Work Text:
почерком резким
я рисую между точек отрезки
от пяток до макушки
так соединяются в созвездия веснушки
“i like your freckles,” yunjin utters these words far from the first time but xinyan doesn't care: her heart shrinks, and cheeks turn pink every time like the first.
after this, yunjin usually slyly smiles or good-naturedly laughs, covering her mouth, and xinyan’s cheeks turn red with a cosmic speed and not out of shame. then, as a rule, yunjin takes her beloved’s hand in her own, and joins freckles, that are below the elbow, into a constellation of turtle with her fingers. it’s a kind of tradition between them – absolutely spontaneously aroused, however, harmless and lucky charging. at least xinyan believes so, and since she believes, then, it works. people are inclined to see signs, where there are none, and attach to events importance, which they don’t have, but until it doesn't hurt anyone, it's not a problem: even people, that live on the land with no archon, need something to believe.
there are such people as astrologists in teyvat, people that read out others’s destiny relying on the position of the stars. however, yunjin doesn’t believe in astrology: stars in the sky are too static in order to determine someone’s destiny, that changes every second due to combination of various factors. only opera’s stories are static but even scenarios are edited from time to time. there are many reasons but one outcome – the same dynamics, only slowed down a bit.
and xinyan’s freckles are characterized by changes. they’re paling in winter, lynxing in summer and somewhere in between changing their position: not really markedly, probably, if look in general, after all, the same turtle yunjin drawn as at the height of the summer, as during the lantern festival, however, the girl seems to remember position of every freckle on the lover’s body and wails over not being able to draw ursa major on her right cheek. yunjin jokes that through xinyan’s freckles fortune can be read: while stars need billions years to be born, pigment spots briskly run across the body, joining into hundreds different constellations among which dragon, phoenix, qilin, and heron can be found: yunjin is an optimist and she wants to believe in luck.
and in this xinyan is her complete opposite. they say, pyro-archon rewards with a vision exclusively of starry-eyed and adventurous people, the ones who crave for their ideas and desires; but even so, if you say to man that he’s a pig a hundred times, in the one hundred first he will grunt. xinyan isn’t hypocritical in her optimism and perseverance, however, deep down she’s afraid of being forgotten, breaking up into sounds and spreading around, acquiring death as eternal and irreversible oblivion. at times, she’s visited by thoughts that in the eyes of liyue citizens she will never become beautiful, and children won’t stop frightening, pointing her out in the street, that her music will never be recognized – unless somewhere in distant and advanced fontaine, but fontaine will never become her motherland, and therefore, recognition there doesn’t equal to recognition here and will be considered incomplete. at such moments she picks up her vision and for a long time watches how her own face is reflected there and how it slightly noticeable lights up even if she doesn’t use it. this light resembles the color of her own freckles, and every time, seeing it, xinyan swears to stay fit and carry on – most likely, she will never see pyro-archon but she has already achieved her recognition, which means, sooner or later she will achieve it here. and also, the thought that rock’n roll is adored by a ruler of nathlan strangely warms the soul.
“and you really aren’t ugly at all,” utters yunjin, erasing from xinyan’s face a cream that she used to cover her freckles with, in order to make her skin more even and smooth, – you’re beautiful. and i like the way you sing, – and these words force xinyan’s heart to take a few strikes. if the current director of the yun-han opera troupe calls you and your singing beautiful, perhaps, it’s true.
after these words they kiss, which from the perspective of the scenario the same opera will look cynically trite. yunijn’s lips to xinyan seem like sugar, probably, due to the components of her lipstick, which the opera singer applies before the performance, in order to any spectator, even one in the back and from the depth of the crowd, they seemed pink.
they spend a lot of time together, lying under open starry sky, discussing tendencies in music or just silently seeking out constellations that are like the constellations formed of xinyan’s freckles in the sky. yunjin calms down after finding a constellation of turtle and ursa major, xinyan tries to find constellations that aren’t connected with symbols of wealthfare: yunjin scoffs after her every finding, however, immediately caress xinyan’s hand or interlaces their fingers as if apologizing, and xinyan cannot say that gives her more pleasure – joy from the fact that she managed to spot another constellation or the gentle, rose-smelling yunjin’s finders to her coasered from guitar playing calluses.
after all, i can like whatever i want. and whoever i want. can i?
“i will definitely write an opera about you“, says yunjin, and hearing this, xinyan feels strange confusion which cannot be compared with romantic or purely professional.
“oh come on, this isn't worth it”, she shies away, deep down bursting with desire to accept the proposition – this will sound too narcissistic.
“it certainly is“, yunjin cuts off. and then adds, “for the sake of a girl that is considered as ugly or weird or all at once, now or later when we both pass away, found herself in these tales and legends. the function of opera is chanting, turning everyday miracles into tales about great exploits, and yours is that you don't allow the fire inside you to be extinguished“.
maybe it’s hard to read fortune through xinyan’s freckles, but it’s quite possible to read reactions of their owner, for example, when they’re lighting up after pleasant words, as her cheeks are. yunjin once again joints freckles on the xinyan’s hand into a constellation of turtle and kisses her wrist; after this a strange embarrassment is replaced with a usual and even a pleasant one.