Chapter Text
“Haitham,”
A familiar, nagging voice.
The man in question turned his head, kaleidoscopic eyes coming to meet the crimson gaze of his roommate.
Said roommate was leaned up against the doorframe, arms folded in a manner that could only be described as stiff. Though, the strained look on his expression betrayed his authoritarian stance.
Worry.
“What are you doing?”
Grand Scribe Alhaitham and renowned architect Kaveh. These two were an enigmatic pair.
Two undoubted geniuses of their respective Darshans, having earned the acclamations of a little more than half the country. Esteemed accomplishments, influential titles, groundbreaking intellect that border on insanity—you name it, they had it all.
Quite the powerful duo, right? They would be, indeed. Except…
Neither of them quite saw eye to eye.
So much so, their ranting and raving could possibly reach the ears of Aaru Village, what with their once-a-second brazen banters likely pertaining to an academic theory nobody understood.
Most shocking of all?
These two actually shared a roof.
Alhaitham and Kaveh—a pair of walking contradictions, monarchs of arguments that rope even the cities’ bulletin boards into their net—co-existing in a space probably less than five hundred square feet?
There’s no way there would be a quarter second of peace in that house.
…unless?
Contrary to popular opinion, Alhaitham and Kaveh did, in fact, get along. In their own eccentric way, of course.
Beneath all the petty disputes and long-winded quarrels, they had their little moments of unspoken camaraderie.
Kaveh would wordlessly leave a mug of coffee on Alhaitham’s desk as he overworked himself to hell with ostensible Grand Scribe duties.
Alhaitham would fasten Kaveh’s signature red hairpins to his disheveled locks in the morning as they proceeded to bicker about yet another trivial topic.
What made their house a home was the other’s presence—that was a silent, mutual understanding they would sooner sell their liver than admit.
Perhaps that’s why when Kaveh heard the faint echo of a repeated tapping against the adhigama wood of the dining table they shared, he hurriedly awoke to see his silver-haired roommate hunched over a map sprawled across the table, tapping away at its edge. At twelve midnight, no less.
“Mind your own business and go back to sleep, Kaveh. Don’t you have a lecture tomorrow?” The scribe spat out Kaveh’s name as if it were derogatory.
“Shut up, you hypocrite. Didn’t you tell me you had a certain appointment at five? What’re you doing inspecting a map at 12 A.M?”
Alhaitham made no response, instead opting to shoo his roommate away with a flutter of his hand. Which, expectantly, did not work.
“Where are you going with that map?” The blonde pressed.
“Go back to sleep,”
“Just tell me, so I can have peace of mind.”
“…None of your business.”
“Gods…”
Lifting a languid palm to his forehead, Kaveh let out an exasperated sigh. Usually a sign that he was contemplating actually obliging his roommate’s demands for once.
That is, until he caught sight of a certain delineation on the map.
A large, beige swirl in the middle of the parchment.
Only one place in Sumeru would have such a thing charted on its map.
“What the…Hadramaveth?”
A prolonged silence. Alhaitham averted his gaze.
“Haitham, you can’t be serious. You’re not going in there.” Striding to his Alhaitham’s side, Kaveh wrapped lean fingers around his roommate’s shoulder.
“The Fatui have been loitering around the sandstorm.” A defeated Alhaitham broke the silence “Recently, a group’s joined forces with an exiled Spantamad scholar once the top of his cohort. With his smarts, they could pose a threat to civilians.” He pointed to a particular spot on the map—one dangerously close to the whirling tornado.
“Something like this can be left to those who actually know the desert,” the architect’s nails dug into the ebony fabric of Alhaitham’s cloak, prompting the latter to allow Kaveh his full attention.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous Hadramaveth is? That place is teeming with Eremites who are used to the blinding sandstorm. The Setekh Wenut has also been going rampant there, too! You can’t just go— what if…”
What if I lose you?
“Kaveh,”
Alhaitham pressed his fingers down on the hand on his shoulder, cueing a flinch from the blonde.
“I’ll come back, I promise you.”
What an unbecoming tone of voice for the Grand Scribe. One could even say it was soothing.
“If it’s any comfort, General Mahamatra and the Traveler will be accompanying me.”
Kaveh felt his countenance relax. General of the matra, Cyno, and the prominent blonde traveler whose tales have permeated even the Steambird…quite the formidable warriors, indeed.
He supposes their presence would alleviate his disquietude, if only a little.
“…You’d better come back in one piece.”
“Yeah, I got it…now, go to sleep.”
“Care to join me?”
Kaveh was well aware he probably shouldn’t have followed through with the nonsensical urge running rabid through his mind. Yet every bone in his body told him he’d regret it for the rest of his days if he didn’t.
Surprisingly, Alhaitham made no repudiations.
“Okay. Come here…”
Alhaitham was gone by the time Kaveh awoke.
Fair enough. Whatever he was to do in Hadramaveth, he’d mentioned it commenced at five in the morning. Though Kaveh couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened, waking up to an empty left side of the bed. Just a little.
Fortunately, today was his once-in-a-blue-moon day off. In other words, Kaveh didn’t quite have anything to do other than wait for his roommate to return.
A knock resounded across the hall.
Speak of the devil.
Kaveh twisted the doorknob as another knock rang out.
“Welcome back…”
…
Well, this was unexpected.
For one, Kaveh was not met by a scornful rebuttal of any sort. In lieu of the familiar set of prismatic eyes, a boy sporting a jackal-like headpiece that cloaked his tuft of white hair stood at the doorway.
“Cyno?”
Indeed, the General Mahamatra had come to pay him a visit in the flesh. All the while remaining uncharacteristically silent.
“Hi…what’s up?” Kaveh pressed, tilting his head with an are you okay smile. Cyno made no response. “Do you know where Alhaitham is? …Or did I commit an academic offense?”
“Kaveh,”
Kaveh couldn’t help but jolt at that. Though Cyno maintained a picture perfect poker face, the shake in his voice betrayed his composure. Only now did Kaveh too detect the near imperceptible downturn at the corners of his mouth.
He steeled himself for the worst.
“Come with me.”
The matra beckoned his friend with a gesture of his hand, not biding any time as he walked off with Kaveh in tow.
“The Fatui and the Spantamad scholar have been taken down.”
Turns out, no amount of steeling could’ve prepared him for this.
Cyno had led him to a room in the Bimarstan. The nauseating scent of Spirit Borneol grew ever as powerful as the door to the ward was pushed open with a creak.
A mop of unruly blonde hair a shade similar to his own was the first thing Kaveh saw. The boy who bore it whirled around to the click of the doorknob, halting his conversation with a young girl who levitated above her stool.
He averted his gaze just as quick as he’d returned it.
Honey-tinted hair, foreign clothing and a mysterious floating pet by his side…no doubt about it, this boy was the group’s chaperone—Teyvat’s renowned traveler.
Second was the young lady clad in the Akademiya’s quintessential turquoise robe. The viridescent badge fastened to her hat suggested her enrollment in the Amurta darshan. Given her attire, the girl was likely a rookie intern assigned to Alhaitham’s case.
It wasn’t until she made haste for the doorway did she perceive the two allogenes at the entrance.
“Oh! S-Sorry…” she mumbled with a bow. “I’m Golshan, um…a trainee doctor overseeing this ward. If you need anything, just ask me, okay?”
With that, Golshan pushed past the visitors, praying to Lesser Lord Kusanali under her breath.
Lastly, his gaze wandered to the man unconscious on the hospital cot.
Alhaitham lay unmoving on the mattress, an oxygen mask compactly secured to his head. A blemished bandage was bound around his head, pushing back clumps of silver hair. Strangely, in lieu of being stained with the damp crimson of blood, it appeared more so charred where it met Alhaitham’s temple.
All was explained when Golshan re-entered the room, whispering a hushed “Excuse me,” as she approached the scholar’s bedside. In her hands was a metal tray topped with several rolls of fresh bandages, of which were set upon the nightstand. Alongside Kaveh and Cyno, the Traveler observed Golshan as she worked.
He winced when the nurse went about to delicately peel the charred strip off Alhaitham’s forehead. Kaveh soon understood why when she completely unraveled the gauze.
He’d have slept better with ignorance.
Almost half of Alhaitham’s forehead was severely incinerated. The wound was an ash-black burn appearing to be a rough and rigid texture. Lingering traces of pyro energy presented itself in the form of radiant embeddings of dry lava hibernated underneath his skin, resembling the crystallized defeat of an ignited Pyro Slime. Even a fleeting touch upon this wound would undoubtedly sear like a kettle.
There was a noticeable gash where Alhaitham’s temple was situated, enveloped in remnants of dried blood. The injury’s mangled and disorderly form implied a heavily serrated weapon had ripped and shredded at his flesh, tearing through the tissue until it met bone.
Kaveh gazed at the grotesque sight for a long, long time.
…
“Saw it, did you?”
Cyno’s voice reminded Kaveh he was not alone in the room.
“…”
A mere nod served as his response.
Golshan soon exited the room, but not without replacing the blackened bandage with a pristine roll of pearly white. The touch of woven fabric against scorched skin emitted a sound not unlike the crackle of lightning.
To say the room was promptly encased in an intolerable atmosphere would be an understatement. The unrelenting, deafening silence rang so thunderous, the shimmering echo of Visions could be heard.
That is, until the shuffle of Kaveh’s shoes resounded against the marble floor.
The traveler recoiled in his seat as Kaveh approached Alhaitham’s bedside, heliodor eyes darting to his feet.
A tender, fleeting touch. Kaveh had never moved his hand so gently nor sedately, almost poised as his palm met Alhaitham’s cheek as if the latter was made of porcelain.
Yet the quiver that plagued his hand betrayed his grace. Even Cyno, who’d silently strode to the Traveler’s side, found the pitiful sight difficult to view.
Even shakier than his hand was his voice as he finally brought himself to speak.
“…Just what the hell happened?”
“Punctured lung and bludgeoned to the head by an artificial elemental lifeform.” Cyno elaborated matter-of-factly. “The Overloaded reaction scorched his skin and caused a traumatic brain injury, putting him in a comatose state.”
He’s in a coma.
Alhaitham is in a fucking coma.
Kaveh wanted to scream.