Chapter Text
Gods, was Dragonspine always this cold?
Albedo wasn’t one to be annoyed by temperature, but every once in a while, he was reminded of the hellish landscape his camp was set up on. Rhinedottir probably hadn’t expected him to be stupid enough to live on an icy mountain for centuries in a row, so she hadn’t given him full immunity to the freezing temperatures that occasionally hit Mondstadt.
The Knights of Favonius had been nice enough to give him a laboratory in their headquarters, but he barely used it. Dragonspine was his home, unfortunately.
There were many times he remembered where his friends would complain of how hostile the weather was in Albedo’s campsite, even though it was mostly sheltered from the blizzards outside. He distinctly remembered Sucrose nearly catching a fever, after working overnight on a potion on the mountain. Albedo had tried his best to comfort her, but in the end, she had to return back to Mondstadt City.
And Albedo was alone. Again.
He was used to being alone.
Today, however, he wished someone was there with him, while he worked. Even Klee, with her destructive bombs and her never ending rambling. He wondered where Durin was. He would usually accompany Albedo in his experiments, since he gained a human form. Albedo had the suspicion Durin and Klee had gotten into solitary confinement again, due to Sucrose mentioning something about ashes being found near Klee’s favourite ‘fish-blasting lake’.
The only source of warmth in this carved-out campsite were a few fires Albedo had set up to illuminate the area when the sun set. He’d moved his chair closer to the flames, mentally wondering if he should pay a visit to Mondstadt city or not.
His vision was spottier than usual. Was that a bad sign?
Albedo had spent the last week without an ounce of sleep, working on helping Durin with his transition into human society. He wondered why he cared so much… was it simply due to how interesting he found his brother to be? Even so, he’d used his free time to experiment on his own as usual, but his hands were too shaky to hold test tubes upright.
What had Kaeya said…? Shaky hands were a symptom of fatigue?
Albedo wasn’t fatigued. He couldn’t get fatigued.
Could he…?
Maybe he was just hungry?
Homunculi don’t need food, do they?
Still, it would be a well-appreciated break from his piles upon piles of papers.
Albedo stood up, making his way over to his little stove and barrels of food. He managed to dig up a few vegetables and some spices. A warm soup would be nice, in this weather. He pulled out a small bag of cutlery, and started cutting up the potatoes and carrots he had found. His reflexes were slower than usual, and that meant he had to be extra careful, so he won’t accidentally slice off a finger.
He tossed the cut up slices into a pot alongside some chunks of frozen boar meat he’d been saving from an expedition, dragging it over to the stove and boiling some water. Moments later, the smell of cooking meat filled the air, and it immediately brought Albedo back to his senses. When was the last time he’d been cooked for? Maybe when Sara gave him and Klee a free meal a while back, in exchange for running an errand for her.
His life had been a lot less busy since the corpse of the evil dragon, the old Durin, was taken care of. Maybe he should eat warm meals more often.
He scooped some of the vegetable sludge into a chipped wooden bowl, sprinkling on a few spices and stirring it absentmindedly. Albedo searched the organized havoc on his table for a soup spoon, and spotted it lying on the floor all the way across the room.
He didn’t feel like standing up again.
He brought the bowl to his mouth instead, drinking the soothing liquid like it was tea. Apparently, drinking soup that way was considered impolite? It didn’t matter, who was going to judge him when he was miles away from any other human life?
Soon after, his soup was over, along with whatever happiness he had felt with his situation.
Was the temperature dropping even more or was he hallucinating?
He’d developed a very annoying headache a while back, and had resorted to making a makeshift pillow with a bundle of papers. The scent of ink and dusty wood filled his lungs every time he breathed. Speaking of breathing… why was he breathing? At least for once, his breathing was regular. It matched what a human should have.
Maybe he could close his eyes for a bit? He should probably make sure he didn’t knock something over if he fell asleep.
Footsteps outside his cave woke him up again, and he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Was it Sucrose coming back to check on him? Timaeus here to ask for help?
But no, what he saw was a familiar perpetually gloomy man with a hat so big it hit some of the icicles on the top of the entrance..
The Wanderer. His Wanderer.
“I’d never seen you this pathetic before. Did you overwork yourself again or did you finally become a human?” his favourite voice in the world asked. Gods, why was he so corny when he was tired?
“I thought… you were in Sumeru.” Albedo replied, surprised by the hoarseness of his own voice. “Why…’r…you back?”
“Can’t a man visit another region every so often? I’d have to admit I missed your nerdy introverted personality when talking to the fools in the Akademiya.” Wanderer replied, leaving his snow-soaked hat next to one of the torches to dry. “...And I’m here for Durin. Mostly..”
Albedo managed to lift his lips up into a faint smile. “I… haven’t seen you since Nod-Krai.”
“Yeah yeah I missed you too. Happy?” the other man snapped, tugging a chair over to Albedo. “I’d like to ask whether you’re dying or not, because you look awful.”
“...No… Idea.” Albedo liked how the Wanderer never outright asked about his alchemy research. It seemed to be one of the only things that made Albedo important, his amount of knowledge.
That’s why he allowed himself to relax around the puppet.
“...Just… really tired.” he sighed, pulling hair out of his eyes. “And… cold.”
“Cold? That’s new. I didn’t know you could feel temperature.” Wanderer said quietly. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”
Sick? Albedo didn’t know he had the biological ability to get sick. Maybe he was just malfunctioning or something like that.
A hand touched his forehead, and he flinched at how ice-cold the Wanderer’s fingers were. “Gods, you’re burning up.” he heard the other man whisper. “Idiot.. Why aren’t you back at the City?”
“Didn’... wanna bother anyone.”
At that, he could swear the Wanderer would have yelled at him, but all he saw was a mix of annoyance and concern on his face. “...Sorry.” Albedo mumbled.
“Don’t apologize. Do you have a blanket or something like that in here?” Wanderer asked, searching through the various haphazardly nailed-in shelves and baskets. “Any medicine?”
Albedo shook his head, lying back down on his admittedly very uncomfortable stack of papers.
“I’ll go back to Mondstadt and bring you some.”
Albedo sat up, knocking over a few papers at the sudden motion. “In this blizzard?!”
“Yes, in this blizzard. I’m more cold-tolerant than you are.” the puppet replied, as if journeying down an entire mountain and back up again was a small feat for him. “Don’t worry about me, just… get some sleep or something.”
Albedo knew better than to argue with him. Honestly, he knew he’d lose in the end anyways, his head hurt too much to argue properly.
And with a gust of Anemo, the Wanderer was gone.