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This is a story from a long time ago
of a certain young homunculus…
and his cold master.
“For Khemia’s sake, [Redacted].
I just taught you this yesterday!
You should be ashamed that
you can’t even give rise to an organism
beyond the simple structure of a Cecilia!”
“I— I’m sorry, [Redacted]—”
He clutched the humble Cecilia in his small hands.
“How many times do I have to tell you
to refer to me as only ‘Master’?
I don’t care for your apologies.
I want results. Now.”
And the fragile flower was
harshly taken from his small hands.
“You will be like this flower.”
Being given a chance to blossom and—
Yet it was forced to quickly wither to its death
at the researcher’s touch.
“If you fail again.”
The young homunculus’ chest tightened at these words,
though he never understood the reason.
Even this, too, he thought was a sign of his incompetence.
His life was under her control.
Then, surely his death would hers to decide, too.
Though unstable, though harsh,
it was the only semblance of a family he had,
so when she suddenly disappeared—
~
Centuries later, a certain alchemist attempted the old exercise again in the Favonius Library. He held the withered stem in one hand, and a pure-white Cecilia bloomed from its tip within seconds. The librarian watched with fascination.
“When we were chatting about rejuvenation yesterday, I didn’t think you’d show me. You’re quite the talented young man.”
“I appreciate your words, but this is merely a simple demonstration.” The alchemist held the green stem gently and noted the tightness in his chest.
This is to be expected, of course. The pattern that repeated for centuries would not deviate now.
“May I have a closer look?”
…
Well, at his current level, he could easily bring it back to life should she make any adjustments to its makeup.
“Of course.”
He passed her the fresh flower.
The librarian smiled, and with a small gesture of her hand, the Cecilia elevated into the air like a dancer.
“Cecilias are perfect for bouquets and vases, don’t you think?” Her voice was soft like flowing water in a creek. “There are many beautiful flowers in Mondstadt, if you know where to look. Even in places with harsh winds.”
The flower twirled amidst the faint purple sparkles above Lisa’s hand. As the tightness in Albedo’s chest subsided a little, he traced his gaze over the petals’ elegant shapes.
“Yes, they are quite suitable for decorative displays,” he agreed quietly.
A sliver of worry graced Lisa’s features at his distant remark. She returned the Cecilia to Albedo like it was a precious gift for him. Then she guided him to a nearby bookshelf and picked out a thick book with gold text on the spine of its green hardcover.
Albedo was already well-versed in the flora of Teyvat, but he nonetheless appreciated the encyclopedia Lisa picked out. It’d be a good textbook for his students.
“I’d rather have some lovely afternoon tea here in the library, but if you get the chance, you should give Starsnatch Cliff a visit.” Lisa handed Albedo the book, her twinkling green eyes as fresh as the cool water and rustling trees in Springvale. “Bards have written many songs throughout Mondstadt history about the Cecilia in praise of its resilience and gentleness, you know.”
Bards…?
Albedo thanked Lisa for the recommendation and checked out the book at the front desk. As he looked down at the rather heavy volume, he noticed a windmill insignia on the deep green cover along with the names of some scholars. Lisa smiled knowingly.
The blackletter typeface above the insignia read: Anthology of Mondstadtian Songs 8th Edition: Decarabian Era to Post-Aristocracy.