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“Vengeance will be exacted for this transgression, Gunnhildr.”
“...For giving you a week off?”
“You think my services are so useless that you can afford a week without me?”
Jean paused. It’s true, Eula was a rather dedicated knight, and losing her services for a brief period of time could be costly to the Knights in a number of ways. At the same time, she was a big fan of enforcing some manner of work-life balance, particularly after her conversations with Lumine about the structuring of the organisation. She knows she’s a hypocrite in that sense, too, given it is a rarity Jean Gunnhildr is ever spotted anywhere that isn’t either her office or on official knights duty. But still, that doesn’t mean one of her subordinates, no matter how skilled, should have to bear a similar weight as well.
“No, I’m merely saying you deserve a break,” Jean stated, shuffling the papers on her desk into a neat square. “We all do, there’s no weakness or judgement in a little time off.”
“And I’m supposed to just take that from you ?” Eula spat, huffing out a mocking laugh. “Gunnhildr, you’d work yourself to death if your ‘subordinates’ didn’t tell you to relax a little.”
“Ouch,” Jean laughed. Eula is stern, she’s serious in her criticism, but it’s not something Jean can ever really bring herself to take to heart. Eula is Eula. “My own hypocrisy is getting the best of me, is it now?”
“I find it difficult to take orders from someone who won’t listen to that advice herself.” Eula’s stare was hawkish. Alluring.
“Then I suppose I’ll join you on your Knights-mandated vacation.”
“Yes, I suppose– I’m sorry?”
“You needn’t apologise,” Jean assured, rising from her desk to stand at not quite eye level with the Spindrift Knight. “I’ve merely begun to see the merit in your point. Can’t preach vacation and not take one myself, can I?” Jean’s voice came with a teasing lilt, designed specifically to get under Eula’s skin at that moment. She’d get under the rest at a later date.
“Jean,” Eula whispered, eyes downcast. “Do you seriously want your people to see you with me?”
And therein lies the real reason for Eula’s hesitance. Quick to point the finger at Jean for her admitted hypocrisy, but in reality it all boils down to the scars of her clan. Jean knows the looks she gets, the whispers spoken a little too loudly. She knows it affects Eula, as much as she tries to pretend she’s all business.
“The people of Mondstadt are hardly ‘my’ people, Eula.” Jean placed a hand, first hovering, then firm, on Eula’s shoulder. “And besides, I imagine those who still fail to recognise you for you will have a hard time bad-mouthing you if their Acting Grand Master is accompanying her, will they? It’s two birds, one stone.”
“You say they aren’t your people, yet you still claim yourself as their Acting Grand Master?” Eula smirked. Softened, too, which was half the point of Jean suggesting a vacation.
“You’re getting lost in semantics,” Jean grinned back. “Now, is there an itinerary you’ve got in mind?”
“Gunnhildr,” Eula began, tone light, “you think I have a plan for a vacation imposed on me by you?”
“You’re usually quick on your feet, I’d trust you to make a decision.”
Eula laughed. Genuine. Bright. “Then join me in Liyue.”
“You have a penchant for jewellery soup?”
“That, and some old friends. I’m sure a woman so insistent on me spreading my metaphorical wings in relaxation wouldn’t refuse this offer?”
Jean rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll let Kaeya know he’s in charge for the week. Amber can keep watch over him as backup.”
“And you expect an intact office when you return?”
“Maybe not. But I’m a newfound woman of impulse. Perhaps you can join me in some spring cleaning when we return?”
Eula laughed like sweet music. “That’s a job the Acting Grand Master can handle herself.”
Jean smiled. It’s nice to speak to Eula again, all casual; they’d been close when they were younger, one of the few that knew Jean before… Jean. Their parents actively forbid their meetings, yet that never stopped them. Perhaps some of Jean’s more recent impulsive behaviour is just reminiscing on her spunkier side as a child, or maybe Eula just manages to coax those feelings out of her, intentional or not. Whatever it was, Jean had stumbled herself into the waiting arms of a woman she might know a little too well now.
At least it was her own choice. She may as well enjoy her holiday now, however impulsive.
“A pleasure to see you once again, Miss Eula,” Yanfei bowed as she spoke, before she left into the sea of people and lanterns, coral hair bouncing lightly as she strolled off.
Eula nodded in reply, though the woman could no longer see her.
“A pleasure, hm?” Jean nursed her glass of wine as she spoke. “An old flame?”
“Please,” Eula huffed, “merely a candle.”
“Sex without strings has its benefits,” Jean replied simply. “I can understand searching for that in Liyue, given how Mondstadt can be for you.”
“I would have no problems bedding a woman in Mondstadt.”
Jean laughed. “I admire your confidence, Spindrift Knight. Explore with me?” She gestured to the expanse of the festival behind them.
“Last I checked,” Eula sighed, standing to stretch long limbs, “this vacation was at your behest. Do I have much of a choice?”
“Perhaps not. I’m giving you one, though.”
“Your generosity knows no bounds, Gunnhildr.”
The pair strolled through the streets of Yuijing Terrace, admiring elegantly arranged architecture and people watching as they went about their night. Eula was rather enraptured with Liyue, it was no secret. A land of rich, important culture away from the prying eyes of Mondstadt, filled with familiar faces from her travels and different kinds of strangers, ones without the imbued knowledge of her Lawrence past. Jean loved that twinkle, faint yet radiant, in the corner of the Spindrift Knight’s eye, as she fumbled her way through a conversation with a food stall owner, all too serious in her speech, but enjoying herself all the same.
In part, Jean tagged along just to see this side of the other woman. It’s a rarity–no, an impossibility in Mondstadt to see her so at ease. It’s why Jean took to it to give her so many missions abroad, in places where her life was not locked down by the shackles of familial duty and generational scars. In places where all she’d be known as was Eula, in all the beauty that name carried, and nothing more. Azure blue hair, piercing eyes, soft lips and a weak grin when she tried, all of these expressions were like magic to Jean, who’s been watching this stilted mess of a woman since childhood. She loved every moment of it.
“You’re staring.” It’s more of an accusation than a question, and Jean smiles before she answers.
“Am I not allowed?” Jean tore the chicken off its stick, choosing to mask a faint blush with her meal. She’s trying to be teasing, but feelings have their way of getting in the way.
Eula watches her with hawkish eyes, stepping forward in lieu of a response to brush a piece of food off Jean’s cheek with her now ungloved hand, before turning her head to face the crowd of Liyuen citizens, chasing any eyes that aren’t Jean’s own. “I suppose I cannot stop you.”
Jean hands Eula the remaining half of her food, the spot where she last bit still visible. “Would you want to stop me?”
Eula met her eyes briefly, before turning on her heel.
Jean would remember that look for the rest of her life.
Their lodging is simple: a large bed, though only one, along with a cosy living room and a rather antiquated fireplace, all red brick and garish, an almost uncanny slice of Mondstadt within Liyuen walls. Jean had offered to pay for accommodation herself, having quite the connection with the Yuheng herself, though Eula refused it, stating she already had a home planned out.
It was a rather interesting turn of phrase, Jean thought. ‘Home’. It was not a vacation house, or a hotel, or an arrangement, at least not to Eula. Worn brick, books that looked well read, and a remarkable lack of cutlery organisation in the drawers made the place feel lived in, and Jean was beginning to have her suspicions. She wouldn’t be her if she didn’t act on them, either.
“Do you live here, Eula?” The question is open, spacious. She awaits her response.
The knight tilts her head, puzzled. “I beg your pardon? It is Mondstadt in which my residence is, Gunnhildr. This home is—”
“That word,” Jean interrupted, eyeing her partner once more, “it stands out to me. I’m aware you reside in Mondstadt, Spindrift Knight. But tell me, do you live here?”
Eula smiled, truly smiled, in a way so profoundly sad Jean felt close to tears, where Eula’s had long frozen over.
“Like no other place, Jean. I live here like I’ve never lived before.”
If Eula notices the hand in hers, she doesn’t complain about it.
They lay together.
It’s not sleeping, at least, not yet. It’s not sexual either, despite previous discussions, as their shared warmth never burns above a flicker, yet it still sears. They lay facing one another, pillow’s width apart, hands conjoined in the middle. They watch, listen, feel one another, even if there’s no movement, no words, and hardly much more than the brush of worn fingertips. It’s content Jean hasn’t felt herself in a long time, and she wonders if that’s what this place is like to Eula, with or without her.
She wonders if there’s space in this bed for the two of them, even with its size.
“In a place as intimate as this, I feel rather silly for imposing now,” Jean huffed, breaking the silence. It was meant jokingly, a way to ease tension, but Eula isn’t so unaware.
“Are you serious, Gunnhildr?” For once in her life, Jean isn’t able to provide Eula with a quip, an answer or a distraction. She inhales a shaky breath where she lies.
“It’s just,” she shuffles into place in the bed, moving to get a better look at Eula’s expression, filled with soft anger. “Mondstadt is where I am tied, Eula. A burden of duty I can barely wrap my own head around. Yet this place, this nation, in all that it means to you, it makes me both profoundly happy and so… So very sad. Where Mondstadt has failed you, I wish to rebuild. I feel like I haven’t done enough to protect you, my knight. And for that I deeply apologise.”
Eula reaches a hand across, breaking through the line of casual intimacy into deep adoration, as she strokes away a tear with her finger. “Dry your tears, Jean. Look around you. I have complicated feelings around Mondstadt, I have a deep pain even your sister could not heal whenever I think of it, yet… I am also, even in absentia, tied to it. This house, in its architecture, I had constructed myself with the Yuheng's oversight. It has the outward allure of Liyue that I love so much, yet the interior is Mondstadt to its core.”
Jean tried to hold back her sniffles, failing to mask a hiccup as strong arms wrap around the small of her back.
“My Jean, this place is one of the only reminders I have of you. It is a way to confront malignancy while enjoying the homeliness of the person who has always been there for me, in my impulsivity, in my stubbornness, in the depths of my inner turmoil. Please, never whisper such horrid lies about failures. I’ll have vengeance on you if you ever repeat such vulgar falsehoods in my presence.”
Jean’s body shakes with each sob, each tender gesture from her stoic knight soothing her back to normality.
“Jean,” Eula whispered, lips ghosting the crown of her head before continuing, “sweetness. I feel like brushing your hair off your forehead, and consulting your eyes. I know they have so much to say to me. I drink in every stare. I love that you watch me. I’m sorry I haven’t been as forthright as I could’ve been. For as much as you claim to want to protect me, I fear you’ve never had that figure in your life as well. Can’t we just sit here, and accept our own dependence, Jean? Accept that we don’t have to play these roles around just each other. We can be Jean and Eula, just as it’s always been.”
That’s enough to get Jean to snap out of her sudden waterworks tilting up from Eula’s chest to protest. “But it hasn’t always—”
“Jean, as far as I’m concerned, yes it has. It always has. Now won’t you rest with me, as we have both always dreamed of?”
Jean hides her eyes in the bosom of her… Eula. It’s a late night, and sleep is beginning to prevail over her own self-doubt. In the morning, perhaps they could continue this conversation. Perhaps they could share a kiss underneath Liyue’s soft sun, feel each other in places Jean rarely lets other women go. Morning is for new beginnings, after all.
The night is for rest.