Work Text:
Dark eyes, pink lips
Now my heart is racing
Hot fingertips, don't know what I'm facing
Everything is new to me, I like what you do to me
Now it's you, only you
Now I'm in uncharted water
Territory getting hotter
And I think I like it, I think I like it, 'cause
Only a girl
Knows how a girl feels.
───────
It’s surprising, the first time it happens. The first time Eula’s heart flutters for a girl.
Mondstadtians talk about love as if it is something so grand—something so planned, on a day where the wind is slow and flowers are cascading through the air to welcome an epiphany to an unsuspecting young girl. And Eula’s only impression of this is through what she has read in books on days she would be locked in the library by her parents, or forced to study literature by tutors who cared little about what Eula wishes to do.
But love, to Eula, came in autumn—when she was shivering cold but insisted on going out without her windbreaker on. She was never particularly fond of autumn. She felt that the season stood as an obstacle between her and winter, a time of year that understood her far better. Autumn was sad in far too many ways—deciduous leaves would wither in preparation for winter, crumpling into brown, vermillion shades and covering the grass underneath. To find happiness in such a time seemed difficult until the moment it happened.
───────
There is a painful stagnance to Eula’s life that has never changed, and while it’s bearable on some days when she’s alone, it’s torturous on others. As with most days, she watches over the expanse of Mondstadt from the confines of her bedroom, locked away in the high towers of the Lawrence residence with papers she didn’t wish to look at piling on her desk.
It’s almost disconcerting—the way a city can look so happy while she’s so sad. She leans her elbows against the cold window sill, legs parted against the backrest of the chair as she hums a tune from Eine Kleine, because if she messes up her notes during her exam—she’ll lose her chances of leaving the home for at least a month. She supposes it’s impossible for everyone to be happy. When she’s older, she might be less sad that she’s always so alone.
Lawrence girls don’t go out to play. They utilise their time to hone their skills, her father’s words cross her mind, and young Eula sinks further into her chair as her fingers on the invisible piano pause.
“Young miss, your teacher has arrived,” a gentle voice calls out to her, interrupting her silence. Eula turns her head, startled, but immediately composes herself upon realising it’s improper of her to show too much on her face. Her lips curl into a small smile in greeting for the maid at her door, but stands to her feet once her dance instructor enters the room.
“Madame,” she curtseys, heart stuck in her throat. Her instructor struts forward, holding a cane in her hands. She raises her chin, looking down at her student with a critical stare. Eula bites her lip to conceal the wreck that her nerves have left of her within her, knees growing sore from how hard she’s trying to maintain her posture.
“Straighten your back,” her teacher corrects, lightly tapping Eula’s shoulder. “Hurry along now, we’ll go to the field right beyond the city walls. There is no one else there,” she announces, turning her back to Eula sternly and uttering nothing else. Eula nods meekly in acknowledgement to her teacher’s statement, fixing the skirt of her dress such that it flares out properly when she dances. She hobbles to her mirror, her knees stinging from the extended curtsey.
Lawrence girls don’t express feelings on their faces. It is a burden for others to see, so Eula straightens her back and raises her fingers to either side of her lips, pulling its corners into a smile. It falls again, and the young girl turns away from the mirror—it’s too difficult to see herself this way.
Her maids tie her long hair into braids and she complies, because she is young and has no right to speak up against those far older than her. Her mother has always insisted that she look her best when she leaves the house—because as the heir to the Lawrence clan, she must learn to uphold her family name with utmost respect. Eula’s feigned gratitude for her maids fades when she is the only one left in her bedroom yet again, playing with the edges of her braids. She has always wished to keep her hair short, and let it out for the wind to play with.
Eula clenches her fists with childish adamance and leaves her room. Lawrence girls are never late, so she rushes behind her teacher who must be far along the road, and would be waiting at the bridge with a look of disappointment on her face.
Lawrence girls don’t run. It is mannerless, so Eula walks instead, but as quickly as her legs can carry her, lifting her skirt to allow mobility.
───────
“One, two, three, two, two, three,” the instructor calls out, clapping her hands to form a rhythm. Eula takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, raising her arms to fourth position—one arm lifted above her head and the other outstretched, thumb relaxed by tucked slightly inwards and elbows lifted to just the right height. Eula mumbles the rhythm under her breath as she lowers her arms to third position, and then takes a step forward with her foot. And then she lets out a breath and extends her leg to the height of her waist. “Three, two, three,” the rhythmic claps continue and Eula bends her waist, swaying her hand through the air—but she takes a wrong breath and loses balance.
Eula sucks her breath in, desperate not to lose her flow, but her strength gives way and she falls off balance. Although her teacher is standing right in front of her, she does not do as little as reach a hand out to help, or contort that cold expression of hers into one of empathy. “You cannot keep missing this step. How will you get a distinctinction for your exam?” the old woman snaps, the wrinkles on her forehead leaving deeper creases on her skin than they’ve done already. “Get up,” she demands and Eula dips her head in embarrassment.
“Go on!” her teacher yells so loudly that even the squirrels flee from the trees. Eula peers down at her grazed calf, the surface of her skin gradually morphing into a bright red. A strong gust of wind blows, sending a chill down the young girl’s arms as she scrambles onto her feet, positioning her arms in first. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Dance like a dove, extend your arms freely and lift your chin.”
Eula raises her head and waits for the queue, and like a dove who knows the taste of freedom, she embarks on her voyage of movement.
Eula only manages her pirouette on her third try, which is far too late for a noble lady of her calibur. She should have known better—how to hide the pain in her calf as terrible as it may be, how to pull through till the end of a performance despite her mistakes. Dance—it is an art, after all. It can be saved even from a simple mistake, but it takes creativity and practice, yet it seemed even her five lessons a week could not save her.
“Good girl,” her teacher offers minimal congratulations upon her late success. “I will fetch us some food from the Good Hunter, so wait here and rest. Practice your pirouettes and grand jeté, it will help you when you finally learn how to tango.” Eula stands, although the gash on her leg has started to sting terribly—but she must, to show respect for those senior to her. Lawrence girls don’t express feelings on their faces. It is a burden for others to see, she remembers, though unwillingly, and the words echo through her mind till she conceals her pain well enough.
And when her teacher leaves for Mondstadt, Eula is left alone on the outskirts, the open lands with crimson apples and sparrows with ochre feathers. The farthest her parents have allowed her are the shops within the city walls—and if they were to find out that she’s been left on her own this way, her mother would collapse on the couch with a palm to her forehead and her father would give her a lashing so bad she would end up with red streaks for weeks. The ones from her last lashing are yet to fade.
Eula sits upon a stone, lifting her dress to her knees as she kicks her wounded leg up to get a look at the injury. She reaches her fingers forward experimentally, but she winces.
Eula hears a cacophony of quacking behind her, eyes glittering at the sight of ducks drifting across the river peacefully. They are so beautiful in their natural form, to be able to swim with their families so proudly and to feel happiness from it.
“I wanna feed the ducks…” she mumbles under her breath, eyes darting around in search of anything edible. When she finds nothing, she picks an apple off the ground and offers it to the river. The ducks scatter from the ripple left in the water by the fallen apple. Lawrence girls don’t go out to play. They utilise their time to hone their skills. Eula’s heart clenches, but she stands regardless, because she must.
At least she can look for happiness in practicing her family’s traditional ‘Dance of Sacrifice’. Her teacher has never allowed her to do it, even if she pleaded for her permission to try so on months where she wasn’t permitted to leave the home, she would read books that were stocked in the library and she would mimic the women in the pictures. “You need two to tango,” her teacher had kept reminding her, well-aware of the young girl’s persistent efforts to try her family’s dance, but it was the one order Eula refused to listen to.
She wouldn’t wait till she found someone else to learn, because from her knowledge, no one would like to associate with a blossoming Lawrence. The people of Mondstadt have always despised her for being born to her family, to have her cursed ancestry running in her blood. And at this point, it did not matter if her parents resented her mingling with other children—because the parents of these children have warned them since her birth to not mix with the girl named ‘Eula’.
Eula inhales deeply, calming her tumultuous thoughts, else they’ll disturb her focus. And so, she goes from memory, following steps like the women did in the books. Her footwork is rough, but sensible because she has danced for a few years. She glides across the field, swinging her arms in the air proudly and raising her hips confidently. Leaves scatter with the swift movement of her feet and a gust of wind blows to tousle her braids. Although she falls with an unfortunate misstep during her spin, she lets out a smile. The pile of leaves she’d landed on crush under her weight, and some from the tree she’d landed under fall upon her hair.
“Mmph…” she fumbles after her laugh, until a hand stretches out to her.
“You’re really pretty,” a foreign voice squeaks. Eula turns her head with eyes widened owlishly, having never had a hand held out to her. The girl who speaks to her—whoever she may be—has a voice sweeter than the nectar of sweet flowers, and a smile far brighter than the sun. “Are you okay? I don’t want you to get hurt,” she continues, sticking her arm out even further. Eula is, quite frankly, startled by the approach and furrows her eyebrows as a reaction.
“I’m… sorry?” Eula tilts her head, staring pointedly at the hand outstretched to her. Not once in her life, has she ever had someone around her age approach her. It was an impossible thought, because even adults steered clear of her where she passes. She has gotten long accustomed to being alone, because without the expectation of having friends, she couldn’t ever feel lonely. She wonders if the girl has not studied history, or if she’s from civilization at all—her deep brown hair has twigs and yellowed leaves, dirt freckling her face.
“I’m Amber. Outrider Amber,” she greets with a grin stretched across her face.
Could anyone approach her knowing the darkness that shrouded her family’s past? The depravity, the despotism—how the Lawrence clan was the reason Mondstadt had fallen onto such a hard time. While she is only ten and fails to understand the true weight of history in the present, she has only been taught to follow the strict rules her relatives require her to abide by.
“You’re spacing out!” Amber tilts her head, opening her eyes to reveal large hazel ones.
“My apologies,” Eula blushes. Slowly and with much hesitance, she wraps her hand around Amber’s and allows the stranger to pull her onto her feet. The adults would not know who she interacts with in secret if they weren’t around, and thus permits herself to indulge herself in this exchange she may never get to again. Amber skips past formalities and drags Eula to the rock she’d been seated upon before, while she kneels on one knee. Eula watches with pursed lips, too nervous to speak to the girl who handles her with far too much enthusiasm.
“What’s your name?” Amber questions cheerfully, pulling out a roll of bandages from her pocket. “I hope you don’t mind me helping you bandage up! I usually bring these around because my buddy, Razor, gets injured all the time,” she grins, and when she brushes her fingers along Eula’s open wound, Eula doesn’t feel the sting she did when she held it herself. Her heart throbs beneath her chest—a sensation she mistakes for fear and anticipation.
Amber looks so bright under the sun—and beside her, on the ground, she’s left her doll which looks a little like its owner.
“My name is Eula Lawrence,” Eula replies and the unkempt girl before her responds with an enthusiastic hum. She doesn’t seem to be very good with wrapping bandages, because the result of her effort has the bandages only covering the wound, but it doesn’t press against it tightly enough so it comes undone.
Amber gapes at her failure and pouts out of disappointment.
Eula blinks upon witnessing such a reaction. “Why do you look so sad?” she questions, her voice more demanding than intended to be.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I didn’t think I’d do so badly, is all!” Amber laughs, rubbing her neck awkwardly. Eula, taking the bandages in her own hands, wraps them tightly around her bleeding injury much faster and more cleaner than Amber has intended to. The other girl watches with great interest, wondering how she can do it so expertly when Amber herself has wrapped bandages on hundreds of other occasions. “You’re so talented at everything!” she exclaims, and Eula feels the conspicuous flutter in her stomach for the umpteenth time.
“Flattery…” Eula grumbles under her breath, not knowing how to piece together much better of a sentence other than the word itself. Amber stands, making to pick up her doll too, and frowns again. Eula cocks her head in confusion, wondering what else she must’ve said to be upsetting.
“I really mean when I say you’re cool! I’ve never met anyone cooler than you,” Amber insists. “If you want my forgiveness, you need to teach me the dance you were doing earlier!” Eula swallows, trying to make sense of the strange girl’s antics. She was struggling to make sense of her ever-changing expressions, and to understand why forgiveness was suddenly brought up has left Eula gaping rudely in her thought. Without waiting for further permission, Amber grabs the Lawrence girl by the wrist and pulls her into a stand.
Amber is only an inch taller than Eula herself, but she does not tease her about it.
“It’s my family’s traditional dance…” Eula replies with uncertainty, wondering if it would be appropriate. She has already crossed several boundaries by interacting with a girl so boisterous and shabby—in her family’s words, ‘rambunctious’. Contrary to the traitorous feelings within her that egged her on to have fun, she wishes to leave before she ventures far beyond a point of rescue. Nevertheless, Eula is still a child and children know little about self-control—all it takes is for Amber to hold out an encouraging hand, and she accepts it.
“What do you think you’re doing, young lady?!” a shrill voice slices through the air and a harsh hand juts out towards Eula, pulling her back from Amber. “Has your father not taught you well enough not to mingle with commoner children?” her instructor scolds, maintaining such a harsh grip on Eula, that the little girl struggles to hold back the tears in her eyes. Fearful, she turns her back to the girl she’d been learning to consider a friend. Amber stands in her place, lips parted in shock as she watches Eula get pulled away by a grumpy old lady who doesn’t know better.
“Eula!” Amber cries out but Eula is forced to turn her back to their budding friendship, dragged up to the Lawrence residence up on the hills up high where she would be watching citizens from afar, missing the taste of friendship on her tongue.
───────
And their story unfolds as follows: a capricious tale between a girl who enjoyed her time leaping over rotting logs, dirtying her knees on muddy plains on adventures and a noble who was more a Lawrence than she was a girl of her own, who has learned to defy society who has never cared for her presence in the first place. Eula always sneaks out with the excuse of helping the Knights of Favonius with sudden commissions, with a complaint about her family in tow—and they would meet where they first did when they were ten and learned far too quickly about the world.
───────
Eula raises her arms into fifth position above her head, and pressing her thighs together to finish her dance, exhaling a breath she’s been holding for the segment which requires her to go on pointé. The results from her classes have appeased her parents enough to allow her some freedom—although they are still strict about her not mingling with her group outside the Knights of Favonius. She opens one eye, and beyond the barks of a tree along the riverbank, she spots red fabric trying to go unnoticed.
“Are you here to spy on me?” Eula asks coyly as she stands with her hand pressed against her hip. Amber peers her head out from behind the tree, face flushed out of embarrassment. Hugging her doll—Baron Bunny, she stubbornly calls it, and resents it when anyone calls it otherwise—she emerges from the cover of the tree and stands. Eula strides forward, extending a hand.
“No, I was just worried… you might be in trouble,” Amber stammers, face burning even brighter red. Reluctantly, she holds Eula’s hand and is immediately pulled closer. The Outrider flusters, wondering if her hands are too sweaty or what’ll happen if she misses a step and brings the both of them into a fall, but Eula, on the other hand, doesn’t have a worry in the world. She wears a gentle smile that Amber has seen only on her own, and never with anyone else. Her heartbeat thrums dangerously at the edges of her fingertips where they touch Eula’s palm. “I’m not a very good dancer…” she reminds, voice louder and cracking from nervousness.
“You don’t have to be so nervous around me,” Eula chuckles, resting a hand around her friend’s waist, which fits so well in the cusp of her palm. “Dance with me,” she grins, and Amber finds it too difficult to deny such an opportunity.
She makes a meek sound of consent—it didn’t really matter what Eula suggested, she would agree to it anyway. Eula leads her into a stride and spins the Outrider, though handling her with care such that she doesn’t fall and earn herself another injury. Eula would hate to be a reason for another one of Amber’s scars—she already has far too many without any assistance. Amber relaxes only minutes later, when she realises the brush of wind against her cheeks and the thrill of adrenaline isn’t so bad.
“Why do you still hide when I’m dancing? You can watch me when you please,” Eula says with a hum in her tone, half her mind focused on the rhythm they’re meant to follow. She leads Amber into a sway and spins her to press the other girl against her chest. She lowers her gaze to meet Amber’s eyes, now that she can’t look elsewhere. “Anything wrong?” she arches an eyebrow and oh, poor Amber’s cheeks flare so much out of embarrassment, she almost collapses.
“I didn’t want to interrupt you,” Amber squeaks, ducking under Eula’s arm to return to a position where they’re facing each other instead—and not with their faces only a few centimeters apart. Her excuse isn’t taken too well, and she’s able to tell from the way Eula tightens their intertwined fingers and makes a pout. There is something about the knight’s scrutiny that leaves Amber feeling like her words are being taken apart by every angle, and it doesn’t help her nerves.
Eula strides with Amber till they’re close enough to the river to see their reflections. “It’s so bright today, is it not? You can see the clouds floating over our heads,” she remarks, a distant look in her eyes as she says so. Amber’s heart slows with this thought, replaced by an innocent joy rather than the furious aggression of her panic… panic exclusive to Eula.
“That’s not a very you thing to mention,” Amber raises an eyebrow.
“What is a me thing then?” Eula smirks. “By your definition.”
“To focus on dancing.”
“You could’ve said so earlier,” Eula remarks and then raises the arm holding Amber’s into the air, before bending the Outrider over the clear river. The tall grass swaying to the gentle breeze tickles their exposed skin and time seems to stop for a moment for both of them, as even Amber is left so shocked, she forgets to smile. Eula can’t figure if the clouds are more beautiful, or the girl beneath her, trembling in her grip. “Amber…” the knight mutters, a gentle redness creeping to her own face.
“My heart’s going to hate you if you keep pulling these stunts,” Amber says through gritted teeth and Eula lifts her again, finishing their tango with a spin. They pause a moment to catch their breath, breaths averted and face far too warm for a cool day in Mondstadt’s autumn.
“Tell your heart I said hi,” Eula winks, and it catches Amber so far off guard that she almost collapses straight out of Eula’s grip and into the water. But she doesn’t, and her heart drops for a second as she’s caught before her fall and helped back to her feet.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Amber coughs, separating their hands.
Eula’s expression contorts into one of worry as she wonders if she’s done something wrong. “Are you okay?” she questions, eyebrows furrowed deeply.
“Of course, when am I not?” Amber laughs (and it is her best attempt at ignoring her racing heart), before reaching out to Eula and pushing her down onto the grass. While Eula easily could’ve wrestled out of Amber’s grift, she doesn’t try to—after all, her parents wouldn’t be home by the time she’s home and there would be no one to comment on her dirt-stained clothes or muddied hands. Instead, she looks up at her good friend with affection which is held typically for a person far more than just a friend.
But this is a realisation that passes Eula’s mind as soon as it graces her with its presence—the idea that Amber, to her, could be more than a friend. Because she cherishes the girl so much, her worst fear would be to chase her away.
Lawrence girls don’t express feelings on their faces. It is a burden for others to see. Eula’s smile falls at the memory. Amber lays on the ground next to her, kicking her legs out with a satisfied sigh. Though, when she turns her head and notices the solemn expression on Eula’s face, she rolls over onto her stomach and tilts her head. “Why the change in expression?” she prys, raising a hand to poke Eula in the cheek.
“It’s nothing,” she laughs it off, slapping Amber’s away playfully.
“You won’t get into trouble for coming out to see me, right?”
“No, I got permission today, and I did well on my exam so my parents have taken mercy,” Eula explains, laying down against the grass with her arms tucked behind her head. She gazes up at the clouds, a faraway look in her violet eyes. Amber leans her face against the arm pressed against the grass, staring longingly at Eula.
“How did we ever become friends?” the words leave her lips. “We’ve never called ourselves that. I wonder why,” Amber ponders, closing her eyes with a small smile. Eula turns her head, swallowing a coil of anxiety as her heart trembles from the closeness of their bodies.
Perhaps because our friendship has always been more like love.
───────
There is something that has changed between them since the day they danced together, though none of these differences have ever been discussed between either of them. To do the tango means to share intimate space, and perhaps that is what led to the change—but it has affected Amber more than it has Eula. Amber squeaks when Eula sneaks up on her in the city, turning bright crimson before hitting her against the chest shyly, or retracts her hands at a simple brush of them against Eula’s. Perhaps it is attachment, but Eula does not read it beyond what is seen on the surface.
On one particular day, Amber thinks of visiting Eula at her home, hoping she would gain some forgiveness from the family if they met her themselves. It was not a plan she checked with Amber before executing it, but the Outrider is known for her lack of caution. And as a result, she’d gotten thrown away by the guards who disliked her persistence to enter.
“I think we should spend less time together,” Eula confesses, kneeled down onto one knee. She blots her handkerchief against the corners of Amber’s lips which are bleeding, but it is only one of the several bruises she’d gotten from being shoved by one of the Lawrence guards. Eula clenches her jaw, trying to contain her anger and the guilt that swallows her—knowing if she had arrived earlier, then perhaps Amber wouldn’t have been treated so roughly. “My parents… They still aren’t happy about me being friends with you.”
“It doesn’t mean I want to stop,” Amber protests and Eula raises her gaze firmly. “You don’t mean to hurt me, so there’s no harm in it if I end up getting hurt either way, right? It’s about the intention,” she talks, caressing Eula’s face gently, although her words make little sense upon being said out loud. Eula dips her head and shakes it.
“I can’t see you hurt anymore. My family is far too regimental, and conservative.” It has never been in Eula’s nature to cause harm to anyone, in fact she has never laid a hand on anyone before—not beyond sword fighting, that is. But of course, an apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and as hard as she may try, she is destined to live on with the curse left behind from her ancestors. When she raises her gaze, she sees that Amber has fallen completely silent, tears streaming from her cheeks. Eula’s lips part in shock and she reaches out a hand to hold Amber’s, only to have it pushed away.
“I—I’m not sad. It’s nothing. It doesn’t bother me!” Amber forces a smile, wiping away tears with the edges of her palms. Eula frowns, wishing she could say more, but instead she pulls Amber into her arms and stays this way for a little while. Though it doesn’t feel as good when the one she loves so dearly is holding back tears.
───────
I’m sorry. I’ll try to convince my parents, is sent to Amber through a secret letter from Eula. It is passed to her by Jean, who mentions having seen her for the last time on the day they had the scuffle—and only to leave the letter, after which there was no word of her.
Amber roams at a safe distance, watching the Lawrence residence in its grandeur, sitting so silently upon the distant hill, so disconnected from the rest of Mondstadt.
She does not see Eula for a long time after that.
Several weeks after the incident, Jean finds the Outrider sitting at the edge of the river that cuts the city away from the wilderness. She kicks her legs in the clear water absent-mindedly, having lost the bright grin that brought happiness to those who saw it. Bennett and Razor watch her from behind the bark of a tree, worry riddled on their faces. Jean gives them a nod and takes a seat silently beside the Outrider who pays no heed to her presence.
Jean, who can’t afford to get her tights wet, folds her legs instead—though stretching a hand out to brush her fingers against the water. “You aren’t like your usual self nowadays. Lisa and I miss the bright young Amber that enjoys bursting into the Knights of Favonius with never-ending enthusiasm,” she smiles softly.
“It’s nothing,” Amber tries to lie, forcing a smile.
“Please, don’t lie to me. Even if I cannot offer much help, I hope you would trust me enough to express your problems, so you get some internal peace from voicing it out loud,” Jean comforts, turning her head out to the river. Amber dips her head, squeezing her head tightly to numb the pain of her stinging eyes. Grabbing a pebble in her immediate reach, she aims and flings it into the river, watching it leave a ripple in the water.
“I feel like I’ve lost a friend,” she confesses, choking up. She presses her hands against her face, leaning forward to hide her tears even further in her lap. Sadness flickers over Jean’s eyes upon seeing Amber so distraught, so distant from her usual demeanour. Gently, she reaches out a hand to caress the younger girl on the back. “And it wasn’t even either of our faults. It’s not even because we’re both girls—but because we’re us. But, I guess it’s over for us.”
“Is there something else you have to confess to?” Jean interrupts softly, leaning forward to meet Amber’s eyes. She gulps, but averts her gaze promptly. Her realisation is plastered all over her expression—the way she stills for a moment before sitting up again, and lowering her gaze wistfully to her lap when the silence is too much. Jean knows this feeling well.
“We’re just friends,” Amber corrects. “And Eula’s just cold.”
“She stopped by my office today. To check on you.”
Amber clutches onto a patch of grass, face burning bright from her stinging tears. She shakes her head in annoyance, rubbing her nose in her sleeve. “You’re lying. It’s far too late—it’s been a month and a half and I never got a letter from her again. She was ready to give us up so easily,” she yells, voice hoarse and losing its intensity from crying.
“Amber, there is something that’s holding you back, and I know well that it’s the reason this situation is hurting you so much more.” The Outrider winces at the statement, realising she has treaded too far into half-truths and ignorance to be able to deny the truth anymore. She can’t have this conversation, not right now. Not when she hasn’t figured it out herself. What she felt for Eula—it could have been with anyone! The fluttering, the dancing in the clouds…
“It doesn’t matter if Eula doesn’t care.”
“But you didn’t notice that the person who has been there by your side all this time is Eula,” Jean remarks softly and the epiphany hits so hard, that Amber starts to feel her stomach churn. She knows there is no false-truth in those words—because after all, Eula has only ever chosen to spend her time around Amber and it was mutual on both sides. The adventures in Wolvendom, sneaking out to meet past curfew, twirling by the riverside till mud stained their clothes—she could not have done them with anyone else. “Amber. You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you?”
Amber turns her head, and while her lips don’t speak, her heart throbs in acknowledgement.
───────
Eula searches for Amber when they meet next time, once it has been two months since their parting. She doesn’t come empty-handed but a gift she hides behind her back as she cautiously approaches the Outrider who is attempting to collect Wolfhooks off the ground.
“Am I still welcome to talk to you?” Eula greets. Amber turns on her heel, stopping in her steps—eyes just a little wide and lips parted only slightly when she sees Eula standing in front of her. A beat passes, and Amber remains still with shock, such that Eula worries she may start rubbing her eyes to confirm she’s not dreaming. But when the surprise passes, her expression softens and the skin around her eyes creases cheerfully.
“I suppose so,” she replies with a nonchalant shrug, turning her back away. Though Eula expects her to leave, she stops in front of a rotting log and takes her seat. She pats the empty space next to her, inviting Eula to take a seat. “We know each other for long enough to skip formalities,” she chuckles, one enough to melt Eula’s heart.
A tense silence lingers between them as either of them wait for the other to break the silence. Eula had come with no real plan in mind, only hoping to catch Amber if she was fortunate enough. “So, have your studies been going well?” Amber tries to start friendly conversation but Eula tightens her grip around the stalk of the flower she’s been hiding behind her grip and braces herself.
“Amber.”
The Outrider turns her head, swallowing a coil of fear.
“I got my parents’ permission. To be with you without their trouble,” Eula smiles. “I’ll have to inherit the Lawrence household in my father’s stead and in a way, abandon my beliefs that always rested against those of my family. But I can always refurbish the Lawrence name, if I try hard enough.” In the distance, there’s the crackling of leaves, and Andrius lets out an aggravated roar. The temperature in the forest drops—but Amber can be sure it’s not the reason why she shivers.
“Why?” she tightens her grip on the wood beneath her grip.
“Because you, Amber, mean far more than anything else in the world.” A silence befalls within them, leaving the only sounds being their heavy breaths and the anxious tapping of Eula’s fingers against the hollow log. “I’m sorry, that was bold of me,” Eula coughs, her pulse thrumming gently in her wrist. Yet, when Amber turns her head, her face is tickled by the luminescent petals of a single stalk of lamp grass. Eula has her head turned away, a gloved hand pressed against her lips.
“Is this your way of confessing to me, Eula?” Amber questions, disguising her nervousness with a giggle. She accepts the lampgrass, holding it in one hand gingerly. Eula turns her head, eager to speak but trips up on her words as a result of her hasty response. Although, before she needs to, Amber holds her jaw and pulls her in. “Consider this my reply,” she whispers against Eula’s lips and the distance that used to keep them apart is reduced to just centimetres in a second. And the start of their new world exists in the few seconds that they share their breaths.
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Eula has managed to sneak out once again, but this time far later than she usually does. She wonders why Amber would ask her out past midnight in winter, when the nights are its coldest. She fears Amber would fall sick if she would spend too much time outside—though her rational thoughts are melted away when she sees Amber waving to her in the distance with a heart-warming smile. They end up at their usual Place, the one where Eula has always liked to go to dance.
“So what do you want to do?” Eula perks an eyebrow.
“I want to try skinny dipping,” Amber suggests, standing at the edge of the river. Eula pauses to think for a second and a gust of wind blows at them, as if egging her on into agreeing. The chill of the breeze teases the surface of their skin and unlike Amber’s prior expectations, Eula agrees with a shrug. “Wait, you’re actually going to do it?!” the Outrider exclaims, appalled.
“Luckily Mondstadt’s rivers don’t freeze over in the winter,” Eula grins, pulling her shirt over her head. Amber whips her head away out of embarrassment, crouching whilst facing a tree to cover her reddened face. Eula presses her hand against the bark of the tree, corning her girlfriend. “What’s the matter, Amber? Have you gotten shy?” she teases. Amber shakes her head vigorously.
“Join me afterwards,” Eula smirks, wearing nothing but her bra which she strips off bravely. Amber would be lying, though, if she claims to have never stolen a peek.