Chapter Text
Lumine hugged her knees, burying her face in the warmth of her skin. Their campsite was already out, leaving the traveler with nothing but her own body heat. It was chilly that night, the wind swirling in the cold air. Faintly, it whistled, singing a sweet lullaby. If only Lumine could hear it. The only sound she comprehended was the gentle breaths of her companion.
She slowly raised her head and looked over to her side. Paimon was sound asleep, steadily floating above the grass. When they first paired up, Lumine thought the way her small partner slept was amusing, cracking a chuckle whenever they rested. Now, she was so tired of watching Paimon sleep for six hours every night that she ran out of energy to react at all. Paimon was the type to pass out once bedtime was declared. Every time they called it a night, Lumine would watch enviously as her friend effortlessly drifted into slumber.
It had been a while since she was ripped away from Aether. Lumine bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. It was painful to think their time apart was already this excruciatingly long. She was so hopeful when she found Paimon. So optimistic and determined to find her brother. But eons passed and each sunrise chipped at her. She feared that soon, there would be no Lumine left, and that concerned her. She couldn’t possibly return to her twin with her respective half of their heart shattered. It would be her fault if Aether also felt incomplete.
She looked up at the full moon. The sorrow and anguish she carried always attacked at night. The thoughts, flashes, and fears ate at her every time she laid down. They would steal the dinner from her stomach and the emotional shield she wore around her heart, leaving her completely empty. Sleep was supposed to refresh you for another day, a whole new beginning. But how would it renew her if there was nothing left? Since the maze of her journey seemingly had no exit at all, wouldn’t it be futile to restart her path?
These useless questions flooded her mind each night, busying her consciousness so much that it felt like drowning. This would continue on for five to six hours every day, leading her to then unwillingly pass out at the crack of dawn and wake up with stubborn dark bags under her eyes. It was an exhausting cycle.
Lumine let out a deep sigh, finding her eyes watering. There was nothing to distract and lull her to sleep. Although millions of stars adorned the sky, they shone dully in her eyes. All the beautiful features of Teyvat lost their wonder. Nothing but her own tears to look at.
She wiped her eyes, refusing to cry again. There had been enough nights of her weeping already. No need to waste the little energy that remained. Lumine laid back down onto the grass and shut her eyes tightly. She figured it was going to be another hopeless night, but eventually, she would fall victim to her body’s emergency shut-down and she’d rather not have Paimon fussing about her back cramps in the morning.
While the aches in her muscles relaxed, her mind did the opposite. Regretful memories and longings filled her head, tormenting her. Desperate, Lumine attempted to shush them by counting hillichurls.
One. Two. Three.
It was a goofy strategy that was hardly successful, but she kept going, afraid of being overwhelmed again. A hazy silhouette of a hillichurl danced in her imagination.
Fifty. Fifty-one. Fifty-two.
She hugged herself. Surprisingly, she could now hear the light whisper of the nightly breeze. It provided a serene tune to the hillichurl’s performance.
One hundred and one. One hundred and two. One hundred and three.
Her breathing had slowed. Lumine suddenly heard a ba-bump. Her heartbeat, something she hadn’t heard in an eternity, combined with the music of the wind. The vision began fading… She felt like a child...using the most childish ways to sleep...
One hundred and ninety-seven... One hundred and ninety-eight... One hundred and ninety-ni…