Chapter Text
It’s an aggravatingly sunny day, and Wanderer is in a terrible mood.
Not that these two things are related, or that he feels particularly strongly about the weather into begin with, of course—all Wanderer found worth mentioning about something like the weather was the fact it at the very least served a purpose, as most life in Teyvat was quite dependent on it.
This dependency did not apply to him, however, because unlike most living beings, he was above being subject to its whims, for a puppet could not succumb to the frigid cold or suffocating heat in the ways humans could. Perhaps this was why mortals felt the need to seem so invested in it—which was something that made weather vaguely bothersome to the Wanderer in ways it could not be physically.
Humanity gave it too much personality. There was a disruptive, annoying arrogance in thunder and lightning, but the sun was simply the sun, and Wanderer sincerely failed to understand what was so inherently happy and cheerful about it. Sumeru City would writhe with human activity in any given circumstance, but now, with the weather catering to far too many of humanity’s countless sensitivities, everyone moved with far too much of an extra spring in their step—which Wanderer found entirely unnecessary, and only made today in particular feel distinctly more unpleasant and sour.
Ultimately, though, none of this matters to Wanderer, not really—because finding such purpose in boring, inconsequential milling about that made even something like the weather matter was not an experience a puppet could ever understand. This, obviously, was fine by him—frolicking around with others on a day like this sounded absolutely exhausting—not to mention unnecessary, so his current solitude was very much preferred.
He closes his eyes, content with the peace and quiet of isolation. Yes, this was a far better way to spend a sunny afternoon—regardless what anyone else might think. Who needs other people?
“Oh—there you are! Hello, Wanderer! It’s nice out today, isn’t it?”
Wanderer frowns at the sudden, familiar, ever-benign voice coming from somewhere behind him, begrudgingly peeling his eyes back open.
…Well then. So much for peace and solitude.
Wanderer is really starting to think little Devi Kusanali has some uncanny ability to show up the moment he thinks something that would prompt a flowery, philosophically thoughtful sentiment of disagreement from her—which is…very unfair, because he hadn’t even been completely serious about the not needing and hating everyone thing this time. He’s just rather irritable with how mundanely perfect the day is, really, and the fact he’s certain her ability to seemingly sense whenever he’s in a bad mood isn’t a result of her unnervingly invasive mind powers (it would take far more than that to get into his head, and he would definitely feel it if she tried, thank you very much)—makes it arguably worse.
“…It’s expected weather for the season,” Wanderer tells her, a little more flatly than he means to, leaning back against the tree behind him. “Nothing special.”
He’s perched up on one of the massive tree branches twined into the Sanctuary of Surasthana, high enough to survey a portion of the city without being subject to its wide range of noise. It’s not a place many people come to, but evidently still too predictable and close enough to the Sanctuary for Nahida to easily find him.
“Maybe so,” Nahida agrees, sounding as impossibly good natured as usual. Still, there’s something minutely different about her voice that makes Wanderer turn to look back at her for reasons he can’t decipher. “…But there’s a specialness in the ordinary, too. I love the spring…everything is wonderfully green and alive.”
Wanderer thinks he has never seen the rainforest not look green, but her enthusiasm is appreciated. He stares back at Nahida, who is leaning heavily against the railing of the path to the Sanctuary, resting her chin atop her folded arms.
Something about this strikes Wanderer as…off, for some inane reason. She appeared to be putting far more of her weight on the railing than he thinks she’d ever need to, giving the way she held herself an uncharacteristic heaviness.
…Which was particularly odd for today, as this sort of weather always made Nahida beam with a frankly absurd amount of cheeriness. It distinctly reminded Wanderer of the way flowers and leaves brightened heartily under the warmth of the sun, because Archons evidently loved embodying their element to outright cartoonish degrees without even trying to. It disturbs the mundane cheeriness of the day—which…bothers him in a way it shouldn’t.
Maybe he’s just seeing things.
“Why are you here?” He asks Nahida.
“Hmmm,” says Nahida, who thinks of far too many answers to even the simplest questions she’s asked. “I thought some fresh air would do me some good, the Sanctuary of Surasthana starts feeling stuffy if you’re working indoors for too long…While a bird cannot fly freely forever and will always have to return to its nest, it is still important it stretches its wings every so often, rather than remain in a cage for its entire life—too much of either breed the same sort of wariness. And I wanted to see you.”
“That’s…nice.” Wanderer replies. He supposes that somewhat explains Nahida’s apparent lack of energy—it wasn’t uncommon Wanderer found her needing down time after her work, even as a god. Still, he doesn’t like it.
Processing the last sentence amidst her flowery analogies, he adds, “What do you need from me?”
The past week had been incredibly dull and boring. He hadn’t been given anything to do, and was stuck waiting on access to a source he needed to continue his paper arguing against one of the other Vahumana scholars who had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, so he’d instead made many important plans that involved sitting around and brooding in undisturbed peace to occupy his time.
It would be very troublesome to have such plans disrupted to run Nahida’s errands again—especially when it was never just a simple task, and often involved some underlying motive to make Wanderer “cooperate with other people” or something similar. He probably wouldn’t even get an excuse to antagonize people on purpose this time for fun with it. Terrible. Utterly terrible. His life was full of nothing but disappointment and tragedy.
“Oh, I don’t need anything,” Nahida answer, with a level of warm sincerity in her voice that Wanderer would find suspiciously jarring if she were anyone else. “I just haven’t seen you in a moment and wanted to say hello! Sometimes a break from solitude is good for the mind; anyone would get bored eating the same meal everyday, even if it was something they didn’t dislike…wouldn’t they?”
Wanderer stills, a little taken aback. He blinks multiple times, the sourness festering in him wavering in unusual confusion.
Okay, well, that was an even more troublesome response than if she’d simply wanted something from him.
Because this wasn’t the first time she’d sought him out for no reason other than wanting to see him, and while he couldn’t even say he minded such a thing, it made something in him squirm in apprehension, because he couldn’t fully wrap his head around why. If the Dendro Archon was going to keep him around, she might as well put him to use. It wasn’t like she didn’t know how to—if anything, she was one of the few people who did know how to utilize Wanderer and his abilities in a way that actually felt worthwhile.
But she always went on about how she didn’t like balancing the books or transactional relationships. Wanderer didn’t know what to do about that. If she wanted him to survey a mission for her, or help her get an upper-hand on the Fatui with his intel….well, sure—but what did she gain from seeking his company out in particular? Over really anyone else? And if it was for his sake, well, Wanderer thinks she should consider how worth it that really was.
“Do you—“ Nahida starts, then breaks off with a harsh cough, like she’d inhaled a bad bout of dust. She pauses, as if caught off guard by the force of it. “Wow, e-excuse me. Do—do you want to have lunch with me?”
Wanderer thinks about this.
“…No thanks,” He says curtly, turning to look back down at the city. “I’ll pass. I don’t need lunch.”
“Oh, I know. Neither do I,” Nahida replies, so unfazed by Wanderer’s disregard for human civilities that he’s quite certain she could emerge from the drama of a Fatui Harbingers’ dinner party completely unscathed. “But it’s still quite pleasant to enjoy what the world has to offer. We have, um…fresh tea blends imported from Inazuma…that I think we’d both enjoy. I figured…just cooking something would be fun, you don’t h-have to…eat…any…”
Wanderer glances back at her, irked by the sudden spaciness in her tone.
Nahida is rubbing her head with a vague sort of confusion. She stands a bit more upright against the railing, and blinks, looking oddly disoriented.
There’s something about this Wanderer doesn’t like. He decides he’ll keep an eye on it.
“Maybe not today,” Wanderer says, turning away again. “You should head back to the Sanctuary.”
He almost adds, because you look tired, but his throat inexplicably closes around the discomforting awkwardness of such a sentiment, so it dies on his tongue.
Either way, he doubts it would change the silence from Nahida that follows.
Wanderer watches a busy food stand on the street far below him, anticipating Nahida to reply with some spiel about how “opening your heart to new flavors of the world enriches the mind”, or at the very least an “Oh, okay, Wanderer. I’ll save you some tea for later when you’re done brooding!” —and finds himself unreasonably perturbed when there isn’t any response at all.
The silence is amusingly familiar, almost. Wanderer was used to conversations dying abruptly from a lack of response, for it was only a matter of time before most people who spoke to him got too prissy and bothered by Wanderer’s disinterest in mincing his words to their taste that they elected to not even dignify him with a response. It would be confusing and irritating, if Wanderer cared about such a thing.
But he did not, and had rather come to expect it—for it meant he would not be bothered further by pointless fluff talk. Why would Wanderer care if someone found him unpleasant to speak to? They had nothing of worth to offer him, or, if they did, he rarely cared for it enough to contort himself to be in line with an endless list of bizzare social rules.
And yet…such behavior is rather unusual for Nahida. Wanderer had concluded early on that Nahida was not someone who enjoyed being unpredictable, or invoking a lack of clarity in what she meant—if she left anything unsaid, it was only because she had given Wanderer enough to come to his own conclusion—which was something they agreed on the efficiency of.
This silence, however, is not that. It’s cold, empty, dipping the mood of the conversation in an almost jarring way.
Had she finally hit her breaking point with putting up with him, then? Wanderer supposed that was inevitable, even if he hadn’t… really been expecting it as much with her in particular. He’d felt confident Nahida only seemed bothered by him when he didn’t try, which worked because Wanderer had felt she could tell when he was genuinely trying, even if he didn’t act exactly how she wanted. But maybe he’d been wrong.
And then Wanderer feels rather guilty, because maybe he hadn't been trying as much as he should today—especially in how he’d been speaking to her. He could stand to do a little better, maybe.
But it was only a lunch invitation—why would Nahida be so bothered about a lunch invitation? Ugh, well, he’d deal with it. He’d dealt with worse. He’d…apologize to her later, once he’d mulled over how to approach it, and if this meant he had to readjust his idea of what to expect from her. Yes. That was a solid plan.
Still, Wanderer finds himself turning to look back at her, if only out of passive curiosity to prove himself right by the sight of her disappointed face, or her retreating back as she stormed back towards the Sanctuary of Surasthana without a word.
He turns, eyes landing on Nahida just in time to see her stagger on her feet, swaying in a disturbed sort of way, like a puppet abruptly cut from its strings—
—and tumble off the edge of the path railing, plummeting towards the ground far below.