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She blinks up into the sky and, for a moment, she swears she sees two moons.
Lumine sighs, grinding the heel of her palm against her forehead. She rarely falls ill, but whenever she does, it lasts for days on end. Sometimes even weeks.
But she doesn’t have the luxury of staying in bed for weeks. Her commissions are waiting, and if she isn't careful, the other adventurers will end up completing them. Then she’ll be out of mora again, which means she’ll have to cook her own dinner.
The last she checked, she was running low on pretty much everything. She doesn’t have the time or energy to go foraging for ingredients, so earning mora today is a must.
Filled with renewed vigour—or as much vigour as she can muster, given that she’s still running a high fever—Lumine trudges on, her gaze sweeping across the Liyue landscape in search of the hilichurl towers she’s supposed to destroy.
“Lumine! Paimon thinks you need some rest!” her friend calls, bobbing nervously behind her as she totters past a river. Silvergrass and horsetail wave gently in the breeze, and she thinks it’d be a lot more pleasant if she wasn’t feeling so awfully cold.
The last time she felt this cold, she was holding Aether’s hand, traversing the depths of space. Back then, she was at least enveloped by stars and planets and galaxies, lulled into a dreamlike trance by the transcendent melody of the surrounding nebulae.
But here, all she sees is grass, trees and dirt. A far cry from the splendour she is used to. “I’m fine!” she says—or so she tries, interrupted by a vicious cough that has her bent over, clutching at her sides. Her eyes sting. “I promise. I-it’s just a little flu, that’s all.”
“Paimon doesn’t think it’s little!” Paimon huffs, placing her hands on her hips as she floats up, scrutinising Lumine’s face. “Lumine needs to visit the pharmacy!”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Pharmacies mean medicine, and medicine means mora. Her body can heal itself perfectly well—she just needs more time.
Before Paimon can protest, she turns, spotting a hilichurl camp in the distance. “There!” she cries, relieved to finally focus on something besides her physical condition.
Fuelled by determination, she marches off, followed closely by Paimon. It takes everything she has to put one foot before the other, but she should be fine once she reaches the camp. She trusts her instincts, after all; her body is honed by countless years of battle, and even in sickness, her reflexes remain sharp.
Those hilichurls won’t even have a chance to pick up their weapons.
So zealous is her urge to destroy the camp, she completely misses a certain man standing by the road, waving his hands about as he speaks to a group of Fatui soldiers.
The soldiers all pull back at her approach, looking distinctly nervous, and Childe turns just to see Lumine storming down the path, her gaze fixed straight ahead. “Ojou-chan!” he calls, surprised—she continues, and he wonders if she’s even heard him. “Lumine!”
At the sound of her name, she stops, almost tripping over her feet as she spins around to face him. Her eyes look unfocused. “Childe…?”
What is he doing here? She thought he’s gone back to Snezhnaya. Childe grins. “The one and only,” he sings, and she takes a step back, wary. Paimon hovers behind her, muttering something about mora and just desserts. “What are you doing out in the wilderness, hm?”
“Commissions,” she answers, noticing the Fatui soldiers behind him. They’re all gaping at her as though they’ve seen a ghost, and suddenly she feels a little self-conscious.
“Commissions?” Childe shakes his head, tapping his fingers against his chin. “In this state? You’re obviously ill. You ought to be resting.”
“That’s what Paimon said!” Paimon chimes, whizzing out from behind her to nod. Lumine glares at her friend, mouthing the word ‘traitor’, but Paimon simply ignores her.
“Thanks for your concern,” she says, “but I’m fine. And I have to finish my commissions. Unlike you, I can’t just waltz into the Northland Bank and withdraw mora whenever I want.”
Childe laughs, and her glare deepens. “Is that what you think I do? But never mind. How much mora do you get out of completing your commissions? I’ll match that amount if you agree to go back to Liyue right now and get some rest.”
She pauses. If she’s understanding him right—and she doesn’t think she’s so out of sorts that she’ll misinterpret such a straightforward conversation—Childe is offering to pay her to sleep. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why? You’re sick. Should I not be concerned?” As he speaks, he glances over his shoulder, waving a hand at the soldiers, who all disperse without a word.
She tries to track where they’re going, but he’s still talking, and grudgingly she turns her attention back to him. “I may be a filthy Fatui Harbinger, but I’m not such a terrible person that I’d pretend not to care when you’re ill, ojou-chan.”
“You were going to destroy Liyue just to prove a point!”
He shrugs. “Past mistakes. I’m a changed man.” His eyes gleam, and she wavers, tempted by his offer, still suspicious of his motives. “Okay, think of it this way. Who’s going to be my opponent if you’re busy coughing your lungs out? There’s no thrill in defeating someone who can barely stand. The sooner you recover, the better it’ll be for me.”
She considers his words, turning them over in her mind. Meets his gaze, sees the glimmer in his eyes, that tiny hint of knowingness that never fails to make her think. “Fine.”
“Perfect. Let’s head back then,” he says, and part of her wonders whether she will end up regretting her decision.
Thankfully, they’re not far from Wangshu Inn, and though she’s unwilling to admit it, she’s grateful for his support as they climb up the stairs towards her room.
She feels weak. This fever is draining her faster than she thought; maybe it’s good that he stopped her when he did. Who knows what might have happened if she stayed out all night, pushing herself to complete her tasks?
“I’ll go get a washcloth. Here, take my wallet and ask for porridge from the kitchen. She’s going to need some nourishment.”
Childe’s voice is a pleasant hum. The door opens and closes, voices swimming in and out, fading into background noise. She shuts her eyes—when did she get to her bed?—and listens, the dull throb in her head helping her keep track of time.
It seems like just minutes pass before she hears the door open once more. “How are you feeling?” Childe asks as something soft and cool drapes over her forehead. It’s a welcome sensation, and she sighs, relieved.
“Better,” she admits. Now that she’s finally lying still, she realises just how exhausted she is—her weariness sinking bone-deep, weighing her down into the mattress.
“I told you so.” He wipes the washcloth over her face, and she makes a sound of dissent, more out of habit than any genuine dissatisfaction. “Don’t complain. You know I’m right.”
“Whatever,” she mumbles. He chuckles, but she refuses to grace that with a response, her thoughts drifting to other things. The archons. Her upcoming trip to Inazuma. Celestia. The Abyss. Their Prince. Aether. What they all mean, and what they mean for her.
All she wants is her brother back.
Well, and her powers, too. Her powers and her wings. Right now, she feels almost the way she did back when she first woke up at Starsnatch Cliff, helpless and alone.
If she sees through her journey’s end, will Aether finally return to her? Will she understand what he’s trying to say? She doesn’t know anything. Still doesn’t know anything, even after all this time, and it frustrates her to no end.
As her thoughts begin to spiral, she suddenly hears a quiet hum, and her eyes crack open to see Childe sitting next to her, his hand resting on the washcloth upon her forehead, his gaze slanted towards the ceiling. “Are you… singing?”
The humming stops, and he looks down, blue eyes iridescent in the dim light. “Yes. When Teucer was little, he often fell sick, but he hated going to bed while the rest of us were awake. So I began humming lullabies to him. This one always sends him straight to sleep.”
“But I’m not a child!” She feels a flicker of indignation, muffled beneath her tiredness and her silent admission that Childe’s voice is actually rather nice. Pleasant, even.
If he wasn’t a Harbinger, perhaps he would have made a good bard. Who knows?
Childe chuckles. “Well, you're as stubborn as one. Close your eyes and go to sleep. You can think about whatever it is that’s on your mind when you’re feeling better.”
“I’m not stubborn. I just—I have a lot of things to worry about, okay?” She isn’t sure why she’s being defensive, but his expression softens and he sweeps his hand over her eyes, throwing her world into darkness.
“We all have things to worry about, don’t we, comrade? Our families, our goals in life, our hopes and dreams for the future. But there’s a time and place for everything.”
She huffs but shuts her eyes, tempted by the siren call of sleep. Drowsiness nips at her heels, and already she can feel it dragging her under, waves of tiredness closing over her head. She can’t fight it even if she wants to.
But before she succumbs completely, she opens her mouth, asking a question that’s been lingering on her mind ever since she bumped into him near the hilichurl camp. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
It doesn’t make sense. They’re not friends; they’re not even allies. Sure, he helps her with her commissions sometimes—or at least he did before he told her he was leaving Liyue, which now appears to be a lie—but she knows that’s for his entertainment.
He’s a Fatui Harbinger. An enemy. He’s stated that he enjoys her company, that he’s not too fond of the plotting and scheming often employed by the other Harbingers, but the fact remains that he’s allied with them, and he’s fiercely, deeply devoted to his Tsaritsa.
There’s no need to be nice to her. She’s a thorn in his side and will remain this way for as long as their objectives diverge. She is here to seek answers from the Seven; he is here to steal their gnoses.
If his plans displease the archons, then she’ll have to stop him, as simple as that. She has to stay in their good books after all. It’s nothing personal, but surely it must be annoying.
So why? Why treat her so kindly? She doesn’t know, and she’s tired of not understanding. But her eyes are already closed, sleep pulling her into its warm embrace, and she doesn’t stay awake for long enough to hear what he might have to say.
Childe pulls back, lifting the washcloth from Lumine’s forehead, observing the little flutter of her eyelids, the way her breathing even outs, turning soft and steady. Finally asleep.
He sighs, dipping the washcloth into the basin, wringing out any excess water before he places it back on her forehead. “Why am I being so nice?” he muses. “I don’t know, really. And here I was, hoping you’d be able to give me the answer.”