Archive of Our Own

Hard scales whirled their way over her weak body, following the trails of her veins, overwriting her pale skin. Pain and blood paired together in her pulse. Her nerves were numb, yet hypersensitive. Her limbs were both stiff and limp. All those paradoxes, and the biggest still felt like it was that she was still alive.

Shuddering tiredness rushed through her, all sounds were muffled. Yet, a voice, barely audible to her ears, spoke sweet, soothing words to keep her conscious. A safety line to keep one from falling too deep. Into slumber or death. The voice belonged to a woman, and Collei lay in her arms tightly. If she put her mind to it, she could almost feel the comfort in the pressure she felt surrounding her.

The woman had no face, the only indicator of her existence was her far-away voice and her close embrace.
Still, she felt a sense of trust, a warm feeling of safety and love. All those things she had long grown to feel foreign toward.

Another person hushed through Collei's sight. Tall silhouette with a fit build, if she deciphered the shadowy figure correctly. His movements were frantic, his appearance getting shorter yet increasing in frequency. Stiffness radiated from him, like he was waiting for doom.

Familiarity crept into the scene the longer she lived it; conversations between the man and the woman—sounding far more agitated than the soothing voice from before—reached her ears but meaning failed to take root. But even without understanding, she felt her blood run cold. Her heartrate increased, and for a second, she felt painfully alive.

A shadow crept over her—when had somebody come in? Her vision cleared (she hadn't even realised it hadn't been clear before), and she started to feel a sinking emptiness inside of her. Once more, she searched for the woman's face, but neither hers nor the man's came into view. Disappointment flared within her, fighting against the desire blooming inside her to get to know the woman she felt this unwavering trust for.

The image of a perfect life formed in her head. Perhaps she'd always be ill, maybe her life would be short and full of suffering, but the memories would be so full of love and happiness. There was something inside her that yearned for this flower-esque life.

It was shattered when gloved hands reached out for her, enclosing around her body like thorny vines. Cold in comparison to the woman's touch. And the first face she a saw clearly—a mask—she couldn't ever not recognise.

The Doctor.

She was in his arms, all her focus on his face. He grinned at her, just a second long—there one second, and gone the next—, before his attention was caught elsewhere; Collei's shaking form left in the back of his peripheral vision at best. All her body heat was replaced by fear. She was freezing; The Doctor's arms were an all consuming void.

"Please! Please cure my daughter!" The woman pleaded, pulling on The Doctor's robes, knees hitting the ground.

Collei tried to scream for the woman whose voice screamed pain and whose face she'd never see. Her mother. But the second the words tried to leave her mouth, in the blink of an eye, the scenery had changed.

Everything was dark. Her back was pinned to a cold metal plate. A table of sorts. She couldn't move, couldn't even try to struggle free. Not a single muscle in her body listened to her demands. Only her heart worked, vibrating through her body while the walls echoed her heavy pants back to her ears.

Steps broke the tense air, her lungs were frozen with the fear entailed in it.
Death would've been a kinder fate.

Above her, a shrill light was turned on, the sudden intrusion had her squinting in pain. The same mask, the same grin, appeared.

Then, pain. Nothing but excruciating pain. Years over Years of torture crashing down on her all at once.

Collei's eyes shot open; cold tears were still carving their way down her cheeks; making her shiver. Her throat was dryer than the desert sand as she attempted to swallow. The metallic taste of blood was evident on her tongue as well.

Sleep; ever since she came to Ghandarva Ville it had been advised to her. When her Eleazar was still corroding her body and mind, spreading like mould, sleep had often been lost on agony. With closed eyes, she'd lay in bed, whole body tensed as if it would ease the pain. It never did.

It was agony, but she slept dreamlessly when she passed out from utter exhaustion. Whenever she'd wake up from it, at least part of her exhaustion would be gone—now, with nightmares like these taunting her every time her eyes fell close, rest felt something akin to a mystery, though she knew it existed somewhere, of course.

The nightmares felt novel every time, no matter how often she lived through them; nothing but a hidden feeling that grew stronger throughout revealing its familiarity. A warmth, a freezing shudder, different things that gave her hints toward the meaning of everything. If only she could weave her dreams with her will alone, maybe it would give her the chance to change the fate of the non-existent Collei at the very least.

She used to yearn for dreams, afraid that she had already reached too close to adulthood and had lost the ability to dream. Now, it would almost be a blessing to escape by not dreaming at all.

There was a hole in her chest as she stared up at the ceiling. Where were her parents now? Did they remember the child to give away for her to be cured? Or was it all just a faux memory, warped by Collei's mind because the truth had been too gruesome for her to accept? But what if the truth was that she had just been a burden to the people she had loved?

Cruelty existed in the world, everyone experienced it, she had been no stranger to it, but could she have been this cruel as to be so much of a burden to be given away by her own parents?

Had they been able to match her own harshness by giving her away?

It must have been that way. Why else did no one have any information on her parents? Why had they never tried searching for the daughter they used to have? She had tried asking Tighnari once, whether there was anything of note found. He had stayed silent for a few beats too long, and as horrifying as the thought made her feel, she had to admit that she hoped that they had simply died. Being an orphan would've been easier than being seemingly unwanted. In the end, all he told her was that there were no traces he knew of.

Some sort of pity had played into his voice, Collei hadn't liked it. Poor girl, he must've thought, always left behind, never loved, just partially useful, if at all!

At least the nightmares acted as a constant reminder that no matter what happiness she found in Gandharva Ville—there was no guarantee that the people wouldn't abandon her too if she stepped out of line.
Yes, her Eleazar wasn't spreading anymore, but the effects of it hadn't just vanished like that. She was still weaker than most people her age, still couldn't read as well as others, not to mention her handwriting or math—all of those things made her so much less. In the nation of wisdom, she was so far from wise that it almost felt like she insulted Lesser Lord Kusanali just by calling herself a citizen of Sumeru.

She was less a burden now that the pain wasn't fogging up her brain anymore, but she was still a burden. And if she continued to be, then it was sure that she'd end up despised sooner or later.

“Collei?” Tighnari’s voice came through the wall, before he knocked onto it and appeared from behind the curtain. “Ah, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

At the prospect of talking, her mouth dried up farther. The Sumeru desert had seemingly found a newfound home in her throat.

“Yeah,” it came out as a croak. “Just… Just thirsty…” It was debatable whether that was a good safe, but Tighnari stayed silent. Sometimes, she didn’t know how to read him—his silence might mean nothing, or he was thinking about how to get the truth out of her.

He left the room again, and came back with a cup full of water a few moments later. With practiced gentleness, he waited until she had sat up and put it into her shaky hands. The weight of it grounded her fingers, and the wet drops of spilled water made her fingers feel something.

“If you don’t feel well, you can tell me, you know that, right?” He said, sitting down next to her, brows ever so slightly furrowed. Had she not known him for as long as she did, she wouldn’t even have noticed it.

Collei only nodded while the cold water slowly soothed her dry throat. A flood in the desert. Why were nightmares always causing such vivid physical reactions? Why were they always burned into her mind while she rarely even seemed to remember the good ones? It made no sense when every philosophy anyone ever taught wanted to focus on the positive. Were nature and philosophy enemies?

“I’ll get ready now,” she replied, her voice still weak from unvoiced screams. Their eyes were still locked, perhaps he wouldn't mind the exhaustion in her voice if it wasn't reflected in her expression.

Brows turned into a frown, he was sceptical, obviously, but instead of pushing, he luckily just sighed and went out of the room, telling her that she can come to the kitchen whenever she felt ready to.

Just a minute. She sighed. In truth, she didn't think she'd ever be ready to face the world. Finally leaving the discomfort of her bed, her reflection in the mirror decided to mock her in an instant. How does an image manage to portray both a healthy teenage girl and the scales she thought to have been cured?
The lines between who she was and who she thought to be had blurred—and she had no idea what version was which. Was the healthy her her or was she the sick girl whose skin no one wanted to touch?

Who was this girl in the mirror? And could she ever resemble Collei?

The more she looked, the more she felt like looking at a stranger. Black scales, so much more faint than they used to be, flickers of memories alone keeping them visible. She looked less exhausted than she felt, sweat-dampened her clung to her forehead, and she had small eyebags, but that was only a glimpse into the exhaustion she felt. The eyebags had already grown less deep, soon they'd be gone, her cheeks had a healthy pink tinge. She looked healthy, but she wasn't. It was all an illusion so hard to discern from reality that she sometimes fell for it herself. How can it feel so wrong to look… better? When she wasn't even really better at all?

Rubbing her eyes until they itched, she pulled on her clothes. They used to weigh heavy on her shoulders despite their light material, now they felt like nothing at all, unless she suddenly got aware of them through outside factors like thorns. The soft material felt nice on her skin, gently caressing it until she wanted nothing more than to swim in it. For now, letting the material brushing over her face had to be enough, a calming wave spreading over her the longer the material swept over her face.

She was recovering, everything was okay. And even if she’d never fully recover, stagnating like this—already way better than in the past—wouldn’t be so bad, right?

There was no need to be scared, the godly remains had been sealed; the torturous “cures” unnecessary now, too.

A smile curled her lips upward. Calm. Serene. Happiness was possible. Hadn’t everyone she loved and cared for shown her just that? Yes, they did, and she’d not put all their hard work into her being a waste just because she was hung up on the past!

Her chest was still tight, she still wasn't completely convinced, but she was ready to face her duties. Leaving her room behind the curtain, she came to the small dining area. Tighnari, sipping from his cup, greeted her with the patrol plan of the day.

“You’re walking the route close to Ghanda Hill with Rana today,” he said, and Collei groaned internally.

Not to cause misunderstanding, she had no issue with the route or with Rana, but... it was an exhausting one and Rana had a habit of talking the whole time! Collei could never keep up with all the sentences she was saying, let alone reply to them.

Today, she preferred to be alone, and she had a preferred route she wanted to walk in times like these.

The route toward Ghanda Hill was a bit of a stony and long one, Tighnari had refused to give it to her for a long time and even now she'd never be allowed to do it alone.

Two pairs of eyes are better than one, he'd say but Collei knew it to be a lie and a precaution in case she'd faint… Not that that had ever happened (it had happened multiple times, in fact). The route she preferred—her usual route—was closer to the village, probably just a beginner patrol, but Collei had always enjoyed this route.

Just south of Ghandarva Ville, toward Vimara Village, it went right through a slither of the rainforest that felt so much farther away from civilisation than it actually was.
Whenever she was there, she sat on the same hollowed out tree, covered in moss and surrounded by a field of flowers and low hanging plants. It was the perfect place, quiet but not mute, sunny but not blending. To her, it was the perfect place.

There were creatures there, small veggie-looking beings, that used to only watch her from the bushes. It had taken awhile, but they had grown used to her eventually. The Aranara, an ever-soothing presence whenever Collei went there to practice writing in absolute peace, without any eyes judging her.

Collei let out a sigh, that peace would feel very nice today.

"Who takes the route south from here? I'd prefer that one... to make sure that everything is fine there." The excuse could've been better; Tighnari once again probably saw right through her.

Breath just escaping his mouth, the wooden floor creaked before he could answer.

“Tighnari? Collei?” Cyno asked, before the two of them came into his field of vision. “Amir said he he hadn't seen you yet, so I thought I'd see if you're still there.”

Collei furrowed her brows. There had been no letter or anything to indicate that Cyno wasn't busy with his own work. It did happen that he came unannounced but usually that was during periods that had little crime or for holidays—given that he wasn't on shift to keep the people in check.

Tighnari’s lips were curled into a fond smile that he almost always wore when Cyno came over. Collei had never seen anything as adorable on the Valuka Shuna.

“Did something happen that brought you here?” He asked, arms crossed, though both face and voice betrayed any sort of nonchalance he tried to convey.

Looking at Cyno needed a bit of a closer look. His face was calm, but there was the hint of a smile on the corners of his lips, pulled upward just slightly. It was easy to miss, but it was there and Tighnari seemed to have seen it as well. The glints in their eyes betrayed them. Always.

"A case nearby just got wrapped up. I thought I could check in on you. You said something about needing Nilotpala Lotuses, so I brought some with me." He set a bag down onto the table, it smelled of the muddy waters characteristically for the rainforest. A few yellow petals jutted out of it, leaving it to look almost like a useful bouquet.

Collei drank her tea in silence, just watching the scene before her. Two well-respected men, who eyed each other as if they were completely powerless against one another. She felt like she was intruding on a certain unspoken vow, but she kept seated, something heavy in her chest made it impossible to move. To an outsider, she wondered, would she fit into the scene or would she stand out like thorns on roses?

Tighnari said nothing at first, just staring at the bag, eyes glimmering; had he found a branch of Irminsul in between the Lotuses?

Then, he smiled. "Thanks, I would've asked Collei to gather them on her patrol if you hadn't brought them." He turned to Collei, and his voice was more methodical this time. "I'll tell Rana that she will accompany you on the other route, then."

No!

A yelp left Collei’s mouth faster than she could shut her lips. That was almost a worse scenario!

“Uh, I… don't think that's going to be necessary.” She looked around, searching for words in every place. Like her resolve could find a passable explanation by just looking hard enough.

Eyes falling on Cyno, he looked back with furrowed brows, humming once before speaking up.

“Wouldn't someone be missing on the other route, then? If there's currently only one person on the patrol, then switching them with two people would be unnecessary.” He looked at Tighnari pointedly, a conversation happening before Collei's eyes that she wasn't invited to participate in.

A pause stretched on for a moment that felt like an eternity. Tighnari nodded.

“Cyno is right. It'd make no sense to exchange two rangers for one on a path. If you prefer the other route, then you can have it. Just for today, though.” His eyes felt stern on Collei's face, but it was all bark, no bite.

“Yes, Master Tighnari,” then she broke into an uncontrollable giggle. This whole situation was so—she couldn't even explain it.

Under the confused gazes of the two men, she stood up and grabbed her things; a short glance at her to-do-list told her that it was a day like any other.

By noon, she had already sorted all the equipment she was supposed to. Nets in the box on the right, ropes in the box on the left, and bows and arrows in grabbing distance should they be necessary.

Passer-by greeted her, most of the faces she recognised! Being wrapped into conversations still made her feel queasy, a piece of her always tried to stay hidden in the depths of her soul, sealed away from humanity and revealed to no one. It hid so well sometimes, that she herself was made aware of it only when it tried to creep to the surface; often due to some question or comment. They'd try to get to know her—show real interest!—and Collei had no control over the way her heart thumped in ways she couldn't decipher to be excitement or fear.

Words ebbed from her vocal chords to her mouth, getting out or stuck along the way. It had gotten easier by now, heart fluttering more obviously in good ways than bad ones, the stiffness slowly leaving her, and the redness of her cheeks coming through serenity instead of the utter embarrassment her brain still occasionally haunted her with.

The traveller and her had found themselves in some amazing conversations—even back when they were nothing but strangers. It hadn't come naturally to her, she was just in luck that the topics were things she was familiar with. Mostly. But this relaxation had crept into her back then as well; her pain not forgotten but eased at least mentally.

There were topics she had less things to say about. Questions she knew no answer to and didn't want to explain, either. They were the types of questions that people always asked. Those to get to know her. Albeit nice, to be known is to be judged, to be dissected as a person in ways out of one's control.

What if hatred was all she'd receive if those dark parts of herself became known facts to more than a handful of people?

A child’s scream interrupted one of these awkward encounters about how proud her family must be of the girl they raised—and Collei almost thanked the Archons before that somehow started to feel wrong to her. In more ways than one.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, eyes already fixed on the direction of the sound. She walked toward it, not daring to glance at the woman she just left standing there. Without even waiting for her answer.

A sudden silence, only broken by her steps, broke the loud cries. It made her gut churn and instinctively, she grabbed her vision tightly. The cold frame buzzed slightly in her hand, elemental energy ready to be used no matter what she'd see once the child came into her field of vision.

Down on the familiar glade, she halted a bit back. Her vision wouldn't be needed, she realised. The General Mahamatra was already there, kneeling next to a boy seated on a tree stump with a scratched bloody knee. Handkerchief in hand to clean the wound for him.

Collei didn't hear what was said, but the boy erupted into heartfelt laughter that echoed back at her like his cries had moments before.
The boy used to be scared of the General. Once, she had heard him whine about the scary looking Mahamatra and how he couldn't believe that Master Tighnari could be friends with someone as grim looking as him! How was he even allowed in Ghandarva Ville?

His friend had agreed eagerly, thinking Cyno to be odd. Truly, though, all Collei thought to be odd was the believe that anyone could be not welcome in the village, but she guessed she understood, some people really didn't deserve their place all the time—she certainly didn't.

Regardless, after today, perhaps at least the scariness will have left their conversations. She wasn't sure about them calling him any more normal, though.

Not that it was necessary, as weird as he was, he was ten times as kind. A man of little words, mostly puns, but always ready to help.

Collei used to be afraid of him, used to hate him just as much as everyone else who had caused her pain—there was still a pang in her chest every time Amber mentioned the Cavalry captain. But she couldn't help being grateful for his help, ultimately. It was Cyno who brought her to Master Tighnari, and they both created a safe space for her. A shelter at first, but by now somewhere she considered home before she'd inevitably have to move on toward a new one. As always.

But she smiled at the memory, and the scene before her, both.

Three pairs of eyes met when the boy waved at her excitedly.

He shouted “Collei!” like seeing her was like seeing a fairy-tale hero.

Coming to a halt next to them, she asked: "Are you okay?"

"No! I was pushed!" He huffed, arms crossed in front of his chest. The situation an obvious scandal to him.

“By who?” Collei asked, eyes widened. Usually, the children at the village were all rather kind to one another.

“His friend,” Cyno replied after the boy's gaze lingered a bit too pleadingly on him. “But he says it's fine. He didn't want me to handle it.”

Upon Collei asking further, the boy explained what happened animatedly. What to him was a betrayal like no other (Collei found herself empathetic) turned out to have been a small quarrel between friends that resulted in a wooden figurine losing an arm. His friend had also had the audacity to call him a blockhead afterwards! She had to bit her lips at the absurdity of the insult.

"I think we can piece it back together.” Cyno hummed.

The boy gasped. His teary eyes widening with a bright shine.

“You'd do that for me?!” Scratched knee seemingly forgotten, he jumped from the stump and pulled on Cyno’s clothes excitedly. For a short second, Collei thought to see his body stiffen, but then he just allowed the boy to rope him into a hug.

When she looked again, a chirp having caused her attention to waver momentarily, he smiled at the boy. Not the lopsided smile he had with his TCG cards, no, a smile so gentle Collei would use it to care for an injured animal. The only one who had ever seen a softer smile of his was Tighnari, which was unsurprising given that they had known each other probably for longer than the boy was even alive.

A pang of something indescribable poked her chest from within, painfully pulsating, warm as if a wound was ripping, though no blood painted her clothes red. Her heart was palpitating, the lack of rhythm a mirror to the lack of clear expression on her face.

The sudden change overwhelmed her, and she couldn't look anywhere but the dirty grass while her fingers fidgeted with each other.

She didn't understand. And that made it so much worse.

“I… should go back to my work, everything seems to be alright, anyway! Bye!” Her feet tripped through the moist grass. Blood rushed through her veins in spite of her hurting heart. It's warmth, a contrast to the cold dew drenching her shoes.

She felt Cyno's eyes on her. She didn't look back. Didn't think about why her reaction could've been the way it was. None of it mattered. Yet it was all that was on her mind.

A voice inside her chanted words she didn't understand. Hints of meaning that reached her core, but didn't form understanding.

Pita Pocket in hand, she sat down on the floor mindlessly. Half her pants had already been wet by the grass's dew, the flat-walked dusty path made no difference anymore. Silence stretched over her as the familiar taste of the first bite filled her mouth.

Function! She chastised. Why didn't she function? It made no sense!

“Collei?” Tighnari’s voice sounded.

She muffled out a confused yes, mouth still filled with bread.

“Amber’s letter came back.”

Dust caused her to cough as she stood up faster than she ever had in recent memory. Momentarily, everything was forgotten.

He looked at her with an amused expression, waving the envelope to her; she all but snatched it from him.

Eerily, a sense of deja vu overcame her, a reminder of days past; her eyes switched between the piece of paper in her hands and her master.

“Tell me if you need anything.” Then, he left. Not even looking back.

Collei had expected other sentences.

Wanna read it together? or Do you need help? But those questions hadn't been asked in a while.

She hadn't needed his help for the last couple of letters. Not even asking for the definition of words!

She smiled. Progress!

Reading Amber’s letters always made her a bit giddy inside. She had been the first person to ever treat her kindly. The only person of that time that she hadn’t despised at first. She had tried, but how could anyone hate a person like Amber?

Sitting down on her desk—quill and a piece of parchment ready to reply—she ripped open the envelope.

Two pages, fully covered in Amber's chaotically cursive handwriting. The thickness of the envelope had already told her that it'd be short, but Amber was usually so easily driving off topic that Collei had learnt to expect five or more pages. The change definitely didn't make her gut sink.

Tighnari had always said that it was excessive but that he was grateful for the free teaching materials anyway. After all, she was learning both the Mondstadt dialect as well as reading and writing itself through that.

Back when the letters started—it was a blurry recollection by now—, her heart had beaten out of her chest, and she had sweated so badly that her fingerprints nearly smudged the ink. Her thoughts were everywhere but in the fact that they were pen-pals now. She thought she had to pay for the happenings in Mondstadt. In her head, she had already been kicked out again.

She had cried back then, and even that had cost her a lot to do. However long ago it was, Collei had tried and failed to count the moons, she couldn't even read. She had needed to wait for Tighnari to finish his work and be ready to help her. By then, she would have been nothing but a mess surrounded by a puddle of her own tears.

It was Cyno who helped and revealed that it was simply a thank you letter for being such a nice guest and that she was always welcome to come back.

As if she hadn't been what had put Mondstadt in danger in the first place…

She still felt so indebted to the place, yet all that was asked of her was to write letters occasionally. Something about it had always rubbed her the wrong way. Like she got away with her crimes.

In her very first letter, she had written as much—well, Tighnari had—, both he and Cyno had looked at her, concerned, and told her that it wasn't her fault.

But what was fault anyway if not the consequence of actions? Karma.

Amber had said that it was the fault of the people who had hurt Collei, that they'd need to be brought to justice. The god remains had her mad in pain, so what could she have changed?

Was circumstance an excuse for one’s behaviour? And was she allowed forgiveness because of what happened before?

Yours, Amber, the letter read. Pages stagnant in her hands, her eyes had flown over the words without truly reading any of them.

She sighed, and read again; the back of her brain was still everywhere but at the present. But she pulled through the emotions Amber put into the ink of her words as she talked about her days and the business in Mondstadt. The people she met, the everyday business, Eula, and also what the traveller might be up to these days.

It was nice, the mundanity of it all. She remembered a time when Amber told her about Stormterror’s attacks, what they did to prevent damage, and the blonde traveler who in the end helped them in their defeat. The sounds of her words were less free spirited then. Frustration, fear, perhaps a spark of hope. Tighnari hadn't read them to her with as much emotion as they contained… but whenever she read them again, her heart dropped more with the waver in the usually ever-hopeful woman.

When the message came that they had succeeded, Collei had expected the dragon to be sealed or killed. Beheaded just like in fairy tales. Well, she had been surprised to find out that they had spared the dragon known as Dvalin, that he was innocent and a victim himself. A victim of the so-called Abyss Order.

Mondstädters would forgive anyone if they deemed it not their fault. Dvalin had his freedom, and the people their peace. Retribution wasn't their goal—why not? Is there no satisfaction in seeing the people who hurt you suffer? Collei felt twisted for all the thoughts that ran through her head whenever the pain came back to her. She wished to be as good as the Mondstädters in forgiveness, but she'd never be.

Before she could realise it, ink had splattered all over the page. Her pen, broken under the pressure of a grip she didn't know she had.

Cursing under her breath, she just watched as the ink created a puddle before her stupor stopped and she cleaned everything up. The page ruined, she got a new one. It was pure luck that the letter remained unscathed.

She tried again. Page after page, telling Amber about all the good and bad that had happened over the time between their letters.

The time when she had ruined the dinner and it was so terrible that she'd felt bad but Tighnari had only laughed. Or when Faruzan came to ask her about her Akademiya plans, she was saved by Kaveh who had just visited.

She wanted to add a small complaint about the things that went unwell, because Amber had done the same, frustrated with her way too small workload. But besides the usual nightmares… nothing really came to mind.

Yes, she had been frustrated over some of the organisation recently, but she solved that easily with the help of the other Forest Rangers. She hadn't even been in pain these past few weeks.

The more she thought, the more trivial the things she could see as bad seemed. So, she decided to only include the good. It wasn't worth including the nightmares. They weren't real, anyway. They were Collei's problem.

All things good,
Collei

the letter ended. Five pages filled with happy memories, put into a silky envelope with Outrider Amber, Knights of Favonius written onto it.

Afternoon came and Collei regretfully realised that she had forgotten to apply the oils to protect her from the sun.

Clothes, as soft as they had felt in the morning, now scratched at irritated, red skin. Sweat mixed into the friction, it felt like sandpaper on her skin.

Exhaustion had found its place between her bones and marrow, she wanted to do nothing more than sleep. That was the bad thing about the patrol route she always enjoyed. The sun was shining through the forest ceiling in a harsh assault. Soft winds doing little to ease its suffocating heat.

Reaching the place she anticipated, she sat down on the moss-covered tree stump; her face softened as the moist cold reached her skin. Once again that day, the fact that it would ruin her clothes didn't matter to her. It was worth it.

Around her, the leaves were rustling against one another. A laughter created just to be understood by Collei. A secret greeting.

The flora slowly enveloped her; a hug of buds and thorns. How long it all had been kept from her. Every plant looked so beautiful when it was allowed to be something other than a means to an end. A medication, a poison. Plants could be all those things, but that didn't make them any less pretty just existing.

In the past, flowers were used to neutralise her as a threat, but now she was allowed to smell and feel them without fear of a consequence. She could tell instantly which ones were poisonous or would smell terribly if touched. She was allowed this knowledge.

The world was still filled with cruelty, the petals of flowers would still get crushed. Either by intending hands or oblivious feet. Beauty existed, and so did ugliness.

Equilibrium, she had learnt, was the way of the universe. A thing couldn't exist without its opposite. In turn, that meant that every good happening also had a negative happening. At random, people would experience happiness or sadness, or anger, or nostalgia. Or whatever else there was.

She had no memories of the time before she was with The Doctor, but she hoped that the nausea she had felt from the countless experiments once belonged to the surplus of food she had subjected herself to. Fat baby fingers grabbing for all the food in reach just to grow taller, stronger, and feel happy.

It was wishful thinking, of course, her parents, from all their actions, hadn't seemed very well of. Not to mention that Collei had been born to be devoured as food, and not to devour it herself. Her fingers had never been covered in baby fat, only in black stone-hard scales. She couldn't have grabbed anything no matter how hard she tried.

Even today, those same fingers, though they could grab food—even make it herself—didn’t fulfil their purpose. Assigned by the world or by herself.

Her writing was still wonky, even after years of practice. Her fingers still couldn't grab things as tightly as they needed to, and yet also weren't soft enough to not destroy whatever she held other times.

The scales had left, the numbness hadn't. Not fully; not in her mind.

Her mood and the rainforest were quite alike. Some days, the remaining Withering Zones didn't make it falter in its beauty. Others, all the rainforest knew was to wilt.

The Withering and Eleazar, they were born out of the same thing. It would always make Collei a child of the Soil. A connection, albeit severed from Irminsul, never fully gone.

Pen in hand, she took her notebook and wrote in it all the things that came to mind. All her worries, all the things she felt unsure about. All the things she wanted to talk to no one about. This hollowed out stump that she sat on had the ability to listen. It gave her a sense of comfort to know that the closest thing she had in blood relation was actively trying to ease her pain. First with plants, now with listening.

It was easy, really. She’d write it down, put it in the tree stump, close her eyes, and listen to the rustling of the grasses around her. Tiny feet would tip tap over the floor, the movement of the crumbling pages revealing that they weren't an illusion.

It was a popular folklore that was often told around. Small minions of the forest that would eat up all your worries when you'd share them with them.

They would play with the most worriless of beings—children—and then carry out their tasks to make other people be less worried as well.

At first, Collei had thought it an old wives tale. Something parents told their children to figure out what worried them under the guise little worry-eaters. But no one had cared for Collei that way, so while she tried it out, she didn't expect any proof for the existence of the Aranara.

She was in that annoying stage between child- and adulthood. That part people either see as too easy or too hard. Did adolescence still count as being able to see them? She hadn't dared to look the first few times she did it, eyes squeezed shut with a prayer on her lips and the hopes that her past hadn't aged her too much.

Every rustling had felt like a reward, though she couldn't see them, she relied on the fact that she hadn't seen any fungi or boars that could cause the sounds beforehand. Still, she told no one about it. People would just tell her to grow up, or only indulge her. It was another secret between her and the forest.

When she had finally found the courage to open her eyes, she was met with little veggie-formed beings that had frozen in shock.

She remembered to have giggled, and since then the Aranara and her seemed to be good enough friends that she'd only close her eyes out of habit.

It was the same now, her eyes were closed, and the torn pages stuffed into the hollow tree. Only this time, the rustling was louder… taller, sort of.

Her eyes opened.

“Cyno?” Her eyes furrowed, perplexed. How did he know the route?

He wasn't alone, below him the Aranara walked as if nothing had happened. He looked at them with a smile.

Wait.

He looked at them?!

“I expected you to be here somewhere,” he greeted, sitting down next to her. As if they were at a coffee table.

“Yeah,” she replied. Absolutely not keen on sharing her spot. Not even with the General Mahamatra and trusted friend. She had the torn out pages to talk about her worries and feelings.

One of the Aranara came with one of said pieces and handed the folded page to Cyno.

"Traitor." She muttered under her breath.

“You can see them too?” He asked, calmly playing with the edges of the paper. “They only appear for some people after a certain age.”

As if he was talking about the weather.

Collei nodded, her eyes directed to the veggies still running around their legs. One pulled on her shoes weakly.

“I heard about their tale and thought—I had nothing to lose back then.” Her voice sounded so fragile to herself. Talking about something like this after… How long had it even been? She peeled open the deepest depths of her identity. As casual as peeling a potato. It was far more difficult to do, though.

The rustle of paper made her tense. He opened it like it was precious, it almost felt impossibly slow.

Silence fell over them, an Aranara jumped on her lap as if sensing her fear, and then, like thunder, he spoke up: “Do you want to find your blood family?”

Hadn't she tried? They didn't want her, they left no traces of existence for her to track. They probably had a new family. Two children, a girl and a boy, both healthy as they come. The perfect life, all hardships overcome once the defective daughter had been thrown away!

She sighed.

“No, not really.” If they hadn't tried to love her, why did she yearn for it? Why should she try for it?

“But you want to know them?”

Did she? Realistically, it's impossible. Why wish for the impossible?

She hummed dismissively.

“You wrote that you want to have a blood family. That you miss your blood family. What do you mean by it?” His voice was incredibly patient. Like he genuinely wanted to understand her. She wished he’d just be mad at her. Call her ungrateful for not being thankful for what she had.

In the laboratory, she was always reminded about how lucky she could call herself to be the subject of change. To be grateful that she even had the opportunity to be cured. If she ever spoke up about the pain she went through, they'd mock her. If she was lucky (she rarely was), they'd give her a higher dose of painkillers out of pity.

Cyno wasn't like them. No matter how much she wanted to pretend he was. No, he was a good man who actually cared about her well-being. It felt wrong. So wrong. Her insides still screamed that he was just doing all this to use it against her.

Some scars cut deep. Collei wasn't yet sure what was real and what was fake, but she wanted to trust. She couldn't control the wave of anger searing through her regardless. It was all too much.

“I don't know!” Her voice was shaking, loud. The corners of her eyes were filled with hot tears she hadn't even been aware of until now. “I just—I want to belong, and be loved, and—and… all those stupidly unimportant things! I thought blood doesn't betray one another, but they left me! Cyno, they left me!”

His expression was unreadable, or maybe the tears that streamed down her face blurred her vision too much for her to discern it. Once more, she couldn't tell. And wasn't that the whole problem?

She heard his breathing, a deep exhale. Else everything was silent. forest echoed with Collei’s cry, and even the Aranara had frozen in their stets. She felt her own heartbeat, the blood running through her veins like waves. Her ears were the shore, blood breaking there in a crash.

The silence pressed on, suffocating. Perhaps her tears were the ocean she‘d drown in. Yes, that sounded like a fair ending to her. Self induced, her own fault, destructive. Would she get a grave? Who‘d even visit it?

All because she hadn't been able to control her voice! She had angered him and the silence was the last thing she'd hear from him! Ever!

She had planned half her funeral, all the flowers she would want there, all the guests who wouldn‘t come, when he spoke up again.

“When I was a child—I barely had a consciousness, maybe I was a baby—my parents sold me,“ Cyno started, and Collei‘s tears came to a sudden halt. What?

The past of the General was very much mysterious. She had asked Tighnari about it before, but he had only said that it was his story to tell. It had been obvious to her that he too had some baggage then, but she'd never guessed it to be, well, that.

He continued, eyes still fixed on her, to make a point. “That‘s how I got to the Temple Of Silence. They… also experimented on me, it‘s how I got the Hermanubis powers.“

“Oh,“ she mumbled, nervously playing with her sleeve. Where was this going? Was she finally getting the gratitude speech? No, that made no sense.

“I am not saying that you need to be grateful or anything—“

Okay, so... not a gratitude speech?

"—But I understand being mad, hating everything. I understand that it's hard to accept that people have hurt you and that you absolutely didn't deserve going through that. And you don't deserve it. But suffering is like studying, sometimes you do it more than other times. It might haunt you even when you play TCG and try to relax, and you're allowed to still enjoy the game."

She listened closely, but weren't these all things she already knew? She knew the balance of the universe and its gambling nature. It didn‘t help the loss in her heart. She'd still be haunted by it, as he said. The Aranara in her lap decided to hold onto her fingers with a tiny grip. Just to calm her. Archons, she'd die for these creatures, she had decided.

“But it‘s unfair,“ she sighed. “Why us? Why did we not get to have a happy childhood? Why are we still living with the consequences?“

She repeated herself. She would over and over, until someone would finally have a real answer for it.

“I don‘t know. Why not us? What do we have that would‘ve made us any more deserving of a good childhood?“ Since when was Cyno so philosophical? “Also—are we still living with the consequences? It makes things harder, for sure. Ask Tighnari, I didn't want to... accept his feelings, or my own, because I was afraid I'd hurt him with my powers. But they're powers, they can be used in so many different ways and it's up to me. I only hurt criminals, and I cover up Tighnari's, so he officially isn't one."

"What I mean is, you're compassionate and kind, and I've never seen someone connect so easily with others. While what happened to you is injustice and an absolute crime, do you think it made you more understanding of other people's experiences? Because if you do—you're still allowed to understand your own feelings as negative. Healing isn't linear. It takes time."

She wanted to be mad at him for explaining things the way he did. For articulating all the sentences that she wanted to be told in the past so badly. It was so hard to be mad. All that happened was that her heart was thrumming in her chest like a grenade about to explode. Somehow, it felt incredibly calming as well.

“Just… don‘t say you don‘t have a family. Blood or not, Tighnari and I—and Kaveh and Alhaitham too—care a lot about you. I brought you to him not only because I knew you could learn something here, but because I knew he‘d raise you like his own. Doesn't mean you have to call him Dad or anything."

Collei huffed out a laugh at that. That would be hilarious... How would he even react to it? She didn't even want to find out.

I believe he did a great job, and I hope one day you‘ll be able to look at yourself and see something else than tragedy," he continued. "It took me... a long time to finally feel okay with everything and move past it, but if we hate ourselves for the things others do to us."

"The good prevails, doesn't it?" Collei's voice felt so weak all of a sudden. Even when she just talked mindlessly. Eyes on the Aranara in her lap, still.

"Yes, exactly. And if we can be part of the reason that it continues to prevail, then we should. Especially if we can turn our bad experiences into something else, then. These evils—let's not give them power over us."

Collei‘s mouth hung agape, she didn‘t know what to say. Was she even supposed to say anything to that? Before her mind could question it, her body made a decision, the Aranara was hastily placed on the floor, then she fell into Cyno‘s arms, silent sobs wrecking her entire body once more.

She had seen it that way before, but it had felt so terribly idealistic.

Sometimes, she thought, maybe you need obvious words said to you by someone who actually cared.

“I—“ She started, but Cyno just held her, hand slightly carding  through her hair. His embrace was warm, comforting, and even though her skin still ached through the sun burn, she didn‘t will herself to pull away. “Thank you.“

His hand stilled, the only movement his pumping heart steadily beneath her cheek when she buried herself into his chest. It was too warm too stay like that for long, sweat had already started running down her nose only a few minutes in, but it was nice. Both their arms tightened before they let go.

“For what?“ He asked. A gentle smile—gentler than with the boy from before—painted his lips. It was the closest to a fatherly look she'd ever gotten.

"For just... being here. For saving me back then. I was very mean back then."

With a shook of his head, he patted hers; Collei grimaced at the feeling but she also didn't say anything about it.

“You saved yourself, I just supported you.“ The pride in his voice felt like the biggest honour in all of Teyvat."I'm proud of you."

Collei had known that she saw him as a mentor figure, but it made so much more sense now, that she had seen both him and Master Tighnari as family. They dined together, they laughed together, Tighnari and she both rolled their eyes at Cyno‘s really, really bad jokes. Amber had even called them Collei‘s “Dads“ by accident during one of their trips to Mondstadt during the Windblume Festival—and neither of them had corrected her.

She wondered if they'd react the same if she'd call them Dad on purpose, but she didn't want to test it now.

But how had she been so blind? All the things she wished for... She had them. Just with different people, people who really cared about her, loved her.

This was the family that wouldn‘t abandon her, accidentally or purposely. They‘d be by her side. Always.

She had made Ghandarva Ville her home but the thought of it being forever—her heart fluttered at that. She had always rejected the idea, calling it a home, yes, but always in the fear that she'd be kicked out of it if she'd get too comfortable. She had tried to be so respectful, but all it did was create a distance between her and the other people in her home.

“If you still want to find your blood family, though, I can open up an investigation, but I can‘t promise anything. They really haven’t left much behind.“

“Did you ever try? Finding your parents?“ She ignored his question.

“No. I had a father, he was weird at times and we had little resemblance to one another, but he was more of a parent than the people who sold me ever were.“ Cyno laughed softly, far more content than Collei was any time anyone asked her.

It was weird what time could do.

His words sparked something inside her. An Answer. Had it not been similar for her? Whether she had been sold or not was a mystery to her, but they held no care for her regardless. The place she held in their hearts had long closed, it was time she gave their place in hers to rightful people as well. Subconsciously, she already had.

They had proven not to care when they didn't reach out even after the Matra had opened her case. When the first case about her identity and her family had been opened and closed later on without any answers besides her first name.

A name she didn't even know whether it was her parents who gave it to her.

“I have a family too,“ she said with a smile. In amusement, she added: “They‘re a little odd as well, but I love them anyway.“

She had never felt as sure of the words she had said than in this moment. Cyno smiled and stood up.

"Finish your patrol and come home afterwards. Tighnari and I will prepare dinner." A short pause. "If you want to stay here a bit longer with the Aranara, though, that's completely fine. Just be home before sunset."

Collei huffed softly. It felt just like a father taking care of his daughter. Gentle and good. Stern, maybe, but not suffocating in the slightest.

"Thanks, I'll be there. But I have to make sure to be mean to this guy"—she pointed at one of the Aranara—"first. For airing my secrets!"

"They do that sometimes. They're more prone to connect with people who are a bit odd. Perhaps because they're odd themselves. Surprisingly, Tighnari can't see them. He is too grounded in reality." Cyno said it almost dramatically.

Though it was a shame, really, they were good companions.

"Just because I'm odd doesn't mean they can be oddly honest."

Cyno gasped. "That was a very Cyno-esque pun for someone who groans at them all. Are our humours finally Collei-ding?!"

It took all she had for Collei to not just groan at him and prove his point.

"Isn't Tighnari waiting for you to make dinner? Don't let him wait."

Cyno grinned at her, a bit juvenile, and left her behind.

Only when he was out of earshot, did laughter erupt from her throat at the conversation.

Yes, this was her family, and maybe sometimes she'd wish it to be different for many different reasons, but it was never a wish she'd want to have fulfilled.