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He smiled, mind dull in a comfortable way. The sounds of their surroundings dimmed into a quiet rush in his ear as his breathing slowed.
Varka was no stranger to this feeling. He’d become increasingly familiar with it the longer the expedition went on. All around him people were busy celebrating and having fun- with the exception of a few already dozing off. Gretel and Mika both looked about ready to hit the hay, Lohen watching over them and already grabbing the boy to carry back to bed. Gretel still resisted, which was probably why he allowed her stay. But that protest too would die down in no time as sleep took her.
The man sighed and slumped back against the wall he’d been leaning on.
“My, my~” A female voice suddenly rang in his head, “I see someone’s been enjoying the cider our messengers have brought from home!”
Varka didn't think he drank that much if he was being honest. Three glasses at most, barely anything compared to what he normally had. But if Nicole said that he was drunk, then surely that must be the case.
He nodded sluggishly and grumbled his agreement, forming words felt like too much trouble right now. An odd look flashed across the witch’s face as she took in Varka’s form. She sighed and sat next to him.
She patted her lab.
He lowered his head without much question or protest. None of his knights would bat an eye at the strange display anyway- it wasn't exactly a secret with whom Varka was and wasn't involved. There couldn't be, secrets and privacy always ended up more hassle than worth on expeditions like these. The moment of rest was appreciated either way. It was a bit awkward to lay on the ground using the woman’s lab as a pillow, but Varka didn’t mind.
It felt good to be around Nicole, he thought. He felt how she carded her hands through his hair- untangling this, braiding that. The man could her fingers scrape along his skull and trace lines he couldn't see.
“The battle in Nod Krai is coming to an end soon,” she commented idly. “You will be able to return to Mondstadt.”
Mondstadt? Yes, yes.
“You must miss it.”
Varka missed Mondstadt.
A heavy kind of sadness settled in his chest. How long has it been since he left? Five, six, perhaps even seven years? So much must have changed. Jean wrote that Razor grew a lot and that Diluc returned while he’d been away. Klee had apparently managed to make some alterations to the landscape; he’d yet have to see them. He should see them– how much different would they look when he returned?
The man tried to recall more of it, more of his home and past. Trying his best to push through even the worst of the haze. Nicole hummed above him- a gentle melody he knew from the cathedral. A Hymn to Barbatos.
His home was nice. He, like, loved it a lot. Everyone did, he was sure. Mondstadt was great, he thought. So pretty. Mondstadt, his home. With gentle winds and fertile lands, where the air smelled of grapes and carried dandelions in it.
With beautiful landscapes and sprawling meadows. Where the food was savoury, light and filling. With bards singing their songs day in and day out without a pause, a collective lullaby to sing each day to sleep.
W̛͋̀͡͏͕hͮ̓ͧ̉҉̴̧͓̀e̵ͩ̂͒̽҉̛͈͟r̷̸̔̍͡҉ͅe̸̢̺̾͊̀̀ ̑͜͡͝͏͖t̡̡̛͍ͮ͌ͤ̌͢ḩ̠ͣ͜͞͠ȩ̸̧̧̳͐ͩͣ̑ ̶͌̇̃҉͏̫͞p̸̶̣ͧ͝͡é̷̸̛͖͊ͫ͞o̢̳ͭ́̀͟p̴̴̓͠͏͉l̸̢̡͕ͯ́e͒̋͞҉҉͏̜ ̵̷̨̧͇͌̓f͊̎ͣ̚͝͏̷̨͇r̴̸̲ͬ͟͞ơ̸̖̚͜͜ź̨̛̗̀͡ę̪̈́͂́́͠ ̶̶̷̛̖̏̃͋ạ̶̈́ͫ̀͜͠nͣ̚҉̵̢̜͝ḑ̡̱͂̈͢͝ ̧̗ͫͨ͘͢͢s̢̮̈͛̀͢͞ẗ̵̛̞̀͞ŗ́͢͠͏͍u̷͋̀͏̪͞ģ̛̠͐ͥ͠͠g̛ͮͨ͒ͧ͜͏̼͝ĕ̷̷̛͉͑͠lͬ̄͆̀̕͝͏̜e̵̡̧͖̿͟d̶̒ͤ̃̏҉̡̠͞ ̸̵̯͒ͨ̇ͨ͘͡a̸̵̼ͯ͢͝ǧ̶̛͕ͥ͢͞a͍͒̀̕͜͞į̵̛̦͋͠n̶͚̂͐̏ͬ̕̕͟s̨̆̇ͫ̾́҉̡͓ţ̻ͯ̎͜͞͞ ̢̹͊́͘͡r̴̴̢̲͆ͬ͐̑͢ę̧͓͌ͩ̂́͝l͚ͩ͆ͩ̓̕͞͡͠e͌ͭͥ͜͏̀҉̘n̵̵̜̉̀͡t̷̪ͯ̂̽̒́͢͜l̠͋͘͟͟͠e̢͓ͣ͜͜͡s̫̑̕͞͡͝s̵̛͎ͬ͘͘ ̶̨͛͊̚҉̧̘ẉ̧̛̔̉͜͠i̸̛͈̾̊̄̂͢͝ṋ̴̄ͦ̎͑́͟͟t̵̸̸̞ͧ̃̓ͯ͠e̵̠̾͛́͘͝r̈ͯ҉͢͏̭͘s̶̢͕ͩͦ̈́́͘—̶͌̀͜҉̜
Varka’s mind came to a screeching halt.
Winters? Freezing- but, Mondstadt didn't really see freezing winters. They had snow, but the climate was mild. Lord Barbatos ensured–
Why did he…
His home was Mondstadt. That’s where he belonged. That’s where his people were. So why was he thinking these things?
He furrowed his brows.
Mondstadt- it is his home, right? But..Why was he….
Y̸̬͊͛̔̚͜͢͝o͌̽͏̛̦́͝ǘ̸̷̙ͪ͊͂͜͡ ̨̛͔̔́͜h̵́ͫ̓͜͞͏̹a̸̵̡̩ͦ͒̃̄͜v̡̨͔͋ͥ̆̇͞͠eͤ̚҉̶͘͟ͅ ̸̲͐́͟͡ã̧̢͗͆̀҉̖ ̛̣̐̒ͫ͟͝͞m̴̴̡͉̋̏͡i̵̸̻͛ͭ͑̏͡͡s̳͋̊ͣ͑͠͡͝͠s̱ͩ̋͂̀͠͡͝ĭ̷̢͓̓̀͜ȏ̷̧̨̃҉̦n̶͙͌͊̀́͢ ̴̰̈̕͠͞ţ̴ͮ͘͠ͅo͊͌ͥ́͟͏̳͟ ̸̨͖ͩ̽̊̒͜͠f̶̢̘̒̆͒̕͞ũ̶̵̗ͧ̀͡l̴̨̛̳͒ͨ͢f̧̢̠͌̑̈̍̀̕i̸͕̓ͧ̉̓͠͞͞ĺ̷̸̪̔́͢ļ̢̟̀̏͢͠,̸̵͍̓̌͜͜ ͦ͏̢͠҉̼ḏ̀̆̉͟͢͡͝ǫ̷̢̘͑ͦ̚̕n̨͉̑ͣ̽̓͟͝͝’̷ͦ͡͏̢̗ẗ̷̛̛͔́̊́ ̧̦̓̎́͠͠f̭ͧ̏̈́́́͞͞o̧̨̼̍̆̕̕r̨̠̈̀͜͝g̢̹ͤ̿̋̀͟͞e͗̈͂͟҉͘҉̮–̸̵̴͔̌͆͟
A- A mission?
Varka had a mission, didn't he? Something important that he needed to remember. A purpose he had to fulfil. A reason he was where and how ue was. The man knew that he cared about it a lot….But what was it?
He turned his head in contemplation, breathing in the saccharine scent of Nicole’s perfume. It smelled flowery and fresh, like a cold morning breeze. She didn't mind his movement at all, only stopping momentarily before continuing with carding her hands through his hair.
W͙͑ͭ͐́̀͢͜h̡̛̛̲̆̍͑̚͘y̷̰ͬ̿̀͜͡ ̧̢̱͊̑͟͠â̛̺ͤͩͥ͢͡͞r̯ͨ̇͟͢͡͞ȩ̴̴͍̑̃͛͘ ̨̖̇̐̅ͭ̕͜͝y̨̥̿̀͟͝o̵͒͂͟͡͏̹ư̷̢͈ͬ̅͟ ̸̵̡̻̾̆ͦ͟a̴̸̡̱͗̃̓͘c̶̩̈͒ͪ͜͟͜t̵̙̉́͘͠į̧̛͖ͧͩ͝n̵̴̵̶̦ͭ́ͨg̨̏̂ͨ҉̸̵͎ ̴̡̳̍͘͢l̸̴̛̯̄͟i̧̧̲̊̓̕͟k̵ͥ͘͢͜ͅe̴̛͇ͫ͐̓̚͠͠ ̧̦̎́͢͞tͤ͏̶̖̀͝h̡̩͂͜͢͠a̔҉̷̶͖͞ț̵̴̛͂ͨ͛ͧ͟!̷̢̬ͯ͑͒ͭ͘͝?̶ͥ̏҉̵̡̘
The man tried to concentrate despite it growing harder by the second. He…he served someone, right? Some ruler, maybe? His memories were just so fuzzy, Varka frowned.
He was - is?- part of an organisation. Before (Besides–) the knights, he thought. Or not? Was there even something before the Knights? Before Mondstadt? There had to be- right? He fought for something, someone. From– From a cold place. Like the one that invaded his thoughts, with gloomy people and dark skies and cities. But what was that place– Why- there was some duty he needed to fulfill for that place— but. But what was that duty? Who.. Who was he again? Why was he– how– I—
Varka felt Nicole’s finger move from his hair to his temple, rubbing slow circular motions into the side of his head. The touch felt cool against his skin, a comfortable shiver rolled down his spine.
Right, right. He remembered now.He’s the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius. Gosh, He must have drunk a lot to forget that. Of course he is the Grandmaster. That’s- like, kinda really important to him, right? Totally. He’d need to tone down on the partying soon. His duty is to protect Mondstadt, his homeland which he loves. He serves the Anemo Archon, and his people, and there’s nothing that mattered before the knights and Mondstadt. He did not remember any ‘cold place’, he held no duty to anyone besides his knights and home. He’s the Grandmaster.
Varka is the Grandmaster.
Varka liked being the Grandmaster.
The information felt crystal clear in his mind, suddenly obvious and steady, wherein everything had been hazy seconds ago. The buzz in his limbs returned, his expression smoothing over at the newfound certainty. Mhm, he missed Mondstadt.
Above him Nicole smiled, removing her touch as she began to push him off. Varka grumbled at the loss of warmth, but let her do as she pleased anyway. “I should really go to bed now.” The woman told him in that beautifully enchanting voice, “Poor Gretel has been dozing off all eve, you won’t mind looking after her a bit? For me, while I’m gone?”
Gretel. Cute girl, very young. Came along on the expedition because…because what? His memories were fuzzy again. Varka shook his head, Gretel was with them because…..
….He was here because….
“You’re the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonious,” Nicole cut in suddenly, drawing the man’s attention back to herself. “And you love your people.”
His people, his people who need him. Mondstadt, the- his- children, the knights. His home.
Varka nodded, forcing himself to sit back up form where he lay before. His body still felt weak, his thoughts still came to him slowly. But he sat now and pliantly recieved the girl into his care.
Gretel was obviously out of it, her sleep-warm body was tiny compared to his. The woman across him smiled one final time, touching his cheek and allowing Varka to lean into her hand. “I’m the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonious,” he repeated without even needing to be told, “I love my people.”
“That you do,” the witch confirmed, slowly getting up
Varka blinked- once, twice, thrice. Before he knew it, she was leaving already. As quickly as she had come, she vanished again. Part of him felt sad watching her siluette grow slimmer. But then Gretel stirred from her sleep in his arms, and his attention was drawn there. He cooed down to the child and hugged her tight, whispering affections and care so she would return to her rest. She reminded him of his kids back at home.
He needed to return quickly.