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Lumine couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, but soon after their arrival to Nod-Krai and that faithful confrontation with Rerir she found herself wandering off towards the Final Night Cemetery more and more often. When she couldn’t sleep, when Paimon was otherwise busy, or just after a long tedious day. It was, perhaps, the place itself, quiet, silent, smelling of moss, ash and saltwater. Paimon seemed to still be feeling unnerved here and usually left Lumine to her devices under the pretense of urgent food-related matters, yet Lumine herself considered the island’s stillness relieving.
Perhaps, even more so because of its being shared with Flins. Always courteous, he welcomed her idle excursions, and it was all too easy to settle in companionable silence, only occasionally disturbed by an exchange of curiosity. Flins was a good storyteller and a better listener yet, and so Lumine found herself recounting things she hadn’t thought about for a long time: the depths of Enkanomiya, the lost souls of Tsurumi island, the ruins of Sal Vindagnir. Perhaps it was his ancient nature that put her at ease while telling of her travels - the nature that sparked in blue flames through the yellow of his eyes and through the seamless yet heavy old-fashioned words. Lumine never asked directly, but the legends of fae suggested Flins saw the dawn of human civilization, and when she watched him tend to the graves, moonlight illuminating his pale face, she couldn’t help but believe those legends wholeheartedly and question his corporeality at the same time. When he turned and stepped out of the moonlit spot, close enough for Lumine to reach, she held out her hand and, without thinking, touched his elbow. That instance it felt almost surprising how solid Flins felt, instead of being a wisp of illusory smoke. Thankfully, Flins had the tact to not dig into the details, only asking if she needed anything and letting it go after her vague “Not really”. Truly, a gentleman.
In retrospect, was that her first moment of awareness? Surely, she was interested before - Flins was, after all, an obvious enigma from the very beginning. In that moment, however, Lumine faced the thought of him head on: “I wonder what is his true form”. In her head it sounded so loud and clear that Lumine caught her breath, startled, for a splitting second afraid that she truly spoke. However, the stillness of the air remained unperturbed and only the distant waves quietly ebbed and flowed in whispers. Lumine let Flins’ elbow go and changed the theme, asking something about whether she could help with anything - words that were all too familiar for her and too easy a distraction. That night she left the island absent-minded, memories of Flins and legends of fae swirling in her thoughts.
She could probably ask - what’s one awkward question between comrades in arms, especially when they had both lived enough to encounter even weirder things? But something stopped her from following the simple path, and so Lumine began from afar - observing and gathering hints. She wandered around the lighthouse, finding new chores and taking care of the graves with Flins, she joined his patrols in the wild whenever she had time, and several times she invited him to join her instead - to which Flins readily agreed. He noticed, of course, the increased frequency of her visits, but only asked once, while they were returning to the lighthouse after an exhausting clean-up of the Wild hunt:
“While I must first say I appreciate your company immensely, it occurred to me that I might have held onto it too greedily as of late. I should therefore ask you, my dear friend, to never feel obliged to partake in my chores.”
“I only do what I want,” she objected, “and it is I who imposed on your solitude to begin with. Do you mind my presence?”
“My apologies, my lady Lumine, I must have misspoken,” he caught her hand, bowed his head and pressed a feather-light kiss to her fingertips in an old-fashioned courteous gesture. “Minding your presence could not be farther from the truth. I cherish your companionship every time you permit it. I would simply hate to cause any hindrance in your travels.”
His lips were a little cool from the cold wind, but felt perfectly human. Lumine regretted only it was such a fleeting touch as Flins let go of her.
“I enjoy your company and traveling with the locals always makes a place more interesting,” she settled on an answer. “Also, I am in no rush. Don’t worry about it.”
He smiled in return, and they continued onwards. Their steps fell into the same old rhythm, and Lumine noticed how Flins slowed to walk precisely besides her. And if she quietly brushed her fingers against his for a couple of times, just a little, well, didn’t he start it anyway?
The corporeality of Flins-the-Lightkeeper was difficult to dispute. His appearance was, in fact, near perfectly human, with small caveats, noticeable only when he was not carefully putting on a facade. Lumine caught him only twice, really. Once when they were standing on the cold shore and his breath didn’t puff in clouds in the freezing air. And once while she was napping at the lighthouse, listening to his garments clinking with every movement: there were sounds of metal, scratching of a pen, but - no sound of breathing. Later Lumine tested her theory, and sure enough - when in public Flins breathed in a perfectly timed cadence. Even his chest, clad in endless layers of a coat, was moving up and down slightly.
It was a happy accident that gave Lumine even more food for thought. She slipped on the freshly rainwashed slope while they were exploring the Lempo isle, and Flins, standing at the small cliff right below, caught her with his whole body. And she - wasn’t sure what she expected - but Flins was quite warm and the heartbeat in his chest was steady and very audible.
“You’ve made a very sturdy guardrail,” Lumine joked, steadying herself. Flins didn’t let go until she finally stood on her feet. Still, though, just half a step away from him.
“I am glad to be of service,” he said, assessing her with a watchful gaze. “Shall we proceed?”
It was a narrow path down, and as they walked so closely Lumine could still feel the warmth emanating from his body.
Later, back at the Flagship, she could admit to herself: whether Flins’ human body was a magic trick or an illusion, it would have been nice to share its warmth again.
It’s been a while since their faithful meeting on the battlefield and Lumine learning Flins’ secret, and she startled a little when, passing by the cemetery as usual, instead of composed and proper lightkeeper Flins she found a glowing lantern in the corner of his room.
Granted, it only took one word - her cautious “Flins?” - for him to rematerialize immediately, poised and elegant and everything, but it was an unusual occurrence.
“My apologies,” he said with a light bow, “I’m afraid I lost track of time.”
“I’ve interrupted you, haven’t I?” Lumine guessed. “Were you…meditating?”
Flins laughed softly: “You could probably say that. Resting would likely be more appropriate. Though I have no need of sleep, there is no creature that does not have to replenish their strength, through whatever means they have. My retreating to the lantern form is not unlike a self-healing reprieve, and it is quite an efficient way for a ratnik who must be forever vigilant and prepared for a fight. However”, he stepped towards her, his clothes crisp and posture measured, as if all his body was never dematerialized in the first place, “I ought to first and foremost ask you to forgive my poor hospitality today. May I recompense you in some way for these transgressions, perhaps, in the form of an offering?”
“If it’s not the ratnik provisions, I’ll reserve my judgement,” Lumine followed him outside, where she was offered a seat with a view, near the old stove. Flins was walking around and preparing tea, and she was observing him in all his mundane glory: all the heavy layers and hair in place, not a spot improper. Was his attire another shapeshifting trick, she wondered. That would certainly make it easier to wear, were the layers an illusion.
The evening cold fell upon the small island, and Lumine shivered at a chilling gust.
“May I suggest we relocate inside?” Flins offered, noticing her discomfort. She shrugged:
“It’s not a big deal. And the view here is much better.”
“If you so insist,” he reached for the intricate clasp of the overcoat, and shrugged it off. “Allow me then to ensure you would not freeze on my watch.”
The coat that Flins put on her shoulders was long, heavy and surprisingly snuggly. Lumine smiled in gratitude:
“Thanks. It’s very comfy.”
Her mind, however, was still processing: not only the coat was real and very weather-appropriate, despite Flins not minding weather at all, in his gentlemanly act of generosity he inadvertently revealed more of his form that Lumine had ever seen to that day. Naturally, the layers were not limited to one coat, and yet - the contours of his lithe body were so much easier to trace. He seemed taller, perhaps, and even lankier now, without the protection of the bulky overcoat. A couple of stray strands of his hair clinged to his shoulder, Lumine reached to them and carefully pushed them away - softer than she imagined. Flins watched her unflinchingly, a small smile frozen on his lips.
“So,” she shattered the lingering silence, “the ungodly amount of layers is a fashion choice?”
“Oh,” his eyes crinkled in amusement, “absolutely. One must never underestimate the power of fashion in a society. It is a delicate balance to achieve - between the duty of a ratnik and my inclination to avoid unnecessary questions.”
Lumine snuggled deeper into his coat. It held residual warmth of his almost-human body and the salty aroma of the seashore.
“I’m very tempted to expropriate this,” she warned half-jokingly. “If not for the fear of you haunting me in revenge. Poor Paimon would be terrified out of her mind.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, “that would truly be a grave situation.”
Lumine coughed and then groaned in exasperation.
“My apologies,” Flins’ voice sounded light with teasing, “the opening was a little too convenient, I fear.”
His eyes sparkled, full of unspoken mirth. Was it his fae constitution, or were it the moonlight shadows? Did it even matter, Lumine wondered, caught in his gaze, as if the moon itself pinned her down out in the open.
The next time they met - several days passed and both seemed to have been buried with the Wild Hunt surges, Lumine was hurrying through the thick purplish fog, following the muffled sounds of clashing metal and searching for blue lightning flashes. Out of breath she stopped for a moment, looking around and hoping to see any sign of guidance. Paimon at her side was fidgeting in the air.
“He cannot be far from here!” Paimon cried out, struggling to see the road. “But it’s too foggy!..” she coughed violently. In the corner of her eye Lumine noticed a near imperceptible bluish flash and sprinted towards it.
Flins, locked in a fight in the midst of fog, did not look human. In fact, his body seemed half-corporeal, parts of it resembling dark shadows, flickering in and out of existence. He heard them - probably - and turned his head slightly, enough to acknowledge their coming. His eyes, so unlike the soft dimmed yellow Lumine was used to, burnt with bright blinding blue, as if his whole body was a lantern holding the primordial flame. The new wave of attack made him stagger, and the shadowing flickering intensified. Lumine stepped forward, blocking the abyssal corruption. With her spine she felt Flins adjusting beside her and regrouping for the decisive strike.
Together they finally prevailed, and right behind her Paimon let out a loud breath.
“Oof, that was close! Now, Flins, you kinda scared Paimon! With flames and everything! What was it?!”
Lumine turned to find him leaning onto the spear, face hidden by a hand and disheveled hair. His coat’s long sleeves were singed and his whole body was enveloped in a kind of a dim shadow. Flickers of blue flame showing from under his face-covering hand startled Lumine.
“My apologies… for this unintentional debacle…” he rasped out, “I owe you again. I must implore… for your assistance… for a little longer,” Flins’ voice ebbed in and out along with the flickering shadows, “I have exhausted much strength and won’t be able to hold… this form for a little while… May I ask you to return my lantern to the lighthouse?..”
He finally looked at Lumine: his eyes were still that blinding blue and only the shape of his face reminded of a human one, now made of shadows.
“You don’t need to ask,” Lumine stepped closer, breath catching in the back of her throat: “Rest, the battle is over.”
The expressionless blue flames held her gaze for a second and then - only the lantern remained.
“Hope he’s fine,” Paimon muttered worryingly. Lumine picked up the lantern and felt its warmth. Flins’ warmth, she corrected her own thoughts and clutched the lantern tighter. He must have been exhausted for this to happen, and now Lumine could only hope that recharging won’t take Flins too long.
The lighthouse felt empty without the familiar presence. The room, the shore waves, the lamp, the stones collection waiting for its owner - everything was unchanged and yet Lumine wished Flins was here to greet them instead.
“He’ll need some food afterwards,” she told Paimon, “could you search for something?..”
Paimon, distracted by a simple task, left, and Lumine sat in the chair, holding the lantern on her lap.
“I wonder if you can hear anything like that,” she mused. The lantern kept silent. Enchanting blue flame was shining calm and steady. Lumine patted the lantern casing lightly, clinging to the warmth. An idea flashed in her mind. Silently giggling to herself, Lumine placed a kiss upon the lantern’s glass. The flame didn’t seem to react.
“I guess you need some time to sleep too,” she sighed and shivered. Exhaustion started to catch up with her too, and Lumine sleepily leaned sideways, deeper into the chair, cradling the lantern in her arms as if it was a warmer.
She must have fallen asleep at some point, as the next moment Lumine was aware there was no more lantern to hold onto, and someone was wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.
She jerked, awakened, and right in front of her was Flins, half-crouched, his pale face not having a trace of that shadowy state and his eyes being once more soft yellow - such a lovely color! Lumine surged forward and hugged his lanky human frame somewhat fiercely. His returning embrace was much gentler, but just as warm.
“My kind dear Lumine,” Flins’ voice murmured just above her ear, “again and again I owe you my eternal gratitude - and my deepest apologies for the scare,” he sighed: “I am afraid I scared poor Paimon even more.”
“Oh,” Lumine huffed, “just bribe her with food and she’ll forgive you.”
Lumine unsheathed her sword, shifting into position. Flins, at her left, pulled out the spear. Fighting together felt surprisingly easy from their very first battle, now to work alongside was like navigating a well-learnt dancing sequence. That said, something shifted between the two of them. The silence weighed lighter, the glances lingered, and the words held too much meaning.
Lumine jumped at the Wild Hunt monster first and, akin to flowing quicksilver, wormed her way right into the midst of the enemy formation. Ambushed, the monsters staggered in confusion, left open for her and Flins to dispose of. Fog engulfed them, and Lumine stepped back, readying for an ambush that followed as expected. A tad bit breathless, she switched to defense; the fog swirled around, growing heavier, suffocating, attacking her eyes and lungs, as Lumine attempted to cover her face with an elbow.
Suddenly, she was enveloped in blue flame, like a warm and barely tangible shield. The enemy Lumine didn’t notice, cowered in fear and screeched in anguish. The flame surrounding her held up in a protective barrier. She turned, looking for Flins, and it took her a long, long second to process: the flame itself was Flins, his primal true form and it was his essence, his soul that was now shielding her from the Wild Hunt.
Lumine focused to disperse the corrupted fog. Anemo swirled around them, and finally she could breathe once again, the Wild Hunt retreating. Flins, once again corporeal, continued the battle, pressing the enemy. Nothing in his appearance betrayed his recent transformation except the blazing azure persisting in his eyes - and yet still warm when he looked back at Lumine.
For the night they stopped at the Flagship, too tired to cross the island once more. Paimon already retired to sleep, and Lumine was almost ready to follow, but stopped in front of the neighbouring room and, after a moment of hesitation, knocked at the door twice, though barely - the door opened as if her sudden appearance was fully expected. Or, perhaps, Flins was too sensitive of his surroundings. Lumine did not bother to think twice and slipped into the familiar room.
“Your visit is, as always, a delight, and I must confess I have anticipated it with hope in my heart. Alas, how may I be of service, my dear Lumine?” Flins’ lips tilted in a soft smile lightening up his whole pale visage, reaching the yellow of his eyes. He made a gesture to invite her to sit and sat himself in the opposite chair. His coat hung at the door, freshly cleaned and now drying up, and his hands were free of gloves, a rare occasion that allowed Lumine to admire long willowy fingers.
“You know,” she started with a random thought, “since we’ve met you’ve always stayed here - in this same room even. Do you really need it?”
“Not for the sake of a proper night sleep, no,” he nodded, “however, should I forgo these small things, how long would it take for suspicions to arise amongst the townsfolk? It is but a harmless habit that works in favor of my image. And I shall note it is quite convenient to have a place to take care of small things such as a dirtied uniform."
“That’s understandable,” Lumine hummed, “though I’ve been wondering if you could just… mimic the coat instead.”
“To change one’s appearance is indeed within the powers of a fae,” Flins chuckled, “It would be convenient, were I only changing it seldom rather than maintaining my human life. The more changes there are the more focus is required - it is rather cumbersome to constantly fret over too many details. Hence living as a human is not only prudent in my case, but efficient as well.”
“So - this you, your human shape - does it drain you quickly?” Lumine reached out and took his palm in hers.
“While it does take effort to sustain, “drain” would certainly be a rather big exaggeration. Consider an ice figure: it is made of water and yet if it melts down, the water does not truly change its essence. The nature of my form is not at all dissimilar, if only we substitute water for… let’s call it flame,” he was watching her with calm curiosity, as Lumine traced the contours of every finger and every line of his hand. “What you see in front of you at this very moment is a shape given to me by my creators, with minor modifications over time,as they were trying to tame the primordial energies of this world. I shall also freely admit - this form allows me to converse with you with better effect, which I consider quite advantageous.”
“I quite agree, my dear Flins,” Lumine stood right beside him, almost leaning into his sitting frame. It was a little bizarre: to look at Flins upside down, - but this position gave Lumine enough strategic advantages. “I’m afraid I still have too many questions about you requiring a thorough investigation, you see.” She took his face between her palms, weaving her fingers into his enticingly smooth hair. Flins’ wide open eyes flashed with azure, staring back at her.
“By all means”, he turned just a little to leave a kiss on the inside of her wrist, “for such a noble cause I am yours to command.”