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Durin stepped forward, tensing the muscles in his arms and slashing outward, bracing against the recoil as he dug his feet into the ground. The sharp sound of metal meeting metal rang in his ears as their swords met, and Durin held his stance, holding steady even as the pressure of the opposing sword against his own increased.

Then, all in a moment, the pressure was gone, and Durin let his arms drop with a tired sigh.

“Good,” Albedo said, stepping back from Durin’s outstretched sword. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

Well, Durin would certainly hope so, considering he’d already lost count of how many times he’d run through these sword forms. Unfortunately, though, even with all the practice, he didn’t actually feel like he was getting better, despite Albedo’s praise. “I still feel so clumsy.” He admitted with a frown, glancing down at his sword, as though wishful thinking could place the blame on anything but himself.

Albedo’s voice was calm and reassuring, though, just as always, and it helped ease Durin’s disgruntlement a little bit. “That’s alright.” He said. “Learning to fight isn’t easy – it takes a lot of time and practice. You’re doing well.”

He said that, but Durin knew his bladework wouldn’t hold in a real battle. He was still too slow between changing forms. His body was still new, and he was still learning, but it was more than that. He just felt off.

Durin had a strong inkling as to why it felt so off, but he didn’t like thinking about it very much. Fighting wasn’t the only thing that felt off to him, after all – and while he sort of wished all humans felt this discomfited about doing mundane tasks so that he wouldn’t be so alone in his predicament, he knew it was just him. If it had been just the sword practice he was bad at, he probably wouldn’t have been so demoralized, but it went deeper than that.

Ever since he’d become human, Durin had also been struggling to fly. And that was really ridiculous, wasn’t it? What dragon couldn’t fly?

But, well, he wasn’t really fully a dragon anymore, either. But he had human legs, and they walked okay. So if had dragon wings, which he did, he should’ve been able to fly. It just made sense.

Except, that, no matter how many times he tried – he just couldn’t seem to properly get off the ground. Rather, he always just ended up getting more on the ground, by crashing into it constantly.

“It’s not just the sword fighting.” Said Durin, glum. “I just feel clumsy in general.”

Albedo observed him silently for a moment before he spoke, seeming to quickly understand where Durin’s upset truly was. “Would you like to change gears?” He asked. “It’s been a while since you last attempted flight. Perhaps you might feel more adjusted now?”

Durin’s brother was always very good at saying things encouragingly, but Durin wasn’t so sure it was that easy. Still, Albedo wasn’t wrong that it had been at least a week since he’d last tried to fly – he’d been so discouraged last time that he hadn’t wanted to try since.

Part of him still felt hesitant about it, but they were here on the outskirts of Mondstadt, and there was no one around to witness his failures except for Albedo. And Albedo had already seen Durin fail spectacularly at a lot of things, and always accepted him anyway, so he supposed he could give it another try. It wasn’t like he wanted to stay grounded forever, after all. He just felt apprehensive about failing again.

“Okay.” He agreed, setting his sword down and standing in the grass with a frown. Bending his knees, he jumped up,  spreading his wings and thrusting himself into the air – just the same way he always did, when he’d been Mini-Durin – except, just like always, this caused him to pitch forward, and he nose-dived face-first back down into the grass, tumbling over himself and landing with his forearms braced onto the ground.

He still couldn’t do it. He had no idea why.

Pulling in a breath, he sat up, dejected. He just felt so ridiculous. It shouldn’t have been as hard as it was – and he’d learnt so many new things as a human, like using forks, and walking up the stairs. Why was the one thing he already knew how to do the one thing he struggled the most with? He wanted to succeed, he really did, but every time he tried he just felt more hopeless.

Durin drew his knees up to his chest. He had spent his entire life flying – he was a dragon. Why did it feel so bad now?

After a moment, Albedo was there beside him in the grass, bent down to his level, with a calm timbre to his voice. “Your center of mass has changed dramatically,” he said kindly, “so it’s only natural that flight would require some adjustments. Don’t be discouraged, Durin. It’s no different from swordplay – practice makes perfect. You’ll learn.”

That was all well and good, but Durin felt like it was pretty different from learning to use a sword. That was something he’d only just started doing recently, now that he was human and had arms and hands. He’d had wings ever since he was born. Why was it something he couldn’t get the hang of now?

Sensing his despondency, Albedo spoke again. “Do you want to try again?” He asked.

Durin thought about it, thought about the way he kept pitching forward onto the grass like a misaligned stack of plates falling over, and shook his head. “No…” he said gloomily. “Let’s just try the sword stuff again?”

Albedo frowned, but nodded with understanding, and stood up, holding out a hand for Durin to take. Clasping their hands together, Albedo helped pull his brother up, and gave him a small and encouraging smile.

“Alright then.” Albedo said, moving away from Durin and getting back into his sword stance. “Come at me when you’re ready.”

“Where are we going?” Durin asked, carefully following behind Albedo as they walked along the rocky path that stretched through the hills of Liyue. It wasn’t normal for Albedo to be secretive about anything, considering how well he knew Durin’s uncertain position in the world. He was always upfront about what he had planned, or which sorts of things they were doing, because he understood how difficult it was sometimes for Durin to be dropped into a world that wouldn’t wait for him to catch up.

Still, Albedo was tight-lipped about it, and Durin wasn’t sure why. “You’ll see soon enough,” he said cryptically, “though I suspect you may realize before we get there.”

Well, Durin wasn’t so sure, but he appreciated his brother’s faith in him, anyway. “If you say so,” he said, looking out over the horizon. After leaving Simulanka, landscapes in the real world had always been vast and beautiful to him, but things somehow felt different now that he was human. He was bigger, so maybe the world should have felt smaller, but instead it felt the opposite – now, it felt like the world was brimming with opportunities, and it felt bigger than ever before. It was exciting.

“You can consider it a business trip of sorts, if you’d like.” Albedo said, a small smile on his face as he looked over at Durin.

Well, that didn’t really elucidate the situation any further, but he at least appreciated the opportunity to travel. Durin already knew that it was Albedo who had approached Master Jean about taking a leave, so it wasn’t as though this trip could’ve been done on Knights business. It was clearly something Albedo had thought of by himself, so Durin could guess it was probably related to him… but his brother wasn’t being very forthcoming with any details.

Still, as they traveled further along, the scenery started to look familiar to him. Eventually, Durin began growing suspicious, the seed of excitement pitting in his stomach.

At long last, he broached it.

“Albedo,” he asked hopefully, “…are we going to Sumeru?”

His brother looked over at him with a smile, then, unsurprised he’d figured it out, but pleased all the same. “That’s right.” He said. “See? I knew you would figure out the destination before we got there.”

Of course, there were a lot of different reasons why someone could go to Sumeru, be it for business or otherwise… but there was only one real reason why Durin would ever need to go to Sumeru, and he felt himself smiling excitedly, giddy with anticipation.

“Hat Guy!!”

Durin had spent the next several hours, after realizing where they were going, swinging wildly between elation and terror. He hadn’t seen Wanderer since before becoming human, after all, and part of him was scared that his friend wouldn’t recognize him, or wouldn’t think of him the same way anymore, now that he looked so different. On the other hand, though, it felt like a lifetime ago that he had left Sumeru to go to Mondstadt and face his fate, and the thought of being reunited with his favorite person filled him up to the brim with excitement.

He'd fluctuated between whether or not he should hide behind Albedo as soon as they met up, or if he should just stand aside and give his friend a casual wave as if nothing much had happened. But, ultimately, he’d seen the familiar robed silhouette from a mile off and gone running, not even bothering waiting for Albedo to catch up.

Wanderer had turned around at the shout, but Durin didn’t give him any time to assess what was happening, instead just barreling into him full force with his arms outstretched.

“Wh—” was all Wanderer could say before he was tackled to the ground in a tumble of arms and wings, his hat going rolling off into the grass as he was forcefully knocked over.

“Hat Guy!” Durin repeated excitedly, maybe a bit breathlessly considering he’d just fully tackled his friend into the ground, but his exhilaration did most of the talking for him. “It’s really you!”

Perhaps having the wind knocked out of him a bit as well, Wanderer grumbled, though it sounded a bit more like a wheeze than anything else. “Who else would it be?” he muttered, though the flustered tinge to his cheeks betrayed his huff of indignation. He laid his head back down into the grass with a groan. “I hope you’re realize you’re at least five times bigger than you used to be.”

Durin laughed sheepishly. “Oh, yeah, I guess so.” He said, finally sliding his arms out from around his friend and sitting up a little bashfully. “Sorry. I was just so excited to see you.”

Wanderer sighed, but there was no edge to it. “Really?” He commented sardonically. “I wouldn’t have guessed.” He said, sitting up slowly, rubbing his head with more grandiose irritation than he was clearly feeling, though maybe he was just trying to think of something to say. Durin watched self-consciously as his indigo eyes, discerning as ever, looked him over thoroughly, quietly scanning his face carefully before he finally spoke. “It went well then?” He asked.

Durin’s heart flipped warmly, and he nodded with a smile, pulling his legs into a crossed position to sit more comfortably in the grass. “Yeah.” He said. “It was a little scary at first, but I think I’m used to it now. I’ve been learning a lot about so many different things.”

Wanderer’s face softened, then, a sort of expression that Durin didn’t get to see too often. “That’s good.” He said. His attention turned out somewhere to their left, where Durin could see Albedo gradually making his way towards them – and he felt a bit embarrassed for having run off like that, but his brother’s pace was rather unbothered, so he figured it was probably fine. “And they’ve been treating you well?” Wanderer asked.

“Yeah.” Durin replied with a smile, thinking fondly of how patiently Albedo had been taking care of him. “Everyone’s been really nice to me.” He said.

Wanderer nodded, then, satisfied with the answer. It seemed like maybe he wasn’t sure what to say to him, but that wasn’t something that worried Durin – it was the opposite, really, because it was times like these where Wanderer was the most honest version of himself of all. He didn’t bother disguising that he was glad to see him, and it made Durin really happy. Wanderer always liked to grumble about things, and Durin never took it personally, but it was the thoughtful silences like these that always seemed to say more for him than words did. Durin only smiled happily, because he should’ve known all his worries were unfounded. Becoming a human would’ve never changed Wanderer’s mind about him. He should’ve known that.

“Well,” Albedo said once he was finally close enough to them to speak, “I suspect there’s no doubt you’re fully acclimated to running now, at least.” He said lightly, and Durin felt his face heat up in embarrassment. It wasn’t like Albedo was judging him for it, but it was a little silly how quickly he’d taken off. He’d just been so excited.

Unperturbed, though, Albedo turned to Wanderer with a friendly smile. “I appreciate you returning my letter,” he said cordially, “and taking the time to meet up with us.”

Wanderer’s reply was equally cordial. “It’s fine.” He said. “I said I’d do my part, didn’t I?”

Albedo’s smile was pleasant, and as they talked, Durin’s attention got sidetracked by Wanderer’s hat lying in the grass. He looked over at his friend, but he was busy looking up at Albedo from where he was seated on the ground, discussing things.

“Indeed.” Albedo said. “I appreciate you looking out for him during his time between leaving Simulanka and coming to Mondstadt.”

“Sure.” Wanderer replied. “It’s not like I had a choice, anyway. He wouldn’t have left me alone even if I’d shooed him off…”

Durin reached over for Wanderer’s hat, turning it over in his hands once, before reaching up and carefully balancing it on top of his horns. He’d always wanted to try putting it on, but he’d been too small before, and could only really hide under it. Now that his head was human-sized, he thought he’d maybe have a chance, but sadly his horns were too big. To his disappointment, he still wouldn’t be able to wear it.

Not for lack of trying, though.

Suddenly, the sound of silence caught his attention and he looked over, being met with two pairs of eyes staring at him – one a lot less amused than the other. Durin stared back at them, caught red-handed, and carefully picked the hat up off his horns, lowering it slowly.

“S-sorry.” He said sheepishly. “I just always wanted to…” He trailed off.

Wanderer’s sigh was long-suffering, and he turned back to Albedo. “See?” He told Durin’s brother. “At any rate, now he’s your problem instead of mine.”

Albedo chuckled. “Indeed,” he said with mild amusement, “though I’m afraid you won’t be rid of him so easily. As I said before, your fates are intertwined.”

Wanderer looked back at Durin, then, a soft sigh on his lips, evaluating the way Durin abashedly held his hat carefully in his lap. Durin met his gaze, but there was only fondness there, despite the words he spoke – and a warm feeling swirled in Durin’s chest. “Yeah.” Wanderer said. “I’d gathered so much.”

The stars twinkled overhead as crickets chirped a choir of notes that washed a gentle tune into the fabric of the night, a much thicker sound than typical evenings in Mondstadt. Plants brushed against Durin’s shins as he walked, following carefully behind Wanderer as they picked their way through the underbrush, busy collecting firewood.

“I hear you’ve been learning to fight?” Wanderer asked him as Durin stopped mid-step to bend over, picking up a particularly thick-looking branch from the ground, and tucked it away safely under his left arm.

Durin frowned. “Uh… yeah, I guess.” He said, electing not to mention that he felt like it wasn’t going well.

It seemed like Wanderer caught onto the tone, though, stopping his walking altogether, and turned to face Durin. There was something evaluative in his expression, but he must’ve seen what he was looking for relatively quickly. “That bad?” He asked.

Frowning, Durin came clean. “…You could say that.” He sighed. “Albedo is a really, really good teacher, don’t get me wrong,” he said. “But…” he trailed off, unsure how to broach the topic. It was shameful, if he was going to be honest, and Wanderer was so strong and good at fighting that it felt discomfiting to admit. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

Wanderer’s attention on him was kind, though, and not judgmental, as he waited for Durin to speak his mind. He wasn’t going to press, but Durin also knew he wouldn’t let him walk away without admitting whatever it was that was bothering him either, now that he’d started to express it.

When Durin remained quiet, eventually Wanderer spoke. “Give me your Vision.” He said.

That… hadn’t been what he’d expected him to say. “What?” Durin blurted, the word echoing amidst the foliage, but Wanderer expectantly held his hand out, regardless. Durin stared for a moment, meeting Wanderer’s cool gaze, before Durin ultimately complied, reaching towards where he had it clasped and unhooking it with his free hand, dropping it into Wanderer’s waiting palm.

Wanderer took it gently, looking at it for a moment with a strange expression on his face – something Durin might’ve even ventured to call a muted sort of pride, if he was feeling bold – before he took a breath to speak, swiping his thumb carefully over the vermilion gemstone. “You know,” he said conversationally, “gods are pretty selfish beings. They do what they want with little regard for the people they affect along the way.”

Durin frowned, thinking of the two he knew – Barbatos had been kind to him, and so had Lesser Lord Kusanali, whom he knew Wanderer liked just fine, even if he grumbled about her sometimes.

“But,” Wanderer said, hesitating before he spoke again, drawing in a deep breath. “There’s a reason they’re different from us. We can let ourselves be pawns in someone else’s game,” he said lowly, “or,” he said, turning back to Durin, “we can take matters into our own hands. Clearly, there’s something you want to do. Isn’t there?”

Durin looked to how Wanderer’s own Anemo vision glowed in the night where it was affixed over his chest, and he frowned, not sure where he was going with this. “I… I guess?” Durin said.

Wanderer scoffed lightly, rolling his eyes. “You guess,” he repeated flatly, sighing. “You took your fate into your own hands, even at the risk of your life, and you were rewarded for it.” He said. “You became human to save people, and got a Vision in return. You can’t get halfway to your destination and then stop. Clearly, there’s something you care more about fighting to achieve than simply fighting for the sake of fighting, or this wouldn’t be in my hand right now.”

Well… when he put it that way, Durin supposed he had a point.

“So?” Wanderer asked. “What’s stopping you from learning to fight for it?”

Durin pulled in a breath, willing himself to speak again, but the words still didn’t come. Really, it was actually stupid. It was really stupid, and saying it out loud just made it worse.

Wanderer watched him expectantly, though, and eventually Durin just had to bare his shame. “I,” he started, looking towards the ground. “I’m… scared of something really stupid.” He said.

Wanderer only scoffed. “It can’t be that bad.” He said.

Durin only frowned more deeply. “You’re going to laugh.” He said.

Sighing, Wanderer replied, taking a softer tone. “I don’t even laugh when you think you’re being funny.” He said. “Why would I laugh at something you’re afraid of?”

Well… he had a good point. Durin knew he would never do that. Inhaling deeply, Durin steeled himself. He’d never get over it if he didn’t admit it, and his closest friend was here, asking to listen. So, Durin had to do his best, and just say it. “I know how this is going to sound,” he said self-consciously, “but… it’s really hard to fight the way Albedo does.” He gingerly spread his wings from his back, stretching out his muscles, and flapped them once. “Because I’ll be the first to admit, I think my legs are a little clumsier than they should be, knowing I also have wings to fly with. But, um…” he said, pulling in a breath. “I can’t really… fly.” He said lamely.

Wanderer stared at him for a moment, an uncomfortably long moment, and then he laughed.

“Hat Guy!” Durin cried with dismay, feeling the heat of embarrassment flush his face, “you said you wouldn’t laugh!”

Drawing in a breath, his eyes alight with amusement, Wanderer held up his hands placatingly, a complacent little smirk on his face. “Okay, sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “I just couldn’t help but laugh at how stupid you sounded.”

Durin stomped his foot on the ground. “Hat Guy!” He wailed with indignation.

His tone light, though, Wanderer clicked his tongue, not sounding remorseful whatsoever. “Seriously?” He said wryly. “That’s what you’re afraid of?”

Durin fell silent. Was Wanderer really making fun of him for this?

But, no – Wanderer sighed, moving towards Durin and walking slightly past him, ducking beneath his outstretched wings to clip Durin’s Vision back into its proper place. Then he stood, grabbing the side of Durin’s wing, and gave it a friendly tug. “So, what?” He said indifferently, leaning over Durin’s shoulder. “They’re just for show?”

Durin frowned. “Well… no,” he said, unsure what his friend was getting at.

“So?” Wanderer prompted. “What’s the problem?”

Holding his breath, Durin let it all out in one rush, feeling miserable. “Because I can’t,” he finally admitted, feeling despair squeeze his chest. “Everything just feels wrong. I—” he choked morosely, “I just keep crashing into the ground.” He said quietly.

Wanderer was silent for a moment, thoughtful, before he moved past Durin’s other side, pulling the bundle of sticks out from under his arm. “Well, yeah.” He eventually said. “You’re a lot bigger than you used to be. And shaped differently, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Durin sighed. “Obviously,” he breathed, wondering why Wanderer was being so roundabout and obstinate about this. “That shouldn’t stop me from flying entirely, though.”

“Doesn’t it?” Wanderer replied.

Durin only frowned. He… didn’t really understand what his friend was getting at. “What?”

“Doesn’t it stop you from flying the way you used to?” Wanderer said.

There was a directed way he said it, though, and Durin finally caught on. The way he used to. As in, he used to fly one way because he was small, and now he’s not. Wasn’t that the problem, though?

“…Yeah?” He said at last, disheartened. “That’s why I can’t fly anymore.”

Wanderer gave Durin a look, then, his expression open, but matter-of-fact. “Can’t?” He asked. “Or won’t?”

Durin’s breath caught in his throat.

“It’s fine if you’re afraid of it,” Wanderer said, turning away from Durin and bending down towards the ground, picking up a twig to add to the collection. “But if you were willing to change your entire existence for the sake of your goals, then surely you’re capable of relearning how to do something that used to come naturally.”

There was a distant, almost wise tone to his words, and Durin paused, wondering if he was speaking from experience, given the grounded sort of way he’d said it. Still, the more Durin thought about it, the more the words settled in his chest. He’d wanted to help save everyone, and become human, and Wanderer was right – he hadn’t considered something like this at all when he’d made his choice. But now that he was faced with it, there was a fear that lurked beneath the surface – one worse than the bodily sensation of colliding with the ground over and over, which was also not pleasant at all.

“But,” Durin protested softly, a sad pit to his stomach as he spoke, “…what if it turns out I actually can’t?” He asked quietly. “Humans aren’t supposed to fly…”

Wanderer only laughed. “Hah.” He barked. “Well, that’s a dumb thing to say.” He turned around to look back at Durin sharply, the moonlight catching his eyes. “Who cares?” Wanderer questioned, his voice assured. “Then be a human who can fly.”

Durin held his breath.

“If that’s what you’re actually afraid of,” Wanderer said, pointing out what was actually the bottom of the matter, “then I don’t think you have to anything to be worried about.”

Holding his gaze, Durin let his words sink in. Wanderer was always so confident about everything he did, taking whatever he needed from the world and acting so decisively, putting his next foot forward without a moment’s hesitation. It was something that Durin tried to carry within himself, especially since becoming human, which had made him start to constantly question every small thing he ever did.

Wanderer always had the ability to make Durin believe that anything could be possible if he just believed in trying it, and in that moment, he felt like maybe he’d just been afraid to really face the changes in his life that he needed to. But if Wanderer believed he could do it, then… Durin had to believe he could do it, too.

He took a breath to say something, but as his eyes glanced over the Anemo vision hanging at Wanderer’s chest again, another thought entered Durin’s mind so forcefully that it nearly bodily knocked him over. Instead of speaking his original sentiment, something else entirely blurted out of his mouth.  “Wait a minute,” he gasped. “You can fly!”

Wanderer only rolled his eyes, though the way his expression lit with amusement didn’t miss Durin’s notice. “Great observation. Took you long enough to remember.” He said, through the way he turned to Durin a moment later was much softer. “So stop getting all twisted up over nothing. I had to learn, too. It’s not a huge deal.”

Durin almost felt like he was going to cry with relief, but he had to reign it in. Wanderer always acted like he didn’t care, but Durin knew maybe better than anyone how much he actually did care. Durin counted himself so, so very lucky to have made a friend like him, who not only helped him break free from his past and become a part of the real world, but also always pushed him to see more, do more, and become more than he could possibly be.

Durin loved him so much. He was so glad that he had a friend like him in his corner.

“…Don’t cry.” Wanderer commanded sternly, staring him down accusatorily, and the expression only made Durin laugh instead. “Or say anything unnecessary.” He added.

“Okay,” Durin replied weakly, a small laugh on his lips. “Sorry.”

Sighing with a shake of his head, Wanderer turned around, stepping forward back into the underbrush to pick up another small twig. “Anyway, worry about that problem tomorrow.” He said, pulling in a breath. “For now, that brother of yours is probably wondering where the heck you are, so get a move on.”

Durin turned, then, looking back down the path from where they’d come from. “Oh, yeah.” He said to himself, suddenly remembering they were supposed to be doing their task while Albedo set up camp, but they’d left quite a while ago.

“Oh, yeah,” Wanderer echoed mockingly, shoving the pile of wood they’d collected back into Durin’s arms unceremoniously. “Get walking.”

With a quiet laugh, Durin complied, setting off back towards their small camp, listening carefully for the rustle of brush behind himself that signaled Wanderer was following. His presence was unmistakable, trailing only a few steps away.

Ultimately, though, Durin already knew Albedo wouldn’t have to worry about him. Wanderer was here to make sure he was safe, after all.

Durin kept messing up his footwork, even worse than usual.

In his defense, though, he had a very good reason. Wanderer was sitting there watching him with an intense expression, his arms crossed, leaning back against the log they’d used as a bench last night. He sat in the grass as though he were casually lounging about, but Durin knew better than that. He was being judged.

“Durin,” Albedo said, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand. “You’re distracted.”

Blowing out a sigh, Durin lowered his sword. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Sorry.”

Albedo shook his head. “It’s quite alright. Do you want to take a break?”

Durin looked over towards Wanderer, who watched them silently, and then turned back to his brother. “If that’s okay.” He said.

Albedo nodded, and Durin sighed, moving back towards their camp to sit heavily onto the log beside Wanderer, feeling glum. He almost felt worse when Wanderer didn’t say anything, retaining his contemplative silence even as Albedo returned as well and joined them, sitting on the other side of the log near the fire pit.

Eventually, though, Durin ventured to break the silence. “…So?” He asked his friend. “What do you think?”

Wanderer leaned back, his tone nonchalant. “It’s not like I’m the one fighting with a sword.” He said indifferently. “What would I know?”

Durin sighed, leaning forward to meet his gaze. That was the kind of tone Wanderer always took when he knew more than he was letting on, which meant he’d already come to a conclusion. “Hat Guy…” he chided, frowning, and he watched with contentment as Wanderer’s eyes finally slid over to meet his.

He sighed. “What I think,” Wanderer said, “is that you know what the issue is already. You want me to spell it out for you?”

There was a swell of anxiety in his chest when Durin realized he’d already told Wanderer his suspicions last night, and he was about to lay them out in the open now for Albedo to hear, too. He at least gave Durin the courtesy of not saying so until he got permission, though, and Durin looked over to Albedo, who watched the interaction thoughtfully, his eyes attentive.

Durin sighed in turn. “Fine.” He said.

Standing up, Wanderer brushed an errant blade of grass off his shorts, and looked down at Durin appraisingly. “You already know fighting like this isn’t working.” He said. “You’re going to have to get over it.”

Knowing exactly what Wanderer was referring to, Durin felt like there was a rock in his stomach. There was an expectant look in his eye that didn’t bode well, and Durin shrank into his seat. “…Now?” He asked.

“Now.” Wanderer replied.

Durin looked over at Albedo, who seemed to be suspiciously unbothered by the conversation – it occurred to Durin only at this point that Albedo was the one who had arranged to meet Wanderer in the first place, and he only felt a little mortified when he realized that he’d probably also informed him of Durin’s progress – or lack thereof – in his letter.

He must have caught onto Durin’s hesitation, because he smiled gently. “I’m not the only one here to help you, Durin.” Albedo said kindly. “Sometimes, the best way to solve a problem is to approach it from a different perspective. Don’t be afraid to rely on external sources of help when you need them.”

Durin kind of understood that – it always did seem to help to hear things explained a different way whenever he was stuck on something. He turned his attention back to Wanderer, who was waiting patiently. If this was a problem that he’d been unable to solve by himself… then maybe he really did just need a little help from a trusted friend to get him on the right track.

“Okay.” Durin said, feeling a little more resolved. He stood up, then, preparing himself.

Albedo smiled, and Wanderer gave him a nod.

Durin inhaled deeply. It wasn’t that hard. It really wasn’t that hard. He’d been flying since he was born. He just needed to….

Extending his wings, he pushed himself off the ground, taking two beats into the air before losing his rhythm, feeling his weight pitching too far forward. He crashed back down into an undignified heap, feeling the painful collision between his shoulder and the ground.

Durin sighed, feeling dejected. It was so stupid. He was a dragon who couldn’t fly. How dumb was that?

Wanderer materialized right above him, squatting next to his head. “You’re overthinking it.” He said.

Well, clearly he must have been, but it wasn’t like not thinking about it had worked either. He’d never had to think about flying before. He just… did it. He was a dragon. That was what dragons just did.

“You don’t think about walking.” Durin replied despondently.

“No,” Wanderer agreed, “but I’m not tripping over myself with every step.”

Sighing and rolling onto his back with a grumble, Durin looked past his friend’s face into the blue sky above them. “You don’t need to rub it in.”

“I’m not.” Wanderer replied. “I’m just saying it like it is. You’re thinking too much about it.” He stood up, then, reaching a hand out for Durin to take, and he reluctantly reached out, letting Wanderer pull him back up. “You want me to prove it to you?” He said pointedly, almost like a challenge.

Durin frowned. He wasn’t sure how Wanderer could prove anything, but he was desperate to see whatever it was that his friend seemed to see so clearly. “How?” He asked, genuinely hopeful.

Wanderer held out his arms. “Give me your hands.” He said.

Hesitantly, Durin reached out, clasping his hands around Wanderer’s tentatively. “…Okay?”

After that, everything happened quickly – Wanderer slid his hands past Durin’s to lock around his wrists, and he kicked off the ground without a word. The last thing Durin saw was the glow of his Anemo before he was dangling from Wanderer’s grip, his feet kicking desperately in midair. “W-whoa! Wait! I wasn’t ready!” He shouted, tilting his chin up to catch Wanderer’s eye, his heart pounding in his throat. His wings spread instinctively, but didn’t do much for him otherwise. “What are you doing?”

“Proving a point.” Wanderer replied, looking down to meet Durin’s desperately searching gaze. “Look down. We’re not that high up.” He said assuringly. “I won’t drop you. I promise.”

Slowly, Durin turned his attention towards the ground. Wanderer was right – they weren’t terribly high. Albedo was watching them carefully from the ground, too, a curiously observant sort of expression on his face.

“All you need to do,” Wanderer said, “is find your center of balance. That’s the only thing throwing you off, isn’t it?”

Durin’s heart was pounding so hard he felt like he could barely breathe, but he pulled in a breath, trying to calm himself down. He clasped Wanderer’s wrists harder, feeling his own pulse in his ears thrumming with fear, but he still stretched his wings out with purpose anyway, giving them an experimental flap.

Without any rhythm, he felt kind of like a fish flopping helplessly in the sand, like something he’d see on the shore after Klee had finished fish blasting in Cider Lake. But after a while, he realized it wasn’t so terribly different – his wings were still big enough to propel him upwards, so as long as he stopped trying to overcompensate for being so gangly and human-shaped, it didn’t feel all that different.

He didn’t notice that the pressure had decreased where his hands were clasped with Wanderer’s until his elbows were bending, and he looked up, realizing that he wasn’t dangling helplessly anymore.

Wanderer preened. “See?” 

Durin was too busy feeling elated, though, a smile growing on his face. “I’m doing it!” He gasped with excitement. He could finally, finally sustain flight on his own – he’d really been so scared he’d never be able to do it again, but he was actually doing it!

Pushing upwards further, then, he flew past where he was hovering currently, moving higher to be more level with Wanderer – but something must have hiccupped in his motion, and he felt his altitude drop with a pang of fear. He blindly reached out with a gasp to grab Wanderer’s arm in a frightened full-body clamp before he could even think about it, flapping desperately to make sure he wouldn’t plummet back down to the ground.

He heaved for breath, having felt the panic of being two seconds from disaster way too viscerally, and he held Wanderer’s arm against his chest in a death grip. Still, he managed to keep himself midair, even as his ears were still ringing from the fright.

“I won’t let you fall.” Wanderer said. “You’re doing fine. See?”

Uncurling himself slowly, he still held onto Wanderer gingerly, but steadily found his sense of rhythm again. “Yeah,” he breathed tentatively. “Yeah, okay. I am doing it, right?”

“Yeah.” Wanderer replied softly.

Durin smiled, feeling a little stronger about his position. He looked back down towards the ground to see if Albedo was still watching, but he realized belatedly that Albedo had become much smaller than before.

He was happy to find that somehow, though, it didn’t actually scare him. He was still flying, and Wanderer was here with him, so if he messed up again, if anything bad happened, it would be fine.  “I’m doing it.” He said more confidently, feeling his smile growing on his face at the realization.

“Now do you believe me?” Wanderer said.

Durin didn’t dare let go of Wanderer’s arm, but he looked over with a smile, nodding. “Yeah.” He said happily. “I guess it really was all in my head.”

There definitely were a lot of differences to get used to, since flying was definitely not the same as before. Albedo and Wanderer had both been right – his center of gravity was different now, and his wings were a lot bigger too, which he hadn’t taken into account before. But, on the other hand, it really wasn’t too different from before, either – flying was flying, no matter how it was defined. He wasn’t sure he’d be doing any crazy maneuvers anytime soon, but it did already feel more normal to him, even after a few minutes.

Wanderer really had been right – he’d been trying to fly like he used to, but it was different enough that he had to adjust how he did it, even if it was just a little bit. Now, it didn’t seem all that difficult to overcome.

Even though Albedo probably hadn’t meant it quite like this, as Durin looked down towards the ground, he absentmindedly thought that this was also a different perspective from before, from a certain point of view.

“Thanks, Hat Guy.” He said brightly, his heart swelling with gratitude.

Wanderer didn’t say anything in turn, but without his hat, he couldn’t hide away from the small smile that lightened his features in reply.

Durin had initially assumed Albedo and Wanderer had chosen Mawtiyima Forest as a meeting place because it was in the northernmost edge of Sumeru closest to Mondstadt, but he was quickly learning this was, in fact, not the only reason why.

Albedo had waved them off with a smile, and now, for reasons Durin still wasn’t sure of, he was being forced by Wanderer to pick mushrooms.

“Up there.” Wanderer said, pointing towards the upper limbs of one of the giant mushroom-trees, the glow it emitted in the dark canopy of the forest illuminating the blue edge of a Rukkhashava mushroom in its midst. Durin had to squint to see it – it was barely visible. There was absolutely no way he would have ever seen that by himself.

“What?” Durin breathed, looking up at it. How in the world did Wanderer spot that? He looked over at his friend, who only crossed his arms expectantly.

With a sigh, already used to the routine by this point, Durin pushed off the ground, spreading his wings. Carefully maneuvering himself around the boughs of trees, he plucked the mushroom from where it was growing, and looked down from the air to see Wanderer watching him keenly.

Why, exactly, was he so intent on making Durin collect these? He almost wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure if the answer would be worse than simply not knowing. Still, as he carefully set back down on the ground in front of his friend, he still smiled with satisfaction at the nod of approval he got for the effort.

As Wanderer turned and kept walking, though, Durin jogged to catch up to him, falling into step beside him with the question on his lips. “Um, Hat Guy,” he asked hesitantly, wondering if he was going to get chewed out for asking, but thus far he’d just accepted the task with obedient compliance, so he felt like he’d been good enough to deserve a response. “Why… exactly are we collecting mushrooms?”

We, he’d said, even though Wanderer thus far had not done any work, aside from pointing out mushrooms growing in the most unbelievable of places. Places that, assuredly, Durin would have never spotted anything in at all if he’d been alone.

Wanderer looked over to him with an unguarded sort of expression. “You haven’t figured it out yet?” He asked.

Durin paused. “Um…” He mumbled, thinking it through. “…Collecting ingredients for dinner?”

Wanderer sighed, then, stopping in his tracks and turning on Durin. “You do realize,” he said, “that your alchemist called me here to help you train, right?”

Well… neither of them had said so much, but Durin had gathered that by this point. Still, that didn’t answer his question in the slightest. “I… I guess?” He replied. He still didn’t know what the mushrooms had to do with that, though. The look he received in turn only made him sweat further, and he fumbled for a reply. “S-so,” Durin said hesitantly, “it’s training?”

“What else would it be?” Wanderer sighed, but there was no edge to it – if anything, he sounded amused, albeit through a veil of annoyance. “Yes, Durin, it’s training. Do you really think I would spend this long making you pick mushrooms because I felt like it?”

“Oh,” Durin breathed, still trying to figure it out. “Um… I guess not. But, then… what kind of training is it?”

Wanderer leveled him with the most unimpressed stare Durin had ever seen, and he really had to wrack his brain for the answer. Was he supposed to be training his eyesight for spotting details in battle? Because he was pretty sure he was failing, if that was what this was about.

“Ugh.” Wanderer grumbled, shaking his head. “There is no way you’re actually this dense.” He turned, then, pointing up into the canopy at another Rukkhashava mushroom growing in the boughs overhead. “You only get one shot at answering this, so don’t mess it up.” He said. “How do you get that?” He asked, pointing to the mushroom above them.

Durin followed Wanderer’s finger and saw where the mushroom was situated. “Well,” he said thoughtfully. “The only way to get anything that high up is to fl— ohhh.” He breathed, realization coming over him.

Wanderer only sighed, a long-suffering sound. “Got it now?” He asked, unamused.

“Yeah, sorry.” Durin laughed brightly. “Okay! So it’s flight training?”

His friend didn’t say anything, though, simply looking at him expectantly, raising his eyebrows. Durin thought he was waiting for a reply, at first, but then he realized what Wanderer was actually waiting for – so same as before, Durin pushed off the ground, and collected the mushroom from high up in the trees, making sure to maneuver around the obstacles in the way before carefully setting back down in front of him. Wanderer took it from him and deposited it into the bag he was carrying with all the other mushrooms Durin had collected, though Durin noticed with pride that it was looking rather full. It was quite a respectable amount of Rukkhashava mushrooms he’d gathered today.

He understood better now, though. There was a certain finesse that gathering the mushrooms required, making sure he didn’t accidentally hit anything with his wings or fly into any places he couldn’t maneuver in. It wasn’t like getting into the upper parts of the canopy was a straight shot – there were a lot of obstacles he had to fly around. It hadn’t made sense at first, but the more he thought about it, it was pretty ingenious.

“I get it now.” Durin breathed. “But, Hat Guy,” he said curiously, “how in the world did you think of this?”

Not waiting to continue the conversation, Wanderer turned and kept walking, and Durin fell into step beside him as he spoke. “It wasn’t me,” he said reflectively. “Actually,” he told Durin, “this was something the Traveler came up with.”

Durin paused in his tracks, though, at the realization. The Traveler thought of this? Collecting mushrooms? It bombarded Durin with so many questions all at once – like what reason had that been something they’d thought of? And why was Wanderer the one who knew about it? And had the Traveler told him to do with Durin somehow?

But, no – Wanderer’s expression was reminiscent, and suddenly things started slotting into place a little.

“Really?” Durin asked. “Why?”

Wanderer looked to Durin, then, seeming to consider how much he wanted to say on the topic. “Probably schadenfreude, if I had to guess.” Wanderer scoffed, though despite the tone, he also didn’t sound that mad about it.

Still, that was enough detail to get the gears in Durin’s brain turning. “You mean,” Durin said with awe, “the Traveler made you do this too?”

Suddenly, it made a lot more sense. Wanderer had told Durin just the other night – he’d had to learn to fly, too. Durin hadn’t realized it had been the Traveler who’d helped him learn, but somehow, it filled Durin with a blooming warmth in his chest to realize that even Wanderer needed help from people, sometimes. If even he’d needed help in learning to fully utilize his Vision, then it made Durin feel less silly for needing help with things, too.

“Yeah.” Wanderer replied. “I wanted to kill them for it. But, in hindsight,” he said, “it was pretty effective.” He paused for just a moment as he seemed to have another thought, and turned to Durin sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t ever tell them I said that.”

Durin laughed lightly, holding up his hands in surrender. “I won’t, I promise.” He said, smiling to himself. Still, it made Durin feel warm and fuzzy inside, almost like the Traveler was here helping him train, too.

“Anyway,” Wanderer said, quickly changing the topic off from himself, “it seems like it’s working here, too. You’re looking more confident.”

Durin smiled to himself. “Yeah. I guess I feel more confident, too. Flying now really does feel a lot better than it did before.”

Wanderer’s eyes appraised Durin, then, sharp as always, and he seemed thoughtful. “Good.” He said. “In that case, I think we’re done here.”

It surprised Durin that he would end the exercise so easily, though. “Wait, really?” He asked. “I’m done picking mushrooms?”

Wanderer’s expression was open enough as he spoke. “I would’ve made you do it tomorrow too if you hadn’t sounded so sure.” He said. “But clearly, you’ve become more adjusted to flying again. It’s not like you had to learn from scratch – you just had to stop trying to fly the same way you did when you were still small. So, yeah, you’re done. You think I want to be out here picking mushrooms all day?”

Durin laughed. “I guess not.”

Looking down to the voluminous bag of mushrooms he was holding, Wanderer sighed. “You’d better be prepared to eat mushrooms for the next several meals. I’m not helping.”

Smiling with huff of amusement, Durin shook his head. “Okay, okay, I get it. I took ages to figure it out.” He said appeasingly, though Wanderer’s performative attitude about it made him laugh.

“Well, you got the important part, anyway.” Wanderer said, speaking of Durin at least finally reaching the point of being able to fly properly again without having to think about it anymore. “So let’s head back. No point lingering around here.”

Durin nodded. “Mhm,” he hummed brightly. “I was thinking, though,” he said, watching as Wanderer eyed him curiously as he waited to hear said thought. Durin felt a ball of anticipation in his stomach form as he decided to ask his question. “Do you think we could, um… fly back? It’s a lot faster.”

Being faster was indeed a reason to fly back, but the real reason was that Durin kind of missed flying with Wanderer, like they had done before he’d become human. It always made him happy, so he wanted to be able to make memories of still being able to fly together, even though things were so different now.

Wanderer raised an eyebrow. “What? You think you’ll be faster than me now that you’re bigger?”

“N-no,” Durin replied, clearly caught out. He’d never been able to fly faster than Wanderer before, but Durin’s wings were also much bigger now, so there was a part of him that wanted to try. Leave it to Wanderer to guess so accurately. Truthfully, though, it was a really long walk back to their camp, so they could cut the time at least in half by flying there. Probably more. And Durin truly did just want to fly together, like old times.

But, if Durin wanted to see if he could beat Wanderer now while they were at it… well…

There was a pause as Wanderer waited for Durin to elaborate, but as it became increasingly clear that Durin had nothing more to say in defense of himself, Wanderer didn’t even give him a reply – he just took off upwards into the canopy. With a swirl of panic, Durin watched with dismay and turned, leaping into the air in pursuit. “Hey!” He called loudly after the retreating form of his friend. “That’s not fair!”

Wanderer only sped up, though, and Durin had to push forward more quickly if he wanted any chance of catching up.

If Albedo was surprised by how quickly they veered into camp, stumbling along and out of breath as they landed, he didn’t say so, only watching with amusement as Durin complained.

The fire crackled peacefully in the night, and Durin watched the flames dance with a sense of comfort.

There was silence between them, but it was something friendly and warm – three people joined together for a common goal. The goal being to help Durin, which made him feel a strange kind of way, but it was a good sort of feeling. It made him smile happily to himself. If he could tell his mother how well-loved and taken care of he was in this world, he knew she would have been so, so very happy.

Albedo and Wanderer didn’t really know each other, yet, their conversations carrying nothing beyond cordial exchanges of necessity – so Durin knew they wouldn’t have much to talk about right now. That wasn’t alarming, though – he’d spent a long time traveling with Wanderer, after all, and knew well enough how much he wasn’t bothered by lingering silences. Albedo was adept at filling them when needed, either by picking up on the atmosphere or inadvertently by talking about something he found interesting, but he also was just as content to sit quietly and get lost in his thoughts, so the fact he wasn’t saying anything wasn’t anything unusual.

As for Durin himself, he could appreciate the sounds of the evening just as much as anyone else, but seeing his two most important people sitting around the fire next to him filled his heart to the brim with affection. He knew Wanderer was amicable with Albedo for Durin’s sake, but he hoped that they could become friends, too. Since they were joined together by him, Durin felt like it was his responsibility to find a conversation topic that they could both contribute to.

Unfortunately, he really didn’t know what kind of thing to even talk about. After all, social interaction was something he was even worse at than sword fighting, and that was saying something. He wasn’t good at thinking of something perfectly suited to the situation to say like Albedo usually was. Still, knowing the both of them, Durin felt that it maybe wasn’t something he needed to force, either. Wanderer would probably grumble at him for talking unnecessarily, anyway.

Smiling lightheartedly to himself, he watched as Albedo reached forward towards the open flame where they’d driven several stakes into the ground, the next round of Rukkhashava mushrooms browning to a deep shade of toasty, delicious purple. As it turned out, Durin didn’t need to speak – instead, Albedo was the one whose calm voice filled the air between them.

“Another mushroom skewer, Mr. Hat Guy?” Albedo asked.

“No.” Wanderer replied.

That was a typical Wanderer answer, for sure, but Durin impulsively had another idea.

Durin didn’t hesitate. He just turned around and reached out, grabbing a skewer, and waved it in Wanderer’s face persistently until it was finally snatched pointedly out of his hand with a huff, much to Durin’s great delight.

After finally becoming comfortable with flying again, Durin was adamant about trying to incorporate it into his sword techniques. He felt like his footwork was clumsy, but he was pretty sure he could maneuver a lot more swiftly in battle if he also used flight to his advantage. He was a lot faster in the air than on the ground, after all – he was a dragon. That just came naturally to him.

(Well, it had taken a few hiccups to get there. But still.)

Of course, flying while fighting wasn’t something that Albedo could really help him with, aside from correcting his form as he held his sword – but there was someone here quite familiar with those kinds of techniques.

“The most important part of fighting from midair,” Wanderer told him, “is making sure you keep your center of balance offset from the force you’re exerting to strike.”

He demonstrated, then, rising into the air and flinging out a blade of compressed Anemo, and Durin watched with admiration as it sliced a nearby offending bush cleanly in half. He noticed, though, the way Wanderer leaned to one side in the air, his knee bending to compensate for the motion, and he began to get an idea of what his friend meant.

“That way,” Wanderer said, “you can flow from one position to another as you string your attacks together.” Setting down carefully, still keeping his knee raised, Durin watched as he relaxed his stance once his foot gracefully touched back down into the grass. “Otherwise, you’ll just end up crashing into the ground again the minute you start swinging your sword, because the force of it will knock you off balance. Got that?” Wanderer asked.

Durin let it sink in. “Uh… hopefully.” He said.

“Why don’t you just give it a try?” Albedo suggested. “There’s nothing quite like practical application.”

Nodding, Durin made an attempt, running through the original sword forms Albedo had taught him – but instead of stepping forward where he’d learnt to, he pushed up into the air, swinging his sword as he went. He tried to keep his weight further back as he sliced forward, but it was a little off-kilter and he stumbled onto the ground, nearly tripping over as he tried to catch his balance.  It was at least better than his previous attempts, but still not the most fluid motion.

“Not terrible,” Wanderer said. “But you’re holding your sword wrong. You have to compensate for flying with it, too.” He reached forward, repositioning Durin’s hand, and Durin found himself surprised that Wanderer had noticed.

Usually, it was Albedo pointing out his errors with the sword – but if Wanderer was commenting on something like that, that meant he must have been familiar with sword techniques, too. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Durin had to ask.

“Hat Guy, you know how to use a sword?”

“Well, yeah.” Wanderer replied, taking a breath to speak something more, but paused. It seemed like he debated whether or not he should say anything, and ultimately his expression shifted into something more neutral, masking over whatever it was he was truly thinking. “I didn’t always have a Vision, you know.”

That answer was clearly truthful enough, said so fluidly that most people wouldn’t have noticed the shift, but Durin lamented that Wanderer still didn’t feel like he could tell him anything about his past, wondering what it was he had been thinking about. Durin wanted to know more about him, but Wanderer was always so tight-lipped when it came to talking about himself.

“Anyway, it’s not important.” Wanderer said, brushing away the subject. “Do it again.”

Knowing that he wouldn’t say anything else on the matter, though, Durin readied his sword again, trying the sequence of attacks once more – stepping forward the way Albedo had shown him first, and then rising into the air to slash, making sure to keep his balance like how Wanderer did. It still didn’t feel quite right, but he supposed this was the part where repetition and practice would help.

He self-consciously saw the way Albedo and Wanderer stood side by side, watching him appraisingly as he ran through his forms over and over. After a while, he heard them talk lowly to each other, and Durin tried to still his breathing so he could eavesdrop. It was rude to do that, he knew, but he was also curious. Anyone would be curious, right?

“He’s made quite a bit of progress in such a short time.” Albedo said quietly. “It’s no doubt thanks to your thoughtful guidance.”

Wanderer was silent for a moment. “Not really.” He said. “He’d have figured it out eventually.”

Albedo hummed. “While I’m sure that’s true,” he said, “it was certainly less stressful for him this way. In addition to the fact that any good technique requires instruction – I don’t think this is something I could have helped him with, given I have no experience in aerial combat.”

Looking over at Albedo, then, Wanderer crossed his arms. “Just keep an eye on him.” He said softly. “He gets distracted too easily. Make sure he learns not to do that in battle.”

“Certainly.” Albedo chuckled. “Though I don’t think I’ll need to tell him that myself.” Albedo turned to look directly at him, and Durin flinched, realizing he’d accidentally stopped practicing because he was too busy listening.

Two sets of eyes trained on him, and he laughed nervously.

“Oh, uh,” he said sheepishly. “Sorry. I’ll try to stay more focused.”

“One slip of attention in battle, and it’s over.” Wanderer said sharply. “Don’t forget that.”

The warning was stern, but it came from a place of concern. Still, the sun was overhead and the birds were chirping, clouds gliding lazily overhead, and there wasn’t an enemy in sight, so it wasn’t like this was particularly a situation requiring caution. “Okay.” He said. “But there’s nothing here right now, so…”

“And you couldn’t even fight off a flock of cicins with that stance.” Wanderer replied. “Pick your arm up.”

Durin straightened, fixing his posture.

“Don’t forget,” Albedo added, “that your enemy won’t attack in a linear fashion. You have the asset of maneuverability, both with height and evasion – use these abilities to your advantage, and consider the terrain as well.”

Durin listened carefully, but it was a lot to remember. Still, fighting an imaginary enemy could only do so much. He could repeat the forms over and over, but he didn’t feel like there was any good way to practice anything more than that like this. It was all he could really do, though.

Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, Durin paused as he looked over – he saw Albedo turn around with purpose and bend down, pulling out his sketchpad from his things.

Wanderer’s head turned as well, watching as he started to draw. “…What are you doing?” He asked incredulously. “Are you seriously that bored?”

Albedo chuckled. “On the contrary.” He said. “I think you’re quite right, Mr. Hat Guy – he could use an adversary. Cicins are a bit tame, though – how about a Hydro Slime?”

“What?” Wanderer asked, and Durin suddenly understood.

“Ohh,” he breathed. “Yeah! That would help a lot.”

Wanderer’s attention turned back to Durin, then, his eyebrows furrowed with a lack of understanding, realizing he was the only one unaware of what Albedo meant – and Durin only smiled, feeling a sort of pride that he was about to get to see Albedo at his finest.

“Alright.” Albedo said, stepping forward. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm!” Durin replied, readying his stance.

Setting the sketch down, Albedo put his hand to the ground – and doing what he did best, he created a large Hydro Slime using alchemy, the monster jumping forth from the page in a burst of golden light.

Durin didn’t really get to see Wanderer’s face, though, because he was actually being diligent and keeping his eyes focused on the target. It did, at least, really help to have something physical to focus on – and true enough, the Slime didn’t just jump straight forward, so Durin had to fly over it to get into an advantageous position before slicing downwards, defeating it with ease.

“Very good,” Albedo praised, nodding with approval. “Excellent work, Durin.”

Wanderer’s eyes lingered on Durin for only for a moment before he raised a hand to his chin, thoughtful.

“…Interesting.” Wanderer commented.

This process ended up being repeated several times – and Durin felt like he improved a lot, both with his technique and with using Pyro while also flying. He thought it was going pretty well, and after defeating the last Slime, he began making his way back towards where Wanderer and Albedo were standing, talking quietly to one another.

“That’s not normal alchemy, is it?” Wanderer said lowly. “That’s a Khaenri’ahn technique. The same one you used on Durin.”

“Very astute.” Albedo said. “Yes. You’re familiar?”

Wanderer’s expression remained skeptical, but not disinterested. “Aside from what you told me about it before, not with this particular one, no. But familiar enough in general, I suppose.”

Albedo, however, was quite interested in Wanderer, now. “Are you a student of Khaenri’ahn techniques?” He asked.

“No.” Wanderer said firmly. “I just have some experience with their technology. That’s all.”

“I see. It’s certainly not common knowledge to have.” Albedo said keenly. “I would be quite interested to discuss this with you at length sometime.”

Wanderer’s head turned, his eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Albedo’s reply was swift. “Why not?” He countered. “There is great value to be found in the sharing of knowledge. You don’t strike me as someone who would disagree with the sentiment – as someone from the Akademiya, I’m sure you can appreciate the benefit of exchanging information.”

Crossing his arms, Wanderer spoke. “I suppose.” He said. “But I don’t tend to trust scholars with such sensitive knowledge. There’s always someone looking to misuse it.”

Albedo’s reply was thoughtful. “Hm. That is true enough – while unfortunate, I can’t disagree. There are many who pursue knowledge for the wrong ends.” Albedo said. “I understand. I won’t push you – but should you ever change your mind, I would be most eager to learn about what techniques you’re familiar with. And, in turn, if you’re ever interested, I’d be happy to share what I know as well.”

Durin noticed the way Wanderer seemed to lower his defenses minutely as Albedo spoke, as though he’d expected him to press further. Durin knew Albedo wasn’t like that, though – he never made Durin talk about things he didn’t want to, and always patiently waited until he was ready. That was just the kind of person Albedo was.

It made Durin happy to see them talking with each other, though. He really hoped they’d be able to get along, since they both were so very important to him.

Noticing that he’d approached, both Albedo and Wanderer turned to face him. “You’ve improved quite a bit.” Albedo said to him warmly, a small, encouraging smile adorning his expression. “It seems your hard work is paying off.”

Wanderer nodded in agreement, his gaze warm with approval. “Good work.” He said.

Durin smiled, happy at the acknowledgement. “It definitely feels better than before.” He said, feeling a twist of confidence in his chest. “I feel like maybe I could even win a real fight now!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Wanderer snorted.

Well, that was very much like Wanderer too. Durin wasn’t put off by it.

Instead, he moved past them both, flopping to sit down onto the log tiredly. He’d been training for ages, and his muscles were already sore from running through his forms so many times. “I’m exhausted.” He said with a sigh.

“Then I believe it’s time to call it a day,” Albedo replied considerately, moving back towards their camp as well to get the fire going again, Wanderer following behind. Durin helped out, using Pyro to light the flame, though as usual he applied a bit too much and had to stamp out the fire from some of the grass around them.

As the sun began dipping in the sky, Durin watched as Albedo contemplated their supplies.

“Are you thinking about dinner?” He asked his brother.

“Yes.” Albedo replied. “And, on that note,” he said with a hint of humor, “how about more Rukkhashava mushrooms?”

Durin groaned, flopping back into the grass. They’d had mushrooms for every single meal since he’d picked them.

Laying back, he tilted his chin upwards to find Wanderer’s eyes, who was sitting nearby. His gaze narrowed when he caught the plea for help in Durin’s expression.

“Don’t count on it.” Wanderer said to him.

Moaning, Durin felt himself fill with trepidation. Mushrooms it was, then… again.

Durin wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but he heard the low murmuring of voices nearby, and somewhere between the thick, hazy fog of sleep and wakefulness, he became aware that it was Albedo and Wanderer who were talking with each other.

“…ppeared from the page.” Wanderer said quietly. “As if the world was erasing every instance of documentation.”

“I see.” Albedo replied, voice barely above a whisper. “This is concerning.”

“I… worry it might have something to do with me,” Wanderer said, “for reasons I won’t get into. But I don’t think it’s a problem that will resolve itself.”

“No,” Albedo agreed softly. “I’m inclined to think so as well.”

Wanderer sighed quietly. “…I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Durin felt the pull of sleep lulling him back in, the warm blanket that had been draped over him feeling so very cozy, but he liked hearing the sound of their voices, even though he wasn’t really registering anything they were saying.

“For now,” Albedo added, “I’ll monitor the situation, and keep an eye on Dragonspine as well. As for your role in this…”

For some reason, Durin couldn’t really make out the words of Wanderer’s response, the world slowly slipping back into the dusky twilight of slumber.

Durin sat in resigned silence as he watched the lingering embers from their morning meal smolder and crackle into pieces, the early sun casting long shadows across the grass below the log where Durin sat.

They were going home today, which meant he’d have to say goodbye to Wanderer again. He knew they’d see each other again eventually, and it helped that Durin could fly now, too – it would make the trip a lot faster – but he still lamented that they lived so far apart.

Still, the sight of seeing Wanderer watch Albedo draw with muted curiosity brought warmth to Durin’s heart, regardless.

“Are you planning on doing more alchemy?” Wanderer eventually asked.

“Hm?” Albedo questioned, probably having been lost in thought. “Oh— no, nothing like that. I just enjoy sketching things every now and then. It’s simply a happy coincidence that it happens to be useful in my work as well.”

Durin cut in with a smile. “He draws all the time. And he’s really good at it, too!” He said with pride. “He’s just being modest.”

“Huh.” Wanderer replied, sitting still for only a moment before he leaned over, ever so slightly – just enough that it was barely noticeable, but Durin definitely caught his subtle curiosity towards what Albedo was drawing, and it made him smile at the sight. For someone that always vehemently claimed he didn’t really care about what other people did, Wanderer was pretty nosy, most of the time.

“Hold on just a moment,” Albedo said, his wrist flicking with practiced ease as he added whatever finishing touches he needed to, before he looked down at his sketchbook appraisingly, carefully tearing the page out and handing it to Wanderer. “There. Consider it a memento,” he said.

Durin was not as averse to being openly nosy about Albedo’s drawings as Wanderer was, so he immediately scooted over from where he sat and leaned over Wanderer’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the paper.

To Durin’s surprise, Albedo had drawn him – and Wanderer, as well, sitting together on the log just as they were right now. They both looked happy, too – there was a small smile on Wanderer’s face as Durin seemed to be talking about something, and he had to wonder if Albedo had been drawing exactly what he’d seen at the time he’d sketched it earlier that morning. Durin couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about anymore, but he supposed that wasn’t the important part. The important part was, it didn’t matter how much time or distance separated them. He and Wanderer were the best of friends, and nothing was going to change that. It brought a smile to Durin’s face in the present, too, seeing Albedo’s rendition of it.

“Aw,” Durin said happily. “You drew us!”

Eyes not moving away from the drawing he held in his hands, Wanderer spoke. “Durin’s right,” Wanderer said. “You are pretty good.”

Albedo’s tone was warm. “You flatter me,” he said lightly. “Thank you. It’s yours to keep, if you’d like.”

Wanderer’s gaze lingered on the paper for one moment more before he looked up at Albedo. “Sure. Thanks.” He said. Albedo smiled softly in turn, and nodded.

Durin didn’t miss the small little smile Wanderer wore, too.

It made Durin really happy to see them get along so well. He hoped they really would become friends, after all. 

For now, though, they had to part ways – so Durin supposed that might a long process. Still, it was a future he would look forward to, when the time came. After packing up and preparing for the trek back to Mondstadt, they turned to Wanderer to say their farewells.

“I’d like to thank you again for agreeing to come out.” Albedo said. “I believe it’s safe to say Durin will probably do more flying on our way back than walking, and I’m sure he’s quite happy about that.” Albedo turned to Durin with a smile, and Durin smiled back with a nod, the sentiment being absolutely true. “Thank you for supporting him.”

Wanderer held a hand to the edge of his hat, tipping it downward. “I didn’t really do anything,” he said, “but sure.”

“Next time you see me,” Durin promised, “I’ll be strong enough to help you fight!”

He looked to Durin, then, with the kind of open expression that Durin was always happy to see on his friend. “Alright.” He said. “I’ll look forward to it, then.”

That response filled Durin’s chest with warmth, knowing Wanderer believed in him. It only made him more determined to practice hard and become someone who could protect his friends in battle. He nodded enthusiastically. “You’ll see! And I’ll write you lots of letters, too. Don’t forget to write back.”

Wanderer’s tone was light. “Alright, enough.” He said with an impatient sigh. “Stop dawdling around here and get going already. You want to make it back before nightfall, don’t you?”

Durin’s smile fell from his face, knowing Wanderer was right. “Yeah,” he said, feeling the pit being carved out in his chest. “I guess you’re right.”

“Stop looking so sad. It’s not a good look on you.” Wanderer said as though it was some sort of insult, but they were kind words that soothed Durin’s melancholy over. “You can come visit whenever you want to, so stop moping.”

Instead, Durin felt warm inside. “Okay.” He said.

Albedo nodded beside him. “Then we’ll take our leave. It was pleasant seeing you again, Mr. Hat Guy.”

Wanderer sighed, crossing his arms. “I’ll see you later.” He said.

Durin turned back and waved to him probably about a million times, but even as Durin took to the sky, still checking back, Wanderer still stood there with his arms crossed, watching. He didn’t wave back, because that wasn’t his style, but the fact he hadn’t moved was all the reciprocation Durin needed. He only turned away once he’d become so small in Durin’s view that he was nothing more than a blue speck on the horizon, and Durin set back down onto the ground beside Albedo, falling into step next to him.

“Maybe we should invite Hat Guy to Mondstadt next time.” Durin said. “Do you think he would come?”

Albedo looked to him kindly, his eyes bright with the small smile he wore. “I’m sure he would.” He replied. “You can tell him in your next letter that he’s welcome to visit any time.”

Smiling to himself, Durin nodded. “Okay!” He agreed.

He supposed he had a lot of sword practicing to do before that happened, then.

Durin looked forward to it.