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If you had asked her before today, Ayaka would’ve said she likes the snow.
It doesn’t snow that much in Inazuma, not really. Perhaps that’s the reason that it was such an impactful event whenever it did happen— the kids would go outside with sheer expressions of joy, and they would paint their tiny hands red with the cold of the snow, melting on their fingertips, freezing to the touch. Ayaka didn’t have that childhood.
Being the heir to the Kamisato state and future commissioner, the etiquette that ruled her life regarded such activities as improper. She never built a snowman as a child. Never had her hair covered in fleeting snowflakes. It wouldn’t be until much later that she would do this, and many other things.
When Lumine came into her life, it felt like the blooming of a moonflower. Slow at first, with the dawn of the sun. Steady after, as the moon watches over its petals, blossoming under its light.
Their friendship grew beneath the stars on the quiet nights. It grew among the stalls of the multiple festivals they attended. The morning walks across the city, the evening errands in company, the nights sheltered by the trees and extended beyond the first and the second yawn , never quite wishing the day to end.
So, when Lumine offered her hand to her — Come with me. Walk by my side as we discover the world together —, Ayaka didn’t find it in her to refuse. Just for a while, of course. Until her duties bring her back home again.
Mondstadt is a beautiful country, Ayaka has found. The welcoming people, the joyous music and the foreign delicacies have brought her so many new experiences she could have never wished to gain from any of the most illustrative of books back in Inazuma. And by the hand of Lumine, well , she’ll never voice how her dear friend makes everything she experiences all the more brighter.
Lumine was very gentle when she carefully placed her scarf around Ayaka’s neck. Dragonspine is cold , she had said. Here, hold my hand. Be careful not to trip.
It’s a scenery Ayaka hasn’t seen before. The frozen lakes, clear as mirrors for the stars, and the tallest mountains all covered in white, like a canvas waiting to be splashed with colors, painted all over. Ayaka loves the crunching sound it makes when her boots —borrowed from Lumine, they’re a little big on her— are swallowed by the thick layer of snow, step after step.
Look, Lumine! The snow is starting to fall, she had said, her winter hair covered in snowflakes, tickling her skin. Dancing all around her, melting into her fingertips as she tried to shelter them in her cold hands.
You look very pretty like this , Lumine had said with the brightest of smiles, and Ayaka’s cheeks blossomed like not winter, but the warmth of summer.
The peaceful snowfall quickly turns into a blizzard, and Lumine rushes her through these worn out paths, the snow crunching beneath their feet, the sharp edge of the wind flushing their tender skin —cheeks, and nose, and ears alike—, like a winter sword vanishing their warmth. She never lets go of Ayaka’s hand, clasping it tightly with her own as the blizzard grows chasing their backs.
We’ll be safe here, Lumine explains. They’re at Albedo’s laboratory. He’s the Chief Alchemist and Captain of the Investigation Team of the Knights of Favonius. Ayaka would have liked to meet him. Judging by all the rapidly-scribbled notes, the amount of books bursting out of the shelves, and the numerous tins and jars with —what Ayaka can only guess are— half-baked experiments, he must be quite the interesting character.
Here, I’ll fix this. Lumine leans over her, effectively fixing Ayaka’s scarf, wrapping it more snuggly around her, covering her up to her nose. She smiles, and Ayaka’s momentarily glad she’s flushed from the cold. We don’t want you getting sick on your first trip to Mondstadt. I do want you to come here again, you know? There’s so much I want to show you.
Then I will accompany you every time I’m able. After all, there’s no one I’d rather see the world with other than you, Ayaka concedes, and Lumine’s smile shines brighter than the rays of sun reflecting on the fallen snow outside.
Lumine gathers some wood in the center of the room and quickly starts a fire, expertly so. The years on the open road don’t go unnoticed by Ayaka, who marvels at her friend’s ability to shift any situation from dire to an adventure worth remembering. She busies herself feeding the fire, watching as the flames swallow the logs —Tentatively at first, mesmerizing as the fire grows, dancing with shades of ashen red and gold—, while Lumine goes through the laboratory’s old nooks and crannies looking for something to warm them up.
Eventually, Ayaka feels something heavy on her. A blanket. And Lumine’s gentle hands draping the fabric over her friend’s shoulders, carefully covering all of her, sheltering her from the cold.
Isn’t that better? Lumine says, hands in her hips, and the flushed of her nose. Her words condensate into a small circle of heat, fading into the air between them.
What about you? Ayaka worries.
I couldn’t find any more blankets. But, I’m okay, Lumine promises. I’ve been through worse weather.
And I have no doubts that’s true. Still, I cannot possibly sit here, hog the only blanket we have, and let my dearest friend freeze herself to the bone, Ayaka exaggerates, and Lumine draws a smile. I hope I’m not imposing on you with this request but… Would you come here? And share the blanket with me?
It’s very pleasant, Ayaka thinks, to be close with someone. Addictingly so, if she dares entertain the thought. To be able to simply be with someone. No need for etiquette, for overly decorous manners of speech with double meanings, for carefully crafting the best version of herself for others to gaze upon. To be with someone —freely, openly exhilaratingly vulnerable in the action— and be seen in her barest, most authentic form.
So, when Lumine accepts her offer —When she scoots inside the blanket, her thighs touching Ayaka’s, elbows pressed together—, Ayaka doesn’t feel like the Shirasagi Himegimi, delicate and proper in all her faces; but just a young girl sharing her space, her warmth , with the person she cherishes the most in this beautiful side of the world.
And she turns to Lumine and says, I am happy you brought me here.
Despite the blizzard? Lumine asks, and Ayaka lets herself quietly listen. The rustling of the trees outside, swayed by the strong winds of winter, the snow muffling every other sound —Like the world had cracked open and rewritten itself anew, waiting for their touch—, swallowing every unsaid thing she keeps between her ribs.
She says, Yes. Despite the blizzard.
And she smiles, feeling the softness of the blanket around her shoulders, the warmth of Lumine’s touch pressed to her, the heat of the fire by their feet, and Ayaka wonders if it’s even winter anymore when her chest is a blossoming spring, an entire field of daffodils, all opening up at once.
I’m glad you think that , Lumine whispers like it’s a secret, like no one in this side of the world is allowed to listen to these words, meant for Ayaka’s ears alone. I still have many places I want to show you.
Truthfully, I wish I could accompany you at all times. Ayaka whispers back. Another secret, something she wouldn’t admit out loud if it weren’t for the blizzard raging outside, for the fire casting long shadows of ash and gold, for Lumine’s knees touching her own. If I was allowed a little selfishness, I would follow you. Anywhere you wanted to be, I would like to be there with you.
This is enough for now. Isn’t it? Lumine’s face turns to the side, where her golden meet Ayaka’s winter eyes. There’s a question there —Hanging off her long lashes and the pink of her mouth—, and Ayaka feels the topic of conversation has shifted to something more personal, more unbreachable.
Lumine’s question comes with a silent request, the gentle touch of her fingers against the back of Ayaka’s hand, colder in comparison.
And Ayaka’s chest falters for a moment, her heart completely oblivious of her need to beat, to breathe , as every last snowflake within her chest melts under the warmth of Lumine’s stare.
There’s an answer there, Ayaka thinks as she slowly allows her fingers to interlace their hands together, watching the sheer joy paint a beautiful landscape in the golden of Lumine’s eyes, the smile that follows, silent but oh , so loud in her demeanor.
Yes. This is enough for now , Ayaka replies, entirely too late, but she feels she must say the words aloud. They hold more meaning that she allows herself to admit. She can only hope Lumine catches on what she carefully keeps sheltered in the vault of her chest.
The light of the fire fills the room with orange and golden lights, and the blizzard goes on beyond the laboratory, swallowing the rest of the world in white.
If you had asked her before today, Ayaka would’ve said she likes the snow. But now, carefully nestled on Lumine’s side, the warmth of her palm pressed against her own —The way her thumb draws silhouettes all over her flushed skin, making her bones shiver underneath— Ayaka might say she likes the snow all the more now. After all, this might be one of her favorite memories in the entirety of her precious life.