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There is something inherently chilling with the way the chief alchemist observes her from his seat across the camp.
His eyes are piercing, even when she is not looking. He does not take his eyes off of her even once, and absently, she thinks of the never-thawing snow falling outside his laboratory. She’d rather be freezing out there fighting enemies than having to stay here another minute, but this she knows: if only for the slightest bit of information about her brother, she will wait until he’s satisfied with scrutinizing.
She chanced a glance at him, and their eyes met. Briefly, but enough.
Just enough for her to understand what Lisa’s words really meant.
He’s easy on the eyes too, just like you.
Only, that was a complete understatement. She had been too nervous entering his camp that she had not bothered truly assessing his… looks.
His eyes are teal so clear and so pure that had she been closer, she probably would see her reflection entirely in them as if she were looking through a mirror. His hair the color of wheat, albeit some of the strands were sticking out from atop his head, looks as smooth and soft as silk.
(And subconsciously, she thinks of how they would feel between her fingers.)
He’s wearing a white coat suited for an alchemical laboratory — really, his fit would suit any laboratory apart from this one; for who is sane enough to assemble a camp in the middle of a snow-coated mountain and wear shorts? Disregarding this observation, though, it takes only one look at him to know that Albedo is beautiful.
And as with all the beautiful men she’s ever met, she looks away.
She hears a small chuckle resonate from where he was and she almost gasps.
Even his laugh is beautiful — like the chime of bells flowing with the waves of the blowing breeze, the sound envelops them, reverberating off the walls of the makeshift camp. Unfair, she thinks. He can’t be called a genius and be beautiful at the same time. He’s even a captain for Ordo Favonius! How could one be so perfect like that?
He moves from his seat, and at once, she’s standing up from hers, ready to flee at the slightest misstep. Ah, how nervous he makes her feel.
“There is no need to be so cautious, though I do understand where you’re coming from.” Kind as his words are, there is a sharp scrutiny in his gaze she does not miss. “Tell me then, Traveler, why did you come to seek me all the way here?”
She’s been waiting for this — to just ask him for information about her brother, leave, and never come back. Why is she hesitating now?
She stares at him for a while, and he does not point it out. He waits.
“Why should I trust you?” Well, that is not a good start.
His eyes widen a considerable fraction before he positions his hand on his chin in a gesture of thought. “You were the one who… sought me out, though?”
Right. She wants to run away and never show her face to him again.
Do it for Aether. For Aether. For Aether.
“I did. Acting Grandmaster Jean and Lisa told me I could come to an alchemist in Dragonspine for information and,” she looks off to the side, towards the easel where a dancing hilichurl is drawn neatly on a canvas, “a sketch. For my brother.” She pauses, looking back at him, “trust is like glass, is it not? Fragile and easily shattered. What I’m asking is whether I can trust not the information you give me but you. I trust Jean, so I will trust the information you give, but you? No. At least, not yet.”
Oh, how conniving she sounds. If Albedo were a mind reader, he would most definitely burst out laughing at her, unless he’s good at pretending otherwise.
“Hmm. When you first stepped foot on the mountain, did you feel anything?”
Her brows furrow. “On Dragonspine?”
He nods, looking intently at her. For signs of lies, perhaps.
She gives it some thought.
She came from the acting grandmaster's office after Jean and Lisa suggested she finds the alchemist for assistance as he’s the Favonian captain usually out of the city for research and investigation. He’s a genius, they say. He’s made many important breakthroughs in the field of alchemy alone. He’s easy on the eyes too, just like you. Jean agreed with the librarian on that with a comment of her own: the knights often had to host alchemists from all over Teyvat seeking his help.
He piqued her interest, to say the least.
She wondered, though, what a cavalry captain even does when he’s not the one ‘usually out of the city for research and investigation’. She told Paimon so as they began their trek up the winter mountain. Paimon had scoffed saying that Kaeya’s all but a captain in title now that he’s cavalry-less and even worse, horse-less.
They stopped when she found a Status of the Seven right when she came running towards a wind current leading above her stepping ground. She had touched it, and like always, she prayed to Barbatos for a peaceful reunion with Aether.
She is not one who believes in gods and their power of granting wishes nor archons giving favors, but she knows Barbatos, and Barbatos is a benevolent god. So she clasps her hands together, closes her eyes, and prays for her brother.
When they were a quarter-mile away from Albedo’s camp, Paimon had mentioned that the weather was too cold for her to fly any longer, and blinked away to her pocket dimension. Left alone and without her companion’s usual chatter, the wind seemed to begin changing its course. It grew slightly violent, the frost almost biting.
She remembers now; what Albedo meant. She did feel something.
It felt ominous. Like someone was watching.
Her face probably showed what was on her mind because Albedo begins talking, “From the shadows, just barely out of reach, are the sinister remains of Durin — the dragon who battled against the East Wind and the Anemo Archon, and lost.”
Feeling the air shift, she only nods, encouraging him to continue.
He goes on about what he knows of the battle and explains the dragon’s connection to the mountain — why the snow never thaws and why, apart from the cold, the energy emanating off of the vicinity drove away the common folk. When he finishes, he hands over a clipboard saying, “Write down important details about the sketch, I’ll do it. If not for trust, then for understanding what it means to lose something important.”
She takes it from him, feeling almost guilty that she acted so standoffish.
Almost.
Then she remembered that she had been thrown into a world so new to her without her kin, and then months later find herself trying to rescue a dragon from the curse of a dark organization. No one in their right mind would go to the lengths she had in saving Dvalin, so she thinks it’s justified somehow that she deserves this, at least.
But see, that’s the very thing she tried to keep from Albedo when they all said that he is a genius — so perceptive and wise. It is in his very being to be curious and she knows he will ask questions had she been any less aloof; about how she could wield anemo when she does not possess a Vision, where she may have come from, how she gained her present honorary title. He might even call her what the people of Mondstadt had when she wanders their streets: a savior.
Lumine is not a savior.
(Not anymore. Not again.)
She clutches the clipboard a tad bit tighter than needed and began writing.
While she notes all that he would need to sketch out a poster of Aether, he clears his throat, preparing to ask a question. “What information do you seek?”
She does not take her eyes away from the clipboard when she says, “Have you seen a male who looks a lot like me? If you did, where did you last see him? What leads do you have to an outlander who does not know his way home?” To me goes unsaid.
There is a pregnant pause before Albedo answers, “I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you this time. I have not seen anyone of your unique appearance or clothing. And in truth, you… carry the aura of the stars. And assuming your brother does as well, then had I even passed him by during my investigations, he would have caught my attention at once.”
She stops writing, the words ringing in her ears. You carry the aura of the stars.
Does he know?
In the littlest chance that he does, will she risk this?
She hands him the clipboard. “You’re a curious man, aren’t you, chief alchemist?”
Well, if anything, Lumine is not afraid of taking risks. Between her and her brother, she's always the one who freefalls.
Albedo blinks, surprised. He nods, his eyes clouded with confusion. “I am indeed a curious man. It is my end goal to find the truth of this world. Why do you ask?”
“Tunc dabo tibi veritatem.”
He remains still. Too still in fact that she does not know what else to do after such revelation, so she turns her back, drawing her eyes to the opening of his camp.
“Traveler, you…” she hears rustling on her other side, and she assumes he’s looking for something to write on. “Teyvat uses a single language granted to us by the gods. So this confirms my hypothesis. You are not of this world.”
She hums. “You seek the truth of this world, though. Will you ever have the time to learn of a new one, let alone xenolinguistics?” She looks back at him, almost aching. Speaking her mother tongue after so long, after knowing it is only her and Aether who can carry a legacy buried upon thousands of years, made the ghost of wings that were once hers feel so much more real here.
“If you are willing to spend time in my company, I will gladly do so.”
Her laughter engulfs the quiet of the summer night, the air light. “Hearsay has it that you aren’t exactly fond of strangers. Were they wrong after all?”
“Then,” he offers her his gloved hand, “I’d like you to know that my name is Albedo. Not chief alchemist nor a captain, but simply, a curious man.”
She hesitates only for a few seconds before taking it.
Feeling the comforting warmth of his hand despite the glaring cold, she hopes.
That this time, someone like her who is not of this world will understand. That perhaps, after a time, Albedo can look her in the eyes and say that the memories of her homeland are those he can preserve with her. And her language, their secret.
“And I, Lumine.” A voyager of worlds.