumine interjects lightly when Durin can’t seem to settle on a single thought or reply, a hint of concern coming through her joy. “Guys, I think his horns are turning red.”
“We have something to do for Grand Master Varka!” Durin declares loudly, louder than any of them have ever heard his voice rise. Unfurling his wings broadly and creating an unruly gust that blows sand into their faces, Durin takes to the air. “I’ll go get started first! Bye!”
With a mighty push of those strong dragon wings, they are nearly pushed off their feet when Durin darts away. Flees, more like.
Albedo departs soon after, taking his time in catching up to Durin’s speeding through the skies. They all know their fairytale dragon is likely waiting for his brother shyly somewhere just out of sight, calming his heart and willing his cheeks back to an appropriate temperature.
He takes a moment longer to watch their retreating backs, Lumine right beside him.
See you later, little brother, he thinks, just a tad amused and an ounce sarcastic, but much more fond.
Nevertheless, it makes the guilt coil tighter, too.
He and Lumine begin their walk along the small beach after that, taking their fill of the salty air into their lungs and the bite of ocean chill on their skin. They walk until sand becomes the hardened rock at the base of tall cliffs, until it becomes too thin a trail for two people to tread, even until they must scramble over obstacles that jut out from the cliffside like stony waves; Lumine gently swinging their clasped hands between them to a beat only she hears all the while.
She plays on the strewn mess of rocks half-submerged in the water, hopping from one to another and keeping his hand in hers as she does so. He elects to hover beside her in the air instead of risk getting his own feet wet, careful to keep an eye on her balance. But maybe he should let her fall in, it would serve her right for wanting to so childishly play here, splashing him with a swipe of her fingers into the water at that.
His hand grips hers tighter.
They chat about this and that, about their everyday lives since they last met; they comment on the ocean, the sky, the animals and little shells they see along the way. They talk about themselves, their well-beings, and they talk about their friends. And eventually, he and Lumine are climbing up those tall cliffs they admired from the bottom and settle at its flat top like they were the kings of the entire world.
He keeps his hand attached to hers as she uses it like a crutch while making to sit with her legs dangling off the edge. And she keeps his in hers as he does the same next to her, bringing a knee to his chest to rest an arm upon lazily.
Soundlessly, they take in Nod-Krai and the distant lands beyond the ocean that separates the region from the rest.
Boisterous, clamorous, fun moments like before he doesn’t mind, but the usual quietude that falls between them, he absolutely revels in every time; takes comfort in them and pleas these moments arrive again and again. Peace nestles in with the calm atmosphere, her shoulder against his keeping the both of them from floating away.
“It really is pretty up here.” Lumine murmurs.
He hums in assent, his gaze still roving over the horizon beginning to bleed red.
Her voice remains just as soft as she speaks once more. “Durin grew up really adorable, don’t you think?”
He flicks his eyes to her. She hadn’t been looking at him as they conversed either, and still doesn’t. “It’s been a while since we got to spend any time together and you want to talk about Durin?”
“Well, he is a little cutie~” Lumine giggles. “I wonder if that’s what Lisa calls him. But that aside, you’re bothered about something with him. I figured if I was the one who brought him up, you might take the chance to unwind that knot in your chest. You probably won’t bring it up yourself.”
She turns her head to him now, lifting her hand to poke his cheek gently.
He tilts just enough to slide that finger in between his teeth and bite down, like he said he would. Not very hard, but enough pressure to earn him an instinctual ow from her lips, nonetheless. Grabbing the offending hand in his own, he brings it down to his lap and exhales. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something.” Lumine insists kindly. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay, but you know you always can with me if you want to. I’ll listen, no matter when or where.”
His throat tightens.
Turning his gaze back to the bleeding horizon, as naturally and seamlessly wounded as the red stained organ missing from his chest cavity is, he admits his thoughts aloud. “He asked about my past.”
“And you didn’t tell him. Is that it?”
He roughly scoffs in self-derision. “Even if I wanted to, would the world let me?”
Lumine patiently waits for him to say more; the night beginning the first notes of its nocturne as the sun dips further from view.
“He should be spared from things like that, in any case. There’s no need to traumatize such a green kid.”
And…
“I’m sure he’d be taken aback.” She agrees. “Let’s not beat around the bush, you’ve killed more than your fair share of innocent people, on top of the terrible, unwarranted things done to you too.”
Lumine isn’t wrong, even if it’s a truth that stings sharper than the most well-forged sword being driven through his chest.
She continues on, matching his lengthening ceramic cracks with brushes of urushi lacquer and powdered gold, holding him together with the art of kintsugi and making even the broken beautiful. “But… he must be feeling lonely, you know?”
“Lonely?”
With so many people who genuinely care for him and smother him in warmth around?
“Mhmm. If you think about it, you know his entire story from the very start to the current chapter still being written. You saw him at his lowest, and stared into his eyes when he decided to pick himself back up. Even Albedo knows everything about his existence down to a molecular level. Although I can’t speak for Albedo, knowing him, I bet he’s kept rather mum about some grisly details too.”
She pauses to take a slow, steadying breath; dusk-dusted and brilliant. “So, what have the two people most important to Durin told him in return that is just as intimate as the way they know him?”
Absently, Lumine leisurely kicks her feet back and forth, swirling the air caught in the ribbons of humming time between her ankles.
He hadn’t meant his silence to be interpreted in that way.
…He would be quite lonely, too, he thinks.
Yet, what strikes a second spark through his being equally as painful as the first is what she doesn’t say. “Are you lonely?”
This time, it’s Lumine who takes a while to answer; but answer him, she does, despite realizing they both know the tough honesty that will leave the protective barrier around her heart. “Sometimes.”
Else she wouldn’t spot it so easily in someone else, right?
He inhales as though he needs it, superficially filling the space in his chest that empties achingly. Maybe he does require air—anything to fill what drains out. “What can I do?”
She smiles, lips closed and golden eyes reflecting the distant sun. “You stay. That’s enough.”
Is that all both her and Durin truly need? The same, selfish thing as him?
Lumine sits up a little straighter, legs stilling. “Give Durin a little more credit. He probably already has an idea of the skeletons you keep in your closet, even if not the extent of the pile. He won’t adore you any less.”
She is quick to flip the conversation back towards him. One day, he’ll find a way to trap her in her own game. For her sake.
“You sound so sure.”
“I thought we went through this once already?” Lumine sighs casually. Her head tilts back, breath going towards the blinking, counterfeit stars about to reappear onto the stage and take their places. “You said it yourself, too, didn’t you? The past is just that, the person you decide to be today makes all the difference.
“We fixed a relationship much worse off. You were willing to put the effort in; showed that you were worth the efforts put in too, even if it’s hard, even if there are some days where it feels like the world spurns only you. So, I believe in the you of today, the one that can do it again if it comes down to it.”
He swallows down the pain prickling in his throat silently, biting the inside of his cheek to keep any apprehensive noises from leaking free.
He was only able to because—
Lumine continues to take the conversation forward when he can’t; never stagnant, and always moving ahead to something brighter with patient steps. Even if some days are hard.
“Let’s not forget,” A smile plays on her lips again, curving the corners prettily. “You’re the one who took care of him. Protected him from himself and gave him the blessings he needed to break free from his self-imposed prison. You held his hand without letting go as he stepped into a new world and taught him everything he needs to survive on his own two feet.
“You’re the hero of Durin’s story. His most important, life-changing, first friend.” Lumine states firmly. “Durin won’t toss those feelings aside so easily, no matter what you might or might not ever say. But if you ever did want to, you do have a fairytale of your own you can read to him, you know.”
He doesn’t need to breathe, but he gulps down the same air tinged in the first glitters of starlight as she does once more. It coats the walls of his insides, a thin, temporary layer of sealant. His voice comes out small. “I do?”
“We can ask Nahida to make it into a physical book, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Even if the world’s rules keep your lips sealed, it doesn’t mean the allegory doesn’t still exist as a story to be read over and over.”
The setting sun watches as their silence stretches long, longer, and longer yet. Her words dance in his mind, sinking deep into his being and stamping themselves onto the walls of his artificial body like a badge of victory not so bloodied this time around. One he can now find comfort in seeing day after day, no longer needing to force a too-wide smile out.
“I asked Durin once about you, you know?”
His voice is hoarse as he lets it free. “Digging up things you can use to get your way with me?”
Her grin widens, chasing away the darkness that doesn’t get much of an opportunity to cling on corrosively in the first place. “I already have plenty of that kind of ammunition. But Durin said, when he says don’t get too close, what he really wants is someone to resolutely refuse. That’s what you do for him. So, when you say to leave you alone, even if you discourage him still, Durin wants to always stick to your side. Like two peas in the pod, understanding each other down to every letter in a word without saying anything at all. It’s enough. Trust him, and trust me, too.”
Sharply, he turns his head into the opposite shoulder, roughly rubbing the corner of his eye that feels too warm and too wet and vision too wobbly on the fabric of his clothing. That he can be someone’s hero is absurd enough… “Hah? Where did he get that mistranslation from?”
What is wrong with him today? Was it too hard to keep the walls up for this long, after all? Seeing her after what feels like forever…
Lumine doesn’t mention the crack in his voice that comes out, laughing loud enough to smooth his discomfiture over for him. “Whether you like it or not, you’ve got a super adorable dragon that will cuddle up to you even when you’re being snippy. I’m a little jealous.”
“You spoil him way too much already. He’ll start acting like a real brat if I don’t keep an eye on you.”
She takes the hand he has held in his lap this entire time back, placing it behind herself to lean on with the other. Already, he internally cries at the loss of her skin on his, but her giggle replaces the taken warmth. “I have to make up for the time I couldn’t go see him!”
“Uh-huh, sure.” He replies vaguely, not enough energy left within him to give her another scathing retort.
The conversation drops, both their gazes returning to the ever-darkening horizon as the day comes to an end. The pool of blood that the sky has become begins to recede at the edges, the curtains on the heaven’s stage being drawn and hiding away the sticky stain. Soon, the overly bright forged moon will shine its spotlight on the main characters of this play, following the protagonist along as the script is read off.
Want or not want, the world’s laws, protection versus honesty, those are only the tip of the iceberg of problems that might crop up if he spilled his past to another person with his own mouth. After all, some of the problems are of his own mind’s making, too.
But even so, even if the problems aren’t solved and he doesn’t necessarily “feel better,” he’s grateful to Lumine. To Teyvat’s hero, acknowledging other heroes and standing side-by-side together with them all. Somehow, him included.
Trust in her and Durin, huh…
The guilty coil in his chest loosens, if only slightly.
“Hm?”
Her curious hum catches his attention, turning his stare to her to see what is wrong.
With Lumine leaned back on her hands, she is out of reach of his passive protection. Idly, she wipes at miniscule amount of moisture having dripped onto her forehead as she sits up straighter, returning to her original position shoulder-to-shoulder with him. She reaches that same hand out then, palm facing upwards towards the fake moon about to hang in the equally fake sky. “Rain?”
He stares as another droplet falls towards her hand, a luminescent drip that mesmerizes the both of them into watching its dance—an actor flaunting through the audience seats before they return to the stage to continue the tale still being told.
The raindrop falls, coming to a gradual stop just a few millimeters before it splashes to its death upon Lumine’s palm. Allowing them only a moment to admire its iridescent and eternal beauty, it soon reverses its path and goes back to the frost veiled sky where its story began, where its story will inevitably end, and, perhaps, where its story may begin anew.
He tilts his head, tipping his hat closer to her and nearly sliding it off his own head. That once audacious request she had made of him to use the accessory as an umbrella, he now gives to her freely.
His shoulder nudges into hers, pressing in so insistently that their bones might as well mesh into one. The arriving moon that can never seem to catch up to the sun casts a silver blush onto her cheeks with borrowed, pilfered, rewritten light, highlighting her beauty even when far away.
Searing heat tapering off to a cool chill, gold turning to silver, singing doves soaring through the blue sky replaced by silent stars twinkling within a deep ocean of navy. Already dressed in the blazing stars’ might and perpetually adorned with bestowed dedications from the brisk lunar landscape, she wears both gorgeously.
He lowers his chin.
Closer. Closer.
Raising his hand, he lays his thin and cold fingers to her plush and warm cheek. Beckoning her attention to him – like the moon does the sun – he quietly begs her to grant him a mere taste.
His hat slides off to lay atop her head.
Golden lashes brush stardust onto his silver hued skin; the subliminal dye of his origins being bejeweled by hers.
Softness meets his edges – the ones he tries to smooth over – with kindness. He drinks in her breath and she does the same, pressing their lips together gently while locking each other in place and never feeling so free. Lips moisten languidly. Tongues worshiping only the barest hints of connection between them. Eyes closed, yet seeing everything they need to see.
She takes a breath. He chases after her, gliding his lips against hers again and again.
Her fingers skim across his chest, finding their unhurried way to his shoulder exposed to the drizzle that partially doesn’t fall. They dance upon the jut of his collarbone, tracing the protrusion over his bodysuit all the way to where the black fabric ends. Her nails scratch lightly against his skin, a tingle striking like lightning down his spine.
Following the slope of his body, those lithe fingers slip beneath his kimono.
He leans ever more forward, pressing his lips to hers ever harder, yet cradling them between his own that much more gently within his sinking and sticky obsession too; afraid to hurt her with the sharp edges still exposed and yet to be mended.
Closer. Closer.
The fingers sweep across the curve of his shoulder, briefly squeezing affection into his arm as they brush aside his kimono, the fabric spilling down beautifully. The cold that dares touch his exposed and vulnerable cool skin is chased away by the warmth of her pressing digits, protecting him from all that may dare to harm.
He swipes his warmed tongue across her bottom lip in kind, writing the words overflowing from his being before he is the one pulling away. The chill he leaves behind violates her with a resulting shiver, but she doesn’t complain – eyes fluttering open to meet his.
His hand slides from her heat ridden cheek to the back of her head where his fingers tangle in locks of spun gold. He restricts her from wriggling too far from him, opening his mouth and attaching his wet lips to the pulse beating in her neck.
The pleased hum she sings vibrates directly into him.
Closer. Closer.
His cool lips absorb the heat of her skin once more, like soaking in the warmth of the sun preparing to reflect its tender kindness onto the surface of the cold moon bathed in night.
To Nod-Krai, he can follow. To the Abyss, he can follow.
He pleads that, one day, she doesn’t tread to a place he cannot.
Closer.
And never too far away.
He presses his wishes to her skin with the kiss of his lips and seals them over with a lave of his tongue. Wishes left unvoiced, but waiting for that shooting star to make them come true, nonetheless.
Retracting his lips from her neck with a moist pop, he raises his chin to nibble at her ear next. Then, he whispers, one of the breaths she has breathed into him coming back out to fan across the shell in adulation. “Say it.” He swallows down an inhale he takes himself; cold, ruthless, yet deeply affectionate. “Please.”
This entire day started because of one little secret kept behind both of their kiss swollen lips.
The secret of his name that anchors him to this world. Anchors not only the part of him that has taken the moniker of Wanderer, but a name that embraces the forgotten memories and abandoned titles as well—even those nameless years in between.
It is just another dirty little secret among the bloodied pile of many kept protected between them, but one that gives the rest of who he was, who he is, and who he will be any meaning at all. All of him held in their cupped hands within a single denomination.
And for that, it may just be the most important, wholly-encapsulating secret of all. One that he gives only her joint-responsibility to take care of.
His hat falls to the ground at their sides.
Her arms slide behind his back, the fabric of his attire rustling as they shift and fall upon his body before they are gripped in her anchoring hold. He is brought closer.
“I love you,” She murmurs with her warm breath, pressing her nose into his hair as her soft lips skim across the lobe of his ear.
And finally.
Finally.
The name she had lavished onto him is spoken into the world where it belongs.
His desperate fingers press blossoming bruises into her back.
Closer.
And never too far away.
“A secret just between us, Lumine.”
She can always read between the lines he pens; an open book of a fairytale yet to finish.
He may not have a heart, but his chest cavity that fills like a ceramic jar never seems to be empty anymore, adorned in silver branch cracks sealed in lacquer and gold.
He needs nothing more. And neither do they.