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There’s a hole in his chest.
He is a pristine being, hand-picked molecules stacked on top of one another to form life.
He was a pristine being, organic chalk molded and modeled in an artistically artificial way, mimicking human anatomy in breathtaking detail. From each pore that dotted his smooth skin, to the pliable material of his nailbed, everything was a work of art.
The only issue was- humans don’t come with gaping holes below their pectoral muscles. Frankly, that would be absurd.
They would be bleeding all over themselves, viscous liquid oozing out from layers of exposed flesh, dripping over exposed bone. With every frantic beat of their heart, it would rhythmically pump out, until the muscular organ could no longer fulfill its duty. Neurons would fail to transmit signals, cells would undergo mass apoptosis, and life would gradually fade, paving the way for death.
Bone shards, tendrils of shredded flesh, torn nerves and twitching muscle- it would all be present, and any normal person with a hole in their chest wouldn’t be standing around, innocent eyes questioning the situation. They would be gasping in shock, unable to feel the immediate pain of their body’s agony through the adrenaline. They would be stumbling around, trying to grasp the sticky blood and shove it into their bodies again, attempting to seal the wound with slick, shaky hands that slid over their exposed insides. Perhaps, the force of whatever caused such an injury in the first place would have knocked them to their knees- not that it mattered, though. Death would be swift, settling in as everything happened all too quickly.
For him… there was nothing.
An inorganic creation had no need for viscera, and lacked the necessary functions to warrant an internal system. No heart kept his flesh warm, and no blood rushed through his veins. No digestive system demanded energy from food, and no lungs forced oxygen into his body.
He wasn’t human; thus, this hole was simply a hole. A beautifully clean hole, save for the edges of it, where some chalk had begun to splinter and crumble.
“Master,” Albedo spoke, his tone holding no inflection. “What was the purpose of this?”
With an exasperated sigh, Rhinedottir spun on her heel, extending a finger at him. “You are to fix that. If you’re to live for centuries, you need to know how to repair any cracks and bumps caused by time. Khemia can do that, but self-use is different from bringing life into existence. Fix it.”
(One of her hands, the one not extended at him, was covered in chalk from where she had punched the hole. Rhinedottir had… odd methods, and Albedo could never understand, nor predict, her next action. Even some of her experiments, and some of the things that she insisted Albedo do for the sake of research, made minimal sense to him.
Despite his inhuman complexion, he felt a strange… emptiness, at seeing the chalk on her hand. It was almost morbid, knowing that she was essentially covered in his insides. Human mothers didn’t do that. They didn’t punch holes through their children for the sake of forcing them to repair it, using ancient alchemical magic that caused the downfall of an entire nation. Not that Rhinedottir was Albedo’s mother, though- but, it was the closest way to describe their relationship.
Creator and creation sounded too clinical, and made him feel more like an object on a shelf compared to something with sentience. Something that could feel betrayed over the fact that his creator had killed him, without killing him.)
Confused, Albedo glanced down at the hole. He was only a few weeks old- he knew a lot, and Rhinedottir was persistent in her lessons, yet… this wasn’t something he knew how to do. He had only been able to use Khemia to create life from drawings, and had only reanimated a few plants, a dead bird.
Curiosity got the best of him, and he pinched all of his fingers together to make his hand as small and thin as possible. Slowly, he reached into the hole, watching his wrist begin to disappear as well.
Had someone been watching, they’d have seen the ghastly vision of Albedo’s hand coming out from between his shoulder blades, then extending back inside his chest.
Gentle fingertips stroked the cold chalk that formed his insides, then retreated with a gasp as more of it crumbled away with the friction. In his own curiosity and fascination, he’d widened the hole- little chunks of himself had dusted his wrist, rolled down and onto the floor. Had he been a human, what… would that have been?
(It was best not to mention this curiosity, and this self-experiment, to Rhinedottir. If he brought up that he was experiencing dread, and disgust, and morbid fascination, who knew what she would try to elicit that response again. First and foremost a scientist, she was deeply intrigued by the emotions that he was learning day-by-day, and had a particular fascination on seeing if an inhuman being could pretend to be human. Frankly, Albedo didn’t want to know what those experiments would look like.
In any case, she wasn’t focused on him, and seemed to have no intention of giving him attention until he succeeded. If he didn’t succeed, it was likely that he’d be abandoned- failure wasn’t an option. He had to repair this, lest the cracks in his bodily chalk spread, crumbling him to the ground.)
—
Dragonspine wasn’t inherently a part of Mondstadt, though it wasn’t not part of it, either. According to Mondstadtians, it theoretically was- but, it wasn’t really.
Despite this, it was where Albedo was settled, having been abandoned by Rhinedottir for the sake of power. He knew that her final lesson was simply a ruse to keep him busy- to prevent him from looking for her- but… he couldn’t help it.
Every child yearns for the comfort of their mother’s arms, for the gratification of her attention, for the pride that came with her acknowledgement. He wasn’t exempt from that.
In a way, it was comforting as well- Durin’s remains had long since become a part of Dragonspine, decaying into the mountainside and making itself a landmark. Through the omnipresent cold, Durin was warm- his heart was warm.
(It was a little funny to admit that this biologically made Durin more human than Albedo had ever been, even though Durin was never modelled after them to begin with.)
He couldn’t help but stare at the power that lazily thrummed through the stone, illuminating the cavern in a sickly crimson haze. It was unnatural, the glow- it vaguely resembled the deep and fleshy reds that made up the inside of a ribcage, once one had dug past the pale fat and flesh, and shattered the off-white bone to gaze in. Even the warmth was reminiscent of that, and Albedo briefly wondered if anyone else had made the connection that this was, quite literally, the remains of a beating heart.
Rhinedottir certainly left Albedo here on purpose, for this reason. Yes, he could reside in Mondstadt with Klee and Alice, as he did know them- but, Dragonspine was special. Celestial remnants, the corpse of what could be considered his sibling, the isolation and permafrost… how it could serve as a good and worthy tomb should he succumb to corruption…
Asides from that, it was also slightly ominous to know that this is what remained of Durin’s heart. There was some biological evidence, such as the strange and fleshy netting that loosely caged the stone in, and the intensity of the light pulsing was likely the same beat that the organ pushed blood with, but…
other than that, this was simply a cavern, with an alien-like stone in the center.
(It did have a slight smell, though. Centuries of rot and artificial decomposition had since washed the more prominent scent of decay away, and Albedo was sure that interference from being created by Khemia had a hand in that.
Occasionally, Albedo could pick up the undertone of metallic iron, and a more heavy scent of sweet, putrid decay. Rot, earthen musk, bodily humidity, decomposition-
Knowing that the cavern was warm, despite the omnipresent chill of Dragonspine, was enough to convince him that the stone was still a fully-functioning heart from behind its sinewy cage. It simply wasn’t a muscle, any more.)
—
“What’s going on in that mind of yours, hm?” Kaeya asked, his voice low as he prepared to sleep. Idly, one of his hands played with Albedo’s hair, letting the golden strands run between his fingertips as the alchemist rested his head on the man’s chest.
Taking a minute to reply, Albedo indulged in the heavy, steady beat of Kaeya’s heart, followed by the deep rush of his breaths filling his lungs. He could feel it beneath his head, and closed his eyes to savor the way it felt.
(One day, this memory would be all that remained of him. Albedo would outlive Kaeya, regardless of what they did, or where they fled to. Now, they were young and in love, but Kaeya wasn’t immune to the natural aging of humans. He would grow wrinkles and spots, take longer to think, longer to breathe. All the while, Albedo would simply remain. They would lay in this same position, chat about the same things, but his lover would sound different. His heart would be weaker, his flesh would be thinner, and his breathing would rattle. He would age, and he would eventually leave Albedo’s arms for the sweet kiss of death- and Albedo would be left alone, eternally ruminating on the memory of his lover’s heartbeat, on the portraits of him that never truly replicated the sparkle of his eyes, on the very memory of-)
“Nothing, really. I’m simply listening.”
“Oh-ho, do you like the sound of my heart? How romantic, I’m flattered! I never knew you were so intimate, perhaps I should keep this in mind. That’s my deepest part, you know- so, I’m a little embarrassed.” Kaeya teased, now gently scratching at Albedo’s scalp. “I do hope that it’s a pleasant sound, I work quite hard to keep all of my appearances up.”
The alchemist snorted in a mock-laugh, not bothering to comment on how it was anatomically impossible to try and maintain an attractive internal rhythm. With a small sigh, he didn’t respond, but instead slid a cold hand under the hem of Kaeya’s nightshirt. Slowly, so that his lover could push him away if he wanted, Albedo moved his hand across Kaeya’s stomach until it rested on his side. He briefly tensed up due to the temperature difference, but made no move in retaliation.
“Feeling flirty?” Kaeya teased again, but his tone was heavier- more concerned, in a way he couldn’t express with his words. It wasn’t like Albedo to be like this; yes, he was often fascinated by Kaeya’s physiology (both in a romantic and scientific way), and typically liked to be physical, but… there was something different this time.
“Are you ever uncomfortable, knowing that I’m not human?” Albedo asked, murmuring the question out against Kaeya’s shirt. He could hear the Calvary Captain’s heart speed up with curiosity at his question, but it seemed to take him a moment to think of how to respond. In the meantime, the alchemist busied himself by flexing his fingertips, gently digging them into Kaeya’s soft skin, feeling subcutaneous fat give way to lean muscle underneath his ribcage.
(It was a partial lie.
Contrary to how he had been when he was much, much younger, Albedo could be considered human, to some degree.
He could bleed, and his skin was slightly warm. He could blush with emotion or with the cold, and he could sweat and cry. He could breathe, could cough and sneeze and wheeze and eat- he had a skeletal system, and his insides were more fleshy and red, full of sinews and tendons, visceral fat in his center in a poor mockery of organ protection. Veins, nerves, neurons… simply, no organs. Gray matter was absent from his skull, lungs were absent to draw oxygen from, no heart pumped his blood, and no intestinal track processed his food.
When Rhinedottir forced him to fix himself, all those centuries ago… all Albedo could focus on was the dead bird that she had forced him to revitalize in order to learn basic Khemia. The dead bird, unlike him, had systems. It was a complex organism on several biologic and molecular levels, and fit all the classes of life.
He… wanted that.
The bird was cold- he had to work fast before real decomposition set in, and maggots began to eat away at its being.
The bird… the bird-
warm skin that could be torn and shredded, that was malleable and soft and warm and pink… sturdy bones that could be shattered, that could be fractured and sprained and broken and that were full of thick warm marrow… internal systems that were complex, that held acids and membranes and were inside a thinly stretched pocket and protected by bubbling and heavy fat and that worked together as a puzzle, controlled all from a central nervous system with intricate signals to an organ, joints that could pop and an olfactory system that could taste and pores to sweat from eyes to cry from veins to bleed from nails to embed with and teeth to bite and-
He needed to calm his mind down, manic thoughts now running wild. It didn’t matter anyway, right? Teyvat didn’t follow natural laws, so an outlier to all natural functions would be fine.
This would work.)
Slowly, Kaeya moved his hand from Albedo’s head and placed it on top of the hand that was under his shirt, stilling his motions. “Why do you ask?” He questioned, then continued. “I’m not uncomfortable. I’ll be clear- you’re as human to me as I am to you, even though you’re made from Khemia. You know my secret, and I know yours- and as far as I’m concerned, that makes us equal on every regard.”
Not giving him a moment to reply (or to even think about the implications of what he’d said), Kaeya moved Albedo’s hand out of his shirt, and gently pried him off of his chest so that he could roll the alchemist onto his back.
Without saying anything, Albedo let Kaeya position him as he wanted, curious as to what he was doing. Had his question disturbed him, or made him realize the imbalance that came from their biologic statuses?
(Briefly, Albedo did mourn the loss of warmth that came from being so close to Kaeya. For being a Cryo user, he certainly emanated heat- ah, maybe this could be researched…)
About to question why he was on his back, the alchemist breathed out in momentary surprise as Kaeya curled into Albedo’s side, completely reversing their former position in a poor mimicry of it. It looked uncomfortable, to be him- he was much taller than Albedo was, and it was far easier for someone short to be tucked away into someone tall. Instead, Kaeya’s legs were awkwardly slotted with Albedo’s, one bent at the knee while the other was straight, his foot sticking out of the blanket in an attempt to fit.
Unsure of what to do, Albedo stiffly put his hand on Kaeya’s head, trying to replicate how the man had stroked his hair before. Perhaps, he was implying that he wanted Albedo to replicate that? An eye for an eye? With a hum, the Calvary Captain acknowledged the motion and wrapped one arm around Albedo, making no attempt to move from where he was now laying.
“What-“ Albedo started, entirely lost in what Kaeya’s purpose was. There had to be a reason, there always was; Kaeya was too intelligent and too subtle for there to not be one.
“Shh,” he interrupted, “I’m listening.”
To… what? Did Albedo not just stress the importance of that very thing, that there was nothing to listen to? Or-
oh.
He understood.
It was to show just that- how there was nothing, yet it truly mattered little in Kaeya’s mind. He wanted Albedo for Albedo, not for anything else. He looked like a human, felt like one, and acted like one- and that was enough for Kaeya to consider him one, regardless of anything else.
Hearing a quiet laugh from the taller man, Albedo narrowed his eyes and stilled the motions of his fingers. “What’s so funny?”
Kaeya splayed a hand out over where Albedo’s heart should be, trying to encompass as much of the area that his head wasn’t covering as possible. “I do hear you.” He whispered, both eyes closing.
In the darkness of their room, Albedo could only liken the feeling to what he had read in novels, and to what people had described to him. Yes; this is what it must feel like to have your heart skip a beat. To have it swell up with emotion, sending nauseating waves of emotion through you, to control how you think and how you feel. This is what it must feel like to love and be loved, from a place as raw and intense as the very center of one’s existence, from the innermost depths of your body.
So, with a small smile, Albedo resumed the affectionate massage he’d been giving Kaeya’s head,
“You hear me,” he murmured, in awe. “Fascinating.”
“I hear you.” Kaeya repeated, smiling into Albedo’s skin.