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Alhaitham had always taken his time when it came to love.
It was strange, almost as if his heart wasn’t capable of loving one he barely knew - as if it could only let its shield down after years of building trust.
He always wondered if that was why he hadn’t grieved as much as he should’ve after his parents died.
- - - -
Alhaithams parents had died when he was 5, his mother a dancing legend of the Eremites. Called the ‘dessert of the desert’ — his father, a legendary rthawhist scholar whose genius would perplex others for years to come.
The child hadn’t felt the grief he had read about in the books, the heart-clenching sorrow and pain that should’ve brought tears to his eyes. Instead, he only felt a slight itch at the back of his head, unexplainable grief that felt more like disappointment.
Nobody understood, they all thought the child was in a state of ‘shock.’
“Poor kid.”, they’d murmur behind his back. “To never feel the embrace of his mother again.”
No, nobody understood except for Grandmother.
Grandmother always understood.
She even understood when Alhaitham asked why he felt like he couldn’t love.
“Sit down my little Padisarah, I must tell you a story.”
- - - -
“Oi! OI- Alhaitham? Can you even hear me?”, a loud voice broke him out of his trance as he flinched, narrowing his eyes at the loud blonde waving a ceramic bowl in his face.
“... Yes.”, he replied, raising his eyebrows as he spotted the infuriated look on the Architect’s face.
“Then tell me, oh so wise Scribe - why my favourite soup bowl was being used to feed stray cats”, he cringed slightly as he said those words—examining the ornately designed utensil for scratches.
“ I would've thought you'd appreciate the cause of feeding those helpless souls. Perhaps I expected too much.”, Alhaitham shrugged. His mind was still elsewhere.
Why did he have to think of that story now? What did it have to do with...
No, it wasn’t because of that... anything but that.
- - - -
"There once was a woman who traversed the lands. Who would roam the desert to help those in need, for she had none of her own…"
"You mean yourself, right Grandmother? You were an adventurer before your scholarly days, correct?", Alhaitham interrupted, watching as the woman with silver hair gave an exasperated sigh.
"Might you have to always be so logical, my Padisarah? Listen to the story!", she swatted the child's arm with a rolled-up scroll. Before barging on, that is.
"She once met a very peculiar man, and he was peculiar not for the reasons one may assume. But because he had red horns on his head, like the beetles of Inazuma."
She paused, pursing her lips before continuing.
" 'Beware!' The man had shouted while the woman was approaching. 'I am the fearsome Oni of Inazuma!'
But the woman hadn't found him that intimidating, taking consideration of the fact that he looked akin to a skeleton — and how his voice was so weak his shouts came out as whimpers."
"The desert authorities exist for that Grandmother, I don't think you needed to help hi-", Alhaitham paused when he got assaulted by a scroll again.
"Continuing, the man gave in after a few moments. Revealing why he had run from his home country.
He hadn't, they had forced him out — like an unwanted stray.
He'd heard of a place named Mondstadt, a place of freedom and love. Where... everyone could be who they wanted to be.
The woman didn't believe such a place existed, though she had heard the stories. After a few hours of the man's pleading though, she gave up — saying she'd help him find the place he wanted. No matter how long it took."
"Grandmother I know you were illiterate, but even in legends and folktales of Sumeru Mondstadt played a role. It's doubtful you didn't know it existed."
Alhaitham watched as his grandmother smirked.
"I said the woman did not believe in such a place. Never that she didn't know, perhaps you should listen to the story a bit more Padisarah — it would help."
Alhaitham felt his face flush in embarrassment as he fumbled over his words.
"I- I am listening, Grandmother! I just- that particular detail just slipped my mind is all."
- - - -
"Sometimesss I wonder what the point of it even is~", the trio watched as Kaveh waved his ninth goblet of wine in the air, the purple liquid sloshing dangerously in the cup.
"Kaveh.", the forest watcher warned — instinctively sliding the cards away from the architect's side of the table as his ears twitched.
Alhaitham nudged the other man's hand gently, shaking his head.
It would be entertaining to see if the General Mahamatra had anything to say about his special edition cards getting soaked with liquor.
Tighnari looked up in confusion, then smirked as realization dawned on him — fluttering his eyes shut and lifting his hands up like a criminal surrendering.
"I mean, I love designing and drawingg — but when I do it on other people's requests and don't even get to have my creative liberties… it feels more like a chore.", Alhaitham watched as his roommate sulked like a five-year-old, his lips tugging downwards as he whined.
"Strangely philosophical for the state you're in, Light of kshahrewar.", he heard the monotone tone of Cyno from beside him.
As the Mahamatra very discreetly retrieved his cards from the other side of the table while saying so.
Alhaitham couldn't help but chuckle, the way those two treated a drunk Kaveh like a toddler was amusing to no end.
"Really! I mean… I was just saying what I felt but if you think so~", the Scribe watched as Kaveh flashed a drunken smile at the other man — his cheeks flushing as he tried to wave away the compliment.
He felt a slight tug in his stomach when he saw that.
Nothing of importance.
"And you.", Cyno suddenly declared with poorly hidden suspicion as he looked directly at Al Haitham — his eyebrows raised.
"You've been quiet, well. Quieter than usual."
Concise as always, and dangerously perceptive — it was obvious to see why the Mahamatra deserved his position.
As some light novel fans may call it, he 'lived up to the hype.'
"Is that so? I was just thinking about how irritating it would be to carry a drunk man home.", Alhaitham smirked slightly.
His pointed tone was obviously directed towards a certain blonde.
He watched as the smile melted off Kavehs face, replaced with clearly visible annoyance as he slammed the goblet down on the table.
Some wine dribbling off the edge and falling on its surface.
"I can handle myself thank you very much!", as if to prove it. The architect stood up defiantly, his legs a bit wobbly but still firm.
That is... for now.
Alhaitham rolled his eyes, “Of course you can Kaveh, forgive me for underestimating you.”
He watched as the architect sat down with a giddy smile on his face, and felt his cheeks heat up just a little at the sight.
Not enough to be noticed by anyone though, except for perhaps the General sitting beside him with a knowing smirk.
- - - -
“The Oni had been quite content to travel with the woman, even if they spent all their waking hours together. Sometimes even those spent asleep.
The woman was a bit bothered at first, but... she warmed up a bit after a while — although a bit hesitantly. She’d never met anyone like the man before, anyone so boisterous, so loud, so... bright.”
Alhaithams Grandmother paused, and he didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes lit up a little.
“The woman thought she would hate him, seeing that he acted so nobly it was despicable. But she found herself entranced, like a moth drawn to a flame.
The woman couldn’t understand why, but she found the man endearing, found him... charming.
Their journey continued, from Sumeru to Liyue, the land of riches, and from there to Fontaine, the nation of law. It took months for them to travel from nation to nation... and those months acted as a catalyst for kindling friendship — maybe even something more.”
Alhaitham listened, though he didn’t quite understand what his Grandmother was on about. She was usually a woman of few words, reputed to be a very terse and laconic lady.
An entire story from her was quite the treat, so much so that it sent a thrill down the child's spine.
This Oni must have truly been someone special to deserve such passion.
“Then the journey ended, and the Oni bade goodbye to the woman. He seemed content with their journey, he found no need to keep in contact.
But the woman yearned to touch the man — to plead with him to stay. To hear his soft voice only for herself.
Alas, her pride did not let her — her pride convinced her that someone like her didn’t need a buffoon. She didn’t want to act on her urges, and forced herself to only watch as the man went to his new home.”
Alhaitham frowned, “That sounds strange, why would she be ashamed to ask him to stay?”
His Grandmother only smiled sadly.
“The woman couldn’t explain that even if she were asked today.”
- - - -
“Honestly, your altruistic acts will get you killed someday.”, Alhaitham cursed as he applied salve to the other man’s bloody arm. Results of a Blazing Axe Mitachurl no doubt, seeing the burnt sleeves of Kaveh’s charred clothing.
“That adventurer wasn’t going to be able to fend for herself, I had a claymore — and a vision. If anyone could’ve helped her most it was me.”, the blonde scoffed, rolling his eyes.
The scribe didn’t miss how he flinched as he did so, almost as if the wound had smarted when the architect tried to shrug.
He glanced at the bloody carpet on the floor, insignificant compared to the man in front of him.
Though he would never let his roommate know that, over his dead body.
“I would appreciate the sentiment if you didn’t show up a bloody mess, both literally and metaphorically — and if you didn’t soil my carpet beyond repair.”
Alhaitham felt a twisted sense of satisfaction when he saw the other man’s face turn red from shame.
Serves him right, the Scribe couldn’t help but gloat.
Getting himself injured like that.
The feeling quickly soured down to regret when he saw something else flickering in those carmine eyes.
“A carpet’s more important to you than my life?”
Alhaitham watched as his roommate started to chuckle, only interrupted by when the antiseptic made him hiss.
The scribe didn’t reply, but that flash of... whatever it was in the architect's eyes was not amusement — but then why couldn’t Alhaitham identify it?
Why was it something so familiar, yet not?
“I- I didn’t mean that.”, Alhaitham’s voice sounded flat, even to him.
“Why did you say it then?”. Kaveh’s voice came back to him.
Teasing as usual, he probably wanted to bicker just to get over the pain.
But... but for once Alhaitham found himself at a loss for words as he tried to come up with a reply.
Because-
Because what? Why did he say that?
...
Human emotions, only Lord Rukkadevata knew why they were so complicated. Or maybe she didn’t, seeing as she wasn’t human at all.
“Perhaps because it was on my mind.”, The Scribe replied nonchalantly, still carefully applying salves to the blonde’s wounds.
Kaveh hummed absently, plopping his head down onto Alhaitham’s shoulder. Fluttering his eyes shut as he did so.
Alhaitham felt glad the other man couldn’t see his face in that position, for he was fairly sure his cheeks had become a light shade of red.
- - - -
“I appreciate the tale, Grandmother, though the point of it seems to have slipped my mind.”, Alhaitham had muttered, crossing his arms as the child pursed his lips.
“It’s simple really.”, his Grandmother chuckled, “Pride is like a parasite, the more and more we feed it. The more it grows, yet when we try to find it... the more it likes to hide.
But we can’t blame Pride, no it’s only trying to survive. The only thing we can blame is our conscience — the thing that tells us we have needless standards. Needless roles we have to fill to comply with ‘society’.
In the end, ‘society’ is just our opinions and thoughts muddled together, all because of the pride that we feed like parasites.”
His Grandmother paused then, probably because of the child in front of her’s expression.
“Forgive me.”, she’d chuckled sadly.
“Sometimes I forget that my Padisarah is, in the end just a child.”
She had a tone of finality in her voice at those words, standing up immediately afterward and making her way to the kitchen.
“Come on, Sabz meat stew tonight.”
She looked back at Alhaitham, and he felt his lips tug downwards into a pout.
“Don’t give me that look my Padisarah, you have to be prepared to eat anything!”
She stayed still for a few moments as Alhaitham tried to muster up the best pleading eyes he could, focusing on the tilt of his eyes to make it seem more convincing.
His Grandmother sighed in defeat
“Fine, you win. I’ll make it as dry as possible, like a pizza.”
Ah, there it was. The sweet sweet taste of victory.
- - - -
Maybe Alhaitham finally understood what she might have meant.
Maybe... just maybe he wouldn’t make the same mistake that woman in his grandmother’s stories had.
He stared at the blonde man across him, a book lying abandoned in his hand yet still open. Though he hadn’t turned a page for a few minutes.
Some day, a voice in his head said.
Some day.
And Alhaitham for once, didn’t stop the sickly sweet feeling of hope blooming in his heart.
Just like a crimson flower, a double-edged sword.
~End.
"I hope I never get tired of the night sky, of thunderstorms, of watching cream make galaxies in my coffee. I hope I never grow to be someone who can no longer see the small beautiful things."
– anon.