Chapter Text
It took convincing, to get your parents to tell you where they found you.
Jostling your kamera across your shoulders quickly, raising the viewfinder to your eye while you tripped up the rooted makeshift stairs of the chasm, your bag latched tightly across your back—you made it through the entrance of the chasm hidden under large stones and vines; Your breath had caught in your throat.
While Monstadt had its fair share of scenery, that you were raised to know very well, your parents had dragged you along every adventure they’d gone on when you were younger—having explored every inch of forest just for the fun of it; but the pictures, the descriptions you had seen and read of Sumeru were enough to convince you that you needed to get back to where you’d been left, the culture that you’d wished you had stayed closer to, back to your roots.
And while it took some convincing of your parents—they’d always been a little clingy, despite the fact that they themselves had never stayed in one spot for long—constantly moving around Monstadt until they felt settled—in fact, that’s how they found you.
You knew from a young age that you were not your parents’ biological kid—or from Monstadt where you’ve now lived for most of your life. They, however, were forever grateful that on that day they’d been exploring as far as they could; winding back into the chasm that separated the two nations, they’d started to hear babbling and crying, echoing down the already beaten path, where they had found you behind mossed rocks, hurriedly taking you along with them and thanking the archons for gifting them
something they’d never thought they’d have.
You were grateful, really, but you felt that you were really meant for something else. You blame them, for the most part, for not being able to stay in one place for long. You were endlessly curious—your own room full of various treasures and rocks, small trinkets you labelled as souvenirs; despite probably looking like garbage to the average person; being a collector, as well as an adventurer, has been apart of you for as long as you could remember.
That’s why, today— you packed your bag and threw it over your shoulder as your parents made you promise to be safe; nodding all the way as you distantly listened, you’d since tucked the elaborately drawn map of where to climb over in the chasm to get there safely, red pen etching where you had to follow to reach where you were really from, and paths to avoid. You so badly wanted to reconnect with it, not remembering a thing, and to the lack of your parents’ knowledge—you sought out the people that left you here, telling yourself that you only want answers.
And now, you stood. This had to be it.
You steadied your breath, hiking up your bag and adjusting your kamera to the hilt of your chin, taking a close up of the entrance—biting the bullet and rushing your way in and focusing on the fact that you were so, so close to getting to Sumeru.
You already felt clammy from the moisture that seeped through the cracks in the tunnel— the inner city of Monstadt really didn’t get humid—your calves cramping as you tiptoed on across shattered and splintered wooden planks in a once makeshift path.
the light glowing from the bioluminescent mushrooms shone of the puddles onto the walls and stony ceiling above you, the sight taking you in as you gazed up, lichen lined with spores.
Down and under your feet, large winding roots wrapped around boulders—the wood rich and oaky colour that you had to consciously avoid from tripping on—you really couldn’t help but take a picture every moment or so, your eyes glued to the viewfinder of the kamera as you stumbled over stones and gems you’ve only ever dreamed out.
You couldn’t help the grin that slowly etched its way across your face, the occasional droplets of cold water that came from the surface, leaking into the tunnels landing atop your nose.
Focusing once more on snapping as many pictures as possible, knowing damn well you’re going to make a cool ass collage later—you can’t help the shriek that escapes your lips as a small creature ran across your view in the kamera—nearly dropping your expensive device you spent ages saving up on; bracing yourself against the stony wall, damp with moisture leaking from the cracks, quickly wiping your dewy hand on the front of your shirt with a wrinkled nose, a few spiderwebs had stuck to the wet wall.
You’re already ready to curse the thing out, before you see it again—and for a moment you think its just any small boar, but as it scampers away, you notice the fungus lining its back that seemed to glow with the same bioluminescent colour as the mushrooms on the wall.
You recall seeing it in your wildlife book and silently thanked the people that raised you, that they didn’t turn you into a scientist—you’d spend way too much time chasing after that ugly little thing.
The rocks slowly dissipated, with each second you kept up your pace, now, you were walking on mostly lush moss that carpeted fallen logs—blinking mold you were so fucking confused about at first, snapped quickly in your photos.
You could swear you saw light at the very end of the hollowed-out tree turned on its side, the makeshift tunnel cramped as you nearly had to crouch to get through.
Your breath quickly left your lungs, your lips parting in awe; the air no longer thick in your throat, but it felt fresh.
The dusk birds—while you’re not like, a researcher, you wanted to really reconnect with a culture you never got to experience, the books of rich history and wildlife you read on Sumeru spoke of these birds fondly, a red beak, and multicoloured body, followed with their high and chiming singing, you actually spotted one; perched atop the largest fucking flower you’ve ever seen.
Your gaze followed it as it hopped down, effortlessly expanding its wings as it took off.
It swooped in the invisible currents, gliding until it settled on top of a Statue of the Seven; your eyes trailing up until the glowing light it emitted struck the sky.
You hated how it took you twenty years to finally get here, although that feeling was only fleeting as you really, really took it in.
You distantly remembered your mom describing which path to take—the one closest to the Statue, you were sure.
You’d gotten lost, way too many times to count, but here it was literally impossible. You had a map; drawn by your parents the day they found you to commemorate their newfound blessing. And although you don’t want something to happen again; the last time you ventured too far off the beaten path, you ran into a too large slime the size of a pond that nearly got you beat if you hadn’t run away last minute.
You did manage to get a quick pic of it before you called it quits—reminding yourself once again that you aren’t a researcher, just a traveller. He was fine anyway.
That’s why, you took the path that glowed with the most amount of rushing water—your parents always told you to follow the water source, right? The map in your back pocket stayed forgotten, relying on your own sense.
You jogged over, now, eyes lingering on the Statue high above you—getting most of your lower body soaked already from clambering over freshly rained on blooms, only feeling partly bad about the Sumeru roses that got crushed under the heel of your boots. The stream seemed to glow with the farther you followed it, your warped reflection taking every pebble you kicked, rushing faster and warbling, watching as a small fish had started breaching the surface of the water—shards of unknown gems laying on the rock bed shining from the scales.
Everything, and when you say everything, it meant all you could see were shades of green. You mused as you stepped over another pebble, eyes back on the viewfinder while you followed the stream, the echoed warbling of water, crashing over larger and larger rocks timed with the snap of your shutter button lulled you into a trance as you kept your trek.
All too quick; the ground escaped from under you and your body was drenched and immediately freezing—water entering your already opened mouth and cutting out the shocked shriek you’d already involuntarily let out.
You should’ve blacked out, with how hard you hit the ground
Sopping wet, scooping up your drenched jacket and noting down how you lost both your journal and kamera.
You definitely landed on your head; You distantly thought as the base of your neck ached, wondering if the lack of colour to the world was a side effect of how hard you fucking fell.
Red had started to etch the lining of your vision, clouding your peripherals until your legs started feeling heavier; feeling yourself sway until your shoulder hit the unforgiving grey ground of the withering zone. Man.
You were barely floating through consciousness now; it was hard to tell how much time had ended up passing, your eyes blearily cracked open to face a man, streaks of bright green in his dark hair, cut fashionably into a bob hovering above your crumpled body— who’d startled back as you involuntarily let out a shriek.
he slapped a quick hand over your mouth, a whispered hush as he held his other on your knee.
“Stay down,”
the man above you murmured, his eyes leaving yours only for a moment to scan the area you had managed to limp yourself to.
he’d removed his hand from your lips, slowly untucking his satchel at his side and finding a small medicinal tube of ointment.
as he did so, you felt you could barely talk. You tilted your heavy head to the decayed looking area you’d managed to crawl to as your eyes slipped shut once more. The last thing you saw was the man’s concerned gaze, flickering across your injuries with a gentle hand that trailed across them shortly after.
Now— you’d really fucked up today; and you were finally starting to accept that maybe it was fate that got you here.
You couldn’t tell where you were, as your eyes felt glued shut and your head felt like it had rocks weighing it down.
you laid your hand flat by your side— trying to feel the ground for the Kamera you know didn’t survive the fall— only to be met with a fist full of plush blanket. This wasn’t your bed, you could tell already.
“You’re awake, I see”
Said a voice above you, a soft press of what you could tell was the back of someone’s hand; testing your temperature.
You let out a groan, attempting to raise an arm to swat at the man.
“I’m going to disinfect your wounds. this will sting, but I trust you won’t make too much noise.”
He didn’t address how you’d barely responded, only manoeuvring your arm down as he clicked his tongue—the cool ointment he’d started applying did sting; badly enough that it had managed to pry your eyes open, an accidental hiss leaving your clenched teeth.
It was definitely the same man who found you soaked— god, you’re lucky.
At your obvious pain, he didn’t apologize, only soothing down a bandage over the ointment in, you guessed, his own way of saying sorry to his temporary patient.
It was kind of embarrassing, actually. With the amount of care that he had to put into insuring that the numerous amount of cuts you’d gotten were covered.
He worked in silence, only hushing you occasionally when you’d curse a little too loud.
He leaned back from where he’d been crouched over your figure on the bed, admiring his work with a nod.
He’d picked up a nicely bound journal that rested by the desk next to your bed, jotting down your vitals and you guessed, your current condition.
You gave him your name, to which he repeated in turn with such fervour it was as though he were committing it to memory, and he quickly wrote it down.
“You’ll feel alright in a few days time, if you keep improving at this rate. You were barely conscious about 16 hours ago. My name is Tighnari, sorry for not introducing myself sooner.”
He glanced down at you from where he’d been writing, eyebrows raising as he slipped the journal shut.
“You were rather… out of it.”
You huffed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Tighnari. What a guy.
Suddenly, you realized what he said. A few days time?
“Days, Tighnari?”
His name sounded nice, you kinda guessed. It rolled off the tongue nicely. And maybe you should be nicer to him, cause he really did save your life. But days? You didn’t have that time.
You glanced down at your own body, which was now draped with a neat green and distinct medicinal smelling blanket; the warmth of it drawing your eyes closed once more, a breeze billowing the curtains of the window above your bed.
Your eyes trained on the vast trees; the distant mountain range, the green that seemed to have stretched forever. Of course you’d managed to have gotten hurt the first day of your adventure. Now, stuck in-between four walls that had bookcases lining each of them— you could only lay your aching head back on the pillow.
You were starting to already feel disdain for this room, that was very clearly his.
“Yes, days. You have a series of serious injuries here. You’re lucky someone was there to find you.”
You were mad that he was right; but that still didn’t mean you were pleased.
“Give me a day and you can send me off. I can’t stay held up in here— listen, you get it, don’t you?”
He gave you a withering look, that on its own, told you he really didn’t get it.
“I don’t know why you’re so antsy, but a few days is nothing. Would you rather be back out there getting mauled?”
He retorted with crossed arms, and you knew there wasn’t a use in arguing.
You didn’t say anything to that, and prayed sleep took you right there as you rolled (slowly) to your side, away from where you heard him sigh.
The sound of him sitting in his desk chair, pen scratching against paper lulled you to your third sleep of the achingly long 24 hours.
You could hear your heart beat in your ears in time with the ache at the back of your head while you sit up in the bed he’d graciously given you, while he insisted he kept to his desks chair.
You spare a glance at him while your feet slowly reach the ground, padding towards the door where he set your still-wet boots to dry, cringing at the feeling as you tried your best to silently slip into them. While you held your breath with your eyes on him, barely seeing him with the dark of the room; a far away lamp glowing the side of his face gold—you let yourself look at him a final time.
He’s laid back in the chair facing the bed, his arms crossed stern over his chest and his face calm and asleep—lips still pressed together in a stern line and the dark eyebrows he’s glowered at you with were knitted in an expression lost to sleep. it seemed, with the little you’d started to learn about him, he tore everything apart with his own kind of unwavering curiosity.
Now, with snap of your heel, your boots were on. You tore your gaze away from him, the want of getting out of here and onto the beaten path stronger than the want to be hauled up in here.
With a silent step, you slowly unhooked your bag from the back of the door—feeling the contents with a barely concealed sigh. You lugged it on despite the lack of your belongings; lost to the falls, most notably your kamera.
You’ll come back and tape a note to the door.
You’ll come back, you swear. Maybe even bring him one of the trinkets you have… less attachment to.
A hesitant step and you’re already reciting in your head the thanks you’ll give him, now, you know, you can’t accept the help. You have your mind set, and you’re sure he has his. You can’t, for now, let someone as head strong as him get in the way.
It wasn’t personal, truly, as you push the door open; stepping onto the last floorboard that lets out too loud of a creak.
You hear something drop behind you; and a hand grazes your arm, fingers blindly curling around the crook of your elbow, pulling you out of your thoughts and letting out a strangled gasp you jumped.
You whip around—the guilt you had already started to feel ebbed its way closer as you watch him blink the sleep out of his eyes.
“Wait,”
He starts, scrambled halfway out of the chair with his eyes searching yours in the dark— and you could make out the sternness pressed into the frown he held, the hard line his brows had set.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He asks in a low and quick whisper, despite it just being the two of you, his voice losing its sleep ridden rasp. You stand facing him with your back to the cracked open door, the breeze wafting in and making the plants strewn about sway. You glance between his eyes and how he was stretched out just to stop you.
“…Leaving?
It was lame, and it clearly wasn’t a good enough excuse to him—with how he narrowed his eyes, huffing out a dry scoff before rubbing his temples as he stood fully; his hands lingering your arm as he reached to shut the door behind you.
“Just go back to bed. You’re helping us both if you stay.”
You didn’t ask how, deciding on just dumbly nodding and shuffling back to your quickly made bed—his grasp falling by his side finally, tiredly making his way back to the chair he’d call his bed.