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When Albedo enters his camp at Dragonspine, he doesn’t know which surprises him more. The lack of a certain traveler and her flying fairy friend, or the random greens hanging from various crevices of his camp.
Sighing quietly, he begins to inspect the plant. It looks like regular weed, with small, white berries as fruits. A handful of stems are tied together by a red ribbon, and it is hung upside down. He’s not well versed in botany, but he’s certain that the one hanging all over his camp is a type of parasitic plant, judging by its features. As of why these plants are here, he’s unsure. It doesn’t have any remarkable properties—not that he knew of—and not a lot of people can access his camp without much hassle. None of whom would do so only for a mere joke.
He reaches up, about to take one off his shelf when he hears a set of footsteps and the familiar bickering that accompanies it.
“Paimon still thinks that fruit looks yummy!”
A hearty laugh accompanies the Traveler’s answer, “No, Pai, you’ll get a bad stomach from eating it.”
Ah, there they are. Albedo has been waiting for them — for Lumine, to be precise. He’s been so used to her company that a day without her feels unreal. Somehow, the outlander manages to slip into his life routine without him noticing, not until her absence bothers him. Now, her presence feels second to natural for him, the very breath to his life.
Albedo walks to the front, a deliberate smile on his face. “Traveler, Paimon.”
He’ll never get tired of seeing joy lit up Lumine’s entire face. “Oh, you’re here! Thought you changed your mind and went to Mondstadt for the day.”
Albedo shakes his head lightly, stepping aside to let Lumine warm herself near a torch. “I still need to monitor the residue left behind by that cryo slime you brought me a month ago. Run some tests, documenting the changes it underwent, common procedures. It still… gradually transform into a slime.” He points at a jar of liquid sitting on top of his burner, small tendrils of fire warming the jar.
Lumine observes it for a second, her mouth forming a little ‘o’. “Isn’t that the one from our experiment a month ago? I thought it had been dormant.”
“Yes, it is. And then I noticed it’s growing, despite having been dormant for weeks.” If one is sentimental, the phenomenon shall be called a new hope, or something similar. Albedo glances at his shelf, then his eyes land on one of the green plants hanging on top of it. “Ah, pardon the sudden question, Traveler, do you know anything about these plants? I’m pretty sure there wasn’t any last night.”
“Oh! Oh! Paimon knows!” The fairy exclaims, flailing her arm high in the air. “It’s a… mist-and-toe!”
“Mistletoe, Paimon.” Lumine corrects, a fondness in her voice and amusement in her eyes.
“Right, mistletoe, and Lumi put it up just this morning. Paimon helped hang it on high places! Oh, also, Lumine said it’ll bring a new look to your camp.” Albedo raises his eyebrows at that, “Uh, it’s the festivity! The spirit of… uh…”
Lumine laughs, “The spirit of christmas.” She turns to Albedo, golden eyes sparkling excitedly, “Do you have christmas here? It’s a tradition from one of the worlds I visited, and it’s stuck with me since.”
“Sadly, no, not that I’ve heard of.”
“Aw, it’s fine. Besides, I’m already glad that Teyvat has mistletoes, they’re my favorite.”
The traveler rubs her hand together before dusting it on her dress. She steps inside his camp, her heels clacking softly against the stone. “We usually hang mistletoes around christmas, along with other things. It’s part of the tradition.”
“Ah, so that’s it.” Albedo nods along, pulling a chair near a shelf for her to sit on. “Probably due to its commonness and poisonous nature, this plant doesn’t have any record of being a significant part of any culture, so they’re more or less just a common parasitic plant with inedible white berries. Just like there are some wild grasses that sprout flowers.”
Lumine hums in understanding, “I see… well then, is a bit of cultural exchange from another world okay?”
And who is he to reject her humble request? It’ll be preposterous to not adhere to her.
“It’s more than welcome. I am honored to attend this cultural exchange.” The chief alchemist bows slightly, earning a soft giggle from the amused traveler.
He drags a chair to her side and sits on it, one hand supporting his chin as he stares into her eyes. “Ah, let me indulge in my curiosity. Please do tell me the lore of this plant, Miss Lumine.”
The traveler’s bashful smile is hidden behind her hand, “Well, one of them told me that if two people stand under a mistletoe, they should kiss.”
And, thank Barbatos, Paimon knows her cue when she sees (or hears) one, and she disappears into her interdimensional space without any comment. Being stuck around two lovebirds for so long heightened her sensitivity and understanding of privacy.
“Oh, is that so?” Albedo glances around, noting how many mistletoes there are and their placement. One hanging from his easel, one taped on the old pillar, one tied to the top of his shelf… all are above spots that he usually would stand on. And to have to kiss under the mistletoes… the implication of it all makes him feel giddy and excited. “So, is that the sole reason people of that world are hanging mistletoes around? Or is there something else?”
Lumine turns back at him, and he notices how close they are. He can count each golden freckle of her eyes, how her cheeks tinged pink, and how her voice wavers as she answers, “Well, there’s this old myth that some said to be the root of this tradition.”
Her voice grows more timid as she continues, “Some said that, um, mistletoe is a symbol of fertility..? And kissing underneath it is supposed to boost one’s fertility or something like that.”
Between her timid voice break or the flush of pink adorning her face, he can’t decide which is more lovely. He stares up at her, craning his neck ever so slightly. Taking in the sight of the enchanting starborne traveler that lets him be her lover.
“Tell me more about it,” he urged, and she can hear the smirk in his voice.
She fumbles with the hem of her dress, voice so small as she explains slowly, “Every time someone kisses under the mistletoe, they must take one berry off. Once the berries are all gone, then the mistletoe has depleted its ‘potency’.”
Above them, taped on the shelf, is a mistletoe ripe with berries, it bursts white.
“Can I take more than one berry?”
“I never heard of it, but I think it’s alright. Why?”
“Will the potency effect stack if I take more than one?”
At that, Lumine pulls back in embarrassment, vivid red tinges down her face to her neck. “Uh, well, I don’t know, no one ever discussed that in front of me, and no one ever takes that myth seriously. That myth is just, well, a myth. Why do you ask so?”
“Well, it won’t hurt to try, right?”
She opens her mouth, but her answer’s caught in her throat. Her cheeks burn under the intensity of his stare. He’s so close, she can feel his soft breath on her lips; a warmth that is uniquely his, beckoning her to close the gap between them. Teal eyes, brimming with desire, all directed at her. And she knows just how capable he is in channeling that desire to her.
On the other hand, she also knows that she can’t conceive a child. Her kind is like a homunculus in a sense, a being that rises from the universe’s dust of matter, living to jump from one world to another. The whole idea of “testing its potency” would be a waste of time if their goal is to truly test it out.
But they’re not here to test the truth of a myth, aren’t they?
“Yeah, it won’t hurt to try.” And he leans forward, a chaste kiss on her lips. He does not linger long—only enough to savour the aftertaste of sweet berries on her lips. The traveler chases him back, but he places a hand upon her and holds her still.
“Does that count?” He asks upon her lips, and she nods.
One. His hand reaches up, grasping on the wooden shelf and books before he finds the mistletoe’s berry, and he plucks one.
She exhales softly, wanting more. “Is that it?”
He chuckles, “We’re just testing the water, sweetheart.” And he dives down once more, this time cupping her cheeks with one of his hands as the other plucked another berry off.
Two. Another berry is thrown uncaringly on the floor as he sucks on her bottom lips, relishing in her shudders and small gasps.
Pulling back to let his lover breathe, he turns his attention to her jaw, sliding down to nib at that spot she loves so much, his hand a firm anchor on her hips as she squirms. Satisfied with the mark he leaves, he turns his attention back to her plump lips.
Three. In between bated breaths, he asks, “Does it count each time we kiss and then pull away, or—?”
Her eyebrows are furrowed together, a hint of frustration in her golden eyes. She cups his face with both her hands. “I don’t know, just, please, kiss me.”
And how can he deny that?
One white berry after another falls on the floor as the couple entangle themselves, drowning in the taste and feel on one another. They move in tandem, the only disruption is of the alchemist plucking the berries.
“Forget the berries,” she asks with bated breath, eyes glazed over, a lovely shade of molten gold.
He chuckles on her skin, sending shivers down her spine, “I thought you’re the one who wishes to respect this tradition, no?”
She huffs indignantly, and he silences her with yet another kiss.
Albedo reaches up once more, only to feel the smooth surface of leaves and stems on his fingertips. The berries have run out. His hand returns to caress her cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and straightening the feather ornament in her hair.
“Well, that’s all the berries.” He gestures to the floor around them where the berries he plucked are scattered. “Would you like to move under another one, or shall we take a break and brew some tea?”
Lumine inhales deeply, trying to regain her breath. She’s sure her appearance is disheveled. Sometimes she envies how composed Albedo is, no matter how heated things are between them.
“Let’s brew some tea.” She smiles, stealing another peck from him before standing up to boil some water.