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nuumbie · 4 months

Text

Trust Fall

Prompt: An elite member of the organization Fractsidius… Scar appears before you in order to explain his beliefs… so you may understand all you have to gain by joining forces and hands and to change the world with them all.

You’re weirdly open to the idea.

Author’s Note: Crack Territory. Surprisingly Wholesome? As wholesome as a Scar Fic can be. He’s a weirdo. This is the kindest fic I currently have. Technically, can be read platonic or romantic adjacent... ( He is flirting with you. You don’t exactly return it. ) Please send me Scar Fics. Otherwise I’ll need to make them all myself. Carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.

The face of the legendary resonator, his fellow black sheep, his fellow revolutionary in the new world if they had merely opened their heart enough to let them all inside. Well, you could have worn a more dynamic expression. You eyebrows are knit together, their mouth is curved into a frown. In all honesty? A little underwhelming of a reaction especially considering he's sent their little friend. ( A girl. You’re surrounded by girls! It's scary how every time he blinks it's like another one surrounds you. You're too popular! ) Where was he?

Oh, right.

He sent them to The Shadow Realm. Not like he actually hurt her! Well, he could have! To be honest a part of him wished to. Already planting ideas into your head. Getting you on their side. But he chose not to. First Impressions matter a lot. He even wore his nice pair of pants instead of the easy access ones he usually wears just for this moment. The others all gave him all this time so he even had a moment alone! With you. So of course it had to be special! Even though he was sure you'd share many moments. Just like this. "Well, well, well... we finally meet."

"You're... Scar, right?" It's such a coincidence she bought up his name! You don't know a thing. But everything falls into place so you're exactly where you need to be-- you truly are lucky. While Scar? Well, the fact you already know of his name means you know of all the foul, horrible, nicknames she's called him. An already dirty image in your head with his name attached. "Where did you put her?"

You have your hand on your sword. Pointed directly at his neck. He goes to tap it to the side. Away from his face. He already has plenty of stories for how he got all of these scars. Well, maybe he can get another. One specially made by you. Permanent proof of you.

Not bad at all. He casually goes to play with the sword in your hands, putting it back where you planned on threatening him and he leans just close enough so that if you wished you could drive it into his skull. Like a trust-fall! A trust-exercise between you both to see if you'd behave or try to crack him open like an egg. Smiling through the gap between you and the steel edge of your blade. "She's irrelevant. If she were here. She'd add a lot of meaningless dialogue. Right now I wish for your full, undivided, attention."

"Allow me to share with you my side of the story."

He raises his neck for your eyes. It isn't like he covers it up. But it's rare for him to brandish this mark so callously for others. It’s for you! It’s special for you. "I've been watching over you... to think you've forgotten everything."

"They're all fighting for you." He looks through his fingers-- undeniably you're you. Your confused expression gazes back at him. He winks at it. You squint your eyes even harder. He takes it as a win. ( He’s gained lots and lots of personal multiple little wins while watching you. ) "Wishing to use you and drain you of all of your worth. Despite being a human person, they've used you the moment they found you had an inch of worth. While we are no different..."

"We wished to be honest with you." He smiles as he steps closer. He notices how your hold on the blade tightens. You hold it still. It does not stutter or tremble. He leans in close enough that the outline of his neck is at the knife of the blade. "To allow you to understand us. We've been granted precious alone time. I'm here to show you we are not the villains...—“

He expected that if you did fight back. You'd hit him with your blade. Then he'd know to go to the next phase of the plan -- i.e. beat you up. Show you why they’re stronger. So the human, more basal part of you, would understand why not to resist and prove their worth through overtaking you. Offer to join the winning side.

It seems that's not what you're going to do.

"Let me stop you there." You step back and sheathe your blade. You've been exceptionally quiet. Mouth closed in a thin line. Eyebrows furrowed. Handsome. Beautiful. An odd mix of both words.. As he watched over you-- the most you said had to do with what that red-headed girl ( Chia? Chilichuck? What was her name? God. He basically ignored every word of theirs besides your dialogues.. your friends really did talk a lot.. The red-headed one with the gun especially annoyed him. ) And food. This is by all means a pleasant surprise. "Does everyone in this god-forsaken world speak in riddles?"

"Oh, but we have so much time! To explain it all would be no fun. It'd ruin the game." He widens his arms and shrugs his shoulders, showcasing the sight of the destruction behind him. "Besides, you wouldn't believe it if I told you. Would you? You have to come to conclusions on your own for them to matter. It's just me and you. No need to rush. Just trust the process."

You laugh at that for some reason. Scar clocks it. But, the fact you stop glaring seems like a good sign. Your smile is nice. So it does have the ability to be his way. Though, it appears you're laughing at him. He cherishes his victories however small and frames it on his mind-wall. "A town on the brink of destruction... if it wasn't us... how did it fall? A story of false devotion, fleeting kindness, senseless killings and the worst humanity has to offer... of course... there is only one truth. But history can take many different meanings dependent on the person. This is a world filled with oppressors and victims and..."

"That's not what I mean." Hm? Hmm? Hmmm...? "You're playing around. You wish to show me how sick this world is. You wish to understand how I'm being manipulated... that was your point from earlier... right? Stick with that. Are you trying to get me on your side or what? I'm tired of being dragged around."

Scar... has to take a moment... to process your words. Not really expecting... that. "Oh...? So you are listening! I’m glad! Well... inevitably. Yes, that is the point I wished to make. You and I are the same you see... both of us are outcasts... a story of a shepherd, it’s flock, and a black sheep—“ he does have a point to make, he thought really hard about the symbolism before coming here so it was easy to digest and everything.

"I'll join you." You hold out your hand towards his. "Scar, that's your name right? I'll join you right now. I'm not in the mood to play any more mind-games. If I join you. You don’t have reason to not tell me, right? You promised.”

Scar's world lights up.

He stares at your hand. It’s the one with your resonator mark no less— offered out to him. A sign of trust. An offer of companionship. You wiggle your fingers and ahem rather loudly. He immediately takes your hand with both of his own. Maybe a bit too frantically. Maybe a touch too desperately. The closeness is surprising to even him.

He studies your hand. He doesn’t remember the last time anyone’s offered their to his. And you did so unprompted. He feels the weight of your hand in his own. And he almost forgets what he’s here for—

"..." "Seriously?"

"Why are you acting surprised? Why did you even bother to meet me here if you weren't even open to the possibility of me joining you? Was it to sow the seeds? Slow-burn me? I'm not nearly as patient as you all seem to think I am." You cross your arms and huff. "Are you suddenly questioning whether or not I'm the resonator you're looking for? You're right. I don't remember anything. I'm not the hero anyone expects me to be. I'm not what you want from me either." “I want you to prove yourselves to me. You said you’re the ones in the right… that the others are just trying to use me.” You linger on those words. “If that’s true… well… you’re clearly suspicious, mentally deranged, to be honest I was tempted to hit you really bad just now... but... I don't exactly doubt your words. Every single person I've met has been..."

"Reliant on me." You gaze at the mark on the back of your wrist. "This is an equation of my worth. I can't disagree. No matter how hard I try to. That in itself is proof you have a point. So… it’s an avenue worth exploring.”

"..." "....." "Aha... ahahahaa... ahaaa... seriously?!" Scar doesn’t remember to use his indoor voice. He remembers after you jump a little. Doing his best to whisper. "Wait, no, that's bad. Oh, I'm so sorry... I was right... they... did use you as a pawn... and they made it so obvious… That you immediately..."

"You chose me." Scar is giddy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling even if he wanted to. Each word. He falls a little deeper. "You weren't even forced into a corner. I didn't even have to make you do it.”

“You’re already understanding of how alone we are in this world…!”

"You're not really different from them. You just admit to it." You sigh. "You're worse in a way. I'd doubt they'd force me to help them."

You're insulting him but he's still on cloud nine-- you're joining them aren’t you? Purposefully reaching in to touch the filth you apparently so despise! Ah, they're hardly ready! They'd thought this take much longer... it's true. He doubted you would believe him. Believe any of them. Maybe the villainous appearance and rumors of sociopathy, psychopathy, and all of that doesn't quite help.

Whoopsies. ( He isn't very sorry. You chose him regardless and you would have anyway because he knows at the end of the road you would’ve realized the hopelessness and that you had no choice and all. But you chose him over them and saw through their deceit. Him. Him. Him. He’s the one who got you to change your mind— ) He really can’t find it in himself to care about how menacing he seems. His smile’s just too hard to wipe off…

"I want to understand the world you're fighting for." You sigh. "You see yourself in me, right? You were projecting pretty hard on me earlier... So the world you're trying to make..."

"It's a world which is better for me. And... I can't help but to wonder if you're not wholly in the wrong." You rub your wrist. Like the mark of skin burns. "I want to see.. how worse it gets... I want to see what you've seen. I'm just opening myself for understanding. Isn't that what you wanted? An open, honest, discussion.”

"You do have purpose behind the evil, right? I'm not going to join and you make me blow up an orphanage or something… you're morally-grey bad at worst." You pause to consider. "I don't really have a point of reference for the terrible things you've done actually. Maybe we can put this on hold until I get one-"

"No, no, no! Noooo orphanages! We're not monsters." Scar pouts. "You'll see, okay? I’m going to show you all the horrors! Then you’ll get it. We’re ultimately in the right.”

“You knocked out Yangyang.” You sigh. Detached. But the sentiment behind the words is there.

"So they did get you to care." Scar hums. "Shed your worries. Such useless feelings do little good... she'll be fine... see? We are willing to reason! This whole talk was to prove we can communicate. She wouldn’t listen to me. She wouldn’t even look at me. She’d keep us apart and spread her little lies.”

Okay, maybe he’s a bit jealous. Why was she so exceptionally close to you? He doesn’t even mind the gossip. Everyone talks to him like that. Looks at him in that way without ever understanding.

He’s the one who should have been offering free dinners, doing small little romanticisms, giving you small yearning gestures with you, not her. And he will from this point onward! And he will be the one to do it. Even if he has to pry you from the others…

( Seriously, why are you so popular? It just isn’t fair! He’s going to be fighting for crumbs when he brings you back to the base. He just can’t win. )

“If I shed all my worries then won’t I just be the same as any other sheep? It’s the wool that makes them look different.” You sigh while rubbing your arm. “What even is that metaphor about…?”

“Oh. I did use that metaphor, didn’t I? Yes, with fur so black! It was obvious against the rest of the flock… for black sheep are the outsiders! Those who go against the grain—“ Scar responds dumbly. Rambling, because he really is so happy! He's got you right where he wants you! You're not struggling, nor running away, you've walked right into his arms! And he didn’t plan this far at all. So, his mind’s a bit fumbled. This is the best first date likely in the history of ever. Though, he notices your unimpressed look. Thus, he straightens his back and smiles as gentlemanly he can muster pounding his fist against his own chest considering you’ve made it a point that you hate long-talk. “— anyway, yes, shepherd evil, white sheep stupid, black sheep good.“

He looks at you to see how well you’ve taken his shortened explanation. You use your other hand to facepalm. ( He hasn’t let go of your arm. He realizes. You haven’t pulled your arm back. This sparks joy. This sparks incredible joy. He holds it even tighter. And you don’t even struggle. )

“I should have done the puzzle first. Lacking lots of subtext.” Is what you put together from his explanation. “Just explain on the way. Come on. I’ll lose brain cells if I’m here for any longer.”

Right.

He’s taking you home. You’re still not gone. You’re here with him.

You’re with him.

"Ahaha.” he rambles, graining traction as his grin grows more manic, he can feel his skin getting hotter, the urge to hold you tightly within his hands and explain growing stronger with each passing moment, every second, every millisecond. It’s a feeling you wish to feel forever. “You want to listen to me.”

And he will feel it forever. He’ll make it so. He doesn’t have to wait any longer.

"There’s so much to tell you. About this world.” he cackles, loudly, his voice crackling throughout the air with a reinvigorated passion as he leans close to your ear to whisper with as much love as his dried up little heart has. Putting it all for you. “And I’ll tell you about all of it.”

"Okay. I seriously don’t know how the hell you expected me to trust you." You whisper. Tired? Yes. Terribly so. You so hope Yangyang can't hear him. From wherever he's put her. Shadow Realm or whatever. "You’re making me regret this already—“

"NO!" he rushes forward and leap-hugs you. "Noooo take-backs. You already said it! So you can’t take it back. That’s how it works. When you say it. It’s forever.”

“That’s not how it works-“

"You're all mine, forever.”

"Agh-- hey!" You yelp... a touch high-pitched. He squeezes you tightly and you see the flash of smoke-- Yangyang's passed out body on the ground. You shut your eyes, awkwardly looking away. You’ll know she’ll be saved soon. “I’m coming. I’m coming, okay?”

Perhaps you're even better than his wildest dreams. Well, he'd love you as much regardless. Whether or not you came now or later. This is a drastic changes of plans. But a pleasant one.

His cards fly through the air and they capture you both-- you hold onto him. His laugher resonating loudly, a wicked sound which is proof of the choice you’ve made. A choice you’ve made which you certainly can’t entirely turn back from no matter how hard you try to reverse you’re being taken along.

More like dragged. He’s holding your hand like you’ll run if you don’t. ( He’s not exactly wrong. ) You just awkwardly hold back. Unaware you don’t even need to be touching him to get warp-jumped.

He doesn’t exactly tell you either or warn you or do anything to stop you. Instead encouraging it by opening his arms out so you can hold on properly.

As you’re flashed away through a red door… the person you’ve decided to trust manically laughing as you phase through that door. “There’s so much… to tell you! Well let’s start at the very beginning…!”

No matter where you are you’re susceptible to lore dumps. At least he’s excited about it. You wonder how long he’s been holding this in.

You close your eyes tight and just hold on tight as you embrace your new life.

Again.

#wuwa #x reader #wuwa spoilers #🗑️ trash writes #wuwa x reader #wuthering waves #wuwa is so unfair with his name #my stupid babygirl husband who beats the shit out of me and begs me to like him #of course I like him .#entirely based on what scraps of content I have #by all means could prove extremely ooc later #he’s giving suguru geto though with that explanation 😭😭😭#wuthering waves x reader

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m1d-45 · 5 months

Text

renewed

summary: many things have changed in aether's life since he met you...

word count: 2.7k

-> warnings: n/a

-> gn reader (you/yours) + aether as traveller!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

aether isn’t quite human. at least not entirely, not anymore.

it could be argued that even prior to coming to teyvat, he and his sister weren’t entirely human. they were nearly always stronger than the native life wherever they traveled, never lingering long enough for an accurate portrait to be drawn. between their glittering wings and the razor sharp swords at their hips, it could be easily argued that from the perspective of the people they visited they could be called angels.

a few wrote legends about them. the gilded warriors with shimmering swords that blinded as they slashed, so in step with each other that it was as if they were one being. the saviors, the adventurers, the peaceful giants, twin faces atop four wings apiece. lumine always managed to sneak away a copy of these legends, and they privately laughed over the artwork at their camp that night.

“we don’t look that intimidating, do we?”

“i’m fairly certain-… hang on, is that a tail?”

“that’s supposed to my hair, i think.”

“no no, look. it connects lower, here.”

“…by the stars-”

they didn’t see themselves that way, though. they were simply twins, defined by the other in every sense. never apart for long, always stood side by side, trading swords before a dangerous fight as a promise to return them.

‘draw me with courage.’

‘wield me with valor.’

lumine and aether and aether and lumine. they never fussed about the order, so long as they were together. call them whatever you’d like, insults or praise or a simple, tired request to leave, as long as it was both of them. they were all they had left. the other half of their life. to try and pry apart the seam would only result in bleeding hearts, limbs tangling together to at least die by the other’s side. even ‘twin’ was too simple a word to fit the entirety of their lives into. ‘twin’ implied a degree of separation, an impossible gap between them where wind would blow and the world would dig into, pushing them away like waves in a boat’s wake. ‘twin’ was too shallow a word, to bitter, too small to encompass everything they felt.

such fervent devotion could never be considered ‘human,’ for no human would ever live long enough to know the fear that came with knowing everything that swelled would eventually fall. no human would clutch so desperately to the twin pillars in their life—would ever consider basing their world upon two things. they’d call it foolish, even, for what would you do if one collapsed?

aether never liked that question. he didn’t like it when he and lumine first heard it, he didn’t like it when he and lumine heard it a second time, he didn’t like it anytime he and lumine heard it after that. he didn’t like it now, her sword slipping from his hands as he reached, his fingers barely brushing hers.

the unknown god laughed, and he barely had time to feel rage before the world closed in on him and his memory faded away.

aether and lumine. lumine and aether. she was always insistent upon his safety, but just this once he wished she wasn’t. living in whatever stasis she was in within that cube would certainly hurt less than this, bile rising in his throat at his failure.

somewhere in his mind, he knew that it logically wasn’t his fault. he remembered the layer of warmth that had surrounded him mid-battle, saw the reflection of understanding in lumine’s eyes. it wasn’t technically his fault, he didn’t ask to be saved, ignoring that it was his own actions that led to his god’s blessing. perhaps if he wasn’t so strict about the time of his prayer he wouldn’t have to be alone on this beach, though there was no way to find out. the sand stretched on either side, and though it wasn’t infinite, he had not left the immediate area around where he’d first woken up. to move was to move on, to leave, to accept that his world had shattered into a thousand little fragments and to give up on picking them off the floor. he couldn’t leave. to leave was to surrender to this new fate. to leave was to forget about his sister, to forget about his self, to forget about the half of his life he never imagined he could lose.

family and faith. to lose his gods favor was a threat he could live with, as there would only be himself to blame. but his sister?

if he hadn’t fished up paimon, he’s not certain he would have eaten the fish that came up instead.

she was bright, bubbly, at least after coughing up an impossible amount of seawater. she thanked him profusely while wringing out her hair, insisting on helping him in return because “it’s only fair!” as if he wasn’t three times her weight (save her magic) and and ten times as strong.

and he let her. he’s not sure why, but he did. he watched her fumble to catch crabs, ending up covered in sand, and managed a weak smile. it was for her, he told himself, spearing three with a sword that wasn’t his, helping her arrange driftwood into a measly campfire. he hardly felt hungry despite being on the beach for what had to be a few months in local time, but she was so insistent that he have some.. it was for her benefit. he just had to get her somewhere safe, then… then…

“so, where are you from?”

aether looked up from his barely-touched meal, meeting her eyes. they were so wide and earnest, too trusting for someone that just met him.

not that he had any ill intentions. no, lumine would always joke that the day he was willingly rude to another would be the day the sky turned red—something that had been the case on one of the planets they’d visited, much to her delight.

aether turned back to the fire, pushing aside the memory. “another planet.” his voice was hoarse and his throat scratched with salt from attempting to drink the seawater earlier, which was not as potable as he’d hoped. “i flew here with my sister.”

“you have a sister?” paimon looked around, though they both knew she wouldn’t find anything. “where is she?”

aether swallowed salt and bile, taking another bite of his crab just to stall. “how about we talk in the morning?”

she let the topic drop.

he didn’t sleep that night, lending her his scarf as a pillow and keeping watch. she didn’t wake when the moon erased the shadows in the sand, or when the sun first crested the sea, or when the sky fully lightened to a pale blue, birdsong filling the air. one of the remnants from the fire found its way into his hand, reaching out to gently shake her awake. her eyes were heavy and she covered her mouth as she yawned, aether looking away before his own could water.

he drew nothing in the sand as she asked her questions—who are you, where’d you come from, who are you missing, what happened to her, why didn’t you do anything?—sketching out mountains and seas he wiped away as soon as they took form. he spoke for much longer than he meant to, his words pulled out as if they were tied to some invisible string.

when was the last time he was alone for this long?

paimon listened intently, brows drawn and frowning deeply, watching as he carved twin—twin, separated by time and space—stars into the sand. “so… what you’re trying to say is that you fell here… from another world? but when you wanted to leave, to go on to the next world, your path was blocked by some unknown god?”

wow, he wanted to snark, i didn’t know there was an echo out here! but the chance never came. magic gripped him by the throat and his eyes went wide in panic, his mouth shaping words he didn’t choose to say by force. he didn’t want to say what someone else told him to. he didn’t know what was going on. he was being pulled at some ghost’s whims, walking stiffly across the sand. it did not skid from beneath his feet, nor pull his balance one way or another. it was solid as stone, leading him up the beach without warning, without knowledge of why or when it would stop.

when was the last time he was this helpless?

(lumine.)

he stumbled across the shore on uncoordinated limbs, fighting fruitlessly. ahead, slime bubbled up from where the sand met the sea, but the ghost did not stop. mist coagulated into a pale blue blob with hazy spots for eyes, and only then was he allowed to stop. paimon yelped and ducked behind him, a familiar weight sinking into his hand. the slime had barely the chance to turn and see him, jerking up as if surprised, when his arm slashed forward.

a sword. not his sword, not lumine’s sword, but a sword, pulled from nowhere, the dull blade hacking at the blob of its own will until the sludge dispersed and sunk back into the sand. a soft mist lingered above the sand, but he was pulled forward without care or remorse. he didn’t even know if it would have hurt him.

weight hit him between the shoulders, cold spreading over his skin and absorbing into his skin. energy buzzed beside his ear, his earring humming with neither outlet nor conduit. were he anyone else, he would have been afraid, but he recognized the buzz. all at once, he understood. all at once, the weak puppetry was vindicated, his muscles relaxing and letting it happen. your energy sank into him, and he let himself stop worrying.

if you were here, he’d be okay. if you were here, you could fix this.

if you were here, he could find his sister, and everything would be okay again.

aether was not human. not entirely, not anymore, and he knew the people of mondstat could tell. you had stayed to guide his body for a week, alternating between helping the knights with dvalin and exploring the plains of mondstat. he was weak and your grip was frail, his attacks uncoordinated and clumsy, but you were there. you understood. the cavalry captain gave him a long stare as they exited his domain, a mix of curiosity and disbelief swirling in his one eye.

when you finally left, you did so in the middle of mondstat square. a physical weight lifted from his shoulders, the anemo he’d absorbed turning from calm and controlled to pushing at the edges of his form, trying to make him give. the anemo archon approached, soothing the wind with a wave of his hand, pulling him along for a drink and a chat. his knees did not want to bend without your command, his mind fraying a bit from continued exposure.

“how interesting, that you’re still standing after a week without rest,” the bartender remarked, the glass in his hands obviously an excuse to keep them above the bar. “what’s your name, outlander?”

he did not think of his own name. no, when he went to answer, he thought of the name you had given him, the one you whispered as you sheltered him from the unknown god’s wrath. it was not his, but it was yours, and wasn’t that what he was asking for?

it took too long for him to answer. red eyes narrowed but eventually chalked it up to exhaustion, giving him directions he couldn’t hear. the captain led him to a room in the back, but he didn’t sleep that night, sitting at the window and searching for the thin sliver of stars.

he didn’t need to eat anymore. he could, certainly, and it tasted fine enough, but he didn’t exactly need to. he’d thought it odd, at first, that barbatos was healed strictly by the wind, but he understood now. he spent his free time sitting under vanessa’s tree, half-asleep as he waited for your return.

you were his source of energy, of will. you knew answers to problems he’d have given up on, and if you didn’t then you tried and tried and tried again until you got it right. you were the power that purified dvalin’s tears, you swept the wind to fix the holy lyre, you cleared the seals around decarabian’s tower. he was a medium, and he was happy with that. your presence waxed and waned, the lapses without you seeming to pass by in a blink.

a few of the knights worried for him, but he knew your vessels understood. none held as much of your power as him, none were as reliant on you, but they understood. they excused his oddities with a kind smile, paimon always at his side to make sure he didn’t waste away the day simply sitting in one spot. prior to coming to teyvat, the concept of elemental sight was something he was only vaguely familiar with. a few planets had some talented witches that could feel the flow of energy through the ground and grass, who could watch the mist in the air and predict the weather. he’d never experienced it himself before. now, the world lit up as his eyes took on a teal sheen, your power mixing with the anemo within him to grant him insight. the world was so vibrant, even the most mundane sights capturing his attention. how could he not stare? if he had it his way he’d always view your creations like this.. but whenever paimon snapped him out of it he’d come out of it with a headache, not to mention his staring tended to be off-putting to those around.

a lot of his new behaviors were. when within your control, he moved stiffly, with repetitive motions forecast well in advance. you chose what he said, when and how he moved, you controlled the very flow of elements through his body. it was harder and harder to think for himself without you there and though paimon handled most of the conversation, there was only so much she could say.

“who are you looking for?” lumine. his sister. himself. the knowledge was there but his throat was closed, unwilling to move without your order.

“thank you for your help.” you’re welcome. don’t worry about it. it was nothing. all he could manage was a stiff nod, eyes flicking to the sky, counting the days until your return. he’d gotten a good grasp of your routine by now.

“who are you?” yours. a traveller. lumine’s. he could not blame those they ran across for their suspicion, even though he wanted to. could they not feel the remains of your presence lingering around him?

they had to go to the rite of decension soon. liyue was holding off, though, waiting for your arrival. they’d never dare to make you miss it, so aether felt no hurry to leave. he laid in the middle of windrise, staring up at the stars. he used to sit atop the knights’ headquarters, but it took too long for the lights of the city to turn out and he liked picking out the various constellations.

his was up there, somewhere. he didn’t have a vision like your other vessels, but he could feel it. it was written right beside your decision to save him and not lumine, alongside your actions in mondstat and everything you’d do in liyue. fate, you’d called it, well-acquainted and intertwined.

aether fell asleep on wet grass among cold wind. he did not get sick, nor was he attacked or otherwise hurt. why would he have been, anyway? your blood was in his veins; he had nothing at all to fear.

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