Chapter Text
There is a change in the winds—a persistent, beckoning force that promises nothing but trouble. It is the very thing that brought him to Mondstadt, the City of Freedom. He’s heard of the increasing appearances of a certain bard in the city, no doubt caused by the recent trouble with Stormterror.
Dvalin,
his mind supplies for him as he makes his way to Angel Share, the tavern directed to him by the gruff blacksmith, Wagner.
Apart from the certain intrigue by the reappearance of the Anemo Archon, the primary thing that calls Dainsleif to this city is the rising activities of the Abyss… Among other things. It seems almost funny that destiny finally brings him to this city, a small feeling of guilt niggling at the back of his head. He knows he’s started his whole journey because of his own purpose of bringing down the Abyss Order, but somewhere in the middle of it, some things had changed. He’s not one to have a travel companion—especially after the
last
one—but he owes
her.
And
she
owes him.
Before he met her, he was a wanderer, lost in his own rage at his predicament. Fate rarely is kind, especially to him. But she gave him more sense of purpose and direction, quite literally. He still remembers her face, tear streaked and stoic, but her eyes beheld determination, as she told him information about the Abyss. She learned about it in her time imprisoned and caged in a place she wasn’t supposed to be, and that was when he decided he needed her. He needed her mind, her knowledge, and so he saved her, took her away.
That was a year ago.
Traveling with her is… Easy. Comfortable. It’s comfortable because she rarely speaks, a distant look always in her eyes. He figures there’s more to her insistence at being taken away, a purpose, and perhaps that is why he had even been convinced, because he knows purpose when he sees one.
She doesn’t ask for much during their journey together, isn’t picky by what she eats or wears, and seems grateful for whatever he can provide for her. That doesn’t mean she’s completely helpless either. When he’d dealt with the people who held her captive, she made sure to take back the things they took from her. It was only on their third encounter with an Abyss mage two months after that did he notice the Vision she had with her. At that time, he thought that must have been the important thing she wanted back, when she’d ransacked the whole place that caged her.
(“You have a Vision?” he couldn’t help but ask.
She was silent, but eventually nodded, gripping the claymore they’d nicked off from the last hoarder camp they’d dealt with.
“I haven’t had it for too long,” she said, her wistful tone catching his attention. He eyed her discreetly as they started making their way to their next destination. There were whispers of Order activity outside the vicinity of Liyue Harbor, information they’d heard from the underground intelligence connections. Dainsleif had an inkling of it being the work of the Abyss Herald, a higher step from the usual hilichurls and Abyss mages. For the first time in years, Dainsleif felt more hopeful for his bleak journey, and it was thanks to her.
He could tell she wanted to say more, but he didn’t pry. She could tell more of her story in her own time, but for now he was content in letting her keep her secrets. After all, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have his own. Her name on his tongue was almost sweet, and although he didn’t feel intensely for her, he found himself slowly caring for her the more time he spent with her. There was something lonely and angry about her, a curious fire that was simmering beneath a calm surface. It was the same resolve that saved her from an otherwise terrible fate, the day he found her.
“I never told you how thankful I am for your help,” he eventually said when the silence settled. She looked startled, but there was a glint in her eyes, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“I owe you,” she said, slipping the Vision that was hanging off a silver chain around her neck back into her collar. Another secret to keep. “I also have my reasons why I want to find traces of the Abyss. Helping you is another means to my cause.”
It went unsaid that there was something else she wanted from him.)
He’s never asked, but he knows in due time she’ll eventually tell him. He doesn’t mind her secrets because her help in dealing with the Abyss Order is sincere and far too valuable. Anything that has to do with that nefarious organization is a feat none too easy. Her skills (and her Vision) makes him think it’s what led to her imprisonment by the Treasure Hoarders, but even now he doesn’t know why—and how.
Dainsleif can feel the passing Favonius Knight eye him with suspicion, but he stays unbothered as he crosses the pathway to the tavern. He orders a drink from the bartender—Dandelion Wine, he is told—and decides to stay at a table on the ground floor, tucked away in a corner.
Angel’s Share.
This is where she told him she’ll meet him again, days ago when they’d parted. She told him she was going to “check something out”, whatever that something is he didn’t ask, but after a year of traveling and assessing her, he finally relented that she is ready to watch over herself.
‘Granted she doesn’t get in trouble with Treasure Hoarders again.’
He is safely sat in a fairly secluded area, taking a few sips of Dandelion Wine, barely touching it, and gets lost in his thoughts. He’s come to care about his current traveling companion—dare he say, his
friend—
and now he can’t help but worry whenever she’s not by his side. Which is rare, to say the least.
What is her reason for leaving? She said it wouldn’t take long, but… It’s only been a week and he’s bothered by her lingering absence. Despite his very efforts in the past year not to get attached, he finds himself just that: attached. It’s troubling. Not because he hates his budding feelings, but because it leaves him vulnerable.
And when your greatest enemy is the Abyss Order, that’s the last thing you want to be.
He sets down his glass, peering at the liquid gold with listless eyes. Inwardly, he is reminded by her own frequent habit of getting too lost in her thoughts, and he almost chuckles at the irony of it all. It seems that due to their time journeying together, she has imparted onto him a few of her own habits as well.
“Dainsleif, you’re getting rather sloppy,” he couldn’t help but murmur to himself, a slight quirk to his mouth. It is a minuscule difference to his usual expression, but it is there.
He doesn’t understand what it is about her that is so beguiling—even with his old companion (a different
her
), he hadn’t been this…
What is the right word?
Long has he given up on a prospect that is remotely even romantic—perhaps, eons ago, maybe once or twice, he has thought about it. But that is a past that has since long gone. A life that has long since perished.
… Maybe it doesn’t do well to dwell on it. After all, he’s survived this long without that sort of pleasure. His sole purpose now is to find any and all traces of the Abyss and destroy them.
“Perhaps in a different life, then,” he says to himself. As he waits by himself in the corner of the tavern, images of her face fade in and out of his mind, like fluttering, falling leaves in Autumn—like the wind, fleeting yet lingering like a soft caress on one’s skin.