(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)
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Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)
(Masterlist here)
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Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.
Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.
And so, that led Dr. Crane here.
He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.
(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)
Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.
Danny needed ectoplasm.
Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.
The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.
Dr. Crane is not afraid.
He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.
(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)
Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.
(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)
He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.
The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.
As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.
He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.
Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.
He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.
Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.
Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.
Right.
Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.
Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.
The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.
Hopefully this time he got the timing right.
Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.
He thinks of the letter.
Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.
Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.
Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.
Scarecrow did what he had to.
He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.
However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.
Jonathan is no longer shaking.
He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.
With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.
Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.
When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.
Success.
Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.
And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.
At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.
Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.
He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.
“Is that..?”
“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”
Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.
Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.
Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?
And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.
“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”
“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?
The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.
Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.
Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.
Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.
He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.
It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.
And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.
“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”
Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.
Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.
“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.
“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”
Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.
“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.
“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”
“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”
Edward gasps dramatically.
“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”
“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”
“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”
“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”
Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.
“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”
“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”
“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”
Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.
“Eddie.”
Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.
“A heart!”
“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”
“Eddie, stop.”
“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”
“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.
“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”
“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”
“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”
“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.
Danny’s jaw drops.
“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.
“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”
“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”
Danny chokes on air.
“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”
Edward pales.
“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.
“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”
With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.
And, as per usual, that silence does not last.
“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”
Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.
“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”
“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”
Jonathan groans.
“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”
“Come on, please?”
“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.
This boy is going to be the death of him.
“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”
Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.
The rest of the day is relatively normal.
Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.
It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.
Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.
…
Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.
The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.
He sends a quick message to Red Hood.
Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.
—
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Hello! It's a new anon here!
My name is Baby Cat/Out of pocket anon!
If I may, a SAGAU Aether x GN! Reader who has a mortal form that is has similarities to the divine creator but not enough to be confused as an imposter.
I'll clarify a bit, Aether dosent know that his beloved is actually the divine one, but instead thinks that they have simply been blessed with part of their beauty. Tevyat dosent know the creator has descended and is waiting, meanwhile Aether has the creator in mortal form as his darling partner.
-Baby Cat anon
P.S! My cat Duckie has recently warmed up to a new person!
a new tomorrow
a/n: ignore my dogwater schedule i have not written like at all for the past 2-3 weeks ahahah (also this is isn’t very romantic coded but i already hate this piece so my bad g)
word count: ~3k
-> warnings: canon-typical violence, microscopic spoilers for liyue story quest ig
-> gn reader (you/yours)
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24
< masterlist > || next part >>
when you’d first arrived in teyvat, you had fully expected to die, in honesty.
you were up on the top of starsnatch cliff, and had nearly fallen off in your initial panic if not for a sharp wind and a lucky break. you were much more mindful of where you walked after that, but mondstat was littered with impossible cliffs, and your memory of the area was sharply diminished when you didn’t have a little circle in the corner of your screen to remind you where you were.
you grabbed a few low-hanging sunsettias as you walked, making your way across a nondescript patch of grass. your plan was to just eat them as-is, but after a moments more thought into the idea, perhaps washing them first would be wiser. according to your memory, there were four main bodies of water: a lake and waterfall further north, the ocean to the east, cider lake to the west, and the state of the seven… somewhere.
the lake was surrounded by hilichurls and was a bit too close to the anemo hypostasis for your liking, the ocean was a no for obvious reasons, and cider lake didn’t seem like a particularly good idea, not to mention the only closest access to it you could think of was surrounded by hilichurls.
so, the statue of the seven it is. the only problem, of course, was that you had no idea where you were.
you tried to keep track at first, but then you had to climb down from one too many cliffs and had to take one too many detours around impossible ones, and now you were blindly walking. you could tell by the dense forest and the small lamp grass that you were somewhere in the whispering woods, but the thin path you were following have no indication of your direction. you hoped, of course, that you were headed north, but you didn’t know how to tell. the three sunsettias in your arms looked more tempting by the minute, but you were determined to clean them first. not only would that help you get your bearings again, but you’d lower the risk of whatever diseases were native to teyvat.
…which was something to consider further, in truth. your body wasn’t native, and hadn’t grown up with and developed an immunity to the bacteria here. would you get sick? had you already, and just had to wait until the symptoms developed? should you be more worried than you were?
the path around you was opening up, but you were too busy worrying to bother look up. what were the long-term effects of staying in teyvat? would you be intolerant or allergic to the foods here, because your body wasn’t used to processing them? what were the long term effects of-
“watch out!”
would you find out at all?
you looked over your right shoulder, at the voice that had called, and barely get a glimpse of bright gold before something white covers your vision, tiny hands pulling at your shirt.
“come on,” a high voice says, “follow paimon! let’s get away from the trouble.”
paimon-?
you stumble along with her, letting her take you further into what you now recognize as windrise. damn, wrong way.
“ooh, are those sunsettias?” you notice she’s blocking my your view of whatever’s behind her, likely the traveller and some enemies if you had to guess, judging by her presence and the sounds of metal on wood. “they look really fresh, too..”
you decide against trying to lean around her. best not to traumatize yourself on your first day. “uh, yeah, they are. would- do you want one?” you hold out one of the fruits. “i haven’t washed them yet, but…”
“oh, that’s okay!” she takes it eagerly, giving it a cursory wipe with her sleeve before taking a bite. “you don’t really need to wash em, in paimon’s experience! just a quick clean of any dirt and you’re all good to go!”
…that was stellar to hear.
you patiently wait, pretending the grunts and roars and sounds of clashing weaponry don’t exist. you try to offer paimon another sunsettia, since you know in-lore she’s almost always hungry, but she shakes her head.
“one for paimon, one for you, and one for the traveller! that way, everyone gets the same amount, and nobody’s upset!”
you don’t know how to feel about the fact that she addresses him as ‘the traveller’. on one hand, it makes sense she wouldn’t throw his name around like that. on the other, it feels… wrong. not in a way you can put a name to, but something about it is unsettling.
“did they offend you, or something?”
you startle, looking up, and see aether standing right in front of you, flipping through some hilichurl masks in his hands before passing two off to paimon, who puts them in a cloud of stars.
he looks at you expectantly, and you realize you had been frowning at the food in your hands. “o-oh! no, they.. sorry, i was lost in thought.”
he dismisses the rest of the masks into gold sparks with a nod. “are you alright?”
paimon gasps, hands over her mouth as she flies back a little. “oh, paimon forgot to ask! are you hurt at all? you don’t look like you’re from here…”
you flash her a smile you hope covers the change in topic. “i’m fine. and thank you,” you turn to aether, “your help is greatly appreciated-…” what do you address him as? you’ve technically never met, but to call him an honorary knight is probably unwise…
“the traveller is fine,” he says. “and you didn’t answer paimon’s question.” rats. “are you from teyvat?”
you hesitate, but eventually shake your head. “i’m not.”
he frowns. “how’d you get here?”
“i don’t know.”
“..you don’t have anywhere to stay, do you?”
oh no. you recognize that voice. “it’s fine, you don’t have to worry about me.” you glance around, eventually pointing at mondstat. it’s stunning in person, even from a distance, but you push past its beauty to talk. “there’s a city there, right? i’ll make do.”
“now’s a tense time, even mondstat isn’t as welcoming as usual.”
‘tense’? you don’t remember mondstat being involved in any scandals, and the skies seem clear, so you must be past the mondstat part of the story… “is something wrong? wait, don’t answer that; if it’s tense, then you surely have somewhere more important to be, right?”
paimon huffs. “paimon bets you’re broker than the tone-deaf bard!” wow, okay. “and a single sunsettia doesn’t get you far!”
aether raises a brow. “‘single’?”
“right!” you hurriedly pick the larger of the two, holding it out to him. “as thanks. she’s right, i don’t have any mor- uh, any more to give you, but it’s the least i can do.”
he shakes his head. “keep them. now, regarding your housing-“
“i can stay in mondstat-“
“the entirety of teyvat is on edge right now. the chances of an outlander being welcomed without hassle is low, even for mond.” he thinks about it, paimon mirroring the hand on his chin.
you try to think over the lore, attempting to remember something that could affect the entirety of teyvat. maybe you’re in the middle of the liyue quest? but why would he be in mond… unless you’re beyond the known lore, but in that case he has even less of a reason to be here, and not wherever the crisis is. not that that’s his obligation, of course, but given the trend-
“what’s your name, by the way?” you give it, and he frowns. “ah, that won’t do.” what. “i.. i don’t know about where you’re from, but where i’m from and here in teyvat, there’s a prominent religion that spans nearly the entire world here. this faith is the cause of the conflict i was talking about earlier.”
your heart picks up, and you pray it’s just some weird quirk of the lore you haven’t gotten to yet. maybe something with the heavenly principles? celestia? you regret not reading up on more of the lore now that you’re face to face with potentially a large part of it. “and?”
“you share the name with the primary god.” please don’t be what i’m thinking of, please don’t be- “the people of teyvat are rather protective of their creator, and doubly so now that their presence has gone missing.”
shit.
your mind flashes to all the sagau you’ve indulged in, to the break you’d taken a few days ago because your game had been acting up and you didn’t want to make whatever glitch it was worse in fear of losing your progress.
“oh,” is all you can say.
living with aether is easier than you thought it would be.
by the time you wake, he’s out working for the guild, leaving you and most of the realm within to yourself. you try and be useful by tidying up, but tubby keeps most of the realm clean, so there’s little for you to really do. there’s rooms that weren’t in the game—likely because this is his personal realm—such as a massive library and big sunroom, and you pick through the former on occasion. there’s books about everything, from encyclopedias on flowers in sumeru to the types of silk used in inazuman clothing. everything you don’t understand or want clarification on is bookmarked, and after he’s come home and rested, you both talk about them over dinner.
sometimes he knows the answers to your questions. other times you write them down on a slip of paper, and he takes a detour that day to ask. even if it’s something from a nation he hasn’t visited yet, he somehow finds the answers, returning to you with a longer sheet as he explains. you don’t ask where he got it, nor why he’s so willing to entertain your surely silly questions, but it probably has something to do with the fact that you didn’t fish up a companion that could answer all of your questions about a world you didn’t know deeper than surface level.
similarly, the transition in your relationship was also smooth, so quiet you almost didn’t notice it was happening. it was just so easy to be around him, your familiarity with him outside of the game and implicit reliance on him as an outlander during the mess of teyvat making him easy to talk to.
you didn’t notice when you started greeting him with hugs more often, nor when you started eating side by side at the table, talking about more than just the books. you told him about your world, and he spoke of his, telling you beautiful stories of his sister and their travels.
(“every world i’ve been to has worshipped the creator in one way or another,” he says, pushing his empty plate to the side. “does yours really not?”)
(you make the choice to set aside the many religions on earth. “we don’t,” you say simply, and he frowns, resting his chin in his hand.)
(“how interesting…”)
once he was confident that you knew enough of teyvat and it’s people, he began to take you on his commissions. the realm within was nice, and tubby held good conversation, but cabin fever began to set in after a month or so. he held your hand as you walked, steering you out of the way of monster camps or other adventurers. he didn’t dare bring you on the ones requiring fighting, but you’d helped find lost keys or fallen boards, paimon always certain to pull you away from battle, distracting you with a chat about whatever meal aether would make later.
(“do you guys always cook? doesn’t adventuring pay well?” you asked once, trying to remember how much commissions earned in terms of mora. you never really kept track, nor did you try and figure out how much it was to buy food from places, but surely…)
(“mostly! mora typically goes to either ingredients or first aid supplies. paimon’s thankful he’s a good cook, it’d be impossible to survive otherwise.” she said it so simply, as if it was an easy fact and not awful that they couldn’t afford to eat out even after everything they’ve done.)
(“that’s terrible…”)
(“its not that bad! you’ve tasted his cooking before, it’s great!” that’s true, but- “besides, it’s been getting better recently. with the creator absent, he’s able to take the commissions himself. though it is nice, it’s still worrying they haven’t come back..”)
(the idea that you’ve been indirectly contributing to their situation makes you a bit sick.)
the three of you were walking through liyue, heading for the last commission of the day. shitou, the jade betting guy, needed more ores for his business, and aether was leading you through the city. he’d chosen the waypoint on the western side of the harbor so you could walk through the city, and you were happy he did.
it was so beautiful in person, the buildings and bridges so much more ornate than their models could do justice. the streets were crowded, but you weren’t overwhelmed when aether was beside you, pointing out a jewelry store or a traveling merchant showing off bright balloons to children. you passed one man holding a conversation with a millelith soldier, who was his brother judging by the informal way they spoke and the mentions of shared relatives. you crossed the bridge leading to the eastern half of the harbor, the smell of something sweet and flowery drifting in the air.
“is there a flower shop around here?” you ask, and aether shakes his head, pointing at a building you vaguely recognize.
“there’s a tea house there, and they specialize in rose tea. we could pick up some if you wanted to try it?”
“that’s fine, i was just wondering. i wouldn’t want you to buy something for me if i didn’t like it.”
he stayed quiet, but you could tell he was still thinking about it. “what’s the appropriate way to brew it… wait, do we even have a teapot?”
“i’d hope so, otherwise you’ll have a lot to explain to the adepti.”
he bumps your shoulder as you both begin to turn toward shitou, but you see he’s smiling. “you know what i mean, not that kind of-“
“teapot?”
your steps stopped suddenly, the new voice one you regrettably recognized.
aether turned, greeting zhongli with a smile and a small wave. “not the realm within, don’t worry.”
“that’s good to hear. i’d hate for it to be causing problems.” his eyes flicked to you, seeming to search for something. “and your friend?”
it was weird, the way he looked at you, and aether seemed to pick up on it, stepping forward a bit to block you while also making it seem like he was just turning to face zhongli better. “just someone helping me out. what are you doing out here, don’t you have a shift at the parlor?”
bless aether and his ability to direct conversations, bless him and the speed with which he reminds zhongli of the necessary urgency when working at the funeral parlor, successfully sending the man on his way, even if he gives you another searching look as he does.
“sorry,” aether said, giving your had a squeeze as he approached shitou’s table. “he’s probably cautious because you look like the creator.”
you return it, staying quiet as he hands over the jade and only speaking up once the two of you turn around towards the closer waypoint. “it’s alright. thank you for talking to him.”
he flashed you a smile, putting one hand on the waypoint. “of course. it’s the least i could do.”
liyue fell away in a flash of white, the familiar music of the realm within washing away any lingering feaf or unease from talking to zhongli.
maybe one day you’d come clean, stop lying about reading information from his library. maybe you’d tell him, maybe you’d confess to how crystalflies always seemed to follow you, the wind always at your back.
“what would you like for lunch?” aether called, pulling down ingredients from various cabinets before you even answer because he knows what you’ll say.
“surprise me,” you reply, and he chuckles. the same answer, every time, and every time he manages to find something new to make you.
today you would keep quiet again, as you had every other day. today you would root through the pantry when he forgot the flour, today you would set the table and pull out some paper, asking him about whether or not they had silkworm farms if silk flowers were so common, at least in liyue.
today he would smile, and today he would answer, and maybe tomorrow you’d tell him something he couldn’t reply to.
but that was tomorrow. and this was today.
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