Chapter Text
At long last, a day off!
It was hard to find ample free time recently with all of the goings-on in Liyue; with endless murmurs of hustle and bustle throughout the city, there was always someone trying to get a hold of him, always some stuffy business to which someone higher up the metaphorical food chain specially requested he attend. It didn’t take an expert to deduce that Childe was not a fan of all of these formalities. To him, they were, at best, distracting. (It was not a lie to say that a generous portion of his acting skills developed from forcing himself to look entertained at even the dullest of Fatui ceremonies.) He would much rather spend his time training, sparring, honing his skills, familiarizing himself with his weapon. And these past several weeks, the hours he could salvage to spend on his hobbies were precious few.
Which is why today he made a point of rejecting all human contact in favor of keeping the time from sunrise to sundown all for himself. No stopping by the Northland Bank, no bossing subordinates around, and certainly no diplomatic functions! Time to just forget about every other Harbinger for a while, and do what his heart desired, with nobody around to bother him for it.
First on the schedule was a trip to Qiongji Estuary for some fishing. It wouldn’t be ice fishing, but it would have to do–it might be as close as he could get to the experience, with Dragonspine nearby and all–and at least it would get him out of the city limits. With any luck, he’d get to experience a good fight and procure some lunch! (That was the idea, anyway.)
Morning mist drifted low over the water in the distance as his footsteps rang against stone paths, seeming to echo into infinity. Visibility was not excellent at the moment, so perhaps he couldn’t rely on Dragonspine to provide the ambience he sought after all. He mentally crossed his fingers; with any luck, the fog would burn off as the morning progressed, and it would turn out to be a nice day. Around this time of year, it was hard to know for sure.
Whatever leaves were left on the trees lining the path were more a drab brown than their usual gold; those that had already fallen crunched under his boots as the trail disappeared into the plains. This place was far enough from the city that the only track was worn by many, many footsteps that had passed through here for millennia before his own.
The looming shadow of Wangshu Inn came into view in the distance. Childe wondered whether it was just his imagination, or whether the clouds had already grown thinner than they were a few minutes ago–as he continued his trek, he hoped it was the former.
Indeed, the morning was still young when he passed under the enormous tree housing the inn. The shallow contours of Dihua Marsh were already much more discernible than he had anticipated, given the weather on the way here. While there were always people–merchants, mostly–milling about here, they were delightfully few this early in the day, and he evaded their attention without much trouble. (Normally, he’d like all eyes on him, but fishing was more of a solitary fight– especially for today’s trip, the point of which was to avoid other people pestering him to begin with.)
The day was looking like it would turn out nice after all.
He paused a bit north of the inn, far enough off the main roads that no one should disturb him. Golden rays of sunlight were making decent progress on breaking through the clouds and fog, dyeing the silvery shallows of the marsh a more aquamarine hue. Peeking out from behind some reeds and horsetails was a boulder that provided easy access to the water.
This spot should work just fine!
The boulder angled perfectly to form a comfortable seat. And so Childe began his treasured day off by indulging himself in his favorite peaceful activity: casting out a fishing line and listening to the distant trills of birds.
Patience. Patience and decisiveness.
The weather had indeed cleared enough that he could see Dragonspine from where he sat. Its jagged outline, frosted with perpetual snow, leered down at the lowlands through the scattered clouds. Much more welcoming were the green-topped cliffs and plateaus marking the edge of the Mondstadt region, and they were near enough that Childe considered extending his trip after he was satisfied with his catch for the day. Maybe he’d even have time to visit Dragonspine…
But that was a decision that could wait. The greenery of Mondstadt was not so welcoming that he would prematurely abandon his fishing to investigate.
But, despite all of his planning ahead, that was ultimately what happened… more or less.
Having cast his line into the water, he now surveyed the distant scenery, in between brief visual checks of the estuary's surface. For some time, taking in the view was relaxing–until he noticed an unusual feature he decided he couldn't ignore.
He thought it odd that a wayward traveler would decide to sleep at the edge of a cliff. But who was he to judge?
…Unless they weren't sleeping after all.
His gaze returned to the figure, prone on the ground and barely visible in the grass, several times. At first, he was not particularly concerned about the business some random traveler had lingering so close to the drop-off.
But, for better or for worse, Childe was notoriously awful at keeping to himself and staying out of other people's business.
That, and if there really was a dead body–Archons forbid!–out in the wilderness, trouble of some sort was imminent–and it was no great secret that trouble was among Childe's favorite things in the whole wide world.
And so, given the choice between sticking with his original plan and postponing it in favor of meddling in these intriguing affairs, he chose the latter. His uneventful day all to himself would have to wait.
He stowed his fishing gear for the time being and started to make his way to the opposite shore. The stretch of water that separated him from the cliff was narrow, but deep, and he was not particularly in the mood for a swim; hence, he continued across the bridge to Stone Gate just to the north, and circumvented the channel that way. He chose a scuffle with a camp of vigilant hilichurls over an arduous climb. (Today was supposed to be his vacation, but in spite of everything, he appreciated the familiar sensation of drawing his bow and striking a distant target.) From here, the slope was shallow enough that hiking up the rocks overlooking the water’s edge was not too much of a task.
He crested the cliff. Now the collapsed figure was easily within his sights. While the mystery person’s intricate garb suggested that they were no typical traveler, Childe failed to recall having seen them before. Where could they have come from? Perhaps getting closer would bring him some answers.
Surprisingly, there was no sign of a struggle, and no indication that animals (or people) had visited the location to scavenge, so there was a distinct possibility this wayward traveler was not dead after all. Still, it was too early to conclude that no excitement would come from this encounter.
“Hey! Are you all right over there?”
As he approached, he tried calling out to whoever it was lying on the ground just at the edge of the cliff. They were nestled into the grass, curled up, their face tucked into their arms, almost like they were hiding from someone–or some thing –so even when he was within a few paces of them, he failed to ascertain their identity.
“Hello? You okay?”
No response, verbal or otherwise.
Now just a couple of meters away, he crouched, lowering himself closer to their eye level. He could have sworn he saw them move, but it could have just been the wind blowing.
Childe waited for a few heartbeats. Indeed, the wayward traveler shifted, their arms just barely lifting from where they covered their face.
“It’s okay if you’re sleeping. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead or something.”
At long last, their arms fell and their chin tilted just enough for their eyes to meet his.
Their face was tinged faintly pink and their lips were pulled into a frown. While their messy blond bangs scattered slivers of shadow over their eyes, upon closer inspection, Childe noticed a reddening gleam indicating the presence of recent tears.
Despite his knowing nothing about this person, a few simultaneous thoughts sent a jolt of panic through his heart. What was causing them such distress? In investigating what he thought might be a dead body, had he inadvertently interrupted a deep personal moment? Did he make them cry?!
This was not an outcome he had considered, so it took him several more seconds to regain control of his train of thought. He was out of his depth in this scenario. He had no intention of harassing a person in distress–that was for sure. Now, comforting them–well, he could certainly comfort his siblings, but offering meaningful support to a random stranger was a different issue. And another thing: his siblings were young children.
(He realized now that he had trouble telling the traveler's age solely from their appearance. Though their countenance was youthful, with soulful eyes and a curved jawline, they seemed too tall to be a child, at least one of Teucer's age–granted, it was difficult to judge their height in their folded position on the ground.)
Still, sticking around would likely cause more harm than good for this person's emotional state, so, given the absence of imminent disaster, he deemed it best, in the light of this new development, to return to his original plan of spending the morning fishing.
"Nope, you look very much alive. I'll leave you alone, then."
Childe shifted his weight and began to rise to his feet. He hardly took note of the traveler propping themselves up on one arm until he was almost standing, and that was when they called out to him:
"Wait."
"Hmm?"
He paused, mid-crouch, and met their eyes again. Staring into their gloomy expression was almost pitiful.
“...Don’t go.”
Childe didn’t know what invisible force compelled him to obey, but he found himself sinking into a crouch again, his gaze still fixated on the traveler’s face all the while. If you’re looking for comfort, you’ve got the wrong guy, he wanted to say–even so, his puzzlement at the current situation kept him silent. Perhaps he stayed put out of pure curiosity.
By now he had mentally cycled through more than a few inklings regarding what could have upset the traveler so severely. Suddenly, one of them seemed to fall flawlessly into place in his mind, temporarily monopolizing his focus.
In the absence of other obvious stressors, there was one thing that could exacerbate an already tenuous emotional state.
“Hang on. Have you eaten yet today?”
The creases in the traveler’s brow softened just slightly–slightly, but surely. Evidently it was now their turn to look perplexed. They said nothing.
Childe blinked. “...I’m taking that as a no?”
The slow shake of their head was similarly faint.
“Here. A little breakfast will always make you feel better.”
Childe plopped himself down on the ground in front of the traveler and produced from his inventory a bowl of his specialty food, A Prize Catch.
When the subject of food preferences arose in conversation, no notable opinions typically occurred to Childe. That said, he enjoyed cooking and consuming this particular dish for several reasons: it was relatively simple to make with ingredients he was familiar with from his childhood; it was easy enough to eat, yet also filling and energizing; and finally, the taste and consistency was refreshing, reminding him of his home as well as of a delightful trip to the seaside. As far as he was concerned, it was a decent multi-purpose food, good for just about any situation. Hence, it was his first choice, almost as if on instinct, when prompted to select a food option with little prior thought.
The change in the traveler’s expression when Childe held the bowl before them was instantaneous, and far more drastic than their previous reactions. Their eyes, fixated on the soup, were wide–but with intrigue rather than disgust, judging by their rose-gold sparkle. The frown vanished entirely from their lips, their tongue now somewhat more visible, and Childe could have sworn he saw them start drooling when he looked close enough. A brief burst of warmth, like a firecracker, spread in Childe’s heart at the obvious acceptance of his favorite dish.
The traveler glanced briefly back to Childe’s face, as if asking permission to dig in.
“Go ahead. It’s all yours.” Childe couldn’t remember making a conscious effort to smile, but he felt one glide across his lips nonetheless. “There’s plenty where that came from.”
The traveler began to lean towards Childe’s outstretched hand. Just when Childe thought they would snatch it straight from him, they suddenly froze, and their eyebrows settled low on their forehead.
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not poisoned or anything.”
Anticipating their valid and reasonable concern (considering he was a complete stranger spontaneously offering them food), Childe helped himself to a spoonful of soup. He once again gestured with the bowl. “See? It’s okay.”
The traveler’s gaze didn’t stray from Childe’s hand as he performed this demonstration. After a few more moments of hesitation and one final inquisitive glance, they took the bowl of soup. Their first spoonful was cautious and delicate. Evidently deeming the taste acceptable, they began eating. Their attention hardly returned to Childe, almost as if they had forgotten about him entirely in favor of their seafood breakfast. Indeed, all traces of melancholy were gone from their expression now; their eyebrows remained gently arched, their eyes wide and gleaming with satisfaction.
Childe couldn’t suppress a chuckle as he rested his hands on his hips. “See? When in doubt, make sure you’re well-fed.”
As the traveler occupied themselves with the soup, Childe’s mind strayed to his next plan of action. After supplying this traveler with a meal and some company, he thought it cruel to simply get up and leave.
Don’t go. Their voice echoed in his head–soft, not necessarily commanding, sounding almost defeated, even, yet very much a statement rather than a question.
It might be time to commit all the way–for the time being, at least. But he didn’t necessarily have to change his plans for the day too much.
With the bowl empty soon enough, the traveler’s tongue flicked across their lips. They rested the bowl on the ground and gave a brief but intentional dip of their head in thanks.
Childe straightened his back. “Hey, if you’re feeling up to it, what do you say to joining me to fish up some more?” He gently tossed one wrist outward in a gesture of invitation.
The traveler looked up, holding Childe in place with their rose-gold eyes, now bright and clear with intrigue. After a few moments of silence, they replied, “Only if that’s all right with you. I wouldn’t want to intrude. I mean, I did just eat your food…”
Their voice still wavered faintly with doubt, but its airy texture was more welcome to Childe’s ears than the earlier plea.
“Of course it’s all right. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have offered.”
Childe, already resting his hand on the ground to support himself, began to rise to his feet once more. He took another glance out over Sal Terrae. While the sun had certainly climbed higher in the sky behind the clouds since their conversation began, it was still plenty early for a productive day of fishing. He again smiled to himself, satisfied that his vacation was yet far from ruined.
“Come with me.”