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The campfire’s casting flickering shadows over the walls of a cave somewhere in Liyue and rain’s pouring down like the Electro Archon herself’s sent a storm here when Paimon has An Idea.
Sure, it’s not a wise idea. It’s not even a very smart idea. Some people might even go so far as to call it a very dumb idea. But Paimon’s not the kind of person (fairy?) to overthink her ideas, given that her rash actions have worked out pretty well so far. After all, offering to be a guide to a being from beyond Teyvat, who, by the way, didn’t speak a lick of Teyvatian was a similarly rash decision involving a lot of gesturing and miscommunication, and look where it’s got her now.
That being, by the way, is currently hunched over the campfire with a cloth and her sword, frowning at an offending nick on the edge and muttering to herself. “Stupid hilichurl… just had to get its mask in the way of my sword… if this happens one more time I’m going back to Mondstadt and telling Wagner exactly what I think of his ‘not-second-rate’ items…”
Even angry, sodden, and affecting the posture of a shrimp, the Traveler glows. Golden hair, golden eyes, and a white dress of no material Paimon’s ever seen that never seems to get dirty; she’s ethereal at her worst and otherworldly at her best, and the firelight glints off her silhouette, making Paimon think of one of the lions they’d encountered in the jungles of Sumeru, all languid elegance until they’d seen the Traveler and sprung to attention, coiled muscles tense and ready to strike.
Of course, it didn’t stand a chance. The Traveler cut it down before it got very far, a lazy stroke of that ever-present sword. Before Paimon could even float back from wherever she’d flitted to upon seeing the lion bolt towards them, she’d already said a prayer to Rukkehadevata for its soul and started skinning it. They were eating lion steaks for a good week after that.
Which brings Paimon back to her original point. She’s sick of eternally being the harmless sidekick to a force of nature. Time to do something about it. “Traveler?”
“Hm?”, the Traveler doesn’t look up from the sword, “are you still hungry? There’s some Universal Peace left, or if you want meat I’ve got some Steak in my bag. You know where to find it.”
“No, I want you to teach me how to use that sword.”
Well, that’s gotten her attention. The Traveler snaps her head around so fast Paimon’s almost afraid she’ll get whiplash, stares Paimon right in the eyes, and says, half-laughing, “I’m sorry?”
“That sword. Teach me how to use it. I want to fight with you too," Paimon floats over and points right at said sword, even as the tips of her ears start burning (thankfully, they’re covered by her hair).
Having ascertained that Paimon isn’t joking, the Traveler gets a gleam in her eye that Paimon really, really, really doesn’t like.
“Oh, I thought you’d never ask!”
A wooden sword is produced, exactly Paimon’s size, and the Traveler leaps up, nick forgotten.
“Let’s go.”
“Now?! There’s barely any space in this cave–”
“You’re small enough. Let’s start with a basic left-to-right swing…”
***
A few hours later, fading flames are the only thing left lighting the inside of the cave, the sun having said its goodbyes a while ago. Petrichor mingles with burnt wood, and a silence has settled over the two figures in the cave, one golden, one white. Purple eyes drift shut in the kind of comfortable tiredness that only comes with being full, safe, and warm, and the Traveler finds a fairy curled up into her side as she stares at the rocky ceiling.
“Traveler?” A sleep-blurred voice.
“Hm?”
“You’re a really good teacher.”
“I’ve had practice,” and the Traveler thanks the Archons that Paimon’s face is turned away, so she can’t see the shadow that passes over those golden eyes, or that her vision’s going blurry, “with. My brother.”
Normally Paimon would pick up on the change in tone, the restfulness deepening into melancholy, but tonight the sword-fighting and monster-fleeing have conspired to drag her into a deep, dreamless rest and she falls asleep with the question unsaid. The Traveller finds herself the only one awake, with only the upside-down bowl of the star-studded sky and the far-off hoots of the owls for company. And her twin creeps into her mind unbidden, as he always does when the night is quiet and thoughts roar too loud within her skull.
A little over fifteen hundred days since she crashed onto that beach in the shadow of Stormbearer Point – fifteen hundred days since she’s had a conversation with him that’s gone beyond “keep going, little sis, you’ll find out why I’m doing this soon” – fifteen hundred days since she’s hugged him, properly, the kind of bone-crushing soul-warming hug that only two people linked by the very fabric of their souls can share.
She misses him.
She hates him, for doing this to her – for making her go on quest after quest, fighting her way across an alien land, all for hints and riddles dropped like so many breadcrumbs along a trail that stretches far into the distance.
She loves him, for all he knows about her; the field of flowers, her favourite flowers, where he scoured the area for the most perfect specimen and placed it into her hair; the mysterious photo of the two of them and a purple-robed man that appeared in her backpack one day; the way he prefers covering his left side because he’s certain she’s got his right.
But mostly she misses him.
When they’d been exploring together — not Teyvat, another strange barren world where all there had been was strange blue-tinted dust as far as the eye could see, he’d joked, Wow, this place seems awfully lonely , and she’d quipped back Wouldn’t know what that feels like, I’ve got you .
Well, now she hasn’t got him, and sometimes she thinks she feels as lonely as that bizarre blue planet felt, drifting through a forgotten corner of the cosmos, utterly devoid of light or warmth.
So how do you keep going, under the crushing loneliness, carrying the shattered mess of your soul and knowing your other half is as unreachable as the flap of a crystalfly’s wing: close enough to see and hear, but not to touch, never to touch?
You find another reason to live on.
That reason turns over in her sleep, still snuggled into the Traveler’s side, and snores.
And suddenly, despite everything — the nicked sword, the sudden pouring, freezing rain, or the fact that they’ve been ambushed by three separate groups of hilichurls today — she can’t find it in herself to be too miserable.
Paimon’s been a constant in her journey, ever since she fished out that soggy fairy right where she'd first crash-landed in some bizarre turn of fate. A slightly whiny, slightly timid constant, sure, but also a loyal, brave, and determined constant. “Traveler, over here!” “Traveler, over there!” How many times has she heard those lines, how many times has Paimon dragged her towards some new food or a great adventure? Where would she be without Paimon, who, when she couldn’t go a step further, was by her side, telling her just a bit further, Traveler, you’re almost at the shelter or just one more hilichurl, Traveler, then we’re safe ?
Blood cant be thicker than water, can it? Not when Paimon’s patched her up more times than she can count, when they’ve both shed salt tears for the other, when they’d kill or be killed to protect each other.
Paimon is family, blood or water, and the Traveler takes care of family. If her family wants to take care of her, far be it from her to refuse the favor. She’ll make Paimon the best damn swordsperson in Teyvat if it’s the last thing she does.
***
The next morning, Paimon awakens to find the Traveler out cold, still gripping a pen and hand weighing down a ragtag journal she’s zealously guarded for as long as Paimon can remember.
Day 1588
Dear Aether,
Paimon asked me to teach her sword-fighting today! Paimon! I couldn’t believe it at first, but she put so much effort into it that I think she’s actually serious. Have no idea where that idea got into her head, but she kinda reminds me of you. Remember how you couldn’t get the footwork down for that one move and I told you to give it up and you kept trying? She gets the exact same expression as you when she’s focused on something difficult.
…I still miss you, yknow? Telling me that I’ve gotta complete my journey before I can find out what’s up with you and the Abyss Order...I don’t care if you’re the older one, that’s massively immature. Just you wait, I’ll hash it out with you soon. Paimon’ll have your head too, who knows, she might be good enough at sword-fighting by then, ha!
See you soon,
Lumine (and Paimon)
Paimon decides that she won’t speak of the journal.
Golden light creeps into the cave, and the Traveler stirs. “Good morning, Paimon”, a yawn, “where to today?”
Right then and there, Paimon makes another impulsive decision.
“Let’s go to Liyue City. I want an actual sword – not a wooden one – from Master Zhang.
After all, there’s no point being Teyvat’s best guide if I can’t be Teyvat’s best swordsfairy and protector too, right?”
The Traveler smiles, a resplendent smile, a real smile.
“Let’s go.”