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Follow The Ley Lines: Tempus Fugit Chapter
Pressure
Lisa smiled softly as Paimon’s insistence for a celebratory dinner at Good Hunter’s echoed through the main hall, much to the chagrin of the on-duty knights. Hushed pleas for silence succeeded by Paimon’s snippy rebuttal were assuaged by a gentler, kinder voice belonging to the heroine of the hour.
There was a brief lull in silence as the pair’s resulting squabble grew fainter and hazy, leaving naught in its wake but the ticking pendulum clock and gentle humming from the pendant light’s bulbs.
Lisa lifted her arms, folding them loosely over her chest. Her awareness of the dull, annoying tingle in her fingertips persisted despite her best efforts to smother the prickling needlepoints beneath her gloves. The crystal’s crimson moire had been attractive in the beginning, but such knowledge wasn’t worth the incessant pain. Still, she did have her reservations of leaving such an artifact in the traveler’s hands, whether it proved dangerous to them or not.
Not out of a sense of distrust, Lisa reminded herself. The regret on Lumine’s face, stricken with guilt as she hurriedly pulled the crystal back to her, couldn’t escape Lisa’s notice. Such palpable remorse couldn’t be fabricated easily, and Lisa knew surely they could entrust this little cutie. All she could do was offer a bit of humor to alleviate the mood and wipe the concern from their faces but her unease held long after Lumine and Paimon departed.
While Lisa could admit it was amazing how someone so young could achieve feats grander than those twice her year, it was also quite disheartening. Stories of daring youths willfully throwing themselves to peril rarely ended happily. Through their efforts, selfless and kind, many were saved and those who regaled their deeds inspired others to follow suit. However, the romanticization of sacrifice hid its true weight, leaving those who carried the burden to suffer alone.
Or become deified as a caricature of who they truly were.
She could only hope that Lumine would be able to brave the incoming storm, literally and figuratively.
Lisa sighed and brushed her black-clad fingertips over the gold embroidery of her sleeves, picking lightly at invisible dust. The lapse in silence lingered long enough for the pendulum clock to toll. Her gaze lingered on the Master of Knights perched near the window behind her polished desk like a gargoyle, shoulders sloped toward the ground and hands loosely clasped at the wrist behind her back. Hardly the upright and focused posture one would expect from a soldier but with silvery-blue dustlight streaming through the windows, illuminating the golden accents in her hair — Jean seemed more mythological than personable.
Lisa could almost imagine this would be what the Dandelion Sea was, if they weren’t surrounded by carpets upon polished wooden floors and walls filled to their brims with texts. Separated by a plush red carpet emblazoned with the Knights of Favonius’ symbol - golden swords crossed at their blade silhouetted by wings and a shield.
Freedom at its finest. Yet, with the grilles’ silhouette criss-crossing over Jean’s face, Lisa wondered if this was freedom or a prison. She winced and shook her head, dispelling the thoughts as she caressed the railing’s smooth nobs, climbing up the steps. The book she’d abandoned for their earlier conversation left cold and wanting on the shelf near a ornate picture frame. Lisa scooped the book in her arms and held it to her chest, eyeing the photograph longingly.
A golden-haired girl winked back at her, her lips split in a grin and cheeks reddened likely from laughing if the smiling red-headed young man beside her was any indication. Their eyes twinkled with mirth as they shared a conspiratorial look just outside of one of the windmills. From the blue blur in the background, Lisa deduced Kaeya must have tripped before the photograph could be taken. Why else would Diluc allow himself to be immortalized with such obvious glee?
Simpler times, Lisa thought demurely, sparing a glance at the woman the girl had grown up to be. Strong and revered but suffering in silence. At the mercy of her thoughts as she was to the world around her, as well as the people she served. Concern coupled with pity but Lisa knew Jean needed neither. Not now when the weight of Mondstadt hung in the balance and the worse was yet to come. The people’s faith placed in a traveler from where, no one knew, and the Dandelion Knight attempting to stay strong despite the harrowing winds.
Lisa sighed. It’d be best not to let her melancholy get ahead of her. After all, such thoughts were increasingly troublesome. “Well, I believe that’s enough excitement for one librarian’s night,” she announced cheerily, descending the steps, careful not to step on the carpet’s gold trimming. “I think I’ll be taking my leave now.”
She scarcely turned to walk along the small strip between the raised floor and the carpet when Jean called out to her, “Ah, wait a moment, Lisa!”
It hadn’t occurred to Lisa how thick the air became between them with Jean’s thoughts until she spoke. Or perhaps, she hadn’t noticed how deep she was in her own. Achingly slow, she turned to face the source of the voice and internally sighed with relief as the dour expression was replaced with another. Whether this was better or not, Lisa wasn’t sure, but Jean was remarkably earnest and transparent with her concern. Guileless blue-grey eyes roved over Lisa but lingered somewhere below her chin. If not for the book she’d been cradling to her chest, Lisa might have teased about wandering eyes and temptation.
Still, she couldn’t help herself. “For you, Master Jean, I could spare a moment or two.”
Jean’s eyes widened, pink dusting her cheeks and Lisa could have sworn that the air around them had grown warmer. “Your hand…” Jean cleared her throat, simultaneously succeeding and failing to change the topic.
Lisa feigned a shocked gasp and shielded her parted lips with still-tingling fingers. She noticed how Jean’s gaze wandered to her hand and hid a smile behind her palm. “Oh, Jean as sweet as that is,” her eyelashes fluttered and she reveled in the slight confusion twisting Jean’s lips into a pinched frown. “I believe you should have a good night’s rest before you propose. Who knows if you’ll regret it in the morning.”
Now, Lisa was sure the air was definitely warming between them and Jean’s pink-tinged cheeks darkening to a charming shade of scarlet was the cause. “Wait, wh— no! I was..” Jean scoffed, pitched as her rebuttals fell silent. A breath dragged in before she uttered in a firm, rushed enunciation. “When you touched the crystal, you said that it hurt.”
Lisa tucked a knuckle beneath her chin and hummed, letting her gaze fall to the potted plants by the door or the pins and notes attached to the map. “I see, you’re worried about me.”
“O-Of course I am,” Jean sputtered, her voice low and almost hurt as she muttered, “Why do you sound so surprised?”
Lisa could practically feel the concern tensing the air and batted it aside, ignoring the guilt squeezing her chest. “Not surprised at all,” she said gently, glancing around the room. “Just.. analyzing.”
Papers flecked with ink were messily across the conference table, a stack held down beneath an adorably decorate teapot and cup. Books stacked horizontally on shelves and on the floors near their lower cupboards annoyed and confused Lisa at the same time. When was the last time Jean cleaned in here?
With how often she was working and on the move, Lisa doubted there was time for neatening her things. Yet, considering how thorough Jean was with even her work station’s neatness - perhaps it was cause for concern.
Lisa could feel Jean’s gaze, cutting as the wind, attempting to slip through cracks and chinks in her armor to no avail. Eventually, Lisa relented with a sigh. “I can’t quite describe the pain, but I doubt there was a wound inflicted. Nothing to inspect, really…” She trailed off. Jean’s eyes dimmed at the dismissal and her hand, perched upon the edge of her desk, tightened ever so slightly around its trim.
After a moment, Lisa relented once more. “Though,” she began, blatanty ignoring the twitch and hopeful look Jean gave her as she strode over to one of the sofas. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be thorough.”
She sat down, fully aware of the steady gaze as she fiddled with her dress then situated herself against the pillows. A brow arched at the deep blue blanket tossed over the couch’s left arm. The pillows seemed squashed and a connection slowly made itself known as Jean sat down on the other end.
Barbatos guide me, has she been sleeping in her office?
Crossed between upset and exasperated, Lisa remained silent as Jean beckoned for her hand. Only stopping a second from impatiently laying it in her own when she remembered the wound was skin-deep not on the layers of her gloves. Taking a moment to inch her fingers free, she thought on Jean picking at the couch’s upholstery and fidgeting as she waited. It was increasingly difficult to be crossed with her when she was so earnestly worried.
Finally, the glove slipped free from Lisa’s hand and she bestowed it to Jean, palm ward up. The knight descended upon inspecting her with the graveness of a life-threatening wound. Agitation’s final simmering quelled as Jean’s gloves brushed from palm to fingertip, only inciting the faintest of prickling when she applied pressure. Lisa must have given away a pained response because cooling relief seeped beneath her skin and chased away the fiery prickling. Her heart fluttered as Jean delicately traced the creases on her palms. Tingling remained where her fingers laid, a hollow sensation remaining long after they fell away.
“You seem fine,” Jean sighed, seeming pleased with herself, a smile resting on her lips reminding Lisa sorely of the girl.
Lisa curled her fingers around Jean’s gloved ones, a giggle bubbling up. “Why, thank you,” she preened. “That’s quite the compliment coming from you.”
“Lisa…” Jean’s brow twitched and the pink flush returned, prominent as they were bathed in the pale moonlight.
“Although I must say,” Lisa continued as if she heard nothing, her still-gloved hand stretched out, fingers grazing the underside of Jean’s jaw. “You are seeming a little pale. Are you sleeping well?”
Muscle flexed in Jean’s jaw as her eyelids fell, golden eyelashes barely obscuring stormy depths. Lisa ignored the shiver rolling down her spine and thumbed at the clenched muscle, rubbing slow circles.
“Well enough,” Jean said. She turned her head, inadvertently bringing her cheek to rest at the crook of Lisa’s forefinger.
Lisa tapped her cheek lightly, wondering if Jean’s skin would be as soft and soothing as her winds. Faint circles wearily tightening their grasp beneath Jean’s eyes dispelling the thought. “By your standards or that of the average young woman?” Lisa inquired, nonchalant and taunting.
Jean scoffed, her grasp on Lisa’s hand tightened then loosened as if she’d been electrocuted and with how charged the air was, she might as well have been.
“Weren’t you the one who said I wasn’t average?” Jean asked, pulling her hand away and Lisa sorely missed the light touch. Her knuckles knocking against the book in her lap with a light thud.
“Yes,” Lisa began, savoring a fleeting touch along Jean’s jaw as the woman pulled back from her grasp. Fond exasperation disquieting her calm as she watched Jean rise and amble over to her desk. “Nevertheless, I don’t recall saying you were invincible either.”
Her fingers curled around her book’s spine while Jean hovered dangerously close to the armchair. “Dandelions are quite delicate, you know.”
Jean paused with one hand set on the chair’s pointed rail, a rigidity to her shoulders despite the weariness in her sigh, “I’m not a dandelion, Lisa.”
Lisa smiled sadly. She disagreed in every way. Jean was beautiful, she inspired hope and care, she was delicate although her being wouldn’t give away such a thought — and if one strong breeze came her way, she may be gone. Lisa prayed to the Anemo Gods, to Barbatos, that she would never have to see that day.
“No, you are not,” Lisa said. “Dandelion Knight.”
Jean’s shoulders tensed and Lisa knew once the words came free, there was no taking them back. Perhaps the gales were still covering Jean’s eyes and she couldn’t see the folly in her own good intention but Lisa could.
“I know the situation with Stormterror is weighing heavily on your mind…” Lisa said to her as she slipped on her glove. “But perhaps you would be better suited to tackle it and the Fatui’s ambassadors, if you had a break.”
Jean’s hold on the chair tightened and Lisa could hear the wood creaking but she stood and approached carefully. The faint trembling in Jean’s shoulders matching her own heart’s ache.
“You would also set a better example for our newly appointed Honorary Knight,” Lisa pointed out. “A girl barely grown, armed with a sword and wits, sails through blue skies on wings of freedom laden with the hopes of many…”
It was like a fairy tale. One that would end with the hopes and joys of many answered, and the hero standing on top. But between the lines, the secrets were told and Lisa was always thorough in her research.
“I wonder who that reminds me of…”
“Your point’s been made,” Jean said tersely, her trembling stilled as Lisa curled her fingers around her shoulder in a light hold. She knew if Jean wanted, she could shrug her off and dismiss her but the knight did neither. Her blue-grey eyes, dull and longing, as Lisa gleaned them over Jean’s shoulder.
All she could do was offer a smile and ease her hand down the length of billowing white sleeves, her fingers curled along ones clad in black gloves.“Then for tonight..” Lisa breathed in the words, whispering them softly to Jean’s waiting ears. “You are dismissed, Acting Grandmaster.” Bitterness tinged Lisa’s smile and she nodded, holding Jean’s hand loosely. “So shall we be off, Jean?”
She received her answer in a gentle squeeze around her fingers.