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She likes him best when he is himself. 'Just plain Lyney', as he had so eloquently put it.
Unfortunately for the both of them, 'just plain Lyney' is not someone she gets to see very often, and frankly…it's kind of annoying.
Lumine likes Lyney the way he is, dramatic and showboating tendencies included. She likes it when he laughs, when he jokes and teases and easily sweeps her off her feet in his playful yet undeniably flirtatious manner. She likes it when he banters with Lynette, even if watching the two of them sometimes raises a rather unpleasant feeling to her chest. She likes how clever he really is; how he keeps surprising her time and time again with all of his sneaky little tricks and keen observations.
Lumine does not like how faked it all sometimes is, and while Lyney is skilled, Lumine is even more so. He cannot hide the way he really feels from her anciently watchful gaze; and he cannot hide the way his worries seem to drag him down further the longer this goes on.
She recalls the way he had looked at her, a short few months after they both had been released from their voluntary imprisonment. There had been no theatrics, no makeup, and above all, no faked smiles and cheerfulness. Lyney had looked at her, eyes vulnerable and earnest and seemingly glowing in the light of Fontaine's many fountains illuminating the night sky. His hands, gloveless and cold against her skin, had been caressing her flushed cheeks, his head tipped lightly against hers as he'd murmured the confession into her hair.
"Actually, the real me is nowhere near as outgoing or chatty as I appear."
"Then what is this 'real you' like?" She had dared to ask, golden eyes curious and voice equally as soft.
But Lyney's smile had turned sad, the already dull light of his eyes dimming even further as he'd looked away and shaken his head. His touch had left her skin, and she couldn't deny the way it had felt like the frost of Dragonspine itself settling over her bones.
"You wouldn't like him."
No matter how much she pushed, Lyney hadn't budged underneath the force of her worried and confused questioning. He hadn't ignored her - such was simply not within his nature - but he had done his very best to subvert and talk around her questions; meeting her with an exaggerated flourish and playful teasings as if nothing had happened within the last ten minutes.
He had kept it up all the way until he'd walked her back to the room Navia had set up for her and Paimon at the start of their journey within Fontaine, and even then, when she'd looked at him with concerned eyes, Lyney had only smiled and dipped his head in a formal bow, his lips touching the tips of her fingers as he bid her goodbye.
(The next time she saw him, it was as if nothing had happened at all, and that might have actually been the most chilling part of it all.)
Even now, as she sits atop his dresser - adorned in blacks and pinks and extravagant decorations paired with cat motifs, much like himself - and watches him flutter around his dressing room, putting on the last few finishing touches before he was expected to be on stage, Lumine can't shake the image of the solemn look in his eyes as he had admitted his woes and fears of being the next family head to her, and then immediately told her to forget it.
Lumine has lived long enough to be able to read between the lines, and what all of this is telling her is that Lyney is a layered, complicated man; complicated enough that he himself doesn't even know where to start looking.
It makes her heart ache.
He frets over his hair and clothes in a manner that is somehow frivolous yet stupidly charming at the same time, his brow furrowed as he double then triple checks if he has all his props, if he knows his lines, and if Rosseland is still stubbornly perched inside his hat.
(And Lumine is sure, Lynette is probably doing the same in her own dressing room; albeit a lot more subtle and controlled.)
"You seem nervous," she calls out into the open air, legs dangling idly in front of his dresser as she tilts her head and eyes him with an almost clinical amount of interest. "Is it always like this before one of your shows?"
"Yes," the answer comes immediately, open and honest if only because right now, there's no need for a performance. Right now, it's just them.
Lyney looks up from his vanity, sharp eyes meeting hers in the mirror as his lips curl into that signature teasing smile of his that she would bet her wings on had gotten him in trouble more than once; his voice equally as playful as he adds, "What's this? Are you perhaps worried about little old me?"
Lumine rolls her eyes. "I've learned some time ago that I shouldn't be worried about you; you're usually just playing it up for the dramatics."
He laughs, and the sound brings a sense of warmth with it. "You wound me, chérie. I thought by now you would have finally started trusting me again."
"I trust you as far as I can throw you."
Lyney snorts, the sound sudden and slightly out of character given the usual charm and sly mannerisms he carries himself with. Still, his smile is subtle, and his eyes seem to glint within the mirror as he rests his chin against his palm and drawls, voice suddenly charged, "I've seen you fight, love. If anything, that's just you saying you trust me immensely."
Lumine looks away, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge both his smug grin and the heat she knows has risen to her cheeks as she crosses her arms over her chest. "I wouldn't go that far." Because going that far would mean admitting she had let her guard down, and while it surely is obvious to everyone around them, Lumine had always been too stubborn for her own good. And so even if she knows damn well that she had gone against her own promises as soon as she'd allowed herself to be charmed by this sly magician with far too many faces, she will continue to deny it for as long as she can.
(Because if there is even the slightest chance that this was all fake, that Lyney would turn on her and betray her once more…it would be far easier to recover from it if she had at least some deniability to stand on.)
"Oh come now," Lyney grins as he pushes himself away from his vanity, turning with a sense of ease and swiftness that had most certainly been practiced as he grabs his trusted top hat and perches it with perfect precision on top of his hair. "Don't be like that. I'm up in just a few minutes you know? I need all the support I can get here."
"So what do you expect?" Lumine counters, brow raised in mock offense even if the way her lips curl in barely suppressed amusement betrays her act. "A good luck kiss?"
"....that would be nice, actually."
This time, it is her turn to laugh, golden eyes glittering with the stars themselves as she shakes her head. "How about we make a deal then? Show me your best performance out there, and I'll give you that kiss after the show."
"A lovely incentive, but I fear you may be making it too easy for me, chérie." Lyney tips his hat, the playful curl to his lips as well as the look in his eyes turning cocky as he meets her challenge. "You should know by now; I strive to be nothing other than perfect."
Yes, Lumine thinks, a bit sourly. Yes, she does know that.
(She thinks back then, to the way he had looked, halfway on the verge of panic as he confessed his woes and fears and just how unwilling he was to be the next head in line after his 'Father's' inevitable end. He had refused to look at her; both she and the moon being the only witness to the feelings he most certainly considered to be blasphemous, but even then, she had heard the crack within his voice, and even then, as Lyney pleaded with her not to tell anyone- especially not his siblings, Lumine had to wonder just how sincere Arlechinno's 'love' for her children actually ran.)
"So the magician says," she counters softly, hardly thinking as her stare nearly bleeds through him. Lumine pauses, only half aware of what may come out of her mouth next, before she adds, "but what does the actual you think?"
And predictably enough, Lyney full on freezes.
(It is then that Lumine considers that maybe, just maybe, this hadn't been the smartest thing to do right before his performance.)
Lyney has always been known for running his mouth. Even when his siblings had been taken from him and he had been on the verge of a panic had he kept talking; if only as a way to keep himself from tipping over whatever terrifying edge his mind had been leading him to. His nonchalance had kept up during Furina’s trial, reacting to the revelations and the drama with nothing more than raised brows and even in the midst of Childe’s appearance and consequent descent following a giant Abyssal whale, Lumine had to wonder if his act ever did stop.
That moment, she thinks, seems to be now, because she can't describe the current look on his face as anything other than speechless and yes, perhaps this really was the worst moment to ask him this.
He seems utterly out of place, stock-still as he is. His hat is tipped just the slightest bit to the left, eyes wide and useless and it's clear to her just how quickly the gears in his head are attempting to restart; attempting to come up with something smooth and clever in order to misdirect her into a topic of conversation that above all, is not this.
Because misdirection, he had taught her, is both a magician's and a spy's greatest weapon.
Unfortunately for him, their relationship has given her experience dealing with both.
“That's…” he starts, suddenly very quiet, but just as quickly his lips purse into a thin line as he blocks whatever thought he may have had from pressing to the front and Lumine can only give him a sad smile.
She reaches for him, arms open and wide in a clear invitation for him to join her. Lyney seems almost hesitant to obey, as if being near her right now would only serve to bring more uncertainties along with it. Still, he obeys, and as Lyney settles himself within the familiar space between her legs, she reaches out to cup his face within her hands, her own smile turning soft as he stares back in what she could only call confused wonder.
The cheerful chatter from the crowd had already started to dwindle, a clear indication that his show was about to start. There was no time for this, but Lumine would be sure to come back to this later, if only for him, so instead of pushing it, she leans in and presses her lips gently against his.
Lyney's eyes widen, but he does not deny her. His face flushes considerably, as it always does whenever she puts her hands on him, and it never fails to amuse her just how quickly this stupidly charming magician breaks underneath her touch. This, she supposes, is him in his purest form.
This, she supposes, is something that can't be faked.
When they part, it takes him a while to blink back to the earth, face still considerably flushed and brows furrowed in a sense of confusion she can only call adorable. "I thought you said I could get that kiss after the show?"
Lumine smiles, leans in for another sweet, quick kiss against his cheek this time. "Consider it a sneak preview."
She smooths his hair back underneath his hat, tips the whole thing properly in place, and straightens out the costume he had so meticulously been fussing with earlier. “You should get going,” she tells him. “They're waiting for you.”
Lyney, however, doesn't seem to care very much. His stare is still locked on her; still set in blatant look of awe, and at this point Lumine is starting to wish he would just leave her and go back to pretending nothing was wrong. He's going to make her blush if he doesn't.
He snaps his fingers then, a familiar pink rose appearing from seemingly thin air as he does so. Lumine can only watch as her magician bends to kiss the petals, his stare never straying from her face as he does so, then proceeds to reach up and tuck the gift into her hair in a manner that is almost painfully gentle.
And Lumine, much to her chagrin, much like she had predicted, flushes bright red.
Damn magicians.
"Another good luck charm," he tells her softly, lilac eyes open and honest and, above all, affectionate as he proceeds to kiss her fingertips next. "So long as you keep wearing that, I know today's performance will go flawlessly."
Lumine blinks, stunned at the sudden shift in tone, as well as the blatant sincerity of his words. "You're putting quite a lot of faith in a rose."
Lyney shakes his head. "Not just the rose." The grip on her fingers loosen, his lips coming to meet her temple next. "You as well."
It is to absolutely no one's surprise, then, that even with the slight delay, Lyney's performance had gone on flawlessly.
(At least, so she had heard from Paimon later on. Lumine had been far too busy curling up in her chair and hiding her flushed face to witness it herself.)
"Which is real, and which is not?" Lyney calls, his voice booming on stage as it always does, commanding his audience to focus on him and him alone.
Indeed, he thinks, expressions carefully controlled as he reaches out a hand for Lynette to take as he helps her climb into the water tank. Which is real?
It had been some time since Lumine had cornered him in his dressing room and questioned him on what the real him was thinking. They had yet to revisit that particular topic of conversation, if only because of Lyney's careful avoidance and clever redirections, but ever since then, she had been pressing him a lot more on wanting to know his actual thoughts, and not just the ones he was giving her.
So. Which was real, and which was not?
Was it the warmth he had felt the first time he had brought Lumine into the House and watched her laugh and play and interact with the other orphans?
Was it the way his heart had positively melted when he'd walked in on the sight of little Sabine, by far the most quiet and secluded child of the House, fast asleep on Lumine's lap, the other children surrounding them and listening with rapt attention as Lumine read a storybook to them? Perhaps the fullness he had felt when Lynette, quiet as ever, had cried silent, happy tears and told him to cherish her because, according to his sister, Lyney was finally happy?
Was it the fear he had felt? Sharp and suffocating and damn near crippling the first time he had the displeasure of witnessing her get caught off guard in battle and having the sound of her sharp, pained gasp ingrained into his memory as a dysfunctional Mek knocked the breath out of her?
Lynette descends into the tank, and Lyney keeps both track of time and their audience’s attention as he starts shuffling his cards and mouthing off about how they hadn't come to see him perform any fancy party tricks.
His eyes zero in on the front row seats, and sure enough, as always Lumine is there, Paimon at her side, and watching them with rapt attention regardless of how many times she'd seen them perform the same shows.
She looked enamored each and every time, and Lyney is sure it's not just because of the magic. That novelty has to have worn off already by then, hasn't it?
(Was that it then? The way she always looks at him with love and affection in her eyes even if Lyney knows fully well that deep down, she's still unsure on whether she can trust him or not? How he had undeniably hurt her, yet she still chose to love him regardless?)
Ten seconds left. Lyney stops his shuffling.
(Or was it the way she had come over to help him care for his siblings when both Lynette and Freminet had come down with the flu? How she had hip-checked him out of the kitchen and forced him to take a rest himself because she knew he had been running himself ragged as soon as they had gotten sick and had barely rested? How she had made chicken noodle soup and sternly told all three of them to eat lest she personally feed them herself?
(Lyney had been inclined to call her bluff on that last one to be honest, but Lynette's rather scalding look as she sipped at her soup had been enough to dissuade him from it.))
One second. Lyney presses the button hidden within his deck of cards.
Lynette's tank vanishes in its entirety.
Lumine's eyes go wide, and Lyney almost breaks character at having to suppress his smirk within his own surprised act.
Yes, he thinks, that must be it.
Lyney can think and ponder over it all he wants, in the end, the answer for his affections will always be one thing. Faked or not, the one to always bring out this side of him was and always will be, Lumine.
Lumine likes it whenever he stays the night at her teapot.
He looks…peaceful. Calm.
His hair is damp and messy as he comes walking out of her shower wearing just a normal shirt, shorts, and a white towel slung over his shoulders. The makeup has been washed from his face, his demeanor far more subdued and quiet but by no means less radiant.
Lumine likes it when he stays the night, because she believes that's when she gets to see him at his most relaxed. At his most him.
The Fatui doesn't exist within her realm, and there is no audience to charm or impress, either. It is just them; just him and her, and she supposes Lyney can feel it too because he sinks into the spot on the couch beside her and rests his head on her lap with a contented sigh that Lumine can't help but smile at.
She runs her fingers through his hair, eyes still set on the drama novel Furina had lent her as she brushes back the strands and massages over his scalp, her smile only widening when she catches the soft but telling sound of a purr coming from him. The first time she had realized that Lyney possessed cat-like traits of his own had been when they'd been caught in the dark within Fontaine's underground life. Lumine had been blind as a bat, barely moving and wildly feeling around herself in order to get some sense of her surroundings.
Lyney, however, had been able to see clear as day, and while Lynette had taken it upon herself to grab Paimon and lead their group out of the maze of darkness they had found themselves in, Lyney had done the same by settling his hands on Lumine's waist and urging her in front of him; gently guiding her along the path with sharp and clear precision.
(The second time had been when she'd pressed a surprise kiss against his neck, and the sound that had come out of him was something of a mixture between a startled yowl and contented purr. He'd immediately gone bright red with embarrassment too, and it had taken the entire night for Lumine to coax him back out of hiding.)
Lyney's stare is thoughtful. Cautious, even, and Lumine is fairly certain she already knows what's on his mind.
She does not say anything, merely watches as he bites his lip and fiddles with a strand of blond curling in front of his face. Clearly, he's debating heavily on whether to even broach this topic or not, and that, she supposes, is as good a sign of improvement as any.
Lumine flips a page from her novel, fingers burying rather deeply within Lyney's hair and his jaw locks, a look of nervous determination settling into his expression.
“Do you…really not like the way I act?”
Ah, well, Lumine supposes she can finish the story later.
“I never said that,” she corrects simply, folding the book shut and placing it on the coffee table beside the couch as she redirects the brunt of her attention entirely on him. Lyney almost flinches at the suddenness of it, likely not having expected her to switch gears so quickly, but when it's about this, Lumine sees no need to play pretend. Celestia knows they had been circling around this for far too long already. “I like you just the way you are, Lyney, drama and acting included.”
He grimaces, very blatantly avoiding her gaze and taking the time to pause and go over his words in his head first rather than the quick and spontaneous answers he somehow always seems to have ready. Honestly, Lumine wants to kiss him; both to rid him of whatever worries he is plaguing himself with, and because she truly does like him like this.
She doesn't know just who had brought him down so much that he's convinced himself she wouldn't like the ‘real’ him to the point where he doesn't even want to attempt to show her, and frankly, given the explosive sense of anger she can already feel rising to the edge, it might be best for her to never find out. Either way, it does not change the way that she thinks of him, and for as long as he'll continue to ask; for as long as he'll be willing to listen, Lumine will proceed to tell him just that.
“I just wish you'd know there's no need for you to wear the mask around me all the time.” She adds, and the look in his eyes turns almost sad.
When Lyney speaks next, his voice is quiet; unsure. He doesn't meet her eyes when he admits, his voice a shameful confession, “I don't know how.”
And Lumine is sort of glad Lyney isn't looking at her. Surely the anger on her face is enough to level mountains.
(The Tsaritsa is a curious entity. She is one that has brought many an emotion to Lumine ever since the start of her journey on Teyvat. The one emotion that keeps reoccurring, however, the one that her and her organization somehow keep instilling within her with their actions, is rage, and watching Lyney now; quiet and unsure of his own mentality, makes it burn hotter than ever.
Aether had always called her explosive.)
“You shouldn't have to,” she tells him instead, after taking a deep breath. Her fingers continue their pathway throughout his hair, and Lyney whines a little in a way that shoots straight to her heart when she ultimately lets go of him in order to tip his head up to face her. “It's all the same to me, you know. The you on stage, as well as the you taking care of your siblings or even the you working for the Fatui…they're still all you.” She dips her head then, forehead touching against his and smile soft as he stares back at her in wonder, much like he had that day in his dressing room. “You promised to never lie to me again, Lyney, so call me greedy or unreasonable, but if that's the case then I want to see any side of you that you let me.”
Lyney blinks, slow and vulnerable and maybe even a little confused, too. He reaches up, hand caressing her cheek and closing his eyes when she inevitably leans into his warmth. He seems to be thinking very hard about something, and Lumine lets him, happy to help where she can, but equally as happy to let him figure out the confusing state of his mind on his own, as well.
(She had seen it in Furina, how the centuries of acting as someone else eventually chipped down into her own sense of self until she did not know who she herself was anymore. Lumine had witnessed it all within the former Archon’s mind, and it had been both terrifying and heartbreaking to witness.
Lyney's situation was nowhere near as extreme as hers, but then he hadn't been created from a god either, and for as long as she existed, Lumine vowed never to let a situation like that happen again.
Furina was healing; was free. Lyney would likely not be granted that same freedom so long as the Fatui held strong, and so Lumine would have to support him wherever she could should she want him to stay and be happy with her.)
“...If there's one thing that stays true for all versions of ‘me’,” Lyney eventually starts, his words slow and deliberate as his eyes, lovely and pure and above all else, serene, meet hers. “It's that you never fail to captivate me, chérie.”
Lumine looks away, her cheeks annoyingly flushed as her lips curl into an indignant scowl. “On second thought, maybe I could do less with that flirty side of yours.”
Lyney laughs. “But it's the truth!”
She sniffs. “I'm sure you say that to all the ladies.”
“Never,” Lyney insists, both hands suddenly on her cheeks as he pulls her down enough for him to brush his lips against hers. Lumine gives a muffled noise of surprise at the sudden intimate touch, and she supposes she may have said exactly the wrong thing because Lyney is insistent and rising from his spot within her lap to push her back further into the couch, his lips like sin and his touch leaving chills in its wake. When they part, it leaves her absolutely breathless. “I told you before, it's just you. Always has been you.”
(And a part of Lumine, prideful and hidden deep within a suppressed compartment within her heart where she kept the majority of her celestial teachings, thinks she is far too weak to this sly magician's charms.
She cannot, however, bring herself to mind very much, either.)
Lyney sighs, his lips lingering almost thoughtlessly against her temple and it is clear that he is still thinking over something. He meets her eyes, bright and conflicted and vulnerable just like they had been that very first night he had confessed his thoughts to her.
The confession he whispers into her skin next, muffled by her shoulder as if that was supposed to make it any better, is not one she hadn't seen coming.
The one that comes after that, however, certainly is, and she pretends rather stubbornly as if the declaration of his feelings for her hadn't rendered her into a flustered mess as he so often did lately; as if he didn't have a secret talent for always pushing her buttons in the exact right way and catching her off guard while doing so.
The third and final confession is more of a request. A plea, even. It is one where he is at his most vulnerable; one that has her heart tightening within her chest in a mix of emotions she can't quite place. It is a moment in which Lumine realizes that, despite her own stubbornness, despite her wishes and blatant denial of the situation they had found themselves in, Lyney had already given her his heart long ago.
And somewhere, along the way…Lumine had done the same.
It is a request for her not to leave him; for her not to trample on his heart like so many others had done before. Lumine looks at him, long and hard and maybe even a little defeated, and decides that he shouldn't even have to ask, because for as long as she'll have to, for as long as he'll let her, Lumine would be more than willing to stay.
That, she decides, is her ultimate promise.