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She swings her sword, letting it shatter back into starlight as Childe wanders up beside her, whistling merrily. “Noticed something?”
“Thought I saw a hilichurl.” She shakes her head, brushing her skirt down. There’s a flicker of movement in the undergrowth, but whatever it is, it’s too small to pose any real threat. “What are you doing?”
“Me? Looking for meat.” He frowns, glances at their camp underneath the gnarled tree, smoke curling picturesquely up from the fire. “We’re out of food again. Did you know?”
She blinks, checks her backpack, flushing when she realises that he’s right. “I swear I cooked some Sweet Madame just yesterday.”
Childe tilts his head in the direction of the camp. “Maybe your emergency rations ate it all,” he commented, voice dry – Paimon is floating near the fire, dozing, and now that she thinks about it Paimon does look a lot rounder than she usually does.
“That wouldn’t come as a surprise,” she mutters, then sighs, turning to survey the land around them. Besides the occasional rustling of grass, there’s nothing around for miles and miles. “We might have to go look for fish or something.”
“I’ll go.” Childe volunteers immediately, and she stares at him, watching his back as he walks away. She doesn’t miss the tension in his shoulders, the way he holds himself upright, too stiff. “You watch the camp. Don’t let your friend eat anything else.”
Before she can answer, he turns and stalks away, weaving through the tall grass. She watches for a while, conflicted, then shakes her head and makes her way back to their camp, her mind awhirl with thoughts.
Childe is being petty. And she thinks she might know the reason. Though he’s secretive about his work, in other aspects he’s not difficult to read, and they’ve travelled together long enough for her to understand what makes him tick.
She isn’t sure whether to find him endearing or aggravating. Heaving another sigh, she stomps over to the fire, picking up a nearby branch and tossing it into the flames. It’s enough ruckus to wake Paimon, who startles, jolting up into the air as she flits about wildly, scanning for any hint of danger. “Lumine!”
“Paimon,” she answers, placing her hands on her hips and glaring half-heartedly at her friend – while her tendency to wolf down their food is decidedly inconvenient, it has happened so many times that she’s more or less given up on trying to keep her in check. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Huh?” Paimon looks confused, her voice still drowsy with sleep, but Lumine taps her stomach and instantly her eyes widen, her cheeks flushing a violent shade of pink. “Oh, um. Paimon was hungry?”
“We ate just before we left the city!” she exclaims, narrowing her eyes at Paimon, who at least had the decency to look sheepish. “You can’t go around demolishing all our food just because you have four stomachs.”
She pouts, floating a little closer, twirling a lock of her hair around her fingers. “Paimon is sorry. Paimon promises she won’t do it again!”
“You said that the previous time, too.” Lumine closes her eyes, then shakes her head, deciding not to waste her breath. “Come on, we need to look for food.”
“Oh, okay.” Paimon bobs closer, looking around, hiding a yawn behind her hand. “Where’s Mr More-Money-Than-Sense?”
“He went fishing,” she answers, staring at the fire, able to feel its heat even from here, licking against her skin. “We might be able to find eggs if we climb the trees nearby.”
“Mm.” Paimon spins around, her arms akimbo, a furrow in her brow. “Wait, he set off without you? That’s weird! He’s usually so clingy!”
She shrugs, turning to scan the branches nearby. “Nothing wrong with wanting some alone time.”
“Coming from Childe?” Paimon’s voice drips with incredulity, and frankly, Lumine can’t blame her. “Just last week he was whining about how you ditched him to go fight the Oceanid!”
“It’s not like I know what he’s thinking, either.” She doesn’t see any nests in the trees, and her shoulders sag. “Maybe he has some Fatui work he needs to do. Does it matter?”
“Well, if he’s doing scary Harbinger things then you need to keep an eye on him!” Paimon flits around, visibly distressed, and Lumine resists the urge to sigh again. She’s been sighing a lot lately. “You trust him way too easily.”
“He’s not going to hurt us,” she points out. “He’s had plenty of opportunities to do that since we started travelling together. Maybe he’s just working off excess energy.”
Paimon makes a face, folding her arms across her chest, but wisely doesn’t press the matter. “Maybe we can look for sunsettias? Paimon saw some in the trees over there.”
“Oh, where?” And Paimon points into the distance, in the direction Childe had gone. An idea sparks in her mind, and she blinks, her lips parting in consideration.
“Paimon, could you stay and watch the camp? Make sure no hilichurls attack us or anything.” Not that there should be any – she’s certain this area is deserted for miles, but she doubts it’d be a good idea to let Paimon follow her.
“What? What do you expect Paimon to do? Fend them off with a stick?” she protests, but she doesn’t respond, simply giving her a long stare. Paimon seems to curl in on herself, a distinctly unhappy look on her face. “Fine, fine. Paimon knows what you’re thinking. Go look for him.”
“I’ll bring you a sunsettia,” she promises, already setting off across the plain. Paimon makes a sound of dissent but doesn’t complain any further, and moments later, she’s little more than a floating white blob, blurry between the trees.
She twists, looks back at the camp, shading her eyes from the sun – the fire still burns, bright orange dancing stark against all that green, and she turns away, focusing on the area ahead.
Knowing Childe, he’s made a beeline for the river. To him, water means more than just a Vision; it reminds him of home, that tiny fishing village where he grew up, and till this day sitting by the ocean calms him down.
More than once she’s caught him staring out at the harbour, something close to wistfulness in his eyes. Reminiscing a past she knows little about.
He always looks so different during those moments. So far away, unreachable, untouchable. It makes her heart thud in her chest, low and loud, but she doesn’t wish to think about what that might signify.
She draws a deep breath, then plunges through the tall grass, picking her way to the river. She can hear water gurgling in the distance – not much further away, then.
When she breaks through the trees, stumbling upon the river, the first thing she sees is Childe sitting cross-legged on a rock, his eyes closed, face tipped towards the sky. Sunlight touches him, turning everything warm and golden, and for a moment she simply watches him.
He looks more peaceful now than he does when they’re together. Laughing, talking, fighting, the wind at their backs, their blades in their hands – she likes to think that he enjoys his time with her, but rarely does he seem so serene. It’s a strange expression to see on his face, and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly unsure what to say.
She’s followed him here. There is a point to this whole excursion, but she can’t remember what it is.
“Are you just going to stand there, ojou-chan?” Childe cracks open an eye, staring straight at her, and she startles, back turning ramrod straight. Something flickers in his eyes, but almost immediately it’s gone, too quick for her to decipher. “I thought you were watching the camp.”
“Paimon volunteered,” she says. A half-truth, but he doesn’t need to know that. He raises an eyebrow, hopping down from the rock, water splashing around his boots, soaking his pants.
“And if we return to the camp to see that she’s eaten even your emergency apple stash?”
Lumine shrugs. “I’ll deal with that then.” She holds his stare, undeterred by his intensity, and after a while, Childe exhales.
“Why are you here?” He wades out of the river, stepping onto the bank closest to her, his hair tousled, blue eyes sharp. “I know you didn’t follow me out of simple boredom.”
She hesitates, still contemplating how to respond. He waits, his fingers curling and uncurling by his sides – it’s obvious that he’s fidgety, even if he tries to pretend that everything’s fine. “I was wondering whether you’re all right.”
He blinks, surprise flitting across his face, before his lips curve. It’s a practised smile, one that masks his secrets behind a veneer of geniality. “Why would you think that I’m not?”
It’s also a smile she can see right through. “Don’t pretend, Childe. There’s no one here but the two of us. You can tell me.”
He falters, eyes widening infinitesimally before he laughs and shakes his head. “Now, that’s a surprise. I didn’t know you cared so deeply about me, ojou-chan.”
She grits her teeth at the blaséness of his words. Even after all this time, he still refuses to be honest around her, to speak his mind despite the doubts that lurk behind his playful façade.
For she knows that he doubts. That he has insecurities and questions, no matter how flippant he is about them, no matter how often he lies and diverts and pretends. “Why wouldn’t I? We are companions, after all. It’s only right for me to care.”
Silence falls between them, thick and deafening. All she hears is the sound of the river flowing; the quiet gurgle of water, always seeking to return to its source.
Then he opens his mouth. “What do you want to know?”
It’s the first opening she’s had since they left Liyue Harbour, and she latches onto it, her words tumbling out before she has a chance to think through them – “Are you upset about what I told Zhongli?”
He stiffens, the line of his shoulders tensing, eyes turning dark and narrow. “What makes you say that?”
There’s a warning in his voice, but she barrels on nonetheless. It’s too late for her to take back what she said. “Because you can’t follow me forever. Because you can’t follow me away. You are bound to Teyvat, the way I am bound to my brother. And that irritates you.”
She knows she’s putting words in his mouth, and she half-expects him to blow her off, to make some snide comment about how she knows nothing about him. Instead, he exhales, shoving his hands inside his pockets, and kicks a pebble into the river.
It lands with a quiet splash, the pebble sinking slowly into the water, leaving behind nothing but a ripple. “There isn’t anything we can do about that, is there?”
She’s surprised to hear him admit so readily to his feelings. “So it is upsetting you?”
He raises an eyebrow and glances at her, lips curving upwards. “What, were you just guessing? You said it with such confidence, though.” He crouches, picking up another pebble and tossing it between his hands, expression contemplative. “I don’t know whether I’m upset or frustrated.”
“Is there a difference?” she asks, stepping forward to crouch beside him, staring at the stones littering the loamy soil underfoot. To her surprise, he doesn’t move away from her.
“Not really.” He turns his head, leans his chin on his knee, watching her. It’s impossible to read his face, his eyes shuttered behind an easy smile. “Unless you want there to be.”
She frowns. He’s always so hard to understand, hiding his true meaning and intentions behind careless words and playful glances. His earlier outburst, when he said he’d go fishing and told her to watch over the camp, was probably the most she had ever seen of his true self.
“We can’t pretend forever,” she says, cupping her face between her hands, watching as Childe tosses his pebble into the river once again. It lands with a louder splash this time.
“But we can pretend enough,” he answers, his voice quiet. She doesn’t correct him; instead, she tilts her head, listens to the sounds of the river, to her heart roaring in her ears.
They stay together in companionable silence for a while, neither of them speaking a word, and slowly she feels the tension from earlier in the day dissipate. When he reaches for her hand, she doesn’t pull away, closing her eyes as his lips brush against her skin.
His mouth is warm and soft, and it makes her stomach flip, thousands of tiny butterflies taking up residence in her belly. Childe smiles, his fingers intertwined with hers. “Shall we go?”
She nods, pushes herself up to standing, still holding his hand. They might not have discussed whatever was bothering him, but maybe her presence alone was enough, somehow. “We have a long way to travel if we want to get to our destination by morning.”
“That’s not a problem,” he answers with a wink. “I know a shortcut.” Then he lets go, turning to make his way back through the tall grass, and she hurries after him, her gaze fixed on his back, wondering, wondering.
She is tied to Aether. No matter what, her twin will always be her final destination. But perhaps somewhere along the way, she can make space in her heart for another.