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Cool ocean air permeated the ship’s cabin, rocking gently against the waves. It was a welcome reprieve from the storm just hours earlier, between the watery border of Sumeru and Nod-Krai.
The Wanderer lay in his hammock within the heart of the ship, his eyes closed but his mind still crawling with unwelcome thoughts. Coming out to Nod-Krai had been impulsive; he’d started to halfway-plan once he’d heard Dottore had been sighted within its territory, but was still hesitating over small details when a letter addressed to ‘Hat Guy’ arrived in the mail. He’d been expecting a letter from Durin giving their almost weekly appearances (something about some library witch insisting they were good practice?), but its contents were what finally gave him the urgency to officially submit his request for leave.
Durin slumbered now in the hammock just below his own, his breaths barely audible over the gentle waves and creaking of the boat. He’d initially insisted on sharing one, like they used to when he was Mini, but had settled for the space just below, where he could be soothed by the shadow of his friend.
Wanderer sighed, his eyes pealing open against the dark. He had a lot on his mind these days, and the quiet never helped ease his thoughts, especially not with his friend sleeping below. Why did he need to go to Nod-Krai now? Well, he knew why—Durin loved to overexplain in his letters—but why had fate insisted on now? There was little chance Durin and Dottore would ever be in the same part of Nod-Krai, much less come into contact, but the what-ifs twisted in his head, and that wasn’t even accounting for everything else happening with Durin that had yet to be resolved. Soon, it was hard to even pretend to breathe.
Air. Fresh air was what Nahida always recommended when his thoughts became less than helpful, even if, technically speaking, it wasn’t possible for it to offer him the same biological benefits it offered most people. Slipping from his hammock, he floated above the steel floor so as to not make a single sound, and drifted up to the deck. Though his efforts turned out to be worthless as a set of footsteps soon trailed after him until they settled near the railing, their owner’s shoulder just centimeters away from bumping against him.
Durin let him soak in the quiet for only a minute. “Couldn’t sleep?”
And of course the dragon sounded genuinely worried. An artificial being showing such care would surely be of interest to—
“I don’t need to sleep,” Wanderer heard himself say, and mentally cringed. He’d had yet to tell his friend he wasn’t human, though it wasn’t like he was hiding it as well as he could.
Durin was kind enough not to pry for the moment, and only nodded along, the edges of his horn bumping against Wanderer’s hat. “I’m finding it difficult to sleep here, too. The hammocks are nice, but I prefer something more enclosed. There’s this really nice cat bed I like in one of Mondstadt’s bars, but a black cat’s already claimed it as his territory, so one of the staff had to barter for it on my behalf. Thanks to her, I get it during the night after they close.”
Wanderer raised an eyebrow. “You sleep on a cat bed. In a bar.”
“B-by choice!” Durin raised his hands in defense. “Albedo made me a really nice room when he first created me. I was afraid of hurting his feelings, so I tried it out at first, but the mattress made me feel like I was sinking, and the room seemed so big it felt almost impossible to close my eyes. I think I slept in the closet for almost a week before Albedo noticed.” He let out an awkward laugh, his red eyes scanning the other’s expression.
Wanderer in turn looked out towards the horizon, the moon hovering above the sea, and felt the cold of the metal railing beneath his palm. “I get it,” he murmured. “When I was… young, I was used to sleeping solely on the floor. So when I was introduced to futons, I insisted it would be a waste of resources on me. The only way I was convinced to even give it a try was repeated insistence that it would be rude not to accept.”
Durin tilted his head and Wanderer rolled his eyes, knowing what was to come. He’d take any chance he could get to poke at his past, and tonight was seemingly no exception. “Those people. Were they your family?”
“It’s nothing to get your little head worked up about.” Wanderer turned around, leaning his back against the railing. “There’s more important things to be thinking about.”
“There’s not much I can think of that’s more important than you, Hat Guy. You’re my best friend.” Durin followed Wanderer’s lead in leaning against the railing, adjusting his feet to match his angle.
A shadow fell over Wanderer’s face, guided by the tilt of his hat. “I’ve told you before. As far as it concerns you, all that matters is the small role I play in your story. Anything that came before is irrelevant.”
“Hat Guy…”
Seeing the dejected look on his friend’s face, Wanderer sighed. “Do you remember our meeting in Simulanka?”
Durin brightened, clearly hoping this meant Wanderer planned on opening up. “Of course I do! It seems pretty hard to forget something as incredible as that.”
“Do you remember all of it?”
Durin faltered under what Wanderer knew to be an unfair question. After all, how would he know if his memories had been lost? He certainly hadn’t after his own stunt in Irminsul, and would have been perfectly content to live the rest of his life as a nameless wanderer, save for the aching emptiness that had remained in his chest, stemming from a time he had ripped from his memories.
“All I’m saying is that’s the only aspect of the ‘past’ you need to worry about. You deserve the chance to make good memories, even if it means facing this world in its entirety; the last thing you need is an ugly past weighing you down.”
Durin looked down at his boots, and two parts of Wanderer nearly caved. The first longed to pull him into a hug and apologize for not being straightforward, an impulse like the ones he’d been smothering for centuries, and therefore easy to ignore. The second screamed for him to tell Durin the truth; that the world was rejecting him due to his own erasure, and that if he wanted to live a happy life, they needed to cut ties. Wandered quieted that voice too.
So far, it was only written word about Durin that Teyvat seemed to have issues with. Surely, then, it would be alright to keep being selfish a little longer?
“I’m stronger than you think, Hat Guy. And I’m not a kid anymore. Whatever happened, I can handle it,” Durin murmured, still staring intensely at his own shoes.
Wanderer sighed fondly and pushed off the railing. “Kid or not, it isn’t good to stay up all night.”
He strolled back below deck, Durin only two steps behind despite his disappointment, and the pair slipped into their hammocks. Wanderer closed his eyes, waiting to hear the sound of his friend finally falling into sleep, but it never came.
“If sleeping in a hammock’s really so impossible, no one’s saying you can’t sleep elsewhere,” he whispered, thinking back to the few storage closets he’d seen throughout the ship.
Instead, he felt his own hammock sway as Durin took his words as an invitation to slip back into old habits.
“That’s not what I—”
“I thought—”
Wanderer sighed, rolling onto his back and using Anemo to keep the hammock still enough for Durin to climb in. “Do what you want, but I’m not catching you when the ropes snap and the hammock falls.”
“I think you would, actually.”
A click of the tongue was the only response he dared give, which was as good as any confirmation in Durin’s eyes. Eventually, the pair managed to find a way to share space, and it wasn’t long after he felt his friend slip away into slumber, and with the sound of his heart beating so close, Wanderer wasn’t left far behind.
This past week, I have been away in a world called ‘Simulanka.’ Usually, I’m not one to laud some witch’s plan, much less one I was thrown into without warning, but this ‘adventure’ has been tolerable, though I still don’t understand why I was involved at all.
Under normal circumstances, I’d find being trapped in a world with paper animals and toy people to be insulting—and maybe I still do—and doubly so being labeled a ‘hero.’ I mean, really, me? It feels like some cruel joke. But it’s pointless to complain when the outcome was interesting enough to exceed any hurt gained from the premise.
The Traveler was in this world too, on some quest and solving problems that, honestly, sound convoluting and pointless, but what’s new? Our interests eventually aligned in helping a small dragon. It’s difficult imagining me in any meaningful supportive role, maybe even moreso than imagining myself as a ‘hero,’ but there’s no point in trying to explain it any differently. When I saw Durin, I saw something that reminded me of myself. Maybe that should have been enough to condemn him.
He was trapped by a curse and alone in the world, abandoned by those meant to care for him.
I call myself his first friend.
I gave him my ‘blessing,’ whatever that’s worth, and now nothing has changed, and his fate remains the same. Despite that, he still rests on Dragonspine. Doesn’t he know that’s a good way of getting hurt? I can’t bring myself to revive him, though. Is it selfish that I’m starting to think of him as a friend?
Now that some of the damage he’s done has been repaired, I’ve brought him nowhere, as a corpse is incapable of seeing the world. An alchemist from Mondstadt said that the original Durin is reviving, and this Durin is the original, making Teyvat his only home. I don’t care about that. It’s inane, but part of me just wants to show him my home, just as he showed me nothing.
It was a week after writing his travelogue of his time in Simulanka that Wanderer first realized something was wrong. Durin, still Mini then, was sleeping by his side after a day of exploration, and in a rare mood of wanting to reminisce, he’d pulled out his journal and flipped to the relevant pages. He scanned the writing once, then twice, and he felt his throat close. Nothing had been erased or blotted out, and the handwriting looked identical to his own, and yet, some of the text was clearly not what he’d originally written. His lips silently traced the new words until eventually, he realized they now reflected a false story about Dragonspine’s Durin, rather than his friend lying next to him. Half of what was changed barely made sense; why would he explain Simulanka in such depth, just to talk about Dragonspine’s Durin? Why would there be such an emphasis on nothing changing? Why would he be friends with a corpse?
And yet, the lack of consistency was familiar. Hadn’t he read through dozens of historical texts that had all gone through similar revisions after his actions in Irminsul?
Practically flinging his journal across the room, he squeezed his eyes shut, though he knew better than to hope this was nothing more than a bad dream. This must be related to his erasure from Irminsul, but how? Why?
He tried to steady the way his vision was practically swirling in sync with his mind. If Durin’s history was slowly changing due to his own involvement, how badly would the dragon be affected? Was he more susceptible due to not being from Teyvat? Could this affect others in Wanderer’s life? Would those students who pester him for his notes after lectures be forgotten? That green-eyed desert dweller and his friends? Nahida? Was he ruining others’ lives without even realizing it?
A part of himself whispered it’s what he deserved. Why did he ever think he could have a normal life after everything he’d done? With everything he was and wasn’t?
But just as his thoughts were sinking lower into his spiral, he felt Durin shift next to his sleeve and let out a long, contended sigh.
“Hat Guy…?”
Wanderer leaned closer, despite the revelations made just moments before.
“Today was the best day ever…”
Durin was still mostly asleep, surely not entirely aware of what he was saying, and yet, in that moment, Wanderer knew he didn’t have the guts to be anything but selfish. So what if he couldn’t write about Durin? Surely there were other causes, or maybe it wouldn’t extend beyond written word. He’d spent far more time with Nahida or the Traveler before this, after all, and none of them had yet to be forgotten.
He scooped Durin into his arms, holding him close to his silent chest, hesitating before setting him down on the bed and curling up under the blankets beside him.
“Please,” Wanderer murmured, “let me have this.”
And for once, fate refrained from being overtly cruel. Nod-Krai was dangerous, yes, and more had yet to come now that Dottore planned on becoming a god, but between all the chaos, Durin had managed to find a place for himself in his world. Not only would his friend be safe for a little while longer, but it also meant Wanderer had been wrong about the cause. His erasure had nothing to do with Durin’s problems, and now, there was no need to ever consider cutting ties.
So why did he still feel so restless?
Dottore. It had to be Dottore. Even knowing beforehand he would be in Nod-Krai, and knowing he probably hadn’t really left like the Knave had insisted, and knowing he’d interfere with the Traveler’s plan to send the Damselette back to the moon, actually seeing him be one step ahead was infuriating beyond all reason.
And now he was trying to achieve godhood? What a joke. Had trying to make Scaramouche a god not been enough? Was it just a prelude for his current agenda? Had Wanderer Scaramouche Kabukimono been just another prototype without even realizing it?!
Of course! Because of course! Because even now that most of his segments had been destroyed and Wanderer himself erased, Dottore still had plenty to gain from their previous collaboration, while he was left only with the realization that he’d spent centuries killing and destroying for no good reason at all, and there was nothing he could do to bring those lives back or undo the damage he’d caused. And now that he’d actually created something good for himself, of course that’s when Dottore would slither back into his life.
A small part of him hoped that at the very least, now that Durin had assisted the Traveler in defeating Rerir, resolved his issues with fate, and spent some time in Nod-Krai, he might decide to go back to Mondstadt, away from the chaos.
But realistically, he knew Durin would feel obligated to help, if not for the Damselette’s sake, then to help the Traveler. Despite everything, he was still good enough to think there was a point in helping others. And though he’d never admit it, maybe there was a reason for believing in something so pointless so earnestly.
Wanderer took a breath he didn’t need and tried to remember old advice, eventually settling for imagining a square inside his mind. A breath in, and one line was complete. A breath out, and there’s the bottom. Two more breaths, and the box was finished, perfect for stuffing Dottore’s stupid head—
He took another breath in, keeping his eyes open this time. Maybe visualization wasn’t the technique for him. Nahida would be disappointed her idea hadn’t worked, but there wasn’t much either of them could do from here. Instead, another breath pushed out of his faux lungs, and he stared ahead at the sky that was far too bright for how he felt.
“Hat Guy…?”
He’d heard Durin approach him; he’d never have survived the Abyss, much less anything that came after, if he couldn’t hear something as obvious as that. Yet his feet remained rooted in the ground, his face tilted towards the rising sun. These tactics might have been well-used to avoid talking with chatty acquaintances, but to his dismay, these footsteps only drew closer.
“I… I understand if you don’t want to talk. I mean, everyone’s frustrated with how things went last night. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more mad at someone than I feel right now! But… more than that, I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.”
Wanderer felt a hand on his shoulder, but only dipped his chin down in response, any words he might say stubbornly frozen to his tongue.
Durin’s fingertips twitched, and it was difficult not to imagine the turmoil spinning through his head. Sure, Wanderer had never been what most outsiders would consider ‘nice,’ but outright being ignored was not something Durin was used to.
“I didn’t think you were that close to Miss Columbina. So… was it Dottore that upset you?”
Wanderer squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the tension from his body, his shoulders practically slouching by the time he was finished. “Yes,” he hissed. “It’s Dottore.”
By his side, his friend finally removed his hand from his shoulder, only to start fidgeting with his gloves. It was a new habit since becoming human, though Wanderer had only ever seen it applied when talking to strangers whose reactions he couldn’t predict. Was he really acting so differently from how Durin had grown to see him?
Durin leaned forward, his eyes glowing crimson in the morning light. “You said you had files from the Akademiya on him. Is that why he makes you so mad? Because… you know everything he did? He’s a Fatui Harbinger, right? You and the Traveler make the Fatui sound purely evil, but Miss Arlecchino and Miss Sandrone are Harbingers, and they don’t seem so bad.”
Wanderer huffed, and stepped away to sit down, swinging his feet over the edge of the cliff. Durin followed him, his boots dangling just an inch further than his own sandals. He took a moment to gaze out at the sea, sunlight gleaming across the waves. It was almost serene, entirely unfitting for what he knew Durin was trying to say. “You can just ask what makes Dottore so bad if that’s what you want to ask.”
“Will you actually give me an answer if I ask?”
“Depends on how I’m feeling.”
“And… how are you feeling?” Eager for the answer, Durin leaned closer, only to be guided back further from the edge by a gentle hand. Even with wings, falling was never pleasant.
“You could say I’m not in the best of moods.”
“Then, just tell me what I need to know. If we’re going to be fighting the Second Harbinger, I should be prepared! Do you think it’ll be worse than Rerir, or—”
“Stop. Just…” He hissed out a breath from between his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m here because I owe the Traveler and Lesser Lord Kusanali, and as it turns out, after all the harm he did, ridding the world of Dottore would count as a nice favor. What stakes do you have in this? There’s no shame in going home.”
“Go home?” Durin faltered, his eyes darting between his gloves and Wanderer as he tried to find the words that could explain the dread spreading across his face. “But I can’t do that! You, Albedo, and the Traveler are here, and you need me! They both said I was useful in the fight against the Rächer of Solnari, and I can be useful again!”
“You can be useful in a lot of ways. What’s stopping you from being helpful somewhere else?”
“It’s not like that.” Durin squeezed his eyes shut, taking a moment to think. Wanderer sat silently, letting the dragon compose his thoughts while analyzing his own. “I know there’s other things going on in the world, but I can’t leave Nod-Krai knowing I’ve left you, Albedo, the Traveler, and everyone else in danger! Now that I’m human, I’m able to protect you. Why wouldn’t I stay here to help?”
Wanderer scoffed, only holding his tongue as his friend sank in further on himself. He was only tolerating this conversation to help his friend, not crush his benevolent nature. “I’m not saying your presence here isn’t admirable, and I can’t stop you if you insist on getting involved. But Dottore… his actions paint this world an ugly shade that I hoped you wouldn’t have to see so soon.”
“But… you’re the one who wanted me to see this world in its entirety. The good and the bad, everything! Nothing exists in a single shade of morality, so I have to see all of it to decide for myself what kind of world this is. Right?”
A small thud sounded from behind the pair from Durin’s tail swishing across the grass, twitching in agitation. Convincing him to leave Nod-Krai with only vague words of warning was suddenly seeming to be near impossible. “Dottore is a rare kind of ugliness, Durin. He manipulates and corrupts those around him for nothing other than his own gain. Harbingers like the Knave and Marionette have ‘ideals’ that set them apart from others, and personal reasons to keep them tied to the Fatui, even if they aren’t entirely devoted to the cause. Most in the Fatui are like that, meaning you can’t trust that everyone inside will behave the same way.
“Even then, Dottore sets himself apart from any of the other Harbingers. He lacks the fundamentals of what it means to be ‘human,’ and he sees himself as superior for it. He doesn’t believe in the autonomy of others, but he's smart enough to know others don’t like having control taken from them. So he snakes his way into others’ lives and convinces them to do whatever will benefit him, all while they’re under the impression it’s what they truly want. Anything he sees in a pawn he favors, he’ll shape it to better serve his purposes, and anything else unimportant he makes sure will be discarded within whatever timeframe he plans on using them for. And that’s assuming he doesn’t just gut them.”
White spread across Durin’s face with each word spoken, his hands tightening around themselves. “It doesn’t sound like you’re using that phrase metaphorically...”
Something in Wanderer’s chest twisted, aching for him to stop before he caused his friend even more distress. But denying him the truth now would only do more harm than anything else. “I’m not. Anyone even remotely aware of the Fatui’s inner workings knows that Dottore’s experiments are so debased that words like ‘unethical’ don’t even begin to cover what he does to his victims, much less those who believe they’re working with him willingly.”
“Who would ever work with someone like that willingly?”
Wanderer stood back up, taking a few steps away from Durin, though of course it wasn’t long before he followed. “Like I said. Dottore has a way of making those under his control believe anything he does to them is both their idea and what’s best for them. What he says has a way of… rationalizing the pain he causes.”
“You must have researched him well, to know this much about him,” Durin whispered.
His friend might be new to this world, but he was far from unintelligent. Wanderer scowled at the implications. “I’m only telling you this to give you a chance to back out. This isn’t your fight, Durin.”
“You always do this, Hat Guy.” Durin’s voice was low, almost hissing in its intensity. “It is my fight, because your fights are mine. I don’t know why you push people away—well, I understand why it’s tempting. I’d have to, with how much I relied on it before—but I want to know your reason. You never tell me anything about your past, and I don’t understand why.”
“My past is irrelevant—”
“But it’s not!” Durin’s wings flared, shaking with the tension coursing through his veins. “I know you’re trying to hide it for my sake, but this fight isn’t just repaying a debt, is it? It’s personal. I know I’m right.”
Wanderer stared ahead, his ears buzzing. With enough pushing he could usually get Durin to back down, but they were well past the point where he’d normally switch topics. What could he say beyond obvious lies? The truth? He had promised, once, that he would reveal the truth to Teyvat so those he had harmed could get vengeance. But he hadn’t counted on Durin coming into his life when he had sworn those words to the Traveler and Nahida. He hadn’t counted on making friends in general. If Durin knew all that he’d done, how could someone like him justify remaining his friend any longer?
A hand cupped his own, and it took him a moment to realize it was Durin’s. “You don’t have to tell me everything; I know just asking this is already really invasive. But… I want to know even just some of it. You’re important to me, Hat Guy. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep your past hidden from me.”
His tongue ran over the tips of his teeth, contemplating how much he could get away with saying, how much he could even stand to bring back to the front of his mind. “I told you before that I’m a puppet, abandoned by my creator shortly after my ‘birth.’”
Durin nodded, his eyes bright and wide. For all his pushing, he clearly hadn’t expected Wanderer to actually confide in him. He had only admitted this much once before, when Durin was trying to use his Abyssal powers to alter the past. It had felt necessary, then, to explain his origins, though he’d refused to elaborate more. Doing so now made his chest ache. Is this how humans knew they had a heart?
“After I was abandoned, my ‘mother’ hid me away in a small pavilion. I don’t know how much time passed; I was asleep for much of it, and it doesn’t matter anyway, whether I was locked away for one year or one hundred. Regardless, I was eventually found by a small community who took me in as my own. The people of Tatarasuna didn’t know how rare a puppet was, made from Khaenri’ahn technology and a god’s hands. They just saw me as… one of their own.”
Silence settled over the pair as Wanderer went quiet. Durin’s hand squeezed his palm, and after a moment, he found the words to continue. “One day, a foreign mechanic called Escher visited Tatarasuna, and convinced them he could upgrade the furnace they relied on, for they were primarily a community of bladesmiths. They foolishly let him into their community without hesitation, just like they did for me. But Escher… he was only interested in Tatarasuna for his own greed. His new furnace released a sickness throughout the community, and they…”
His voice broke. “And one by one, they succumbed to the illness, too human to fight against it. A lot happened in a short amount of time, but the end is result is this: I fled Tatarasuna and was found by the Fatui, who convinced me to aid in their efforts. I… did what they asked, and after, I would be sent to Dottore for the upgrades I desired. Whatever he learned from studying me in the process, and whatever pain he brought me, I deluded myself into thinking it would be worth it. I only learned after meeting Lesser Lord Kusanali that 'Escher' had been Dottore all along. He disguised himself to enter Tatarasuna, and once he realized what I was, he manipulated events so I would be alone and come to rely on him for my future endeavors.”
An emptiness settled in Wanderer’s palm as Durin’s hands reached for themselves. His mouth opened and clicked shut several times before he let loose a shaky breath. “So he manipulated you, hurt people you cared about, and then hurt you, too.”
“I’m not innocent in my past,” he murmured, the words too heavy to be said any other way. “Regardless of Dottore’s role, I made the choice to join the Fatui, and everything I did while a part of their organization was the result of my own actions. No one forced me into anything.”
“That’s not true!” Durin’s hands balled into fists, desperate to come to the defense of his friend. But how much anger would he still feel if he knew the whole story? “You said it yourself! Dottore manipulates people. Even if you felt like you were making choices, how much free will did you really have, working under someone like that?”
“I didn’t—” His mouth snapped shut. “Both can be true, Durin. Regardless of how ‘nice’ someone seems, all Fatui inevitably do something that harmful, including the Marionette, the Knave, even Columbina, and… me. What Dottore did or didn’t do to influence my actions doesn’t matter. I’m only telling you this so you’ll stop pestering me about it. My past can’t be written neatly into a fairy tale; it’s messy, and some things I’ve done can’t be corrected. I can only move forward, and facing Dottore here, keeping him from hurting anyone else, is the best way I know how.”
“Then let me help you. Please, Hat Guy. The things that are important to you are important to me as well. Even if you did… bad things,” Durin’s voice trembled, “it’s not right that you have to suffer for it while Dottore becomes a god! And later, anything bad you did, I can help you fix! Just like we fixed the damage I caused to Simulanka.”
Wanderer stared at the dragon, forever eager to help his friend. He deserved to know the truth, that his friend was an ex-Harbinger and murderer, and yet, there was a limit to the vulnerability he could feel in a day. He knew, eventually, Durin would find out. He couldn’t keep it a secret forever, and even if he tried his best, who’s to say someone who already knew the truth (probably Paimon, now that he thought about it) wouldn’t accidentally slip up? But for today, he felt his friend’s determination calm his thoughts.
“I don’t want to lose someone else I care about to Dottore,” he whispered, barely audible against the breeze.
“You won’t,” Durin promised, reaching once more for his hand. “You, me, Albedo, the Traveler, everyone else; we’ll all work together and bring him down. You’ll see! And then you’ll never have to worry about Dottore again.”
Wanderer smiled, giving his friend’s hand a squeeze. “Yeah. I guess I won’t.”