Chapter Text
“You’re almost out of flour,” Wanderer stood next to a shelf of various jars, holding the aforementioned container that was nearly depleted.
“Sucrose accidentally used most of it, mistaking it for diatomaceous earth.”
“You’ll have to remember to buy more next time, and also labels. How else is anyone supposed to know?”
“It’s obvious once you taste it,” Albedo says as if it was no big deal.
“People don’t usually put unknown substances into their mouths.”
It was a slow day at the Dragonspine outpost, Wanderer found himself hanging out here when he didn’t have anything else to do in Monstadt. It was cozy, there were never any uninvited guests thanks to the remote location and he enjoyed the company of the alchemist there; more than he would be willing to admit.
“Klee told me that you’re quite adept at sewing?”
Wanderer immediately turns to him, and his eyes squint at him with suspicion, wondering how much Albedo knew about the tiny doll that he carries around. He hadn’t told Klee that he was trying to keep it a secret but he thinks that he would be mortified if word got out.
“She says that you helped her patch things up and that you carry sewing supplies with you.” Albedo clarifies, seeing how Wanderer tensed up.
“It’s helpful during travels, torn fabric and all that,” he holds back from releasing a sigh of relief.
“Have you ever made something with it?”
“I haven’t made any clothes but I know about forging swords and polearms,” it was from the time he was at Tataratsuma. He intentionally omits the tiny toy hidden in his sleeve.
Albedo gives a thoughtful hum, raising a hand to his chin. Wanderer turns back to him in concern.
“Why do you ask? Did you tear something?”
“No, it’s not that. I don’t need you to sew anything.”
Wanderer’s hat tassels swing as he tilts his head in question. It’s unusual for Albedo to be so indirect like this, it was unclear what the alchemist wanted.
When he first met the Alchemist, he thought that he was very inexpressive and hard to read. There were times such as when he was with Klee when his thoughts were very easy to understand, but he mostly approached things with a neutral expression. Wanderer prides himself in reading him better now, figuring out certain tells of when he was bored, happy or upset.
The best way to get an understanding of how Albedo was feeling was through his paintings, where he captures his thoughts and mood towards the subject.
It was similar to sword smithing, he supposes. Whether a blade was made with good or ill intent, it comes through whether the smith intended to or not. Grief and sadness start surfacing as he pushes down the thoughts about the other people who helped with the making of a certain sword from his past.
“How about anything that’s… not a weapon?”
“Never did anything of that sort.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Nope. Stop asking questions and get to the point.”
Albedo looks a little sheepish now, it makes Wanderer feel a little better.
“I wanted to ask if you’ve ever made like art.”
“What the fuck is that?” Wanderer couldn’t help but immediately retort.
Albedo was expecting the question but he looked unimpressed at the swearing. He’d fight him if Klee was to ever pick up this sort of language, he’s already had enough trouble trying to keep it out of her ears at the knights’ headquarters.
Wanderer looked unremorseful, besides, there were no children here right now. Just the two of them in Albedo’s outpost and no one else.
He lets it slip for now and moves on.
“You know, things like my drawings and paintings?”
“Aren’t those just things to help you record your findings or something? A visual record for your experiments and whatnot.”
“Well, the drawings I made as Calx aren’t for that purpose.”
“Those are to provide support to the writing, so the readers know what’s happening in the scene. And Klee’s crayon drawings are for her entertainment. I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
It was clear that Wanderer wasn’t going to be getting it anytime soon.
That didn’t mean Albedo had given up yet.
“How about music? Monstadt is known for its wine and song. Maybe that would be a better example.”
“Then that’s bards trying to make some mora to survive, or for the church to praise Lord Bartoboss or something.”
Albedo ignores the mockery of Monstadt’s archon as Wanderer has made clear his distaste for gods in the past.
“You’re getting closer, the church part I mean.”
“The silly act of worshipping the absent god, Bartatoes?”
“Expressing their feelings, the emotional side of it.”
Wanderer gives Albedo a look, face twisting with a mixture of disgust and displeasure.
“Aeugh, yuck.”
He may have started accepting that emotions aren’t entirely bad even if it was the reason he was discarded, but he didn’t like them regardless. Especially when things became all sappy and emotional.
Albedo was looking even more unimpressed.
“How about you try to sing something-”
“No.”
He was cut off before he even finished the question.
Wanderer stared him down for even having the audacity to consider it. If he wanted a song then he should go and ask Barbara, there was no way that he would sing something if he was asked to. If anything, Albedo had a better voice for singing.
Albedo thought about it, deciding that it would be very cute if Wanderer was the type to hum to himself if he was in a happy mood.
As if sensing the thought, Wanderer knocks a metal container off a table. “Oops,” he says deadpan, without an ounce of regret.
It landed on the ground with a loud clunk, followed by metallic sounds as it settled next to Albedo’s feet. It was enough to disrupt his thoughts.
“Hey, don’t do that. What if it broke?”
“Then it breaks, isn’t that much more fun?”
Albedo leans down to pick up the fallen item, thankfully it wasn’t something fragile so it hadn’t even left a mark. He goes over to where Wanderer is and places it back where it was originally sitting.
Wanderer watches before taking a seat, figuring he’d try and explain.
“Let’s say if you were to read an annoying letter or report with what you didn’t like on it, isn’t it satisfying to just rip it to shreds or throw it into a fire?”
“No?”
“How about seeing a training dummy beaten and battered after a training session? It shows you’re strong, that nothing can get in your way.”
“I don’t need something like that to know how much I could injure someone.”
Albedo had to be careful with the art of khemia, he knew well what it was capable of. Khaenriah was more than enough proof of how much of a danger he posed.
“That’s not the point, it’s about the thrill of destruction.”
“Like catharsis? Releasing emotions can be done in other ways than violence, you know.”
“That’s almost it but not quite it either.”
“Consider my interest piqued. Tell me more about it.”
The curious alchemist approached the subject with an open mind. It was something new he didn’t understand, so of course he would do his best to understand it. What sort of enjoyment could one possibly get from breaking things?
“Then how about defeating a hillichurl? Enemies, monsters and treasure hoarders all pose a threat. Isn’t it great to see them defeated?”
“If it means that it’s safer for others who will be travelling the same path, I would be relieved that they won’t be getting hurt.”
“It’s not about anyone else, this is just about you.”
“Me?”
Wanderer was confused, it shouldn’t be this hard to explain this concept from his perspective. It was as simple as enjoying food that tasted good to him, it was an easy concept. At least, it should be.
“Okay, how about you think about it in terms of Klee? She likes bombs right?”
Someone that they both knew mutually, that should help deliver his message.
“She does. It was something that Alice taught her for self-defence and she holds it in high regard.”
“But she doesn’t only use it for self-defence, the reason she’s not running around right now is a testament to that.”
Klee would’ve loved to join the two of them right now if Jean hadn’t grounded her to solitary confinement for another attempt at combusting a school of fish in Cider lake. It was unlikely that this would make her change her ways, seeing how she’s continued despite all her scoldings from before.
“Klee does enjoy fish blasting with her bombs, she likes fish despite how much she dislikes removing the bones from them.”
“That’s part of it, reaping the rewards that come out of taking from others.”
“That is an overly dramatic way of putting it.”
Wanderer gives a scandalized gasp at being called overly dramatic. Maybe he should just discard all his emotions again, so he wouldn’t ever be called dramatic… which is what an overly dramatic person would do.
He huffs, unable to deny it.
“Besides, it’s not good to take things from others and someone could’ve gotten hurt, there’s a reason why we’re trying to put a stop to it.”
“But no one was hurt and she was just having fun.”
“You sound just like Klee, and no, she should find other ways to have fun.”
“Spoilsport.”
“Savage.”
“Wet blanket.”
“Brute.”
“Weakling.”
“Now I know you don’t mean that.”
It was clear that Albedo was not weak. Wanderer knew that he was capable of causing much more damage, not that he’s ever seen it.
“Then how come you don’t ever let loose?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t you ever want to just let it all out? Channel all your energy into a massive attack, turning anything and everything into rubble.”
“If I had that sort of energy, I’d rather put it into my experiments. That would be much more productive.”
And they were back to a standstill.
This entire conversation felt like an unwinnable battle, neither was properly communicating and getting their thoughts over to the other side. What seems so simple to both of them, is a completely unknown subject to the other.
Albedo was trying to understand, he was. But whenever he thought about submitting to his powers, he can’t help but think of what he told the traveller.
If one day, I destroy Mondstadt. Destroy everything.
Then more than anything else in the world, he’d want to be stopped. Wanderer was strong, maybe…
“What if, say, one day, I destroyed Mondstadt…”
“Then it probably deserved it.”
“Huh?”
“If you wanted to destroy a nation, then you probably had a good reason to. If I was there, I’d help you.”
Albedo was put off by the serious tone of Wanderer’s voice. He was seriously approaching this, and appreciated it if he was to treat it as seriously as well, but not in this way. Not enabling the destruction, absolutely not.
“But I don’t want to destroy Monstadt.”
“Not now , you don’t want to now.”
“I don’t ever want to destroy Monstadt.”
“Hey, I want to destroy a nation so I wouldn’t hold it against you if you changed your mind.”
“You won’t stop me?”
“No, in fact, I’d join you.”
“There’d be something wrong with me.”
“I would make you worse.”
Wanderer seems to smile at the idea of the two of them tearing apart Teyvat.
“Maybe I could get you to destroy Inazuma if it all goes well. After that, we’d go and wreck Snezhnaya,” Dottore’s face flashes in his mind and his smile twists even more sadistically, “there is someone there who I need dead .”
“Maybe I’m the one who needs to stop you.”
“You probably are, I once called myself Kunikuzushi.”
“Kunikuzushi?”
“It means country destroyer.”
“Ah.”
Albedo held back another quip about him being overly dramatic once again. Who would choose to call themself country destroyer?
“Kunikuzushi.”
“What?”
“Your name?”
“No. It’s… an old name, I no longer go by that moniker anymore.”
He removed Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi and Scaramouche from the Irminsul. They do not exist in this timeline so it wouldn’t be correct to call him by any of them, he is just a nameless Wanderer now.
“Kuni?”
“You’re just butchering it now, that merely means country.”
“At least you respond to it,” Albedo smiles, he liked finding a different way of calling him. This entire time he’s just been a Wanderer, and it felt a little distant. It would be as if the city of Monstadt had simply called him Alchemist or something. He doubts Alchemist would be as well received compared to Albedo.
“That’s like me removing the prince part of your title, it’d be strange for me to call you Kreide.”
A laugh came out of Albedo, he had to admit that it sounded strange especially since no one has ever tried to call him that before. Even more distant than Alchemist would be to call him Chalk. If it came from anyone else then it would have felt dehumanising, but he knew it wasn’t when it came from Wanderer.
Seeing him laugh makes Wanderer laugh too, a soft gentle airy laugh, unlike his usual ones.
“If you don’t give me any alternatives then that’s going to be what I call you,” Albedo points out to the Wanderer.
“I already told you, it simply means country.”
“Maybe I could come up with a title like country destroyer.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
It doesn’t seem like he truly hated being called Kuni, as he had yet to outright reject it. If Albedo had any better ideas then he could always change the nickname later on.
“Anyway, what brought all of this up? The whole art thing, I mean.”
“I was thinking about how Monstadt has the God of Freedom, likewise Liyue has their God of Contracts…”
“Don’t you dare mention her.”
“Ehem, so figured you’d be interested in a pursuit of Eternity!”
“Oh. Like your paintings.”
“Like my paintings.”
“Could I tear down a mountain or something instead? That would probably last an eternity or so.”
“Just give it a try, you’ve got one of Monstadt’s best teachers here with you.”
“You know that Sucrose and Timaeus don’t give the most objective comments about you.”
“Sucrose doesn’t exaggerate,” Albedo was proud while talking about his students, they were good kids who were very earnest in regards to his guidance.
“And what would I even paint?”
“Anything you’d like, maybe start with a landscape of Dragonspine? That’d be a good place to start.”
That was what prompted Albedo and Wanderer to bring an easel and canvas out onto the snowy mountain. They picked an area that was relatively calm without much life and Albedo prepped for Wanderer’s art lesson.
The trip was rather uneventful, not much was happening on Dragonspine aside from the usual.
“First you’d want to prepare the canvas, it gives the paint something to hold onto,” Albedo hands him what essentially looks like white paint. “This is gesso, it will prime the canvas so the paint doesn’t go straight into it.”
Like all the hobbies that he had picked up over the last half a century, Wanderer obediently followed instructions and did his best as an ideal student. He would’ve already refused and stopped the whole thing if he was against the idea, but he had to admit that watching Albedo had helped him develop an interest in drawing. Also, Albedo was a good teacher. He was meticulous and patient, setting a pace that was easy to follow. Each step was clear and concise, and it was engaging so he never felt bored.
It wasn’t hard to cover an entire canvas with gesso anyway.
“-and then you’d work from the lightest shades to the darker ones. It’s easier to darken an area with paints but not the other way round.”
“Hah, just like people.”
It’s much easier for people to be corrupted than to redeem them. Some would rather just throw it all away and start again.
From Scaramouche to Wanderer.
“Anyway, you should take the rest from here,” Albedo took a step back.
Wanderer paused, looked at the landscape and back to his canvas. And once again, before turning to Albedo with an expression that clearly showed that he did not know what to do.
“Go on.”
Cogs seemed to be turning, but suddenly everything that he had been taught seemed to slip his mind.
Completely going against what he was just told, he dips his paintbrush into the darkest colour on his palette. He added a stroke onto the canvas, and oh , he pushed too hard and the line was thicker than he intended it to be. Forgetting that his brush already had dark paint on it, he dips it into white and attempts to cover it up to a predictable result. It becomes a big mess all too quickly, and when Albedo finally takes notice, it becomes too far gone to be salvaged.
What was supposed to be a painting of a snowy landscape, turns into a muddied mess. Where it should blend, weren’t, places that shouldn’t blend were, each stroke too big or smaller than intended, nothing where it should be. Being able to mess up this badly would be considered a talent of its own.
“I might’ve skipped a few steps, we perhaps should’ve started with pencil sketches?”
The two of them find something else to do amid the snow, putting away the easel and clearing out a monster camp or two. They also brought back a large amount of starsilver from nearby, so the entire journey was still worthwhile.
Their next creative endeavour yielded similar results, under Albedo’s guidance it would all flow smoothly. Ink drifting across the paper, each smear of colour would be a conscious decision. Then as soon as he was left to his own devices, the tool would snap, and the parchment would wrinkle and result in a disfigured mess.
“Maybe something more three-dimensional, like sculpture? Perhaps you could try making a snow figure.”
“You want me to play in the snow like children? How futile.”
“It could be fun.”
“Making things out of snow would be the opposite of pursuing eternity.”
“If you look at it the other way, it’s about valuing the moment?”
A quick flash of all the lives that were snubbed out throughout his life flashed through his eyes. One day, he’d be fantasising about eating lavender melons with the young boy, and then he’d be throwing himself into the fire hoping it would consume him the very next day. Everything around him has been fleeting and fragile, it wasn’t a lesson that he needed to learn. He was well aware.
“I already know.”
Albedo senses that this was more than just about the properties of snow. He had moments when he became all sad, burdened by a lifetime of grief.
“This whole thing is futile. As you can see, I solely bring destruction, I would not be able to nurture anything, much less an entire nation. No wonder I was discarded.”
“Just give it a try, making something out of snow doesn’t have to be so philosophical,” Albedo reasoned.
“So I just, what, roll it into shapes?”
Albedo hums in thought, approaching this whole endeavour like an experiment. If all previous attempts had failed then perhaps there was a variable that hadn’t been considered. So far, a common denominator between the last two attempts was him, so how about he brings about a new variable to the equation?
“How about we bring Klee here? Perhaps she can offer an insight that I had overlooked.”
“If it’ll help, why not.”
The two of them pack their things, Albedo taking note of the supplies that he needed to pick up from the city. It was a shopping trip that also involved picking up his little sister.
He even sent word in advance so the knights would know they would be coming.