Chapter Text
There he sat, bowed before a window of frosted panes.
Like the others, such a structure was merely for decoration. It was made to please nothing but the savviest of eyes, to illuminate the room with shades reminiscent of Sumeru’s many scenes.
Yet he, in particular, looked past these windows- staring into the grains as if they simply did not exist.
Alas, they were ever-present. No matter how many times he came around, the fine granules stood out amongst the sight they so desperately hid. If ever his mind were to deceive him, a simple brush against the glass would give way to the frame’s true purpose.
He knew the feel of it very well, after all. Days upon days spent before that window, brushing at its multicolored panes with the tips of his fingers… did wonders for the memory.
What was he to do, otherwise? A prisoner held no freedom, no will. They had no tasks, nor held any importance in the world. Not after committing atrocity after atrocity-
But he was no prisoner. Not within Sumeru’s borders. Not within any physical border.
No. He’d given that previous life of his to Celestia. Only the greatest of powers knew what he once was.
Now, he had no name. No memory amongst those who’d once known him. Who created him. He was nothing. Nothing but a faceless wanderer…
Wanderer blinked, lifting his cheek from the knee he’d purchased it on. She had entered the room, the doors swinging all too effortlessly for someone of her stature.
He knew it was her given by the sounds of her steps- light and bare and all too familiar for his artificial ears.
Greetings went unsaid. What was there to greet when he moved not an inch for hours at a time?
It was nothing for him, a point of concern for her. She had yet to voice it, but his situation left her displeased.
This never stopped her from making short conversation, though. He spared a glance to the side, and sure enough…
“Perhaps a lecture would interest you.” Lesser Lord Kusanali spoke, her hands clasped neatly before her.
How odd it was, to be in the presence of the Dendro Archon. He had sullied her name, fought to take her place… and yet, she’d spared him from prosecution. Took him under her wing.
In return? He’d done nothing of use. He’d shut himself away and refused every bit of her suggestions for leisure.
He awaits the day she grew tired of his stubbornness.
“I’d rather eat rocks,” Wanderer murmured, smushing his cheek once more.
“That wouldn’t be good for your stomach.” Her smile was evident in her voice. “Maybe a book? There’s an impressive collection of literature down in the House of Daena.”
He smiled back at this, albeit a little more wryly than the Lesser Lord. “No.”
The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself. His ensemble of clothes would surely stick out amongst the garbs worn by students and staff.
Even the simple thought of traversing into such a dense population… it made his skin crawl.
Kusanali, he imagined, frowned. “It would be wise to immerse yourself in the academic atmosphere.”
Wanderer sighed. “Why? So I can get out of your hair?”
“So you can spend the day amongst those just like you.”
With the living.
At another time, that would have infuriated him. To be paired with the likes of the living, to be compared to the beings who’d done nothing but ruin him…
The anger he awaited did not come. It never did, anymore.
Still, Wanderer scoffed. He loosened his joints from their everlasting position, pressed his lips together in an effort to bid them from quivering.
Snatching his hat by the brim, Wanderer stood. He walked, heading straight to the doors Kusanali had entered through. “I think I’ll do just that.”
He did not turn back.