#A Gentle Breeze can Become a Storm - Genshin Impact | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nagimitsus · 3 years

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Title: somewhere along the line

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Synopsis: For all his delicate appearance, Venti has always been incredibly strong.

Diluc has known this from the start. Before the traveler entered their lives, before the battles, before he saw him standing in front of a dragon, ready to give everything in exchange for the freedom of another. And Diluc had thought, now that is how a god should behave.

That is someone I could believe in.

[Read on AO3!]

For all his delicate appearance, Venti has always been incredibly strong.

That is someone I could believe in.

It should come as a surprise, the amount of respect that he has gathered for the bard of melodious voice that makes himself at home only at his tavern. But it doesn’t. Maybe Diluc felt a pang of nuisance at first, when he thought of Venti only as a drunkard with too many stories to tell.

That was before he came to know him. Before the nights when his smile became sad after too many bottles of wine, small and nostalgic and unfitting in such a bright face. Before he understood that there was still a raw wound behind those eyes of his, still bleeding as much as Diluc’s own.

Diluc took the habit of offering him a glass of water and telling him to go home. The sensation of discomfort that nested his chest when Venti smiled up at him and asked what home was he talking about made Diluc wince.

At some point between that and the whole Dvalin situation, he stops asking Venti to go home and starts keeping him company until the silent streets of Mondstadt, illuminated only by the moon and the stars, call back for its bard.

When Venti leaves, his smile is a bit more grateful and a lit less lonely, and Diluc tells him “I hope you find something more rewarding to spend your time on, tomorrow” but thinks See you later.

Venti laughs. It sounds like a breeze. “What’s more rewarding than wine, I wonder?” he says, and has the audacity to wink.

Diluc sighs, because there’s nothing else he can do.

The thing about Venti is that he doesn’t want to be worshipped.

He doesn’t. It’s made clear in the way he behaves, the way he doesn’t stop too much in front of the church unless it’s to perform, the way he talks to the citizens of his country as if they were more friends than subjects. And it’s not because he likes the freedom that comes with anonymity, it’s not because of his own wants or needs.

It’s because he wants them to be free, in this city where there are no tyrants and no gods. This city where they can follow the winds and their hearts alike, bound by nothing but their own ideals.

Diluc protects Mondstadt, fiercely. Because he loves everything it represents and everything it stands for.

And likewise, he protects the god that gifted them all of this.

Venti stops by the Winery of Dawn sometimes. Diluc finds him trying to steal wine or sleeping inside a barrel, and thinks: this is not a deity, this is a raccoon.

Still, because he has a bit of faith left in him and because he used to go to church with his father back in the day, Diluc takes him by the back of his cape and into the house, where he makes sure he’s put to rest in one of their spare rooms, with enough water on his bed table to deal with the hangover.

By the next morning he’s always gone, but the wind blows gently through the open window.

Sometimes, if he’s still sober enough to string a few words together when Diluc takes him in, Venti laughs, and clings to his shoulders with both arms, and says things like “I can sing for you if you desire it, Master Diluc”, with that sweet voice blurry but cheerful.

Diluc sits him down before the fireplace on those occasions, just so he can make sure that Venti drinks enough water and doesn’t do something like throwing up into his own mouth and suffocating on it.

What a troublesome bard, Diluc thinks. The thought is covered in affection anyway, and he has to sigh to himself at that. Venti blinks slowly at him, almost as if he could know what’s crossing his mind just by looking at him, and then he leans in his direction with a drunken smile that makes Diluc roll his eyes.

“You,” Venti says, slowly but with intent, “are a very good person. Do you know that, Master Diluc?”

The reaction is immediate. Diluc can feel it start on his stomach and creep up until his head, his ears, his hands. It’s a fuzzy sentiment that makes home on his chest and purrs like a cat, a reminder of how good it is to be acknowledged.

Diluc looks back at Venti’s eyes, clear even in his state.

When he was young, he wondered how the truly religious felt. He asked Jean once, eleven or so, as little Barbara tried to sign in tone with the croaking of a frog. And Jean, always patient and warm, had said: I don’t think it can be explained.

But it can.

Diluc feels like he’s being hugged by a tornado and cradled by the breeze at the same time. It’s excruciating and infuriating and exhilarating, and it’s making a knot into his stomach, reddening his ears.

He scoffs lightly, but his voice is not unkind when he says:

“And you are very drunk.”

Venti laughs at that, and the sound reverberates in the space of the room.

The only reason Diluc doesn’t leave is because he’s still afraid that Venti will throw up all over himself.

(The traveler comes.

The traveler comes, they fight against Dvalin, and Diluc has to see Venti’s slender form fly across the battlefield when the dragon hits him once. Even when he gets up immediately, smiling through the pain, the knot that he made in Diluc’s stomach twitches and hurts.

He makes sure to tell Barbara that the bard got hurt once they go back to Mondstadt, and ignores the perplexed look that he sends his way.)

Venti doesn’t come to the winery for a few weeks after the Dvalin incident, and they don’t meet up at the tavern either. Diluc would be worried, if he didn’t see him here and there, talking to Kaeya or playing a simple tune for Klee (who he seems to adore, if the warm look in his eyes as the little girl tries to harmonize with him.)

Diluc is not prone to lie to himself, so he doesn’t even try to deny that he misses Venti’s annoying presence. Still, since the traveler left for Liyue, the whole town seems to have subdued, its upbeat attitude turned into a dull sense of longing.

Someone knocks on his door one night, almost sixteen days after he saw Venti for the last time. And of course, as fate would have it, it’s the bard himself who’s waiting at the other side.

Rain is not unusual in Mondstadt, even when they’re accustomed to a gentle drizzle, so most citizens have learned to take an umbrella with them when the spring is creeping on them.

Venti is dripping wet, and there’s something in the way his clothes cling to the line of his shoulders that make him straight up sad, almost pathetic. Still, the gleam on his eyes is a tell-tale that he’s been drinking, and the curve of his smile is too close to loneliness. It stirs something in Diluc, calls for the silent understanding of their nights in the tavern.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes a step to the side to let him in.

The maids will find awfully unpleasant the wetness on the carpet, Diluc’s mind supplies, but it’s difficult to care when Venti smiles like rain and alcohol and apples, all mixed up. His mere presence tends to be intoxicating, with the way he takes so much space with his voice and his laugh and his music, but it’s even worse now. Maybe it’s because Diluc has become unaccustomed to it.

“Do you need somewhere to stay?” Diluc asks after a few seconds. Venti’s smile is still sad, but it’s there nonetheless.

If this were any other person, the sound of the wind outside might have drowned their words. But Venti has never known how to be quiet, and so Diluc hears him without any trouble:

“You care about me, don’t you, Master Diluc?”

He sighs, and closes the door. The storm becomes a muted sound behind the wood and the steel, and somehow that adds to the intimate atmosphere that this scene carries. Diluc can feel it at his throat, the warning, the threat that comes with the closeness. He talks through it.

“I don’t think you’ve made all the way here just to point out the obvious, bard.”

He turns then, and Venti is still there, looking straight into him. In the pit of his eyes there’s an ancient kind of loneliness that makes him look terribly old. It’s in times like this when it becomes easy to think of him as a god. Again, Diluc thinks of what being religious means, thinks of kissing his temple and his hands until pink and red go back to his skin, thinks of drying his hair and lending him a bed.

That’s not the kind of devotion that a God requires. But for Venti, who would treat the cathedral built in his name just to see Klee smile, who dirties his hands helping Sucrose with her work and runs away from Diona between laughs whenever she gets angry at him, it might be enough.

Venti laughs. The sound is enough to loosen the muscles of Diluc’s tense shoulders.

“I haven’t,” Venti says, and then he turns around and walks into the house as if it belongs to him. Diluc follows, waiting for him to go on. Since he doesn’t, he adds:

“I’m not going to serve you wine here,” just to make sure that’s out of the table.

Venti hums, amused. He goes straight to the fireplace, sticking both hands in front of the flames. Diluc stops just three steps away from him, taking a few seconds to stare at the side of his face, shadows dancing over the curves of his nose, his eyebrows, his neck.

“I lost something important,” Venti says at least, his voice soft, “and my power has decreased drastically.”

Diluc frowns before he can stop himself. Venti looks at him with that same smile that doesn’t suit him, even as he’s winking, probably trying to downplay his own words.

“Worst possible time too, right?”

Diluc would know. The Abyss Order’s activity is still on rise, and the Fatui are getting bolder every passing day. He knows the Knights of Favonious are not good enough to keep them all at bay, not enough to protect all of Mondstadt, bound by the laws and diplomacy and their own duty.

Even so,

“I’m still here,” he reminds him, as if it was obvious. “And Jean will do everything in her power.”

Venti looks at him through the corner of his eye for a second before he’s turning his whole body, hands on his hips. He giggles again, and even though the sound is far off the usual, it doesn’t sound as tense as his last words.

“Are you saying you will protect me, Master Diluc?”

Diluc doesn’t roll his eyes, because he’s not keen on the gesture, but he hopes that the expression on his face is enough to convey his feelings of fond frustration. One can’t be serious with Venti around unless someone is in immediate danger, it seems.

“I am saying that if my actions can bestow some peace upon you, know that I’ll keep protecting Mondstadt.”

Venti takes a step in his direction, then another. When his hands close around Diluc’s white shirt, they leave wet marks that extend through the cloth under his fingers, cold against his skin. The flower on his hat has lost at least two petals in the rain, but his eyes are alive and warm as they look straight into Diluc’s red ones.

He doesn’t feel the need to confess, doesn’t want to kneel down and ask for forgiveness for his sins. But he wants to keep Venti here nonetheless, in the intimacy of the room illuminated only by the flames. Maybe that’s a thought that needs absolution.

“You,” Venti says, very slowly, “are a very good person. Did you know that, Master Diluc?”

He smirks, the little shit. Diluc doesn’t bother to answer this time, because he’s too busy trying to calm down the beating of his heart as Venti gets on his tiptoes, one hand going to his shoulder, the other remaining on his chest.

Diluc leans down into the kiss, and it’s impossible to think of a god when the laugh that he swallows in his own mouth it’s so undeniably Venti.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fic #diluven #dilven #diluc ragnvindr #venti #diluven fic #diluc x venti

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glassworkspiderlilies · 3 years

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the earth shudders at the tower asunder (1/4)

Genshin Impact | Lumine & Aether | AO3 Summary: Not all gods have long memories. (Primordial!Travelers AU, in which Lumine and Aether are not just gods, but amongst the oldest ones.) Notes: oops, forgot to post this here yesterday, so voila. approx 4.5k words. not a holiday fic, but happy holidays!

Their first memories are these: the expanse of bright blue sky, the glow of gentle light. Their true names. Each other—recognition of you, me, brother, sister. We, us, together.

And a voice, a soft, kind echo of stay together, now.

It is a long time before they settle on names in the human tongue, but when they do, they cycle through many, though Aether and Lumine they tend to favor. In the early days, it is only the two of them. They learn to walk and run and fly together; they learn to speak, though in a language only the two of them understand, and more than half of it nonverbal regardless. Not long after, they learn to traverse through worlds too, though at first they did not realize they were doing so, having only crossed into open plains and isolated forests for some time. It is only until they are found by humans one day and taken in as spirits to be worshipped that they grow to be a little more like them through observation.

Two shimmering, golden twins who, somewhat inadvertently, brought fortune to the small village...it wasn't long before they were hailed as gods.

The then-nameless twins decide to stay out of curiosity, and as they watch generations come and go, they learn about the blessings and trappings of mortality. There is still a barrier; they cannot feel wholly what it is their human friends feel, but they continue to learn, and recognize that perhaps, some things are not so different between them after all. Love, loyalty, joy…the villagers are eager to please their gods, and feel relief to see that pleasure reflected on the twins' faces. All this too is a language, and the twins are ever evolving.

Life around them flourishes. The twins bend their surroundings to ways that please them: clear skies, warm sunlight, light breezes. An abundance of flowers and other flora. Bountiful harvests for the seeds sown. They read the earth and temper the ley lines, and the lives that they have come to lead, which in turn is that of the village's, is mild and peaceful. In the beginning there was only two of them, but since then they have gained much, and they are grateful for it.

It does not last.

The village grows into a town, and then a city. The times change, the people change, and the values change. The twins, now sequestered in their aging temple, watch and feel the energies shift. The earth groans, the ley lines diminishing slowly. The so-called god-twins haven't been forgotten, no, but the eyes that are turned upon them are hungrier, more calculating, and sometimes, even malicious. The priests that tend to them range in the service, too; in the past, they did not have priests, just friends who helped them of their own free will. Now, those who tend to the twins are either careless or fanatic.

It is tiring. The world is no longer as they know it, and it is no longer comfortable to stay. But they have seen this city grow from the cluster of huts it used to be, and so, is it not what humans call “home”? But time continues to pass, and the energy continues to bubble and burst in unpleasant ways. What the twins can do for the people is no longer enough; their own values are too outdated, and what they are and aren't willing to do is not understood by humans who lead such different existences.

The twins have grown too mortal-seeming for the people to be intimidated by any aspect of them anymore. And so the day comes when an organized group breaks into the temple and shackles them, with the intentions of forcing them to do their bidding, for the good of the city, or so they say.

It is a new pain, the cold iron chafing their ankles and wrists, the spite turned towards them, the abandonment by many of those whose ancestors they could easily trace back to someone they liked. There is pain on their mortal flesh, too; if the men no longer believe in the gods, they do not think twice of striking them. That they bruise and bleed seems only to reinforce that they are not so special; there are others with abilities now, and the twins have not shown all their hands—and even less of them, with the times.

Lumine licks the blood from her lip and looks to her brother, who spits his own blood from his mouth.

They were born of the sky and light; they do not want to be contained like this.

They cannot, and will not be contained like this.

“This is no longer home,” the sister says, her eyes melancholy.

“Let’s go,” the brother says, his eyes angry, and the twins join hands.

“Goodbye,” they say together, their voices—one wistful, one disgusted—echoing across the city, and in a shimmer of light and a puff of wind, the twin gods are gone.

The shackles hit the ground with a damning clatter.

They do not return, though many, moved by the farewell and feeling their abandonment, pray and hope for years after.

The changes in the city are not so explicit, but noticeable. There is a certain life missing in the city, a certain protection, and a certain watchful tenderness.

The people lament and regret their hubris, but it is too late.

By the time the civilization falls, the twins are past looking back.

Stay together, now.

The first lesson is the hardest. In the end, they only have each other.

They are more careful, the next time they stay longer in a place. They traverse through several worlds before they decide to again, and it is because of a young boy who saved their life—or is under the impression he did, anyway—from animal traps in the woods.

It starts, as always, with a curiosity; the boy, Idris, excited by their foreign clothes and manners, wants so badly to hear their stories.

The other townspeople are warier of them, but as the twins get to know the boy by entertaining his requests, it is slowly revealed by his aborted sentences and the scars on his arm that his home life is…not good. He sneaks out to escape his family, and his talks with the travelers from places he’s never heard of before are the highlight of his life.

They cannot take him with them. But they can, at least, stay.

Unfortunately, there is not much they can do for him besides tend to his wounds and keep his spirits up, but that is enough for Idris.

He grows from a boy to a teen, and then a young adult, and runs away from home. Aether and Lumine aid his escape, and the joy on Idris’ face as they shoot through the woods brings them joy that they had not felt so keenly in a long time.

Idris eventually grows to lead a simple, comfortable life at the edge of a faraway town. Aether is amused that Idris never tires of listening to his and Lumine’s stories, and that he even asks for some to be repeated. They spar with him and teach him better ways to defend himself so he is not subjugated again, the twins themselves having been taught by both peasants and masters alike as they traveled through worlds.

In turn, Idris teaches them to cook—properly, with pots and pans and assorted seasonings. He teaches them other recipes over the fire too, but the fascination the twins show with what he considers regular home cooking makes him laugh.

The three spend their days living as simple huntsmen, though Idris performs more of the day-to-day business transactions. Though the bond between the twins is—something sacred, Idris grows to be something of a brother, too. They note how easily he smiles and laughs now, compared to his reservation as a boy, as well as his growing strength and his eternal kindness, and are glad.

And then—he becomes King.

Soldiers come to their little house in peace, with a representative to explain Idris’ history. A child was lost in a storm and presumed dead, but the body was never found, though his mother the Queen’s was. The information was hidden by the first prince’s faction, who was quite a few years older, and already quite prepared to be heir. But a few months ago, the first prince had been assassinated, and the news that the second prince might still live was revealed due to the sudden lack of succession.

And so, a hunt was mounted, and now, finally succeeded.

His return to the King’s side is not a mere request to be denied, and so, pleading that Aether and Lumine go with him, they are all escorted to the royal castle posthaste.

As it turns out, the King does not have much time to live, hence the increased desperation to find his lost heir. Idris is, of course, baffled and confused, but there is an instant—and real—fondness between father and son, who have such little time between them, and surprisingly more in common than the first prince had with his father.

The King’s last days are filled with conversations with Idris, both personal and official. Idris is unprepared, but he has his father’s last minute lessons and his most trusted advisors, and—though in his heart, he thinks this position is not for him—he cannot back down from the expectations placed upon his shoulders.

No one knows what to do with the strange twins that come with him, but Idris’ first command is that they not be bothered. Aether and Lumine are free to do as they please—he is adamant about this, because he always, and continues, to know them as travelers, even if they have been with him for so long and grown near and dear to his heart.

The twins sense the distress at his position under the brave façade he puts on, however, and continue to stay, much to his relief. In their travels they have seen kings and queens and various types of rulers; though this is the first time they have truly spent their time in the company of one, they can, at the very least, share stories that may help, as they always have.

In time, they become King Idris’ closest and most trusted advisors. He becomes a wise and benevolent ruler with their assistance, the kingdom flourishes—and the air feels once more like home.

Yet—as years go on, the twins, no matter how venerable they are, begin to be regarded with wariness and suspicion.

They do not age.

For a long time, Idris had simply accorded it to good genes; there have been others who look younger than they are. His own Queen is one of them. But as he grows into a proper man while Aether and Lumine still look like adolescents…he would be a fool to continue making excuses.

Still, no one asks. The twins have served well, and have done nothing to give doubt to their character. If they are spirits or fae or gods, then it is in their better interest not to offend them by probing unnecessarily. This uneasiness and curiosity sinks into the background anyway when the Queen finally gives birth to her first child after many difficulties, and there is joy all around at the arrival of a new prince.

And then—war begins to brew.

Small skirmishes around the border begin to grow into larger battles. Villages on the outskirts are razed to the ground; hostages are taken. Full-scale invasion looms, and quickly the kingdom prepares to go to battle with their neighbor.

The King dons his armor, prepared to lead his armies, and yet…and yet—

He looks at his firstborn child with desperation. His Queen cries on his shoulder; the King is a good man and an able fighter, but he is no skilled warrior, and the tides of the battle are not optimistic. The few sorties he’s led are nothing compared to what is to come. Idris looks at his wife and child and wonders if he is a weak man for not wanting to die in battle, no matter how glorious the cause.

At night, after his son has been settled and his wife has fallen into a tearful, exhausted sleep, he prays.

He prays, and as he does, has a thought.

There is a tower that the twins favor, as it is the highest point in the castle. Oftentimes they have been seen perched precariously on the topmost point of its roof—and it is a mystery how they get there, every time. Some swear that they must have flown, but the twins have never been caught in the action, and so it had become something of a joke.

But…perhaps…it is not a jest, after all.

They are not on the roof when he finds them but on the balcony proper, and their eyes are somberly luminous in the moonlight. That they say nothing, their faces blank as they wait for him to speak, makes him nervous. Suddenly there is a gulf between them; they’d been so close for so much of his life, but as he became more comfortable in his role as king and confident in his own decisions, he had sought them out less and less. And now…now, he is about to ask the impossible, his heart beating so loudly surely they must hear it.

Idris licks his lips and steels himself, squaring his shoulders.

“Aether. Lumine. Will you go to war with me?”

A pause, and Lumine’s lips twist into a sardonic smile. It is a severe expression on her young face, but her eyes are much older than her appearance belies.

“That is not,” she begins quietly, “The true question you are asking, is it?”

Idris flinches as if slapped, and Aether leans against the balustrades with deceptive nonchalance.

“Well?” he prompts, his faint smile matching his sister’s, and Idris covers his face with his hands, the accumulating stress from the past few months crashing down upon him all at once.

“Forgive me,” he rasps out, his voice raw, “Will you fight this war for me? It’s true, what they say, isn’t it? You aren’t…aren’t human. Gods, perhaps. If it is you two, surely you could turn the tides. I have…I have my people to think about. And my wife and child. Call me selfish if you must, but I cannot…we cannot win this battle alone. I am desperate to keep the peace and prosperity we have built. We have come too far to lose it all now…and if this is my only option…I will beg for it if I have to. So please…”

His voice cracks, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“I beg of you��save me and my kingdom from our fate.”

He lowers his head and waits, squeezing his eyes shut, the tears falling without reserve, afraid of what will come next.

“We will fight your war,” Lumine whispers.

Idris’ head snaps back up, gratitude on his tongue, but freezes when he catches her expression.

Sorrow.

“But it will be the last thing we do,” Aether adds, holding his gaze.

His face is grave, though there is no accusation.

Idris’ throat is tight.

“I understand,” he says, “Thank you.”

The twins walk past him without looking at him again, and the King feels his heart break. But the choice is made. He will not regret it.

He cannot.

(On the battlefield, too few moons later, the twins walk ahead of Idris’ main army and cross their swords with each other’s at the first wave of enemy soldiers.

“Turn back,” they call, voice echoing across the terrain, and of course it is met with crude jeers and hollers before the opposing army charges.

None think to question just why it is the twins’ voices carry so far, with the wind whistling sharply and the dark, cloudy sky rumbling with thunder.

Wings of shimmering light burst out of the twins’ backs; both the King, his soldiers, and the enemy gasp at the otherworldly sight, the charge slowing just for a moment.

“We gave our warning,” the twins say sadly, and the field erupts into light.

It is over quickly, all things considered. By the time the light fades completely, many of their opponents are dead, and the remaining stragglers who do not flee are taken care of swiftly with plain swordsmanship.

They grant mercy where they can.

Rain turns the ground to mud as the battle comes to an end, and the twins return to Idris’ side streaked in blood afterward.

“Goodbye,” they say, their voices flat.

Idris means to say—something. I’m sorry, or thank you, or I hope to see you again. But the words stick in his throat, and the twins walk past him once more. This time, when he turns, they are nowhere to be seen.

Gods, or a kingdom? Idris is only mortal, and so must make a mortal choice.

Love for his land, love for his people, love for his family…there are things he wants to protect.

The twins cannot fault him. After all, they would have chosen each other, too.

But they sleep, for some years after that.

(“You forgive them, don’t you?”

“Ah, Lumi…it’s not about forgiveness. It’s about letting it go. We just…aren’t mortal, right? What good will it do to carry it with us?”

A pause. She presses her lips together, then sighs.

“I can’t help if it hurts,” she admits, turning her face away, and Aether chuckles.

“Well,” he says, ruffling her hair, and she immediately reaches over to ruffle his in revenge, “If it displeases you so much, then just forget, little sister.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, but her tone is merely mildly annoyed. The creation of his physical form a few scant questionable seconds before hers has been an age-old argument between them. “Fine. I suppose you are meant to just…accept.”

“And it’s both of our so-called jobs to just be. Isn’t it? But if you can’t let go, then just let it be, and let time take care of it. We are made of time.”

A silence.

“Why are we here, Aether?”

He smiles. This, too, is a question his sister asks often.

“Why worry about it, when we already are? Come. The sun, the flowers, the air. Isn’t that enough to live for?”

Lumine doesn’t have an argument. She sighs again.

“So be it,” she says, with a faint smile. )

When they wake, the landscapes are different, both earthly and spiritual. There are more spirits and gods and other celestial beings, and—

They don’t know if this is less lonely.

For a while it is, at least; the lesser spirits greet them mostly with fear or awe, and some brave ones with curiosity. (There is a small wind spirit that is unequivocally bold, circling around them for some months with brazen interest, and the twins miss its company as soon as it is gone. Wind is a free, fickle thing, after all; the twins had not expected it to stay, and the few months it was with them was already considered long.) The more powerful gods are wary, and greet them with respect and obedience, though not all are happy about it. The twins know not what it is they sense, that they think the two more powerful than them, but nor do they know enough to contest it. They travel, and roam, and bend the world in what they consider minor ways; surely these other newer gods can do more than that—and do what they hope is better by the humans who have grown more numerous. Many of these new gods have a people to watch over and guide with care—more than the twins can say for themselves.

Time passes, and the challengers begin to come.

The different gods of battle and weaponry and other such related things request duels. The twins win every time, for many years, treating these fights with polite amusement. Some take those losses with respect, others take it with anger, feeling belittled. But Aether and Lumine are not aggressive beings, so why should they respond with aggression?

Nonetheless, their behavior draws ire as year after year as they accept these duels and continue to win. Lumine’s style is clean and efficient, Aether’s is flashy and acrobatic. Those who are foolish enough to challenge them together see only a flash of light before they are flat on their backs, swords crossed at their necks.

“Must they persist?” Lumine asks her brother one day, as they start hiding from challengers.

Aether laughs.

“They must enjoy the challenge,” he says, spinning his blade, “It gives them something to live for, when life is so long.”

“And us?” Lumine asks, “What is there to challenge us?”

Aether pauses.

“Each other?” he says, grinning slyly. “Why, sister, if you wanted to lose, you need only ask.”

She throws her sword at him for that. He dodges as she summons her weapon back, and lunges forward just as her fingers close around the hilt.

They spar.

A mountain is flattened for their trouble, and the Lord of Mountains expresses his displeasure at them loudly, later. They take his scolding with good graces.

Making friends amongst gods is easier, truth be told; especially with the lesser ones. The Lady of Flowers and the Lord of Birds are among those they are closest to, the both of them having more placid natures, and also rulers of things the twins love best.

Among the stronger ones, they have a polite relationship with the God of Blizzards, and a slightly warmer one with The God of the Woods. The God of Storms they avoid, for he and the twins always seem to clash when they meet. They care not for the flavor of energy he cultivates, and he dislikes many things that are stronger than himself.

Somewhat surprisingly, they get along well with the newly minted God of Commerce, who is already starting to go by many names—including the God of War. He may be young, but his power grows at a rapid pace…and perhaps too quickly. Still, he is level-headed if sometimes rash, and the twins feel at ease watching someone be so sure of their place in the world.

Among the gods, even despite—or simply including—the annoyances, life is fuller. They share the same—or at the very least, similar—time; lasting friendships are formed, abilities are challenged and grow, and the twins laugh more easily in the skies.

And then, the gods start dying at the hands of one another.

Lesser gods go first, and it is a dark day when the twins see the Lady of Flowers wither away.

The God of Crags dies by their hand.

It accomplishes little, but nor can they bear to let such a thing go.

The cycle continues to turn, and grow more vicious; some spirits rise to power in these gruesome times, their potential unlocked by adversity. Some gods grow more powerful as they slay their friends and brethren.

As the Archons rise, the twins finally feel something new: their own abilities draining.

It is a disconcerting feeling. They retain the core of their abilities—their flight, their weapon-summoning, their attacks drawn from light. But something in their existence wavers, like a hazy mirage, and they know something within them is quickly being lost.

In their confusion, they retreat as far as they can from the continuing war between gods, and for a long time, are forgotten.

Among their last memories of each other is this: their hands, grasping each other as they feel the pull of spiritual essence leaving them, whispering to each other don’t leave me, do not go without me.

We must stay together.

The nausea passes, and as they start traveling through worlds once again, they feel like they are running from something, instead.

It finds them anyway.

Teyvat is on the cusp of being consumed by war, and almost immediately after they touch down, they make the decision to leave. No, no more; enough of this. It sickens them, and they are already gathering the energy to shift elsewhere. However—

“Outlanders, your journey ends here.”

They do not know this god, but they can feel her power, and briefly, they think, perhaps, this is how others felt about them so long ago.

The twins summon their swords and their wings as the Unknown God attacks, weaving in and out of her red streaks coiling through the sky.

They are still very skilled, but they are aware: over the millennia, they have grown so weak.

And so, as decreed, their journey ends.

Lumine watches as Aether is swallowed up, and she screams for her brother when he meets her eyes in horror.

Stay together, now.

She doesn’t remember moving, already behind the white-haired god; lightning crackles in her hand, and she yells as she lunges with her blade, the sky exploding into fire upon impact.

She almost, almost grabs her brother’s small prison out of the Unknown God’s hand.

But she fails, and as Lumine too is swallowed up by black and red, she screams for her brother’s return as the red god watches on, mercilessly.

(After all, the gods do not listen to the ones who do not belong.)

Lumine wakes, cold and alone—without her brother, without her wings, without her powers.

In the end, we only have each other.

But that’s not quite true, is it?

“Aether,” she whispers, trembling, her voice cracking.

How is it that there is more to the end, and without him? They were never meant to be separated. They were never meant to exist alone.

“Why are we here, Aether?”

“Why worry about it, when we already are? Come. The sun, the flowers, the air. Isn’t that enough to live for?”

The sun, the flowers, the air. The world tilts around her, and all she can see is utter darkness, despite the blazing sunlight.

She has lived long, and much of it among mortals. She has felt sorrow, and joy, and anger.

But for the first time, as she stares up at the sky, bereft of everything that has ever mattered to her, she feels crushing, consuming despair.

#genshin impact #genshin traveler #genshin lumine #genshin aether #genshin traveler twins #genshin impact fic #fanfiction #a chapter fic?? from me?? wowza

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awhilde · 3 years

Text

stupid

pairings: kaeya (genshin impact) x reader

genre(s): just pure fluff!

warnings: swearing and minor (tiny) mentions of death. also, it would be advised to play the game ‘genshin impact’ up past adventure rank 10 because there are a few spoilers (?) and mentions of specific scenes.

word count: 2.6k words

synopsis: in which you can’t stand the stupid ice man that seems to trail after your every move, infuriating with every word that falls from his lips, every curve of his mouth and every tilt of his head. the pure annoyance he gifts you makes your chest ache in exhaustion. i mean, that is the sole reason why your heart is pumping overdrive, right?

author’s note: this is just a really quick, cheesy and plotless oneshot that i decided to write in under an hour, i think? if i’m being honest, i just wanted to see what my page would look like with something published, but please enjoy regardless! god i’m simping for kaeya even though genshin is literally not an otome game what ?? gave them the right to make him look so good??

a harmless tune twinkles in the city’s atmosphere, sorrowful tales hidden behind the cheer of a folk song and the strum of a harp

you listen, leaning against an open window, letting the gentle breeze tousle your hair behind your ears, drinking in the refreshing sensation of the wind kissing your closed eyes and exposed face. the suffocating atmosphere of the library leaves you as you daydream with the hum of the melody and lose yourself in its rhythm

the scent of the storm last night taunts your mind of a nostalgic memory, easing the growing beast of worry in your heart

the thought reminds you of the cause of such worry and you sigh reluctantly, knowing the pile of research notes by your desk wouldn’t sign themselves as you wasted time by this pocket of air, but your limbs are frozen, leisurely leaning against the frame of the window. you allow for time to flow unrestricted past your consciousness for there might not be another opportunity in the near future when you could relax as you did now

life couldn’t possibly be contained within stress and work. you’d combust if this was the prevailing knowledge, collapsing from overworking your body or perhaps even dying from high blood pressure in your late 20’s which crept closer as time went by

where had your teenage years gone? the thrill of adventure and death?

“something on your mind, name?”

your eyes snap open, body whisking around to face the man that had managed to sneak up to your side without your notice. you recognise the presence beside you long before your eyes had laid upon their figure for they had been your partner in crime for far too long for you not to adapt to his chilly atmosphere

at least he was nice to be around in summer

kaeya, that infuriating ice man that had insisted on growing closer towards you despite the only connection you two shared being the fact that jean enjoyed tormenting you and placing the two of you together in missions

he had made his way to your right, contrasting your position as he leaned his back against the wall whilst you leaned your front torso out the window. suddenly the wind was nothing compared to him. with his arms crossed at his front, he gives you a side-long glance and smirks at your expression

huffing you turn away. “what do you want now, kaeya?” you ask

“what is with this hostility?” he shoots back. “don’t tell me i actually surprised you by being here.”

your silence was enough of an answer for him to brighten. “wait, for real?”

you groan, cheek in your palm as you continue to close your eyes. “go away, kaeya, if you’re just here to make fun of me. go bother someone else, hasn’t there been a traveller of sorts that’s appeared recently?”

kaeya hums. “yeah, what about them?”

“go send them on a wild goose chase or something. didn’t you do that to the other one that passed by?” this time, you steal a peak at him through one eye. despite this being a small movement, kaeya’s immediately chases your eye.

ah, there’s that stupid sneer of his that you couldn’t stand. the sight was as familiar as the sun’s touch having seen it everywhere; after freezing jean’s feet to the ground when she got “too boring”, when he’d freeze the walls of your office in order to chase you out of the room and when he’d won that stupid game in that one stupid festival when they’d finished a mission early, turning with that exact sneer, his eyes steady and wild on yours as he handed you the first prize gift, not failing to bow as he presented the toy to you. that stupid pink bunny still sat somewhere in your room, not treasured but simply looked after. it wasn’t a significant item to be cherished after all

“i already did.” he had been saying when you zoned out. “i told them there was a mysterious treasure and sent them off. that little thing they had with them was especially keen on getting her small hands on whatever it was. shame there was nothing there to begin with, just another plan to draw out the futoi rats but i would have liked to see what that little thing could do with immense power. eat exotic foods, maybe?”

his eyes dart back to yours when he didn’t receive the response he expected; silence, and turns to face you. your eyes had gone glassy whilst in the process of reminiscing and he knew you were no longer in the present time. he sighs and stands

you catch the movement and snap back to reality, blinking before narrowing your eyes at his stupid face. “you have a look in your eyes.” you observe hesitantly

“and you weren’t paying attention to anything i said.” he retorts. he leans forward with his arms still crossed as if attempting to examine you further. the proximity startles you and you take a step back on instinct

the action makes him raise an eyebrow. “you’re also surprisingly quiet and grumpy today.”

wow you both are so good at stating the very obvious

it was true, despite hating his guts you couldn’t deny the spark of chemistry between the both of him whether it be dancing on the battlefield or even the snarky banter that he oddly seemed to enjoy. in an attempt to cover up where you had lacked, you face the window again. for some reason, it was easier to talk to him when you weren’t confronted with his stupid face. “oh? aren’t you glad i haven’t remarked on that stupid eyepatch you wear yet? unless, of course, you agree completely with what i say about it which, y’know, is the objective truth. it couldn’t possibly have been inherited. and its ugly.”

“nope! just as the title of being a pirate has been passed down in my family generation, so has the need to wear an eyepatch.” he cheerfully responds. “nice try, name, but i can still tell that you’re feeling down. you gonna tell me what it is or are we gonna continue this act until you grow bore of it?”

you sigh, caught in your façade that you had sub-consciously put up as a defense mechanism. not that he had no know what it was. something stupid in your stomach explodes with warmth at his prying, but you can’t hate it. that same stupid thing brings you to face him again and you regret it as soon as your eyes meet

he had stepped closer, close enough for you to feel his chill through the fabric of your clothes, close enough to see the fur on his attire rustle from the breeze by the window, his hair tousling also, close enough for your eyes to become captivated from his

well, his one eye

singular

eye

you chuckle slightly, the sound bubbling from the back of your throat until its pouring out without limit. you bend over, still giggling and the force makes you stumble. but its hilarious, does he wink or blink? omg imagine if he seductively winks but it just looks like he’s well, blinking

kaeya is taken back by your giggles but his incredulous stare doesn’t manage to stop the endless wave of laughter that causes tears to form at your eye, and your cheeks to begin to ache. it would hurt his reputation severely if he’d attempt to cheekily wink only to have the receiver no clue on what he was doing

god, you can’t believe you love this stupid boy

your laughter halts almost immediately

…

love?

you don’t love him

why would you even consider that you liked him? he was a major pain in the ass, always bothering you when you worked, always messing around, always teasing you

right, you had just been so caught up in your laughter that it convinced your mind that the endorphins that had been released was due to kaeya, but it wasn’t. you don’t feel that way about him, you had just found his appearance hilarious

right

kaeya raises another eyebrow at you. “right, are you feeling okay? maybe we should ask jean for you to take a break.” he mumbles the last part as if it was an after thought but you hear it anyways

you turn away from him and begin walking back to your office. you knew he would follow after you and he does, his footsteps echoing your own until he is walking beside you, synced in your movements. “i’m not even that busy, stop exaggerating.” you step is bouncier, your fit of laughter at fault for your raised mood

“maybe not but you’re certainly boring.”

“your idea of fun is literally drinking with dilluc and making jean mad. maybe you shouldn’t be the one telling me if i’m boring?”

“so you’re not gonna deny it?’

“i like to think i take every one of my flaws into my stride. it would be even more embarrassing if someone didn’t know how much they sucked. like say, didn’t know how stupid they looked with an eyepatch?” you stick out your tongue at him and pulled down your eye. “pirate headass.”

he laughs as if you said something funny, but along the way you laugh with him

the sound of your laughs merging together, fuelling each other on, sound like music to your ears, a clearer tune than the only floating around the city, prettier than the twinkle of bells and bird song. it sounded familiar, like home, like watching rain dance on a windowpane, like heating your hands on a warm drink

“good to know your only insult of me is my eyepatch.” he says after your chuckles die

“and how is that a good thing?”

he sneaks a glance at you before looking start forward

“it means i must look practically perfect in your eyes, save for my apparently odd fashion sense. careful, name, or you’ll somehow manage to confess to me without your own knowledge.”

you splutter as he finishes, for some reason feeling defensive. “what the fuck do you mean by that?”

“well, you’re complimenting me, no? every other aspect of me are too good to insult?” the pair of you approach the doors to your office and his face lights up, mind clearly departing his last thought. “ah! we’re here. wait, why are we here again?” despite his words, he steps forward to enter your room, neither stopping to check if he had your permission nor to see if you were going insideyou narrowly miss the door as you unfreeze and dash in after him

he had already made his way to the back corner of the room, observing the shelf you had placed beside your desk. the shelves contained items that you held dear to you, the pair of earrings your aunt had gifted you before her demise, a book that you particularly enjoyed when you were younger, a stick figure of an old cartoon mascot back when you were only a child and so much more. it aided in providing you a relief of stress in your times of need. they were delicate and of upmost importance, items you placed dangerously close to your heart. but for some reason, you didn’t mind that kaeya were looking at them now

you knew he wouldn’t break them, he wouldn’t be in such a high position of the knights if he was clumsy

instead, your mind travels back in time to what he had said so carelessly before he had entered the room

complimenting him? how absolutely ridiculous. saying his eyepatch made him look uglier was by no means a compliment, not even a twisted one. sure, it may infer that without it he would look much better, but this didn’t mean you would find him attractive without it, what a delusion. and in truth, kaeya treated it as if you were being serious which you weren’t, really. it wasn’t as ugly as you made it sound, you actually thought he suited it quite well.

wait a minute, what were you saying? perhaps kaeya had simply wanted to use reverse psychology on you and twist your very thoughts

well, he almost succeeded, you’ll give him that

“oh? what is this?”

his voice brings you back to reality and you realise with a start that you recognised the thing he was holding in his hand, the source of his question and the reason why the room appeared so much hotter than it had been before

in his hand, he held that stupid pink bunny

his eyes search yours in question, that stupid, stupid sneer on his face once more. it was clear he expected an answer, but you gave him none, instead staring him down with your eyes, feeling hot on your cheeks

“i think i remember this plushy, wasn’t it-“

your limbs move before your mind registers them, arm reaching out and activating your element, anemo, and calling upon the power to have your treasure returned to you

the green appears circling green whisps around the pink fur, growing clearer in appearance every passing millisecond before the entire toy is succumbed with the air

a small explosion follows after the orb, zapping kaeya’s hand, causing him to lose his gentle hold

the bunny falls to the ground, millimetres away from the carpet when you pull it towards you with your anemo

when it finally enters your grasp, you wrap both arms around the bunny and draw it towards your heart, angling your body defensively, hiding it from his stare. “don’t say a single thing.” you warn him, but you know he wouldn’t ever leave you alone now

his eyes stare down at the palm that had been holding the toy before looking back up at you. “you just… used your anemo on me.”

“i did.”

his shell-shocked expression withdraws on his face, a small smile on his lips that was neither the shit-eating grin that he usually wore nor the stupid sneer. it looked sincere. and like he came to a sudden realisation. like something was confirmed

you open your mouth to say more, deny more perhaps yet you wouldn’t know what would come out of your mouth at that moment for your door bursts open, you and kaeya reacting immediately with your respective elements in hands, you only using one as you continue to hug the stuffed toy. an oddly familiar figure appears at the door, clad in white and with bright blonde hair. after the unknown individual, a small human floats after them. at the sight of the two, kaeya relaxes which prompts you to do so as well. ah, now you realised where you had seen them before, they were the iconic traveller

“what are you doing here?” kaeya asks for you. something in his tone is guarded

the small creature, paimon as you remember, speaks first. “we’ve come to ask for a hint! you said you’d help us solve riddles, remember? for the super cool, super wicked sword?” her small head turns to you as if acknowledging you for the first time. “oh, were we interrupting something?”

you raise an eyebrow. “nice to meet you too, i’m name. how did you find this place?”

paimon shrugs. “a knight told us that if we couldn’t find kaeya, we should check in this room.”

those words made the warm icky feeling in your chest expand. you clear your throat as you sense both kaeya’s and paimon’s eyes on you, the traveller oddly not saying a word and staring off into the distance. as subtly as you could, you place the toy behind your back and down on another shelf, reminding yourself to relocate it once whatever kaeya was planning at had finished

“well, show us the riddle then.” you say, ignoring the fuzzy feeling in your chest when kaeya joins the circle the five of you made, surrounding the item in the traveller’s hand and, you cursed, far too close to your right

your arm grazes one another as you shift closer for a better look

but you swallow the feeling deep down and look up to meet the traveller’s eyes. “well, i have a clue what this could mean.” you say, contrasting all the pacing thoughts in your head, casting aside the want to kick the two intruders from your room, to confront kaeya with the emotions you’ve been feeling around him, to possibly cry at the overwhelming truth of it all, that you did love him

but they became only thoughts, visible only in your mind

this world wasn’t suit for romance, not when there was a dragon terrorising the city, not when the gods were angry, not when you hadn’t confirmed if kaeya feels the same way

so you bury your newfound feelings, smiling gently at the traveller as you share what you knew with them, ignoring the present sensation of kaeya by your side, hoping that by the time you had collected yourself, you would be able to hide these foreign feelings

from his stupid face

#kaeya x reader #kaeya #genshin kaeya #kaeyagenshinimpact #is this how to tag idk #we really simping for one (1) man #msg me if ur in asia server!!#let's co-op #i rlly want keqing sob #kaeya fluff #genshin impact

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