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Tucked away in the bar’s corner, Aether keeps his head down, digging his nails into the table’s grooves, fingers catching in sticky remnants of old spills. The symphony of bellowed hate and grief overwhelms his ears. Tonight, the bargoers are rowdier than usual, reeling off the fresh tale of The Abyss Princess’ latest evildoings. The alcohol draws their anger to new heights. There is little hope of subduing them, so he hides.
The proceedings are nothing new to him. No matter what region he finds himself in, or what tavern he drops into, things never change. The animosity for The Abyss Princess runs strong and constant. Her name features in every heated discussion. It’s crawled its way into fables to frighten children from committing wrongdoings. No matter where he goes, her name follows—and with it, his fear.
Humans, Aether finds, are painfully short-sighted. As proven by the fact that no bartender ever serves him alcohol, despite him proving to be old enough to be adept with a sword and partake in wars. They see what lies before them and nothing more. They take basic observations and paint entire portraits from them.
He is but a simple boy. She, a simple villain.
The Abyss Princess is evil.
They repeat the statement. Sing it as a chorus. Chant it in different languages. Curse it in every thought.
Humans are simple. They see a puddle’s surface and assume shallowness. They step in and plunge into an ocean.
Aether divulges his relation to Her to only a few people—to those he calls friends. They wonder how he can be related to a being so malicious. Twins? How can that be?
Condemning her actions, they call her the pinnacle of wickedness.
He used to disagree. The pain she has wrought upon Teyvat thus far is not a good representation of her.
They say that his love for her blinds him. Her actions make her, serving as proof of who she is and what she is capable of.
Wrong. They’re all wrong. But now, he keeps silent when her actions scream over his protests to convince them otherwise. What is there to say that will make sense to someone on the outside? Nothing. It’s far less harrowing to let Paimon ramble nonsense, diverting attention away from the anxious words ready to spill forth from his mouth. He seals his lips shut, endlessly praying for the humans to gift him with their gift of obliviousness. It’s the only thing left to hope for.
A certain kind of bliss comes with ignorance. Humans, even the ones from other worlds, seem to enjoy an abundance of it. Fear arises from knowing. And for the people of Teyvat, they know little.
The Abyss Princess radiates evil. Dressed in clothes from a foreign land, she struts through the seven nations and leaves only pain and suffering in her wake. She cuts a warpath in her quest to satiate her selfish desires, sparing nary a thought to those affected by her destruction.
Aether nods along and bites his tongue. They don’t know her the way he does. This? Child’s play. The villages lost serve as mere collateral damage for her current obsession found in Teyvat—Celestia, from what he understands. They should practice gratitude; her focus isn’t on the people of Teyvat. Not yet at least.
As whimsical as she is, Lumine is still a hunter, practiced in the art with a technique refined over many years with various targets from different worlds. She observes and then conquers.
In the simple concepts of humans, she is a cat. The mice running around in this world, squeaking insults about her atop wooden barstools, can taunt her all they want. She hears none of it while she chases after what she has her heart set on. She practices patience until the side noise draws her attention. And when she falls in love with the new attraction, she commits herself. She’ll hunt down every rodent.
The Abyss Princess is evil, they say. She masquerades as the virtues; but underneath the mask, she is the incarnation of cruelty. Mercy never comes from her hands. She must have been born without love in her heart. If she held even a drop of love in her soul, then she would not commit these heinous acts.
The people don’t understand what they ask for. Her apathy is the closest semblance of compassion that someone can hope for. No one should vie for her love. They should run from it.
Aether doesn’t expect anyone to comprehend, not fully, but it would serve them well to take his pleas to help locate her with more severity.
They don’t know his twin like he does. They don’t know that she wields the word love in a way foreign to them. They don’t know that bearing witness to the manifestation of her love taught him to fear for those he comes to love. They don’t know anything about anything that matters.
To them, there is no way that they can be twins, opposite as they are. He spends every waking moment contemplating what her next move could be. She only remembers him when it’s time to hop to a new universe. He preserves. She destroys. He loves. She hates.
To him, there is no way that they cannot be. Love drives them both. It sits at their core. The only difference is the result of it. Lumine does not hate. They weren’t born with it in their hearts.
They don’t know her and her love, not like he does. They don’t. He prays they won’t.
But as the bargoers sing the chorus with a new burst of energy, Aether knows it’s a matter of time. Habits and history repeat. Prayers and miracles are exceptions. A wish for his sister’s benevolence will go unanswered; it always does. Time to begin saying his goodbyes. It is the act most familiar to him.
Laughing, she hunts. Mourning, he hides.
Lumine loves like no other.