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Lisa sighs. She does that a lot now, she thinks.
She may be better than most at gauging abstract things like feelings, but she does sometimes get annoyed at certain things that people say they experience. Not because she doesn’t believe them, but more because she can’t check for herself as she prefers.
———
Marjorie had forgotten to return her library book on time, and so Lisa was forced to go on the annoying errand of retrieving it.
But Marjorie was not selling wares at ‘With Wind Comes Glory’. Nor was she anywhere near the city square.
Eventually, after asking around, Lisa tracked the saleswoman down to Angel’s Share, where she was nursing a drink in her hands at the table outside.
Noticing the other woman’s uncharacteristically demure expression, Lisa merely sat next to her, saying nothing.
It was a few minutes before Marjorie noticed Lisa, and she jolted at the realization.
“Ah, Miss Lisa! My apologies, I didn’t notice you there, this is about that library book isn’t it, I’m so sorry it must have slipped my mind, I can go and get it now-“
Lisa cut off her rambling with a simple hand on her shoulder, and Marjorie deflated.
“…I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, Marjorie,” Lisa softened, seeing the woeful state the woman was in.
She listened, patiently, as Marjorie told her how her father passed away in his sleep. How she had woken up and gone about her day as normal only to find out that it was anything but.
“I think he knew it was coming. He had that air about him, y’know? He had told me a few days earlier, ‘It’s gettin’ to that time, Jorie. Not much longer.’”
Lisa comforted the woman, and led her home, heading back to the library with the returned book in her hand and intrigue spinning in her mind.
She near-forces her curiosity to subside, the memories of scholars gone half-mad with erudition still a vivid experience.
———
But Lisa no longer has to wonder at how it must feel. To know that your life is going to end, to be powerless to stop it, and to find freedom in it all. To find peace.
She had long since come to terms with the payment she made when she touched that book. It’s not like she had much choice, after all.
Yes, she paid half her life for her power, and obtained her vision for the very thing that caused the madness in Sumeru that she ran from. But does she regret it?
She sighs again. She doesn’t know. All she knows is that the present has no use for regrets, that they change nothing for the past.
So, Lisa sighs. She sighs not for her lost life, a payment given far too long ago to be reversed.
She sighs at the people she will leave behind.
Poor Razor, torn between wolf and human, and her devout student. Little Klee, with her boundless joy, and love for fish-bombing and everyone in Mondstadt. Diluc and Kaeya, fire and ice, wanting to reforge the trust between them but blocked by whatever first brought them to blows.
And Jean.
Oh, Jean.
How was she going to tell her?
———
Jean pinches the bridge of her nose. Though it was usually an occurrence like a hilichurl camp, treasure hoarders or the Fatui that stresses her out, this was different.
Lisa Minci is acting odd.
While Jean won’t pretend that Lisa particularly abides by what the general populace may deem “normal”, Lisa’s tidbits of wisdom and her diligence to work spurred by her wish to relax were generally consistent.
But now, there’s an air around Lisa that Jean can’t manage to place. It… it frustrates her, in all honesty. She knows Lisa so well, and yet she still can’t figure out what’s changed about the other woman.
———
“Jean, dear, don’t you think it’s time you took a break?”
Jean looked up to see Lisa standing in front of her desk, arms crossed.
She was wearing her usual attire, the white blouse only slightly wrinkled after it’s long day, her royal purple overcoat tied in place with the vision that hung at her sternum, glowing purple and radiant. Her hair was in it’s loose ponytail, resting over one shoulder and curling into her neck. Her eyes, that ever-entrancing green, trained on Jean’s own.
Jean blinked a few times, then looked out the window to see a starry sky.
When had it gotten so late?
But she couldn’t stop now. The Fatui were getting more demanding, and there were reports of common supply lines being ambushed, and she was really making headway on this proposal-
“Jean, I’m serious.”
“I know, I know, but I’m so close to finishing this, and I just…” she loses steam by the end of her excuse.
“Come here, Jean.”
Jean looked up to see Lisa already walking away. She looked down at the proposal, finally seeing how her handwriting had deteriorated through it as the night had progressed, and sighed in defeat.
Lisa led her to the library, where a kettle of tea, two teacups, and a few biscuits sat on a table. Steam drifted up lazily from the teapot, curling and dissipating in the cool night air, warmed only by the tea itself, the golden-lit candles around the room, and the presence of the woman by Jean’s side.
They sat, and Jean marveled at how she felt the tension seep out of her. All it took was Lisa’s presence and she could feel something settle within herself.
This was how it started. Every time Jean burned herself out, Lisa would lead her to the library and they’d sit and drink tea. More importantly, it was not just when she was at the end of her rope that Lisa would invite her here. She’d bring Jean to celebrate, to converse, or merely relax in each other’s presence for whatever myriad of reasons. They’d laugh and smile, or cry and reminisce. Lisa would run her fingers through Jean’s hair as she redid her ponytail, and Jean would find herself leaning in to the touch.
And so, Lisa Minci and Jean Gunnhildr grew closer and closer until the lines between them damn near blurred.
———
So why is it that Jean now finds herself at a loss? Why is it that she can’t read the other woman?
She gets up and paces, ignoring the darkening skies and the light patter of rain that begins in earnest.
———
This is unlike her. She knows it is. Lisa doesn’t care for taverns, doesn’t care for the people in drunken stupors, loudly chanting or yelling or crying. She much prefers the library, where she can sit with a warm cup of tea. Even at this time of night, she would much rather be going through her usual endeavors.
Diluc knows all this, which is why his eyebrows raise further than she thought possible when he sees her walk into Angel’s Share, shoulders and hat slightly wetted by the drizzling outside.
“…Miss Lisa.”
“Master Diluc.”
“Can I help you?”
“I’d like one Death After Noon please.”
She can see him smooth out his expression of shock. It doesn’t work as well as he probably thinks it does.
“Yes, Miss Lisa.”
He makes the drink with ease as she takes a seat on a barstool.
“One Death after Noon,” he slides it over to her. She takes a sip, and grimaces.
It’s not bad, she supposes. The sweetness of the sparkling white wine and the herbal bitter of the dandelion wine mixed together creates a taste and texture that is both not too heavy and not too light. But Lisa, who’s accustomed to her teas, can’t quite get past the burn of alcohol.
Diluc notices her wince and asks a question. What possessed him to do so, she cannot answer.
“Miss Lisa, if I may ask… why did you choose that particular drink?”
Lisa sighs, waving a hand dismissively.
“Honestly, Kaeya raves on and on about this drink whenever asked, I just thought I’d come and see what all the fuss is about.”
Diluc is silent at that for a moment. “…Does it live up to its expectations?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Master Diluc is skilled, after all. Of course, it would probably be more appealing to someone more fond of alcoholic beverages.”
“Hm.”
A ruckus grows for a few moments in the second floor of the tavern, quieting down into a mess of chuckles and giggling.
It’s silent, for a moment, before Diluc speaks again.
“Why…”
She looks up from where she had been studying the drink, patiently waiting for him to find the words to his question.
“What prompted you to try it now, of all nights?”
Half her life for power.
She smiles.
“Just a whim.”
———
Diluc furrows his brows when Lisa turns to leave.
He tries not to think of a man with hair as red as his, and blood even redder. Of the knowledge, the acceptance in his eyes, far before he was met with his final moments.
He thinks instead about the déjà vu he feels in Lisa’s demeanor.
———
“Ah, acting Grand Master, there you are.”
It was morning, but the sun hid behind a sheet of gray from which fell the now ever-present rain.
Jean looks up from the desk, her thoughts sluggish from her late night spend pondering.
“Kaeya, I see you’ve returned from your trip. All went well, I assume?”
“I hope you’re not doubting my abilities after so long, Jean,” the man in question jokes, as he walks into the room. Other than the rain that has soaked through some of his hair, you’d think he just went for a stroll, rather than to disband an entire treasure hoarder camp.
Jean often disagrees with his methods. She knows that Kaeya’s prowess in lies and manipulation is just as formidable as his mastery of the sword.
She also knows that he’s kinder than he thinks he is.
“I wouldn’t dare, Cavalry Captain.”
He gives her a report of the event, both verbal and on paper. She nods at the end of it, and dismisses him, but… he doesn’t leave.
“Kaeya?”
“Acting Grand Master. Those are some impressive eye bags you are developing. Care to share the reason for them?”
She startles at this. One of the many things that Kaeya hides is his concern for others. For him to ask upfront is… a bit out of character.
“It’s nothing important Kaeya, thank you for your concern.”
“Hm… sorry Jean. I don’t quite buy it.”
She looks at him sharply, but he’s already smiling, an impeccably innocent front.
“It’s…” she sighs in exasperation. “It’s Lisa.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
Jean chokes.
“What do you- I’m not- We’re not- you-“ the acting Grand Master of the illustrious Knights of Favonius loses all composure and devolves into a mess of spluttering at the mere implication that her and Lisa may be more than friends, despite the fact that it was just yesterday she made her signature mushroom pizza for the librarian.
Kaeya simply smiles through her spiraling.
Eventually she comes back to herself, clearing her throat.
“Lisa and I are… not like that.”
One cerulean eye looks right at her.
“But you want to be. Don’t you?”
She does.
Oh how badly she does.
Kaeya leaves not long after that. His words stay swirling in her head. A ridiculously simple solution for a complicated situation.
“If you’re so worried about her, just ask what’s wrong.”
Sometimes she doesn’t like it when he’s right.
———
Klee is sitting on the floor of the solitary confinement room, tongue sticking out in concentration as she finishes the crayon drawing in the sketchbook Jean gave her. The room, despite its name, is cheerfully decorated in a berry-red rug, a low table with chairs meant for children, and a bookshelf of art supplies and books. Klee draws the last stroke of her illustration when a knock sounds at her door.
“Klee? Are you in there?”
“Lisa jiě jie!” She jumps up and rushes to the door to answer.
“I’m here, I’m here!”
The door opens to reveal Lisa, shoulders and hat drenched from the rain, making her way into the room.
“Hello, Klee. Do you mind if I join you?”
Klee shakes her head frantically, delighted by the prospect.
Lisa smiles down at her gently, patting her head as she makes her way to one of the chairs. She sits gracefully, despite the intention of the chair to be for a child of Klee’s size. It’s not much smaller than that of a normal table, but the difference is noticeable.
“What have you been drawing, Klee?”
Klee brightens, running over to tell Lisa every detail. She flips through her sketchbook to the first drawing she had made that day. Lisa patiently listens to her explanation of each drawing, and compliments the girl on every single one.
She’s proudly displaying her second-to-last drawing when the two are joined by another.
“Klee? Are you-“ Jean stops short when she sees Lisa sitting with the little spark knight.
Please tell me I’m not blushing, please tell me I’m not blushing, I’m doubling Kaeya’s workload, please tell me I’m not blushing, Jean panics.
That’s a curious shade of pink, Lisa notices, the color bleeding into Jean’s cheeks.
Lisa smiles, a soft, warm thing, and Jean’s breath damn near halts.
She finds herself at a loss for words, but Klee comes to the unknowing rescue.
“Master Jean! Master Jean! Look what I drew!” Klee all but leaps towards her, brandishing her sketchbook on the way.
Jean deftly grabs hold of the book from here it was clasped in the bouncing child’s hands. Jean looks over the drawing, the bright colors bringing a fond smile to her face.
“It’s lovely, Klee.”
The little girl beams at the praise, taking the sketchbook back. Jean is about to start reminding her of why she’s in solitary confinement in the first place when she catches Lisa’s eye.
I’m going to develop heart problems because of this, she laments. But only a small part of her brain can even process the thought. The rest of it has come to a screeching halt.
Because Lisa is looking at her in a way she hasn’t before. Or maybe she has. Maybe it’s only just now increased in prominence.
Lisa is looking at her in bone-deep reverence. In fondness. In-
There’s something else. She can’t quite place it.
Lisa, on the other hand, doesn’t know what kind of face she’s making. She doesn’t usually lose composure, but alas. She hopes she hasn’t given too much away.
She has. Jean won’t notice.
“I um…” Jean clears her throat. “I was going to take Klee out for a bit, seeing as Kaeya has er… pressured me into taking the rest of today off. So.”
“I see,” Lisa gets up, straightening her garments as she does. The little ornament on her hat rings with the movement. “I’ll be taking my leave, then.”
“You can come with.”
Lisa stiffens. Looks slowly over to Jean, who has already looked away, her cheeks still tinged with heat.
“Only if you want to of course, I wouldn’t want to-“
“Jean.”
“…Yes?”
“That sounds wonderful.”
They go to the fountain plaza, quickly running between shops to avoid getting drenched by the rain. As the sky darkens, the rain worsens to the point where the two women ask Klee if she wants to go inside, but she vehemently shakes her head and pulls a small umbrella out of her backpack, running off a little ways away. Jean buys an umbrella for herself, and offers to hold it to cover both her and Lisa, but Lisa declines.
“No, thank you,” she says, with a smile. “I quite like the rain.”
Lisa takes her hat off and dear Archons it’s like the sky is raining just for her. Her hair curls up plasters itself to her face. Her eyes close, her lips stretching into an almost heart-wrenchingly peaceful smile, and Jean is starting to seriously consider those heart problems.
But something whispers in the back of her brain. Something that sees just how deep that peace runs, how it’s wrapped itself into the marrow of her.
So she closes the umbrella.
Lisa, opens here eyes, looking towards her in surprise. “Jean, what-“
“I hope you don’t mind me joining you.”
Lisa looks at Jean. At how the candlelight glow from the shops around them seeps into the raindrops, turning them a burning gold as they fall onto her hair, onto her shoulders. She thinks then, that there truly is no need for the sun. Not when Jean is right there in front of her. Not when she much prefers the blue of her eyes to bask in.
Lisa steps closer. The two women face each other fully, but a few inches of space between them, as Lisa places one hand on Jean’s shoulder. The other reaches behind her, to the ribbon in her hair. They look into each other’s eyes, breaths mingling, hearts pounding, as Lisa pulls Jean’s hair free.
Jean swallows. Steels herself. Pulls together the courage that makes her the Dandelion Knight of Mondstadt.
She rests a hand on Lisa’s hip. The other reaches up to where Lisa’s hair-tie rests on her shoulder. She tugs it free.
She leans. A minuscule thing. Lisa’s eyes widen.
And-
“Master Jean! Lisa ā- Lisa jiě jie!”
The women step back from each other hurriedly, straightening themselves.
“Yes, Klee?” Jean winces at how haggard her voice sounds.
“Can we go inside? Dodoco doesn’t like the rain and… why aren’t you using your umbrella?” She blinks up at them, the question as innocent as could be.
Jean and Lisa look at each other, and promptly burst out laughing. At the gumption of a child who’s changed her mind, at their drenched hair and clothes.
Jean wipes a tear from her eye, nodding to the little girl. “It’s about time for you to go home anyway, Klee. Would you like me to walk with you?”
Klee smiles, in that bright, sunny way that only a child could, and says, “Yes, please! Can Lisa jiě jie come too?”
Jean looks to Lisa, who already looks apologetic.
“I’m sorry, dears, but I’ve promised my evening elsewhere.”
Jean ignores the pang of disappointment in her heart, choosing to nod in acceptance. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
An innocuous question.
One that shouldn’t prompt the shadow that flits across Lisa’s face.
“Of course, Jean.”
Jean smiles, and ushers Klee in the direction of Albedo’s house. Her mind, for the second time that day, swirling. Speaking of-
“Oh, Lisa!”
Lisa turns back, her hat back on her head.
“Is…” Jean takes a breath. “Is everything okay?”
Lisa stares. A second stretches into infinity.
Lisa smiles.
“Yes, Jean. Don’t worry your pretty head about me~” she winks.
Jean splutters. Obviously.
Lisa walks away, and Jean finally, properly walks Klee home.
As flustered as she is, Jean is the acting Grand Master of the Knights for a reason.
She knows a diversion when she sees one.
———
Lisa unravels.
She holds it in. But her mind is racing.
Everything in her wanted to lean in. To let Jean take her. To surrender, to-
No. She can’t. Not when…
Lisa sighs.
She can’t do that to Jean.
She finds herself at Angel’s Share before she knows what she’s doing.
“One Death After Noon, please,” she requests of Diluc, before he can ask questions of why a woman so averse to taverns like herself would be at one two days in a row.
“Miss Lisa! I’m flattered to know you’ve been listening to my recommendations.”
Kaeya is already sitting on a bar stool, and Lisa takes a seat next to him, setting her hat on the counter.
“I just thought I’d give it a try. After all, any drink so well-loved by one as experienced in drinking as yourself must be delectable.”
Kaeya laughs at this, his visible eye crinkling with it.
“I must say, Miss Lisa, that I never would have expected to run into you here. Any particular reason for it?”
Dammit, Kaeya. Nosy, even among the people he cares about. Not that he’d ever admit it. Lisa supposes he and Diluc have the same issue.
“Just a whim.”
“You and Jean really are bad at lying.”
She looks sharply to him. “Jean lied? What about?”
Kaeya smiles, a thin, fake thing. “Oh, nothing much, just about being concerned for you.”
Lisa is silent at this.
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Tell her what?”
Diluc interrupts.
“That you’re going to die?”
Lisa freezes.
Turns to Diluc, then to Kaeya. Both wear serious expressions. Kaeya isn’t even smiling.
Lisa sighs.
There’s no getting out of this one, is there?
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you? Or are you scared, Miss Lisa?” Kaeya slightly smirks at this.
No. She thinks. I’m not scared. I just-
She doesn’t want to imagine Jean’s face when she finds out. She doesn’t want to be the one to convince her not to march right off to Sumeru and demand a cure. She doesn’t want to think about what will happen when it’s over. When she’s gone.
She doesn’t want to give in to that look in Jean’s eyes. Won’t it just make the loss worse?
Lisa truly doesn’t know how to explain that, for all the peace she feels, the thought of what her death will do to Jean is waging war.
Outside, the rain keeps falling.
———
Lisa wakes up the next morning. The rain hasn’t stopped. The pit in her stomach has grown.
Today is the last.
She’s already written a will. Fischl, if she accepts, is to be the next librarian. Lisa doesn’t know the girl very well, but she has returned every library book she’s borrowed three days early. Whether it’s her that takes up the mantle or not, she’s left a detailed set of instructions for her successor.
Razor will get her Special Heating Cauldron. Perhaps he can learn how to make some new dishes with it, other than the hash browns he can already make so well. Her letter to him asks that he finds someone else to train him, that he’s done well, that she’s proud of him.
She’s bought a bottle of wine for Kaeya, and a painting of a blazing eagle for Diluc. Her letter to each of them implores that they take her as a reminder of how short the life of mortals really is. Asks them to act without regrets.
Klee, against her better judgement, will get a bottle of and the instructions to a potion that will make her bombs extra explosive, and a letter cautioning her to be careful with both. She chuckles, thinking of the headache that Jean will get-
Jean.
Lisa gets up. Readies herself. She makes sure that her clothes are perfectly tidy. Not a hair is out of place.
Ten minutes later finds her at Jean’s door, an umbrella in hand to protect from the downpour.
She knocks. Jean answers.
“Lisa?"
It’s early in the morning. She could ask for anything else. She could just tell her.
“Jean, dear, may I… ask something if you?”
Jean’s eyes widen, and then she straightens.
“Y-yes, of course. Lisa, you’ve done so much for me, it shouldn’t even be a question. Truly, without you, I…”
Jean touches her forehead, steeling herself, before looking Lisa right in the eyes.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Lisa’s breath hitches.
“Then, if…” she swallows. “If it’s not too much trouble, Jean, would you mind making your pizza for me?”
It’s a bit of an odd quest, she knows. She doesn’t expect Jean’s immediate nod in affirmation.
“Not at all! Come in.”
Lisa remembers herself, then. “Oh, but Jean, don’t you have to work? I apologize for not thinking of that, you don’t have to go out of your way to-“
“Lisa,” Jean holds Lisa’s forearms gently, reassuringly. “Kaeya has, once again, forced me into taking a day off. Apparently he’s taken over my duties for the day. I’m not quite sure why he’s so insistent on doing so all of a sudden-“
Lisa knows why. She doesn’t know if she wants to electrocute him or thank him profusely.
“But in truth, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need the break.” Jean stops then. “Thank you, Lisa.”
Lisa furrows her brows in confusion. “What for?”
“You truly made me realize that… that it’s okay. For me to take breaks I mean. You know how I was before, so… thank you.”
No, thank you, Jean. Thank you. It’s you that made me understand what the archon of this land wanted for his people so badly.
They spend the rest of the day together. Warmly, laughing, the lines between them blurring as usual.
For all of Jean’s propriety, Lisa finds that by the end of the day, her ponytail has loosened, locks of hair freeing themselves from their tie. Her blouse is wrinkled, her overcoat crooked, her hat rumpled.
She would have it no other way.
It’s only when Jean rises to light a candle that Lisa notices the darkening sky.
“I’ll take my leave now then, Jean.”
“O-oh, of course. Let me walk you out.”
Once Lisa is out the door, Jean laughs a little. She reaches a hand up, running it through the other woman’s hair.
“Oh, Lisa, a lot of your hair has come loose. Do you want me to re-do it?”
Oh, Lisa wants. But if she gives in to those hands now, she’ll never let go.
“That’s alright, I’ll be leaving it loose to sleep soon anyway.”
Jean nods, moving then to close the door.
“Goodnight, Lisa.”
Lisa is at peace with her trade.
Lisa wants nothing more than to never leave Jean’s presence.
“Goodnight, Jean.”
Jean smiles through a yawn. Before she closes the door all the way, Lisa continues.
“Goodbye.”
Jean looks to Lisa, but she’s already walking away.
———
She spends a couple of hours straightening up the library. She drinks a cup of tea, listening to the rain as it pours.
She walks home. The street lamps paint the puddles beneath her feet golden. The rain drenches her through.
She slips into bed, later. Puts out the candles. Darkness takes her room.
Goodbye.
Lisa Minci dies peacefully in her sleep.
———
The funeral is held a few days later. People come out, umbrellas in hand, eyes full of sorrow.
Lisa is buried behind the cathedral. Razor, feeling the loss of the woman who was the closest thing he had to a mother, places wolfhook at her grave. Diluc places a packet of tea. Kaeya places a bottle of Death After Noon.
Klee, bawling, places a framed drawing.
It’s of three people, holding hands. Klee stands in the middle. Jean to the right of her, and Lisa to the left. The title of her drawing is written above the three.
Klee and her Other Moms.
———
Long after the last attendant has left, a single person kneels at the grave. She holds no umbrella. Her right hand holds her sword, upright and in the ground.
Her left holds a vision.
It once glowed a brilliant, stunning purple.
It now holds but a muted gray.
Lighting strikes. The sound of thunder rolls over Mondstadt.
The rain pours on.
“I quite like the rain.”
Jean Gunnhildr weeps.