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The following morning had been uneventful; after waking, Aether had hurriedly departed with a flushed face after realising he had crashed out in the yaksha’s bed.
“I, uh, should go!” he had said, flustered, his hair a tangled mess and eyes wide. “I need… to find Paimon. I kind of just dumped her at the Adventurer’s Guild and you know how she gets when I leave her alone for too long…”
“I wondered what had happened to her,” Xiao had mused as he watched the traveller set about righting himself.
He doesn’t know why was so disheartened at Aether’s hasty exit, or why he had gone on to experience an odd sort of longing in the minutes following, but had put it into the I Will Think About It Later Except I Will Never Think About It Later box with all of his other bizarre feelings regardless.
In any case, with no blonde and sunny traveller at his side today, Xiao had decided to return to yesterday’s interrupted endeavour: visit Ganyu. So, now, with the sun beating on the back of his neck and a breeze ruffling his garments, he weaves through the Harbour towards Yujing Terrace.
It occurs to him, as he passes by various colourful stalls and shops, that Liyue has developed beautifully in spite of all of its recent ordeals. The markets bustle with travellers and visitors from all over Teyvat, and the streets are filled with joyous laughter and animated chatter. The entire city basks in a glow that Xiao doesn’t think he’s seen since Liyue’s golden age under Lord Morax.
As he proceeds through Feiyun Slope, observing the salespeople and their products with interest, a storyteller’s voice – Liu Su, Xiao thinks – sails down from above.
“He was not always a lonesome warrior,” the tea master is dictating with an excitable flair. Xiao strains to listen, intrigued by the one sentence – the mark of a successful storyteller, he supposes. “No, under Rex Lapis served four other foremost yaksha; Marshal Vritras, General Musatas, General Kapisas, and General Chizapus respectively. They led our Lord's army alongside General Alatus, our standoffish Conqueror of Demons, accumulating the same karmic punishment until they could no longer take it.”
A sharp pang of emotion strikes Xiao. He deviates from his path without meaning to, coming to pause underneath Heyu Tea House before he consciously makes the decision to listen to the rest of Liu Su’s anecdote.
“These Five Guardian Yaksha were among Rex Lapis’ best warriors. It is a true tragedy that they were mostly wiped out the way they were.” This earns Liu Su murmurs of agreement from his crowd, but it makes Xiao bitter. None of you can understand, he scoffs to himself, how heavily losing them weighed. “Though they suffered much, their lives were not shrouded in absolute darkness, no. Liyue’s fearsome yaksha were capable of leading normal lives, too, even if they were oft engaged in battle. There have been many accounts, though hesitantly credited, of how the yaksha lived on days where they had no demons to exercise and no gods to slaughter. The special tale I have prepared for you all today is one such account.”
Anticipation burns through Xiao's blood as he stands, hidden in the shadows cast by the tea house. He crosses his arms, drumming his fingers lightly; will he know the tale Liu Su is about to tell? Will he be in it? His heart thumps erratically in his chest.
“Rare were moments of respite across the Archon war,” Liu Su begins, “but when they did come by, they were treated with the utmost reverence. No-one would dare to disturb these moments, fleeting as they were – except for two trouble-making yaksha by the names of Bosacius and Indarias, recorded by historians as Marshal Vritras and General Musatas.”
The list of memories Xiao had begun sorting through narrows, but only slightly. True to Liu Su’s word, Bosacius and Indarias rarely relaxed when they had the option to; they spent their time inflicting practical jokes on whomever had the misfortune of crossing their paths. Xiao has no shortage of stories about their idiocy, having been the victim of their poor humour on more than one occasion.
“It was a quiet, peaceful day on the Plains of Guili. Rex Lapis’ army was in a period of halcyon; his warriors mulled about the land, laughing, drinking, playing, sleeping – exercising their leisure time, for once, without the threat of impending death over their heads. The Five Guardian Yaksha had been left to their own devices. For some, this meant some time to train, and for others, this meant they could pursue some personal interests. For Bosacius and Indarias, this meant it was time for mischief.
“When the sun reached its highest and the heat became just short of unbearable, the two met to realise a stunt that would be light on the heart. It just so happened that, as they schemed, the poor and unsuspecting General Kapisas, otherwise known as Menogias, was taking a calming stroll to acquaint himself further with the warmth of the sun. Now with a victim in mind, Bosacius and Indarias set their trouble-making into motion. Quiet as mice, they followed the oblivious Menogias and watched from the shelter of foliage as he encountered their kind-hearted and mellow General Chizapus – Bonanus, as her friends knew her. Indarias, smirk besetting her face, whispered to Bosacius her newly-thought plan of attack, and Bosacius was quick to act.
“As the sweet Bonanus turned towards the approaching Menogias, intending to greet him with affability, she saw what could only be described as a devil from the abyss; behind Menogias stood menacingly a creature with four looming arms and a face that looked akin to a Chimera should all of its animal parts be squashed into one. Before she could process that the four arms bore a strange resemblance to those of Bosacius’, a jet of hydro erupted from her palms – aimed towards the misfortunate Menogias. The unfortunate General Kapisas was too slow and fatigued to notice the incoming splash of water before it was too late, and Bosacius and Indarias found themselves rewarded with an incredible laugh.”
Xiao remembers this day well – though he wasn’t actually there, he remembers the four of them returning to the compound in the aftermath; the sour look on Menogias’ face making him look much like a grumpy cat; Bonanus’ repeated apologies and attempts to explain herself all throughout dinner; Bosacius and Indarias’ twin grins. They ring clear in his mind.
Well, mostly.
It could feasibly be because Xiao wasn’t there with the rest of them when it happened and so doesn’t have an actual memory of the tale, but some of his recollection is… blurry. The Chimera-esque mask that Bosacius had supposedly worn Xiao doesn’t remember seeing even though he’s sure Bosacius had returned home still wearing it. And the more he thinks about it, he realises he’s lacking the memory of Menogias’ dampened form despite knowing he met them outside before Menogias had the chance to dry off. It’s as though these memories that should still be there have been fogged and replaced with blank spaces, absences where Xiao knows something used to reside.
The realisation of his unresolved memory leaves Xiao wondering how Liu Su came to know of such an account. As far as Xiao is aware, the only ones who should’ve known were himself, his siblings, and the stray few adepti lingering around the compound. Xiao certainly hasn’t shared this tale with another soul, and he thinks it unlikely that Zhongli would have told the thespian storyteller such a random fable.
He listens to the avid listeners engage with each other, discussing Liu Su’s magnificent retelling. After a moment of pondering the pros and cons, he makes up his mind and teleports up to the tea house, placing himself off to the side of the small stage. The storyteller has his back to the adeptus, shuffling through a pile of papers in preparation for his next narrative.
“How did you come to hear of this story?” Xiao asks without any preamble.
Liu Su jumps, squealing in an unsavoury manner that Xiao elects to ignore to save him his pride. The papers go flying; one falls unceremoniously on Xiao’s head, which Liu Su scrambles to remove. “Oh— ah, Conqueror of Demons! Or, would you prefer Vigilant Yaksha… sir? I… didn’t expect to see you here, sir— not that you aren’t welcome, of course! I just wish I had known so I could have fixed you some refreshments—”
“Just ‘Xiao’ will do. I don’t need any food or drink, I only wish to understand where you heard this story.”
“Well, it was transcribed on a stone slate,” Liu Su says, nervous. He absently plays with the corners of the paper, creasing and smoothing them back out. “It was old and worn – it’s been at least five hundred years since it was recorded. Which, of course, is nothing to you! Sir! But, I had to take some liberties with the translations and there were some gaps I had to fill—”
“Where did you find this slate?”
Liu Su hesitates. “I, erm, didn’t find the slate myself; it was dug up by an archaeologist. Somewhere near the Chasm, I think? If you wish to see it for yourself, or perhaps keep it, I can get into contact with the archaeologist – I’m sure she’d be happy to—”
“No need,” Xiao interrupts, “I only wished to know.”
“O— of course!” Liu Su nods eagerly. “I hope I’ve been of some use. If you wouldn’t mind,” he tacks on before Xiao can teleport off, “could you, maybe, possibly, tell me what you thought of my retelling?”
“Hm,” Xiao contemplates, and Liu Su waits with bated breath. “It was rather accurate considering your lack of information.”
Liu Su beams. “Wonderful! I was hoping I had characterised them correctly, but I had no-one to give me an account of their personalities…”
“You wrote them well.”
“That’s brilliant, then! I’m glad I was able to do them some justice. After all they suffered and sacrificed for Liyue to be the way it is today, I think it's high-time that they finally got some recognition. The people need to know that the yaksha weren’t these monstrous war generals…”
Xiao stops listening as Liu Su goes on, waving his arms animatedly as though he’d forgotten he was talking to the only surviving not-monstrous-war-general left in Liyue – all of his previous trepidation out-of-mind. He’s going on about “tragic heroes” and “the glorification of battle and loss” when Xiao finally loses his patience.
“Thank you for your time,” he says curtly, “but I have other matters to be attending to.”
“Oh, of course!” Liu Su startles, realising his drivel. “A— and thank you, Conqueror of Demons, for your time! I hope I haven’t wasted too much of it!”
Xiao waves an impatient hand, then turns away. “Not at all. Goodbye.”
Before Liu Su can return his sentiment, Xiao disappears in an explosion of wispy black and teal smoke. He rematerialises beneath Heyu Tea House, and resumes his path with Liu Su’s tale (and his apparently weak memory) in the back of his mind.
He expects the rest of his journey to be uneventful. Under normal circumstances, it probably would have been, but by expecting anything Xiao’s gone and given it the kiss of death. For a few more seconds it is uneventful, until he passes a gang of youths outside the Ministry of Civil Affairs.
At first, he pays them no mind. They’re probably just having a good time, taking a break from their studies and trying to make the most of the day. They haven’t done anything to Xiao and Xiao doesn’t plan on doing anything to them. So, he plans to just slide past them without a care, but right as he passes them by, one of them squeals, “Put those concrete crushers away!”
… Concrete crushers?
Unable to curb his curiosity, Xiao chances a glance back at them. All he can glean is that one of their number has removed one of their shoes, presumably to shake a rock out. Their friends giggle, pointing at the sockless foot that hovers just above the ground, and when Xiao turns back to face forward he’s even more confused than he was before he turned to check.
Surely that person’s foot isn’t as funny as they make it to be, Xiao thinks. It’s perfectly reasonable to be barefoot, or to need to remove one’s shoe momentarily. But, what was that about… concrete crushers? Was it in reference to their feet? I think… I’m spending too much of my time contemplating a trivial matter. I’ve been out of touch with Liyue for hundreds of years, of course there will be things I don’t understand. I mustn’t dwell on it.
Peace of mind cautiously obtained, Xiao resumes his totally normal expedition to Ganyu’s office with a light shake of his head. He can’t help but notice as he goes that he certainly draws some attention to himself; dressed the way he is, he doesn’t exactly fit in with the everyday crowd. Some heads follow him when he passes, but he ignores the extra scrutiny and keeps his head held high – the opinions of others have never particularly mattered to him.
Except that isn’t true. Because there are three people whose opinions he does care about; Zhongli, for one, will always sit at the top of the list as his saviour, whether or not he remains an Archon; Ganyu’s judgement also matters to him as his one of his oldest living friends; and then there’s Aether, who somehow assimilated himself into the list and whose position on the list has been shoved into the I Will Think About It Later Except I Will Never Think About It Later box. The list is besides the point, though, because none of the three are present. The point is that Xiao doesn’t particularly care for the glances and looks he draws from civilians.
That all shatters when he reaches Bubu Pharmacy.
All it takes is one sentence.
“Bro is as pretty as a picture,” a teen says to her friends, looking directly at Xiao from where she’s perched on the Pharmacy staircase.
Pretty… as a picture?
Try as he might, Xiao just can’t contain the startled “What?” that escapes him in a whisper.
What does that mean? Pretty as a picture? As pretty as what picture? Whose picture? A picture of what? Does she mean a painting? Or, maybe something produced by that Kamera machine Aether has?
None of his questions are answered – the teen doesn’t have any additional comments to make. It all goes downhill from there.
“Woah, look at that dude!” another young person exclaims, pointing at Xiao. “Bro is piquant.”
“You did not just call a stranger ‘piquant’,” his friend says, exasperated. “And put your hand down.”
“What’s the problem? He is pleasantly stimulating and exciting to the mind. Bet he has a sharp or appetising flavour too—”
“Stop, oh my Gods,” his friend groans. “He can probably hear you, can you not be such a simp for a second?”
How can a person be piquant? How can a person be stimulating or have an appetising flavour? Xiao’s eyes widen minutely – cannibalism?
“No cap, bro over there is divine,” comes from another nearby group of teenagers while Xiao questions the likelihood of the Milileth glossing over cannibalistic children. When he looks over to the source, none of them are looking at him, but one of them has slightly rosier cheeks than the others.
He supposes he must look divine because, by some extensions of the word, he is divine. But – and this phrase has his mind reeling – what does ‘no cap’ mean? Was it just the observation that he was not wearing a hat? What does that have to do with his apparent divinity? Surely it has another meaning.
It doesn’t end there. If ‘no cap’ had Xiao staggering, the next interaction he overhears leaves him positively aghast. It’s another group of teenagers – surprise, surprise – flagrantly watching him with brazen stares.
“Bro is absolutely sumptuous,” one of them whines longingly.
“Face card always valid,” her friend agrees, wistful.
What is a face card?!
And then! And then. Before Xiao gets the chance to puzzle anything out, from the same group of kids—
“Bro is resplendent.”
If Xiao had not been an adeptus, he likely wouldn’t have heard the comment with the way it was whispered conspiratorially behind a hand. No matter – he’ll just pretend he didn’t hear it. He offers no indication that he might have so much as perceived the young teens who continue to whisper and follow him with searching eyes.
It doesn’t bother him. Xiao is an adeptus, he isn’t to be vexed by the odd passing comments of the Liyuean youths.
But if he doesn’t find out what ‘bro’ means soon, he’s going to succumb to his karmic debt.
By choice.
It has to be a new word in the Liyuean dict, Xiao stresses in the comfort of his mind as he walks with increasing desperation towards Ganyu’s office. I’ve heard the term too many times now for it to just be a coincidence. Is it slang? Do the elders use it as well? What does it mean? There’s a system in its use; it seems to refer to a person and is always followed by an abnormally advanced piece of vocabulary for a young person’s everyday language – ‘divine’, ‘piquant’, ‘sumptuous’, even ‘resplendent’. A strange characteristic for such an informal… term. How could I have missed the addition of this peculiar verb to our valued language? Perhaps I should ask Zhongli – if anyone knows the word’s origin, it’ll be Lord Morax himself. Or, maybe Ganyu might understand, since she leads a mortal-esque life. I should ask her today when I see her.
He finds himself in front of Ganyu’s office much sooner than expected, having been so caught up in his thoughts that his body had reverted to autopilot. Without knocking, he pushes the door open with such haste that it bounces off the adjacent wall.
“Ganyu,” he greets.
The adeptus in question jumps with a short cry, a pen flying from her hand and clattering to the floor. Her desk is jostled as her legs kick out in fright. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks breathily, one of her hands poised over her heart.
“Nothing. What does ‘bro’ mean?”
“Wh— huh?”
Xiao sighs hotly, entering Ganyu’s office and closing the door behind himself in a calmer fashion. He stops in front of her desk, waiting as she bends down to retrieve her pen and correct her desk’s orientation.
“The noun ‘bro’. What does it mean?” he asks again when she gives him an expectant look. Ganyu furrows her eyebrows.
“What do you mean, ‘what does it mean’?”
“What do you think I mean by ‘what does it mean’?”
Ganyu exhales deeply, leaning her arms on the desk. “Why do you not visit me for normal things? Like tea, or lunch? Or a sleepover?”
“I don’t need any of those. Answer my question.”
She tuts. “Just because you don’t need them doesn’t mean you can’t indulge. Look at those little eyebags, a sleepover would do you a world of good.”
“Answer my question.”
“Some respect would do you a world of good, too,” Ganyu mutters. He ignores that. “‘Bro’ is short for 'brother'. It’s an abbreviation, that’s all.”
“So, it’s just a casual, informal method of referring to a sibling?”
“Not always a sibling,” Ganyu corrects. “‘Bro’ or ‘brother’ can refer to anyone. Usually, people use it to refer to their friends, but people also use it when talking about strangers. It depends on the context.”
Xiao mulls it over. “I see…”
“Any particular reason you’re asking me about slang?” Ganyu tilts her head. She rises from her chair and rounds the desk to stand next to Xiao.
“On my way here, I kept hearing people say it. I was confused because the only patterns I noticed were that—”
“Hold on.” Ganyu holds a hand up, effectively silencing him. “Say that again.”
“... The only patterns—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Before that.”
“I kept hearing—”
“Before that.”
Xiao frowns, baffled. “... On my way here?”
“On your way here,” Ganyu echoes slowly, considering him. “So… you didn’t just teleport outside my door like you normally do?”
Silence falls as Xiao realises how much metaphorical ammo he’s about to give the older adeptus. He looks up, briefly meeting Ganyu’s narrowed eyes before glaring at the floor to tell it, “I travelled by foot.”
“You travelled by foot?” She’s more disbelieving than she had been upon finding out about Lord Morax’s ‘death’, which Xiao is a little offended by. “From Wangshu Inn?”
“I walked from Wangshu Inn," he asserts, standing tall and making determined eye contact with Ganyu. “I don’t see what’s so difficult to understand.”
“You never walk. Anywhere."
“Yes I do. I walk all the time. I walked yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” She’s incredulous. "Why were you wandering around Liyue yesterday? In fact, why did you walk today?”
“I have free will as the Guardian Yaksha,” Xiao tells her stubbornly, crossing his arms, “and I will exercise it as I please.”
“Is it Morax?” she eagerly questions. “Has he finally become too overbearing for you to handle?”
Xiao stiffens. “No.”
Ganyu steps into his personal space, eyeing him reprovingly. To his credit, Xiao doesn’t step back, remaining steadfast against the half-qilin’s scrutiny.
After a tense moment of quiet observation and fleeting eye contact, Ganyu gasps and points an accusatory finger at him. “The Traveller!”
“What does he have to do with this?”
“It’s him.” She wiggles her finger. “He’s the one encouraging this – and you’re listening to him!”
“That is… absurd,” Xiao says weakly. He’s fighting a losing battle. “What would Aether gain from getting me to walk anywhere?”
“It’s not the Traveller, it’s you,” Ganyu points out. “You call him by his name, and you get this look in your eye whenever you’re thinking of him, or whenever you’re around him—”
“I do not—”
“No-one else would be able to get you to walk through Liyue.” Ganyu grabs his shoulders, stooping down ever so slightly to look him right in the eyes, and Xiao doesn’t like the way her sunset-pink irises gleam mischievously at him. “I’ve tried, Madame Ping has tried, Doctor Baizhu has tried, even Morax has tried! Lord Morax, Rex Lapis, Zhongli, whatever you intend to call him. Just about everyone in your inner circle has tried to get you up to speed with the modern day, but for whatever reason the only one who manages it is the Traveller. And it’s because you’re weak for that man.”
Xiao finds a spot on the wall behind Ganyu to be really quite interesting. He stares at it with hypercritical attention, noticing little bits of paint that are starting to peel away and crumble to the floor. Reluctantly, he flicks his eyes back to Ganyu when her hands grip his biceps with the threat of shaking him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he tells her, aiming for nonchalance. “I intended to visit you just to catch up since it’s been a while since we last spoke, but if you’re going to treat me like this, I will leave.”
“Treat you like what?” Ganyu instigates, crossing her arms. “I’m just saying what I see—”
“I’m leaving,” Xiao says, then stalks off. “Goodbye.”
“No, no!” Ganyu tries to catch him as he goes, but Xiao dodges her outstretched hand with masterful precision. “I’m sorry! You totally aren’t enamoured with the Traveller and he definitely doesn’t have you wrapped around his little finger! I want to spend more time with you, I swear!”
Feeling petty, he calls over his shoulder, “You should get your walls repainted; they are peeling with inattention.” He waits for Ganyu’s affronted “Unbelievable!” before shutting the door and exiting out into Yujing Terrace, pleased with himself.
Though their conversation was quickly veered off-topic, it was still somewhat enlightening. He has more questions about the other things he heard, but it’s too late to turn around and ask them; his pride won’t be able to take Ganyu’s hits if he does.
As he comes up on Feiyun Slope, and consequently notices some of the same kids lingering around the Pharmacy stairs, two figures descending the staircase catch his attention. Aether looks terribly bored, stuck listening to Paimon rambling on and on in his ears about something no doubt irrelevant to whatever they’re doing. From where he stands, Xiao can hear her penetrating voice droning on about different types of food – currently, she waxes poetic about Black-Back Perch Stew – while Aether hums non-committedly. When the traveller looks around, searching for an escape, his gaze falls on Xiao and he visibly lights up, left arm rising to wave at him. It clicks, then, that the two of them are emerging from the Pharmacy, and Xiao wonders if he needs to be concerned.
“Aether,” he worries over Paimon’s rhetoric when they reach the bottom-most step, “are you not well?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine!” the traveller rushes to explain. “I was just picking up some violetgrass.”
“Oh… why?”
“Because we’re running out of it,” Paimon jibes in a way that says it should have been obvious. “Duh.”
An image appears in his mind’s eye. It’s him, kicking Paimon out of the air so hard that she propels into the nearby streams of water, but he banishes it and tries to quell the smile it provokes. Aether would likely find it just as funny as he would, but it would only make the pixie that much more insufferable.
Aether rolls his eyes. “We use violetgrass to cook sometimes,” he explains, “and we’ve been running low on it lately because someone keeps begging me to put it in everything I make.”
Paimon turns away from him with a hmph! “Violetgrass is good, and it has a bunch of benefits for the mind, soul, and body!”
“It does nothing for you if you’re not a combatant,” Aether grumbles. gnoring the pixie when she starts on yet another tangent, this time about the boons of violetgrass, he turns to smile at Xiao. “I know we tried last night,” he starts, “but tonight will be our last chance to try to get you to sleep for probably about a week. I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning and I’m not sure when exactly I’ll next be in Liyue, so I figured we could just sleep tonight to make up for it. And, anyway, this arrangement really is supposed to be a daily thing, so… might as well start getting you into that habit, too.”
“You’re leaving again?” Xiao’s disappointment is immeasurable and his day is ruined.
“Commissions in Mondstadt are stacking up,” Aether huffs with an inexplicable flush decorating his cheeks. “Sometimes it’s like I’m the only adventurer who exists in that region. Ha.”
His severely unimpressed expression undermines the monosyllabic laugh.
“... I see.” Xiao nods. “If you must leave so soon, then I am content to try again tonight.”
“Great! If you have nothing else to do, we were thinking of turning in to the teapot now for some R&R. Would you like to join us?”
“All right,” Xiao acquiesces. “I’ll need to grab my night clothes from the Inn, but then we can enter your teapot.”
“It’s a date,” Aether confirms with a teasing lilt. Before Xiao can get too up-in-arms about the concept of a date, Aether pulls him by his elbow and they begin the trek back to Wangshu Inn with Paimon fluttering behind them.
— — —
By the time Aether’s teapot is set up and they’re situated in his adjoined dining room and kitchen, the afternoon is bleeding into evening. Xiao had quickly placed his retrieved clothing in Aether’s bedroom before joining the traveller and the pixie downstairs – he had been thoroughly convinced by the former to join the two of them for supper. Don’t ask him how. He doesn’t know.
“Can we eat in your bedroom?” Paimon asks eagerly from her seat at the table, little fists pounding on the surface.
“No,” Aether denies, sending her the most contemptuous look Xiao thinks he’s ever seen as he prepares their meal. “You’re barred from eating anywhere but the kitchen. I am not having a repeat of what happened last time.”
“But—”
“No.”
“It was—
“No.”
“Paimon said she was—”
“Paimon says she’s a lot of things, the answer is still no.”
“... Ple—”
“No.”
Paimon’s mouth opens, presumably to continue her pleas, and Xiao feels it might be opportune for him to step in now, lest their squabble turns into something much more violent than a squabble. He doesn’t anticipate Aether beating him to it.
“If you ask me one more time,” the traveller mutters darkly, “the next time anyone eats in my bedroom, they’ll be eating you, Emergency Food.”
Xiao can’t help the surprised raise of his eyebrows and parting of his lips as Aether’s threat settles over the dining table. When he glimpses at Paimon to gauge the pixie’s reaction, she seems just as shocked as he is with her dropped jaw and bulging eyes. The astounded quiet that follows is broken only by the sounds of Aether preparing cutlery and Paimon’s sputtering. There is a moment, though, where they both are hushed, Aether considering his ingredients whilst Paimon glares with antipathy into the back of his skull. Xiao senses the disaster before it strikes, splaying his fingers out on the table nervously.
“Perhaps it would be best—”
“Paimon can not believe you would treat your faithful travel companion this way!” Of course, Paimon shuts down Xiao’s attempts to peace-make in a shrill yell that bounces and reverberates horribly off the walls.
“If you didn’t give me reasons to treat you this way, I wouldn’t,” Aether responds, nettled.
“Paimon is nothing but nice to you—”
“I think you could stand to be a little more helpful—”
“ —always making sure you’re okay—”
“ —should really learn to fight—”
“ —like that time Paimon tried to save you when you fell—”
“ —consider a diet? Always eating our reserves—”
“ —leave Paimon in random places—”
“ —keeping you out of harm’s way! If you learnt to fight—”
“ —Paimon’s the one who tells you where to go, what would you do without—”
Xiao exhales heavily. How often do they fight like this? Their grievances with one another seem almost never-ending. Just as he starts to contemplate what exactly he’ll do if they continue into the night, the dining room grows silent. Xiao isn’t going to get his hopes up, though – one look at the traveller and his companion has him worrying they might get physical. The sudden peace is eerie, but makes the sound of rushing water noticeable.
“Aether,” he starts, “I think you left the tap—”
“You know, the Teyvat Travel Guide makes a better travel companion than you do sometimes.”
Xiao slumps in his chair, head hitting the back of it just as Paimon explodes with an aggrieved “OHHH MYYYY GOOOODS—”. He listens half-heartedly to the insults being thrown around left, right, and centre. Just as Paimon yells something about Aether’s hair being far too impractical for a traveller, Xiao finally moves to slip behind Aether and turn off the still-running tap when it becomes obvious that no-one else will, halting the water flow as Aether aggressively whips a tea towel back and forth. He stands there for a moment, observing with his hands on his hips before he releases a tired – see instead, fond – sigh and makes for the dining room door.
This is the wrong move. The sound of the doorknob rotating draws attention to him, and suddenly both traveller and pixie turn to Xiao for back-up. Xiao does his best impression of a stone wall.
“Xiao, is Paimon or is Paimon not sometimes culturally ignorant?” Aether demands, crossing his arms expectantly.
“W— well,” Xiao stammers, “I wouldn’t know—”
“Is Aether too much of a doormat?” Paimon urges.
“... ‘Doormat’?”
“Paimon doesn’t get enough exercise, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I don’t think it’s my place—”
“Aether is too much of a people-pleaser, right?”
“You’re repeating the same points,” Aether scoffs, throwing the tea towel onto the counter. “Are you struggling, Emergency Food?”
“Wha— Xiao, tell your boyfriend to be nicer to Paimon!”
“Tell— tell my what—”
“This is getting ridiculous,” Aether snaps. “Go to your room, Paimon. I’ll bring you your dinner when it’s ready since you’re incapable of behaving when we have guests.”
Xiao squints at him, dying to tell him that he’s given in to what Paimon started this entire argument for, but he ultimately keeps his mouth shut. The triumphant smirk he sees on the pixie’s face when she flies past him tells him all he needs to know.
— — —
Later, when the synthetic sun has set and dinner has been eaten, well after Paimon and Aether have made up, Xiao deigns to bring up his realisation.
“That… disagreement the two of you had,” he tries, sitting cross-legged in the middle of Aether’s bed. “Why did you give her what she wanted?”
Aether grins at him from where he’s hanging their day clothes in his wardrobe. “It was really just a vigorous negotiation – we both got a bit of what we wanted; she could eat in her room, I could monitor what she was eating.”
“It seemed like a little bit more than a negotiation.” Xiao raises an eyebrow. “You both seemed quite… acrimonious.”
“We’re not actually mad at each other, not really,” says Aether. He motions for Xiao to move over so he can claim his side of the bed. “We do this all the time. No-one gets seriously hurt.”
“I’m almost certain that there are healthier ways of releasing your vexations,” Xiao protests as Aether gets comfy under the covers.
“Healthier, schmealthier. If it works, it works. Lots of people say that arguing actually makes for a deeper bond. Now, come on,” he nudges Xiao, “time for bed.”
Xiao slips under the duvet without much fanfare, interlocking his fingers over his stomach. He stares at the ceiling while Aether extinguishes the lights, allowing the abode’s night sky to wash them in a pale moonlight. The traveller basks in it, lying prone among the covers and looking quite like he’s just collapsed onto the bed. Xiao takes his unashamed lax behaviour as a prompt to get himself secure and cosy, so he rolls onto his side and examines the carefully constructed airspace through Aether’s window.
The mansion slips into the same untroubled tenor it did on the first night Xiao was invited inside. With no spiders or Paimons or sun beams over the traveller’s body to enrapt his mind, he hopes that maybe tonight will be the night he fulfils Aether’s wish and falls into a deep and serene sleep. Then, right as his eyelids start to lower, he suddenly snaps back awake with renewed arousal.
“Aether,” he says.
“Hm?” comes the traveller’s drowsy response.
“Do you know what the phrase ‘pretty as a picture’ means?”
“... Yes?” Some soft rustling behind him reveals that the traveller has repositioned himself, no doubt leaning back on his hands as he drills holes into the back of Xiao’s head with how hard he’s scrutinising him. Xiao defiantly continues to watch the stars. “I— Do you want me to, like, explain it to you?”
“Yes, please.”
Aether breathes out loudly. “It’s a simile. If someone or something is as pretty as a picture, then they are very attractive and pleasant to look at.”
“I see.” Xiao nods to himself. “And that’s all there is to it?”
“Yes,” Aether confirms. He lays back down, righting his covers. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Xiao dismisses.
“All right.” The traveller sounds unsure, but relents. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The pacific atmosphere returns. But only temporarily.
“Aether?”
“Yes, Xiao?”
“What is a concrete crusher?”
“A concre— Xiao, where did you hear that term?” The duvet shuffles again, Aether having rolled over to shoot him a wary look.
“In Liyue Harbour,” Xiao tells him truthfully, watching a constellation as it gradually moves across the sky.
“Right, well, it just refers to someone’s foot. Or, feet. Sometimes a person’s shoes if they’re particularly chunky or clunky or… something.”
“I see. That’s all there is to it?”
“Wh—...” Aether struggles for words. “... Yes, that’s all there is to it.”
“Thank you.”
“... You’re welcome.”
Aether stays in position for an extra few seconds, anticipating a third odd question to be spewed at him. When Xiao doesn’t speak up again, and the stillness continues to stretch, Aether deems it safe to roll back over and go back to—
“Aether?”
“Yes, Xiao?”
“What does ‘no cap’ mean?”
Suppressing a groan, Aether explains, “If something is cap, it’s a lie. So, if someone says no cap, they mean to say that they aren’t lying and are telling the absolute truth.”
“I see. That’s all there is to it?”
“Yes, that’s all there is to it. Will you go to sleep now?”
“Okay.” Xiao wiggles in place, seeking further comfort now that his questions have received satisfactory answers.
It’s with a much-too-cautious conscience that Aether allows himself to loosen up, reclining into his pillow. His ears perk with every noise, and he only relaxes when he can deduce that it was just the house adjusting or an animal outside and not Xiao gearing up to voice another damning, dastardly query.
There comes a time, though, where no matter what way he twists it, the sound he hears can only mean one thing – Xiao’s making a comeback.
“Aether?”
“This is your last question for tonight,” Aether warns. “What?”
“What is a face card?”
“A face card refers to a person’s physical attractiveness and is a way of saying that someone is so beautiful they could probably get anything they want,” Aether tells him in one breath.
“I see. That’s all—”
“Yes, that’s all there is to it. Will you stop doing that?”
Overloaded with new understandings, Xiao can only make a small noise of assent. Aether takes it to mean that he’s finally found all of his answers and they can rest now that the yaksha’s curiosity has been sated, but he takes it with a grain of salt. After all, Xiao could recover from his knowledge-overstim at any time–
“Aether, do people still engage in cannibalism today?”
“Xiao… what?” Aether moans profoundly as he throws an arm over his face. “You’re making up problems that don’t exist.”
“...I am n—”
“It’s in your dreams. You must have fallen asleep and dreamt it all up.”
Xiao sits up hastily, one finger poised in the air even though Aether can’t see it. “First of all, I do not sleep very often, let alone dream. I did not dream up an assortment of peculiar, unconventional terminology. Second of all,” he raises a second finger, glaring critically at Aether’s forearm, “do not gaslight me.”
“How?” Aether draws the word out, voice strained dangerously thin. His arm falls to his chest as he sits up to meet Xiao with an incredulous frown. “How could you possibly understand the word ‘gaslight’ but not a simple simile?!”
“Because the verb ‘gaslight’ makes logical sense,” Xiao tells him earnestly, his two fingers still held up in his conviction to make his point. “By manipulating me over an extended period of time, you’re building up a forced reliance upon yourself. This is the gas, which fuels my obedience and pushes me to submission, and by lengthening your process of manipulation you’re lighting the gas to the fire that is my total yielding – you are the lighter. Hence, ‘gaslighter’. Additionally, the word ‘gaslight’ originates from an age-old play in which a man repeatedly brightens and dims gas lights and insists that his wife is hallucinating, so—”
He chokes when a pillow impacts his face at a speed Xiao isn’t sure he could replicate himself.
Before he can regain his bearings, or remove the stray pieces of fluff from his mouth, a pair of hands are firmly grasping the sides of his face and pulling him forward.
“Let me tell you something in your language,” Aether hisses, hands cold and stiff on Xiao’s face. Some odd part of him finds the hold comforting and he very nearly melts into it, until he takes in the look on the other’s face.
“No.” Xiao shakes his head as much as Aether’s grip will allow. “We are already speaking in my language.”
Aether laughs, and not in a cute way. “Don’t get pedantic with me, sweetheart.” His forearms tense and then Xiao’s face is a loooot closer to Aether’s, and the forced proximity paired with the not-so-loving nickname does things to Xiao’s heart that he’s absolutely shoving in his little box later. “I don’t know in what world ‘gaslight’ makes logical sense and ‘pretty as a picture’ doesn’t, but whatever world it is you need to take a step away from it and come into mine. Come to my world, where you don’t have to worry about the nonsensical ramblings of the mortals and you only have to worry about going to sleep.”
“Do you know who you sound like?” Xiao asks. Aether’s eyebrow twitches imperceptibly; Xiao thinks it wise to shut up. But he’s never claimed to be especially wise. “You sound a little bit like that young girl from Mondstadt – Fischl. ‘Come to my world’...”
“Go to bed,” Aether commands as he releases Xiao’s face to push him back into the mattress. Xiao figures he’s probably pushed his luck enough tonight, so he chooses to go easily.
Both traveller and yaksha shuffle beneath the covers for some time, searching for the best position to fall asleep in now that it’s been confirmed they’re actually going to bed. They lay with their backs to each other, Xiao star-gazing while Aether stares at the wall in front of him. Even though he was impatiently awaiting some good quality rest, he feels there’s something in the air, something heavier around Xiao that needs his attention.
“Something’s troubling you,” he sighs.
“... I thought you wanted me to sleep?”
“Yeah, well,” the traveller hums. There’s a fissling sound, and the mattress is jostled as Aether moves closer to Xiao’s prone form. The vibration of his voice is startlingly close when he mumbles, “Your vibe has been off since we met up. So, what’s up?”
“Well…” Xiao trails off, casting his mind back. Aether, as always, is right – Xiao has been 'off' since they met up, has been 'off' even before he overheard all of those odd phrases. I tried to ignore it, he thinks as his eyes flick from star to star. I would have had to acknowledge it at some point or other. “Then, I must... be worried.”
“About?”
“Forgetting. I…” he hesitates, struggling for the right words. “I passed a storyteller today, on the way to Ganyu’s office. He was retelling a story from the Archon War, about my siblings, and… there were some details that I couldn’t recall. Forgetting is inevitable, but… I fear that I’m beginning to forget them.”
“I don’t think you’re forgetting them,” Aether says, “and I don’t think you’re forgetting your memories either. I like to think of it as your brain putting all of your best moments in a little safe space to protect them for when you need them – you forgetting some of the details just means it’s time for that memory to move in. That safe space will keep growing, it’ll keep taking memories indiscriminately and sometimes that hurts, especially when it takes one of your favourites – but it’ll be okay. Because one day, when you’re at your lowest, that little safe space will open and all of those good times, all that joy and laughter, will come flooding back to you to keep you going. That’s the way I explain it to myself when I feel I’ve lost another memory, or another fragment of my sister.”
Though he desperately wants to offer some sort of comfort to the other, Xiao finds himself speechless. He lies there, still, absorbing Aether’s words and committing to never forget them or the warmth they carried. He accepts them, and he accepts that perhaps it's for the best that some of his memories of his siblings move to the safe space, because he’s sure they’d love nothing more than to be of use to him when he needs them. Eventually, he whispers to the stars outside, “Thank you.”
There’s no verbal response, but the light tap of a foot against his leg speaks more than words could in this moment. Listening to Aether’s breaths fall into a deep rhythm, Xiao resigns himself to another night of restless ceiling-watching and thinks that maybe, just maybe, next time will be a little easier.