Archive of Our Own ^beta

Until suddenly the wind shifted. No longer was it still as it blew against its own direction, sharp and sudden, and the ground trembled only for a minute, brief enough that most people wouldn’t have noticed. But for Scaramouche, who was in charge of fragile ruins, it was hard to miss it.

He suddenly got up from his sitting position and ran toward the ruins. What he found wasn’t debris or collapsed stone, but a vortex of wind folding in on itself, already disappearing. Beneath it, something large and crimson was curled inward. The harsh wind was moving the sand in all directions, making it harder to see. He shielded his eyes as he squinted them. The crimson color were wings, drawn tight as if to shield whatever lay beneath them.

The wind suddenly dispersed. The sand fell back onto the ground. Now Scaramouche could see the boy hidden underneath the wings. He didn't move closer, just observed for a moment.

The figure underneath stirred. The wings shifted, revealing pastel purple hair as the boy slowly lifted his head, eyes unfocused as he scanned his surroundings. He stood, then froze, startled by the simple fact that he could. 

He stared at his hands, turning them over, then bringing them toward his face, touching it all over, like he was feeling it for the first time. "What..." Then the boys' eyes landed on Scaramouche, his whole body flinching noticing he wasn't alone. "Who are you? Where am I? How do I...look like this?"

Scaramouche folded his arms in thought. Look like this? His eyes flicked back to the wings, unmistakably dragonic and the tail, half-hidden behind them carrying scales. A dragon, perhaps. Or something close enough.

"I don't know how you got here. I just found you here."

Scaramouche took a step closer, and as he did so, the boy took a step backward. He sighed. "Look, I’m investigating these ruins. You appeared in the middle of them. I want to know if the two are connected.”

The boy looked doubtful at his words, but seeing as he was somewhere unfamiliar, he slumped his shoulders. "Okay..."

Scaramouche finally closed the distance between them, checking the boy over, making sure he was unharmed, and taking a mental note of his appearance. "Do you have a name?"

The boy scoffed. "Of course I have a name! It's Durin!" He puffed his cheeks out, looking away.

Such a kid. Scaramouche thought.

Wait. Durin? Like the dragon Durin from Dragonspine? But how did he end up looking like this? How did he end up in Sumeru? Is this even the same dragon?

Durin looked back at Scaramouche as he hadn't said a word for a couple of minutes now, lost in thought. "Is my name strange?" he questioned, tilting his head.

This snapped the other from his thoughts. "No, nothing like that."

Durin just stared at him with wary but curious eyes. 

After a beat Scaramouche finally came to a conclusion. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. Come with me.”

As he turned, something half-buried in the sand caught his eye. A feathered pen half buried by the sand. He picked it up dusting off the sand particles, looking it over. It resembled his own gold ornament that he always carried with him. Except that it was purple, and of course the pure fact that it was a pen and not just a feather. For now he tucked it away in his sleeve.

Durin didn't even have time to make a decision as Scaramouche had already started heading back. Durin just scrambled after him, trying to keep up.

They made their way through the desert. The ruins Scaramouche was investigating were thankfully close-by the green part of Sumeru. So the walk wasn't long and the further they went heat was loosening its grip. It was replaced by damp shade and the steady hum of green plants.

The whole way Durin kept close without being told to, close enough that Scaramouche noticed whenever he stopped moving. He was also busy, his attention was caught on small, unimportant things. The curve of Scaramouche’s hat brim. The way the fabric moved when he turned his head. To the way grass folded underneath his feet as he stepped.

They didn't talk much on the way, simple dialogue here and there, mainly Durin poking questions about the tiniest of things.

Before they knew it, they were surrounded by tall trees. The forest felt different, softer. The light was bending strangely between the trees, colors were warmer. Leaves rustled even when there was no wind. There were giant rocks spread out between the trees. Like a village of them.

Durin slowed down without realising it, like his sixth sense was telling him this forest was different. “What is this place?” Durin asked, voice hushed.

“A place that listens” Scaramouche replied.

They hadn’t gone far in before something small darted across the path. Then another. Tiny figures peeked out from behind tree trunks and oversized leaves, round eyes blinking in curiosity.

Durin froze. “What are they” he whispered the question teying to make sure they couldn't hear.

One of the creatures toddled closer, tilting its head as if inspecting him. It made a soft, chiming sound. Another circled him, bold enough to poke at the edge of his wing.

Durin startled letting out a short, surprised sound before crouching instinctively, careful with his movements as the Aranara gathered around him, tugging at his sleeves, humming happily.

Scaramouche watched from a distance, arms crossed. The forest had already decided Durin was harmless. Some of the Aranara circled him too, like they were welcoming back a friend.

While Durin became quickly occupied, Scaramouche stepped away from the creatures, walking towards the big tree. “Lesser Lord Kusanali,” he said evenly.

The air shimmered when Nahida appeared as naturally as the forest itself, feet barely touching the ground. “Hat Guy,” Nahida greeted lightly.

Scaramouche’s eye twitched. “I told you not to call me that. It’s only my official registration for the Akademiya.”

She giggled, soft and unapologetic. “I know. I just like it.”

He scoffed under his breath.

Only then did her attention shift fully, gaze sharpening as it settled on the scene behind him, where Durin knelt amid the Aranara, wings half-spread as one perched on his shoulder and another played curiously with his tail. “And who is this you’ve brought with you?” she asked, intrigue clear in her voice.

Durin looked up at the sound of her voice, eyes bright. “I’m Durin,” he said, proud and careful all at once.

Nahida’s expression shifted, curiosity deepening. “Durin,” she repeated. “I see.”

“He appeared near the ruins I was investigating,” Scaramouche jumped in. “No memory of how or why."

"So you brought him here,” she noted.

“He shouldn’t be wandering alone.”

Nahida smiled faintly. “You’re right.”

Durin had started mimicking the Aranara’s hums, poorly but enthusiastically. One of them clapped. Another spun in a circle. His wings twitched with excitement, brushing leaves that glowed briefly where they touched.

Nahida watched him for a moment longer. “Mondstadt would be a good place to start,” she said at last. “The people there are open. Curious. And they remember more than they let on.”

Scaramouche frowned. “Mondstadt”

Durin wandered closer at that, the Aranara wobbling behind him as they followed. He peeked around Scaramouche’s side. “Is Mondstadt far?” he asked.

"And you want me to go with him?" Scaramouche asked, ignoring Durin's prying question.

Nahida’s gaze softened as it lingered on the two of them. “You brought him here. And he’s stayed close to you since." she said. "He won't go with someone else.”

“Tch, fine." Scaramouche replied, irritation bubbling to the surface. "We'll leave at first light." The forest seemed to hum in approval.

Nahida smiled looking at Durin and then at the Aranara. "They're saying they want to play with you some more." She looked back at the dragon boy who stopped hiding behind Scaramouche. "Is that okay?" 

Durin's wings spread out from excitement "Yes!! I want to too!"

"They want to play hide and seek. Do you know how to play?"

He frowned. "I don't know how to play any games." His expression quickly changed as he remembered the game rules in pieces. "I've heard of them though!!"

Nahida giggled at his response. "Don't worry, they'll teach you." Then the Aranara circled Durin showing him a 'follow us' gesture. He walked away with them.

As Durin walked away with his new friends, Nahida looked back toward Scaramouche who had his arms crossed, watching as they took him away. She didn't know if Durin had enhanced hearing but just in case she spoke out quietly. "So you took in a stray I see."

Scaramouche scoffed, meeting her gaze. "I didn't really have a choice. What would the villagers think having a dragon boy appear out of nowhere?"

Nahida chuckled. "He sees you as a friend. Take care of him okay?" 

Scaramouche didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to. He had never taken care of someone else before, not like this. Responsibility had always been something forced on him, never chosen, and he’d learned early what happened when you failed at it.

And this felt dangerously close to choosing.

But Nahida didn’t press him. The forest hummed softly around them, leaves whispering in a way that felt almost like judgment. Scaramouche looked away, jaw tightening. He didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. Didn’t offer reassurances he didn’t believe in. If he said nothing, at least he couldn’t be wrong.

The thought about it still lingered on, a boy, a dragon, following him, learning from him. 

It felt heavy.

After that Nahida didn't say anything anymore as she went after the Aranara, humming as she ran with excitement.

Scaramouche was a little glad about it. He turned the other way getting started on gathering the supplies for the trip.

That night, as preparations were made, Durin lingered at the edge of Vanarana, waving clumsily at the Aranara as they disappeared back into the trees. He followed Scaramouche after a moment.

Scaramouche made a smaller camp setup with what he received from the Aranara at the edge of the Vanarana. Durin was laying on the grass, half sleepy. But he suddenly perked his head like he was reminded of something “What should I call you?” he said. “She called you...Hat Guy?"

"Scaramouche"

Durin tested the name softly with difficulty. "Too long, I'll just shorten it and call you Scara!" he chirped.

Scaramouche was about to protest when Durin covered himself with his wings. "Good night!" he said.

He was already regretting agreeing.

By morning, the forest was behind them. The forest scent was disappearing, giving way to open wind and stone.

At first Durin struggled to match the rhythm, steps a half-beat behind, wings tucked too tight against his back. He stumbled once on uneven ground, caught himself, then straightened as if nothing happened.

So he adjusted. Shortened his stride. Watched Scaramouche’s movements more closely, mimicking the way he stepped around stones or angled himself against the wind. It wasn’t long before he stopped falling behind.

Durin’s gaze wandered constantly, catching on things Scaramouche ignored without thinking. The way his arms swung when he walked. The faint shimmer of insects near water. Clouds stretching thin and pale across the sky. “How far is Mondstadt?” he asked eventually.

“Far enough.”

Durin accepted that, but not without slightly furrowing his brow. After a while, he asked another. “Why are we going there?”

Scaramouche didn’t answer right away. “I heard they have a long history with dragons.”

Durin perked up "does that mean there are others like me?”

Scaramouche stopped in his step, glancing back at him this time. “I don’t know.” That answer seemed to linger longer than the others.

They continued on in silence, stopping when the light began to soften. Scaramouche made camp efficiently, movements quick and precise. Durin watched from nearby, sitting on a rock with his wings folded tight, tail curled around his ankles.

The fire crackled to life and for a while, both of them just sat around the fire. Scaramouche was reading a book he brought along, taking notes. 

Meanwhile Durin...

He was staring at the sky, looking at how the stars shined. They reminded him of his home. He took a shallow breath before speaking. “Where I’m from... it's called Simulanka.”

That got Scaramouche’s attention.

“It’s not like this place,” Durin continued. “I didn’t walk there, at least not as much. I flew. Everywhere. The sky was… closer.” He flexed his fingers, as if remembering the feeling rather than the image. “I was big." his hands spread out showing just how big he was. He looked at the gap he made with the gesture. "Bigger than this.”

Scaramouche just listened in silence, giving him space to talk.

“People there, the animals, they were scared,” Durin said, quieter now, pulling his legs closer to his chest. “Not because I hurt them. Just because I existed.”

Scaramouche’s fingers tightened around the book. Then he said, “So you could fly.”

Durin nodded. “Yes. I miss it.”

Scaramouche glanced at his wings. “You still have them.”

Durin hesitated. “They don’t work the same." he wiggled his wings a bit, one if them moved more than the other before they both slumped. "They feel strange."

“That doesn’t mean they don’t work at all.”

Durin looked up, surprised. “You think I can...?”

“I think,” Scaramouche said, “that bodies don’t keep useless parts.”

The fire cracked softly. It's light reflecting off his face. “Liyue has cliffs,” Scaramouche continued. “Wind currents. Space to fall without falling immediately.”

Durin’s eyes widened. “You mean—”

“I mean. Don’t try anything stupid until we get there,” Scaramouche cut in. “If you’re going to relearn how to fly, you’ll do it somewhere the terrain won’t kill you instantly.”

Durin smiled, bright and unguarded. “Okay!”

Scaramouche didn’t look up. “And if you fall—”

“You’ll catch me?” Durin asked, hopeful.

Scaramouche scoffed. “Don’t count on it.” But he didn’t say no.

After that, things settled into a rhythm. Durin still walked close, still watched where he placed his feet, but the tension in his movements eased. His wings no longer stayed pressed flat against his back, instead they shifted with the wind.

But the amount of questions he asked increased. How high were the cliffs in Liyue? Will the wind currents really be able to stop his fall? How would Scara catch him if he fell?

Scaramouche quickly grew tired of answering them, keeping quiet, though Durin didn't mind. He was just excited to fly again.

The terrain changed slowly. Soil gave way to stone. Paths narrowed, hugging cliff faces that dropped away into open air. The wind grew stronger, curling upward instead of pushing down. 

Durin lingered at the edges when they passed near them, peering over with careful curiosity. Each time, his wings twitched, excitement sparking through him so clearly it bordered on reckless.

Scaramouche of course noticed the change in his demeanour, stepping closer to him whenever he walked towards the edges, ready to pull him back if he suddenly lost his footing.

The way Durin looked at him now, eyes bright, attention fixed, waiting for the right words to be said made Scaramouche harder to tell him off.

When they finally stopped, it was at a wide stretch of stone where the cliffs opened out. Water ran far beneath them, distant but visible, and the air moved in predictable currents on all sides.

Durin’s wings spread immediately in excitement after Scaramouche set his belongings down.

Scaramouche straightened, eyes flicking briefly over the edge of the cliff before settling on Durin. “We’re establishing rules,” he said.

Durin stilled immediately, wings half-spread, attention snapping into place. His tail went from moving left and right in a uncontrolled pace to a steadier pace now. “Okay.”

“One,” Scaramouche continued, “you don’t jump without warning.”

Durin nodded quickly.

“Two. You aim out, not down. If you panic and don't fold your wings, the wind won’t help you.”

Another nod. Smaller this time.

“And three,” Scaramouche said, tone sharpening, “if I say stop, you stop. No arguing.”

Durin hesitated, just a fraction, then nodded again. “I promise.”

Scaramouche studied him for a moment longer, as if weighing that promise, before stepping back. “Fine. First attempt. Just… step off.”

Durin swallowed. He moved to the edge, peering down once more at the water far below. The wind continued curling upward, tugging gently at his wings, inviting rather than threatening.

He took a breath. Then he stepped forward.

The drop stole the air from his lungs instantly. Durin’s wings flared wide on instinct, snapping open as the wind rushed up to meet him.

It worked! Well...partially.

The current caught him, slowing his fall, turning what should have been a plummet into something closer to a staggered descent. He flailed, unbalanced, before the wind deposited him roughly against a lower ledge.

Durin gasped, laughing breathlessly despite himself. “I didn’t die!” he called up.

Scaramouche exhaled through his nose. “Congratulations. Come back up.”

Climbing took longer than flying, but Durin returned flushed and exhilarated, wings trembling with leftover adrenaline. “Again?” he asked clutching his fists, wings already ready to go.

Scaramouche hesitated “one more.”

Durin didn’t wait. This time, he ran.

He leapt outward, wings spreading wide, catching the current cleanly. For a heartbeat, two, he held himself there, suspended, balanced on moving air. “I’m flying!” he laughed.

Scaramouche just stared at the joy spreading throughout all of Durin's body. A smile threatening to pull on his lips.

Then the wind shifted.

The current twisted sharply, vanishing as another slammed into him from the side. Durin yelped as his balance broke, wings folding instinctively as he pitched downward.

“Durin—!!” Scaramouche moved without thinking. Anemo flared beneath his feet as he launched himself off the cliff, air bending just enough to slow his descent. He caught Durin by the collar mid-fall, the force of it jolting through both of them as Scaramouche strained to hold them afloat. “Don’t let go,” he snapped, teeth clenched.

Durin froze, hands clutching at Scaramouche’s sleeve as they dropped the rest of the way together, landing hard but upright on a lower stretch of stone.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Scaramouche stated sharply “that’s enough.”

Durin blinked. “But—”

“No more,” Scaramouche cut in.

Durin’s wings drooped instantly, remembering the third rule “…okay.” The word came out small.

Scaramouche saw the way Durin's tail tucked between his legs, no sway in it's movement. How he was looking down at the ground, defeated. He just looked away, jaw tight, rethinking his choices “...Not until the wind settles.” He added reluctantly.

Durin’s face lit up, head perking up. "Okay!"

So they made camp a short distance from the edge, close enough to keep watch but far enough that one misstep wouldn’t send anyone over. 

Durin stayed quiet. Not withdrawn, just focused, expectant. When the wind softened, he noticed. When it surged again, he waited it out.

Of course Scaramouche noticed how he waited for every timy change in the wind, hoping it would settle. He's glad the kid's got guts, but he can't shake away the feeling of his heart sinking the moment Durin lost his balance. So he spoke up, tone serious and careful. “If you’re going to try again,” he continued, “you do it slow.”

Durin nodded, looking at the sky. “I know.”

“And you stop the moment it feels wrong.”

Another nod.

Scaramouche hesitated, then added, “I won’t be able to catch you if you panic.”

Durin turned back to him. Not offended. Just looking at him, eyes steady in a way that made Scaramouche’s chest tighten as if he was caught in a lie. “But you would try,” Durin said. It was a statement, offered plainly, like something obvious to him.

Scaramouche didn’t reply.

Durin shrugged, as if it settled the matter all on its own. “And I know you’ll catch me if I fall again.”

The words were simple. But to Scaramouche they felt heavy and unearned. He didn’t respond, didn’t correct him, didn’t tell him not to say things like that. That trust wasn't something you give without proof. That he hasn't earned it.

The wind passed between them, low and constant, carrying the unspoken weight of it all. 

It was now constant for a while, it didn't spiral. What perfect timing. “…Get ready,” Scaramouche said.

Durin stepped to the edge, wings spreading slowly. He breathed in the air deeply, closing his eyes. He stepped off.

This time, he didn’t drop. Instead, the wind rose gently, catching beneath his wings, holding him just above the stone. His feet left the ground by inches, then a little more.

Durin gasped, laughing softly as he hovered there, unsteady but upright, air trembling around him. “I’m—” He wobbled, corrected, then steadied again. “I’m staying up!”

Scaramouche was still on high alert, standing close by, ready to jump into action if the moment called for it.

Then when Durin finally let himself drift back down onto the steady ground, boots fully on the stone, only then did Scaramouche exhale a sharp, controlled breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Durin looked down at his feet, then back up at the other, excitement evident now as he hopped in place with a spread out smile "Scara!! I did it!!" He ran toward him. "Did you see?! Did you see?! I did it!!" He kept repeating the same words, still hopping.

Scaramouche's stared at how Durin's hair and wings both moved up and down in rhythm with his hops. His mouth turned upward, a chuckle escaping him "you sure did." His gaze softened "you did well." His hand reached out, but just as he was about to ruffle the bouncing hair it stilled, dropping back down.

He let his hand fall back to his side, fingers curling in on themselves. A threatening thought passed his mind, that if he let himself reach out, it might become something he couldn’t take back.