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Yawning, Lumine staggers her way back into the harbor, ignoring the countless stares directed at her. She has no doubt it's because of the various gashes of red and purple that bloom around her skin, and drip to paint her usually white dress in crimson. Luckily for her, it’s nighttime—she wouldn’t want the children to see her this beat-up and wounded. It would only end in nightmares for them. That said, regret settles in her mind as her muscles ache with every step she takes. That’s what she gets for taking a fifth sudden commission on. It’s not like she could have denied the pleading gazes of the members of the guild. Plus the request was handed in on such short notice, her own curiosity got the best of her. Thus, she made the foolish decision of accepting the commission.
Right now, she’s walking towards Wanmin, hoping to fetch Paimon who she’s left there, so the pixie could rest and eat enough food to fill her empty stomach. She left with the promise to be back in 1-2 hours. Four hours. That’s how long it took for her to finish that quest. Sighing, she ignores the stabbing pain and bites her lips in hopes to distract herself from it. The quest wasn’t even that terrible at the beginning. Just a cave from which strange noises could be heard, leading to gossip about ghosts and spooky spirits (Lumine suspects this is the real reason Paimon didn’t want to tag along). It wasn't ghosts that awaited her there though. Some hilichurls set a camp up there—she dealt swiftly with them. That should have been the end. Except, when she got out of that cave, she was greeted by a good amount of Fatui agents, looking just as surprised to see her. She didn’t recognize any of them as part of Childe’s troop, so immediate alertness settled in her and she summoned her sword right in time to dodge an electro attack.
It took her half an hour until she finally got them all, collecting their insignias as a sort of award. Unfortunately, for her a few escaped and got back-up—she couldn’t beat the whole crowd, not with the exhaustion seeping in her bones. So, with a heavy heart, the traveler created an opening and escaped the battle.
Arriving alive in Liyue harbor is a blessing, something gifting her with relief—that is, until she hears that familiar, cheerful voice call out to her, “Girlie!”
Dread settles in the pit of her stomach. No. She doesn’t want to deal with him, not after having to fight some assholes from the very organization he is part of. As misleading as her current thoughts sound, she gets along well with Childe—after meeting Teucer and seeing the care and love the harbinger owns for his family, forgiveness for his past betrayal happened wherever she liked it or not. But. He’s still someone who will have to kill her one day and she is still someone who would like to avoid dying by his hands. So, even though the exhaustion hurts at that point, she fastens her step and tries to get away from him—something that she knows is futile.
“Really, pretty girl? Avoiding me? Now, you’ve done it—shattered my heart into a thousand pieces... Girlie?”
Lumine halts in her steps but doesn’t turn around. She won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her beat up by members of the Fatui. Gripping her dress tightly, she hopes he leaves. Of course, though, he doesn’t and instead walks around so he’s standing in front of her. Sighing, she stares at a spot past him.
“Childe, I’m not in the mo—”
She stops speaking, surprised by the feeling of his fingers grabbing her chin and tilting it upwards. It’s a surprisingly gentle action coming from her. She moves her gaze towards him, every intention to ask him what hell he’s doing, but flinches once she sees his eyes.
Contemplative and calculating, intense in a way she’s not sure she likes on him. It’s not like the intensity he wears during their spars, where she sees genuine joy and excitement coursing through them. No, this one is cold and terrifying. Like something unpleasant is lurking behind it.
He doesn’t speak up for a while and she can’t bring herself to say something. So, they stand in the bustling streets of Liyue, uttering no word and making no noise. Eventually, he moves his thumb to wipe away some blood near her mouth. Delicate. Gentle.
Then he moves his eyes from the various wounds on her face to the rest of her body, slowly examining each one. Something in his gaze deepens and as much as she hates it, she can feel the familiar warmth settle on her cheek, her heartbeat increasing. But the dread turns only stronger—that gaze can’t mean anything well when it’s coming from him.
Then he turns to stare directly into her eyes and she can feel her heart drop down to her stomach. His eyes look so dark, darker than usual. Colder than usual.
When he speaks up, Lumine freezes.
His usual cheer is gone, replaced with something quiet but so tense, that it awakens her flight or fight instincts for a moment. It promises murder .
“Lumine,” he says and she has to stop her hands from shaking by grabbing her dress tighter, “who did this to you?”
Minutes pass.
Then she finally snaps out of it and moves, but she’s tired and exhausted, so before she can fully step away he clutches her arm and tugs her closer, not letting go. His fingers dig into her skin and it stings.
“I asked you a question,” he mutters, making sure to fixate his gaze on hers, “answer it.”
The traveler scoffs.
“What does it matter?”
His grip turns tighter. “Don’t evade it—who was the fool who did this?”
Hints of confusion settle in her and she wonders why he cares so much. “What… what are you going to do if I tell you?”
He narrows his eyes. “Just tell me where they are, Lumine. They deserve what’s coming to them.”
She scoffs at that and yanks her arm out of his grip.
“Yeah, sure, because you’ll definitely beat up some members from your own organization.”
The words settle in and he halts for a moment, blinking. But then he glares and somewhat it’s darker than before.
“Where did you see them?”
Lumine can’t hide the confusion at this point. Is he going to go beat up his own men? For her? Shaking her head she sighs.
“No, I’m not telling you.”
“Lumine,” the harbinger growls out her name but she doesn’t say anything.
“Then I’ll just have to find them myself.”
Before he can move away, she takes a leap and grabs onto his jacket, tugging him back towards her.
He turns to glare at her but she stares right back at him.
“Tartaglia,” she mutters. That’s not Childe anymore. “There’s no point in chasing them down.”
He doesn’t move and minutes pass as worry festers in her stomach. Then he turns around and places her hands onto her shoulders, tender and gentle.
“Look at yourself,” he scoffs, “full of wounds. I want them to regret even just thinking about slashing you.”
She doesn’t point out how he’s hurt her much more than they did. How that day at the Golden House, she’s felt more pain than some stupid agents could ever inflict onto her. How she’s never mentioned the ugly scar that decorates her back from that one fall—she chooses not to remind him, not hurt him and instead moves a hand to place it around his wrist.
“Those wounds are my own fault,” she says, her voice bitter in a way unlike her, “I just couldn’t defeat them.”
“Don’t say that,” he growls, “knowing you, you fought them already beyond the state of exhaustion.”
She hates how accurate he is, hates how well he knows her to deduce that. Biting her lips, she ignores his yelp, as she grabs his collar and tugs him down, making sure he has no choice but to gaze into her eyes.
“You don’t get to do this,” she tells him, eyes burning with wrath. “I’m the one who’s tired and wounded and mad—you don’t get to be selfish.”
His eyes widen, probably unused by how out of it she’s been acting since he found her in the labor. Archons, she can’t bring herself to care anyway—she should have ages ago been in a comfortable bed at some in, wounds dressed and stomach full.
But no, he never lets her have her peace.
“... Lumi?”
She ignores the tears forming at the corner of her eyes, ignores the worried and panicking stare he directs at her, ignores the way her wounds ache even more when she lets go of him, and drops down to her knees, hands onto the ground as she glares at the grey tiles.
She’s frustrated.
As minutes pass in silence she wonders if he’s left. If seeing her so vulnerable was too much for him, if he’s gotten annoyed and decided that she’s obviously not worth the attention.
But then she hears his steps and two arms settling on her body, lifting her up. Panicking, she grabs onto his shoulders, fingers tightening into the fabric of his jacket.
“Tartaglia?”
She stares up and her eyes widen as her breath halts.
He’s looking directly at her, face set in a sad frown and eyes overfilled with concern.
“I’m sorry,” he tells her, his voice quiet but warm unlike before. “I got too carried away.”
She blinks dumbfounded.
“Come on, you can rest at my place. I’ll… cook you something to eat after dressing your wounds,” he mumbles. As they walk, he sighs before speaking up again. His next words leave her speechless.
“They aren’t your fault.”
His expression is bitter and he seems mad at something.
“They were the ones to hurt you.”
She realizes that it’s frustration.
“Why are you frustrated?” she asks him, once he settles her down on his couch.
“Because I hate it.”
Then he looks her into her eyes.
“They have no right to mark you like this,” he mutters, “no right to inflict pain upon you.”
The darkness in his gaze returns and she’s too tired to repeat the event from before, so she moves and wraps her arms around his head, hiding his face from her.
“... Lumine?”
She stares at the dark walls of his living room and wonders.
There’s no mistaking the pure affection and possessiveness in his voice when he uttered these words. She has to make a choice.
When he stirs, trying to get away, she places a kiss on his head.
He stops, almost like he’s frozen in place.
“You are terrible, Tartaglia,” she tells him as she lets go of his head, letting him see the resigned smile on her face. “Are you trying to toy with my heart? I can’t tell sometimes, you know.”
“If you enjoy seeing me in pain, that is.”
At her words he snaps out whatever stupor he was in, moving his hand to cup her cheek. Once again, when he’s touching her, he’s gentle.
Once again, she wonders what she should think of that overwhelming gaze of his.
He looks so hopeful it hurts.
“... What if I want you to be happy and safe at all times instead.”
Her hands start to shake. She bits her lips.
He frowns. “Don’t bite your lips… don’t hurt yourself, please.”
“You’ve hurt me worse,” she mutters, praying for anything to work against him.
“I know,” he mutters, eyes still on her, “and I still regret it every day.”
There’s no winning against him. She can’t beat the pure comfort and love he radiates—she can’t distance herself when she should.
“You really can’t leave me alone, huh?”
He blinks as confusion and hurt settle in his eyes.
“I should be glad then, shouldn’t I? Because I can’t leave you alone either.”
Any hurt vanishes and his eyes brighten up.
She yelps as he climbs onto the couch and drags her into his embrace.
“You… you can’t say things like that, Lumine.”
He nuzzles his face into her hair.
“You’ll make it harder for me to let you go.”
“What if I don’t want you to let go?”
His embrace tightens.
“Then I won’t ever.”