Chapter Text
Aether breathes in the cold air and feels the hot pain dissipate in his lungs. There is a blizzard coming to the Dragonspine, and even so far from the mountain — looking back at the peak from the camping site — he senses it with ease of someone who was familiar with its ever-changing weather. A fleeting experience, the snow was full of soft memories and expectations.
Albedo was enigmatic, full of good-natured teasing and passion for alchemy, and, unfortunately, one for keeping a distance. There are moments of kinship brought by their shared quality of being an outlander but those are rare and quiet, filled with as much contact as possible.
It was not hard to feel something for Albedo.
Aether thinks of the ocean (the whispering sound of waves crashing alerted Aether from his slumber, made him look straight into the crimson sky. Albedo was humming softly a lullaby while he was carding absent-mindedly through loose strands of blond hair. There was something peaceful and ethereal within the look of the man before him, grounding and breathtaking. At this moment, there was no overpowerful need to travel around the world and search for Lumine — they were content and free of anxiety, their adventure was seen as productive and effortless. He could have stayed here for a few hours more.
"Ah," the alchemist said with an intriguing expression as the boy got up from his position, "you're awake. Do you need assistance in braiding your hair?"
"It's okay, really—) and feels drunk on it, choking on salty water and silt. He needs to breathe but his lungs are broken and sore, pulled taunt by the allure. The ocean is 95% unknown and dangerous, and Kreideprinz is the same. The amber-eyed boy loves it, finds himself tempted by the mystery and complexity of the man. The ocean is Albedo, beckoning him closer and closer to the edge, and Aether wants to dive in.
"Did you wait too long?"
Ah , his mind supplies, that looks magnificent. And it truly is — the coat is different this time, in the darker shade of blue that seems to resonate with Albedo's eyes. It's hard to stop staring, trying to commit the picture to his mind, and remember every detail. There was a burning need to be closer and touch the man, the desire to be the full center of attention once more.
So, the boy tore his gaze away and started adjusting his scarf.
"No," he answered with a smile, "I've been there for a minute or two. You're right on time."
Traveling by foot, they made slow progress in climbing the mountain and took time to enjoy the picture-like scenery, wearing appropriate clothes as compared to their first attempt at researching. Aether was glad to be prepared. Paimon was, too, he thought. There was only so much warm food and running from one fire to another can do to comfort from freezing temperatures. He risked a glance at Albedo’s hand as the alchemist explained the difference between weather conditions at the foot of the mountain and its peak, answering Paimon’s annoyed mutterings after a strong wind that made her flew a couple of steps away. He was elegant. Looking back at the fight with hilichurls, his footwork was graceful and mesmerizing, akin to dancing from one place to another and making it seem effortless, easy. Something to worship, appreciate, and learn from.
It wasn’t fair to be so divine, the knight thought. Messy French braid and mischievous hair that has tried countless times to get at the face, one-sided dimple from the smile, breathy short-lived laugh, and undignified snort born from insulting Paimon, mumbling during experiments and sleeping in an uncomfortable position, smudges from ink and watercolor, leaving cups of bitter herbal tea around whatever place he stays in, collecting different things and then forgetting about them, cold-bitten and rough hands — that made him human, and thus unreasonably charming.
The hand was slender and full of thin scars, the evidence of work or facing danger — was it the cat? the one which was adept at running away? — at the field, and the traveler found himself smiling at the callosity on the middle finger, where the pen usually touches the skin. It was rare to see Kreideprinz without gloves, but the cold didn’t seem to bother the alchemist.
“When we make it through the cavern, it will get colder. Do you wish to rest before continuing forward Aether?” he asked, turning to face the amber-eyed knight. There was white frost on Albedo’s eyelashes and bangs, and Aether remembered fairy tales from Snezhnaya about the ice queen’s broken glass shards, morbid in its ending. It seemed suitable for such a sight. Right. It created a reason for piercing cold distance, shattered and crystalized with outward sharp edges.
Sometimes it really hurt.
“Yeah,” he nodded, keen eyes following every movement and memorizing small details.
It wasn’t an unpleasant surprise when a blizzard caught them in the middle of a cave which was illuminated by ominous crimson light. The wind was getting stronger and harsher, the snow was flying in a far more menacing dance than earlier, and the hot (painful, would not recommend) sting made Paimon’s cheek flush bright rose color. It was nice to have a safe place from freezing cold — even in such a dubious place.
Exhaling softly, he realized that it is the heart. It reflected ruby glittering rays, bursting and slivering upon scarlet quartz to flower the inner walls with intricate patterns. The uncomfortable feeling of dread was accompanied by childlike curiosity to touch the organ. It was pulsating, its glow expanding and faltering with time. Was it really safe to be there, closed off from the exit, and with a limited source of food?
Turning to the left, he caught a glance at Albedo through the kaleidoscope of vermilion shimmer, shattered by oblique sides of the cavern. The man was absorbed by the scene, blue eyes glinting — turning — red and Aether was a fool in his own right, allowing the trance to continue, but there was so much cruelty in destroying the waning feeling of rightness and kinship that he doesn’t want to advocate. Who was Aether to forbid these silent moments of closeness when he, an outlander, tried to find the same in the vast land of Teyvat that was indifferent to strangers and cold to their pleas?
“Amazing,” Kreideprinz murmured, looking straight at the knight with fervor and something bright, open, and vulnerable. It was the sight to protect and appreciate; the memory which you were able to embroider with pretty details and dreamlike quality without the guilty veneer in the consciousness. Aether wanted to hide it, sew into his every bone like a glittering gold of Li Yue cutlery, embody the art — Kintsugi — with his own life if only to bear it at all times.
This a weakness, his mind whispers, a hindrance in the searching for Lumine, a hazard that will be the ending, an ill fate brought by the traveler’s own hand.
“What’s so amazing,” Paimon screeched, “huh? You better start that camp faster, Aether! Do you wanna freeze to death?”
And, ah. That’s true. While the scarlet quartz emitted some heat, it was not enough to sleep peacefully at night and, certainly, not enough to cook something for dinner. “Don’t worry,” he said with humor, “Paimon, we can always use you to wind-proof the cave, can’t we?”
“Wha—”
“That is a good idea, actually,” Albedo mused aloud, looking thoroughly amused at his interrupting and staring directly at Aether, “but, nonetheless, are you hungry?”
He smiled, feeling too warm — good — being at the center of the alchemist's attention, and cheekily answered with the same question, earning a huffed laugh and soft smile. There was no need to fly through setting the camp as the sun was still quite high in the sky, but the heat made him sleepy, content. It was no trouble falling back at their usual routine — kindle a fire, pick a flat stone to use as a desk for cooking, listen to the other’s work at the back and help him pick a sturdy futon for sleeping.
The time was flowing through his fingertips as fast as a firefly.
Quiet murmurs, a crackle of the fire, and hearty sighs from Paimon made the coming night kinder, shielding him from nightmares. The ground was a familiar pain, partly softened by the mattress and tolerant thanks to the companionship.
Aether thinks it's awfully nice to have a partner who isn't against sharing bed and is good (indifferent? neutral?) about it. Nonchalant. Cool.
Albedo's hair is messy, loose from its usual braid, and thus able to tickle the face, pulling a slightly irritated sigh out of his chest. They're close, soft breaths mingling together and knees touching under the blanket. Aether finds something to settle down within his heart at the moment they've interwoven their fingers, skin to skin.
"Albedo?" he whispers, tethering a bit closer to the man.
It's a gentle grip. Kreideprinz's slender hand is rough and warm, easily encasing his hand and tracing circles with the fingertips. Teasingly moving forth to the soft skin of the wrist and then backing up, the alchemist makes him shudder, curling a little bit inside to hide. It is always an experiment, the desire to know all details. He's watching the traveler, glowing blue-red eyes bright with the interest, absent-mindedly answering back, "What is it? Are you uncomfortable?"
Aether is silent for a moment, drawing a thoughtless picture with his nails at the alchemist's skin, too absorbed with countless questions. Albedo is feverish, full of turbulent ocean water — its waves crashing and scratching at the care — and want, and this attention is a quiet thing, deadly and sweet.
"Just," the knight murmurs kindly, "know that I'm here for you."
There's a sudden stillness that made Aether look at his friend, concern appearing in the amber eyes. Albedo's face is a high-quality watercolor paper painted with the softest brush to make out a pained look of confusion that was slowly turning into understanding and gratitude. "I know," he said slowly, bringing their connected hands closer to his chest.
"I will remember it," and the traveler could only nod to this answer. It won't do anything good to push the issue so early when they've been together for a few months.
Aether scoots a little closer, able to taste a faint smell of smoke and paint at the back of his throat now, desperation clinging to his bones at the rushed desire to fight off the loneliness and touch starvation. It feels nice to look at Albedo when he's relaxed and doesn't seem to be so distant, aloof. The dim lighting makes his eyes darker, the molten gold sparks of fire and crimson quartz instead of the usual ice blue. It's a burning need to know more that pulled the words from his mouth, heart, sou—
"Do you know how to sing?"
The blizzard howls and thunders outside, the sound of it muffled by the cold stone, and the alchemist smiles at him, indulgent and lazy, "I don't," he answers the question with a tilt of his head to give him a once-over, "but I know a few tunes if you're interested."
"Even better than Venti?" Aether teases, freeing his hand from the gentle grip to brush a mischievous lock away from Albedo's mouth.
"I guess," the man hummed, "you need to find out."
It's an old tune — practiced and without the fumbling associated with new tricks, no long pauses to intake air and gathering thoughts to remember enough to prolong the action. There is something familiar in it and the traveler almost thinks he's heard it before, from Kreideprinz himself or someone else, but it's soon forgotten. The exhaustion, a quiet buzz in the background, was getting stronger with every minute, reminding him of today's activities.
Aether sank into the embrace, tucking his face into the alchemist's chest and curling a little inside to make a place for his hand to hold onto something solid. The humming was rhythmic and quiet, lulling the man into drifting off as the sound became waves crashing against the shore, a crackle of fire and whale's lonely song.