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Every night, I have the same nightmare.
I'm forced to watch my sister wretched from my grasp; then mock me by saying we'll meet again. I've gotten used to the feeling of waking up close to tears, sometimes letting a few out silently as to not disturb Paimon. Now and then, a gentle breeze brushes my skin, and I pretend it's Venti sending me comfort.
...
Not long ago, Madame Ping gifted me a teapot to rest in, but...
I'd be lying if I said it wasn't lonely.
I decorated the inside of my home with the help of Tubby; who has become a wonderful buddy to quietly drink tea with. Her, Paimon and I often watch the sunset over the peaks, light glossing over leaves of grape vines and assorted crops. The wind does not blow here.
"It's late, we should rest Aether." Paimon says, finishing with a yawn. I agree with a nod, and stretch.
"Then, have a wonderful sleep you two." Tubby chirps as we head inside the manor.
"You too, Tubby, rest well." I smile, closing the door with a gentle click. No need to lock the doors here. I leisurely make my way up the stairs, and enter my shared bedroom.
Paimon slept on a smaller bed, rested on a table like a child's toy furniture. I wouldn't tell her, but thats exactly how it was marketed. My bed rested in the far corner of the small room, tucked behind a privacy screen. It was there that I threw on a slip, and undid my braid; unleashing my untamed hair on the world.
"Today was fun, wasn't it?" Paimon asks dreamily, probably already in bed and half asleep.
"Sure was, Paimon." I reply. "I'm glad we got to spend some time with our friends." I crawl under the covers of my bed, and gaze out the open window at the porcelain moon.
"Paimon wonders if your sister would like all the friends you've made?" Paimon wonders aloud. I laid silently, searching for any semblance of a star pattern; a constellation, a sign. "What do you think?"
"...I think she would love them just as much as I do." I whisper. My chest swells, and i take a shaky breath. Paimon does not press on.
"Well, good night, Aether."
"Good night Paimon."
...
I awake in the dead of the night in a cold sweat, breathing deeply. The nightmare again. I look to the window but find no answer. The wind does not blow here.
I soon find myself outside, still in my pyjamas, looking out into the manufactured stars of the teapot. Was this what Scaramouche meant when he said the sky is fake?
...They say time heals all wounds, but surely it must rip open new ones, destined by fate to be exposed to the world. By the stars. The stars are a lie.
I think back to my friends.
My stars. The real stars.
A gentle breeze blows against my face, carrying birdsong and music with it. To my right stands Venti, strumming his beloved lyre with his eyes closed. I breathe in, and smell fresh cecelias from somewhere nearby.
"I know I should go back to sleep but..." I say, continuing to gaze skyward. "I want to listen for just a little longer."
And he indulges me softly, pulling me along like the pied piper until I'm back under my sheets. I allow my thoughts to slip away as I lose myself in his melody, and find respite for the night.
"Sleep well, old friend." The breeze breathes softly, before dying out completely.
...
Every night, I have the same nightmare.
And every night, the north star guides me back to rest.