Work Text:
Violet hue grimly illuminating the dark night. It slowly recedes in existence, vanishing into nothingness among the quiet. Light begins to tread the once blemished land from Abyss Corruption, freed of vileness that would harm the mortal’s heart.
Flins has just exterminated a group of Wild Hunts in one of his patrols. Destroying their blight is a duty of the Lightkeepers and he upholds the responsibility diligently. Each monster is eradicated without fail. His spear thrusts them with precise stabs, ensuring their death with one swing. Seeing their form slowly dissipates into the air, the fae decides to take a breather. Fresh air is inhaled to rejuvenate a tired body. This has been quite a taxing outing.
Just as his muscle begins to relax, it tenses up once more when an explosion is heard nearby. It’s another cluster, no doubt. That vexing Eye has shot out another rift nearby, planting a new plague that has just been cleaned. Flins rush to the scene. He immediately engages in combat the sooner he arrives, but he's tired. He has overexerted himself more than usual. This is the 10th Abyssal Fog he has cleared up, or maybe more, he lost count.
Though what he can confidently say is that he feels his body losing all strength. At worst, he will turn into his other form. It will be much more dreadful if his lamp is destroyed amongst these beastly entities. He’s apprehended at the worst time possible. What to do?
“Have room for one more?!” A high pitch voice pierced through the growlings and murmurs.
In a flash, hundreds of sharp icicles fell onto them, impaling in perfect strike. Moments later a figure jumps into the crowd, ready to decimate every single bane of monsters appearing with a manic smile as he lands a powerful blow with his spear. Slashes upon thrusts are inflicted on them. From a cluttering mess of ghouls reduced to a soul or two determined to take the person’s head. Among the swift movement, Flins realize who this person is. A fellow soldier under their collaborator, the Favonius Knight of Mondstadt, and he so happens to recognize which specific individual he is.
Once things had subsided, enough tranquil as the land being purified, the knight rested his spear on shoulder, “Hey, you okay there? Mr. Lightkeeper-”
He was alone. Only an ancient lantern was left at the site, “Oh, he left already? He forgot his lamp though.”
The knight instinctively carries the lantern in hand. It's not just an old lantern, it's Flins. He's not doing this to conserve his energy, not initially. The fae is in this form to hide from this man, running away from ever having an association in any unforeseeable link. Why? Simply because his demeanor is something Flins wouldn’t want to get involved with.
The avoidance in question is Lohen, if he correctly recalled the Vice Captain of the Ranged Company. Their Grandmaster had sung praises of his strength, even as far as putting him above in ranks. He seldom appeared during the meeting and most Lightkeepers, even their own knights, hardly ever come across him on the battlefield. That's precisely because of one thing that Varka has told him, that this knight is obsessed with battle.
Judging from the fighting he has done, Flins would say his style is a bit…disgraceful. For someone who leads their men to attack from a distance, he's an odd one for charging ahead into the battlefield. Disregarding all risks and safety, it's a surprise he survived the vicious claw gnawing towards. Supposedly they are to move in groups, yet here he is alone and brawling in close proximity. It's unbecoming of a knight to play dirty tricks for victory, but he doesn't seem to mind as long as it's secure.
And to think he would see the Vice Captain smiling as he turned each of the abyss monsters into dust, it's guaranteed that he has a few loose screws that need tightening. Flins wouldn’t like to be the one to do just that.
“Huh. Never seen a blue flame before. Is it because of that kuuvahki thing?” Lohen swung the lantern playfully, “Won’t that guy get in trouble without this? What a bother.”
Lohen secured the lantern on his waist, clamped firmly on the belt. This shocked Flins greatly. He was sure the lantern would be left alone. Or rather, it would be passed on to the Lightkeepers nearby. He saw them just at the edge of sight, marching towards their current location. Instead, he is taken along deeper into Kapumaki Cliff, somewhere the concentration of Abyssal Corruption is more abysmal than what they faced prior. And mostly, where numerous clusters of these dark entities reside to slay.
It feels like hours that Flins endure agonizing dread, being forced to accompany a battle maniac searching a sliver of thrill. He has eliminated more than a normal human could with their feeble stamina, perhaps even more than what a fae like him has accomplished. Regardless, this particular knight remains vigorous. His movement remains agile, and his focus remains full. To be more precise, Lohen is more elated to tear them limb to limb, laughing as his spear is stained by the blood of those creatures.
He does a great service reducing the number of threats the others have to fight on their patrol. He is thankful for that despite the roughness of his method. In between the slashes and hits, he is also practically unharmed. Not a scratch can be felt, not a graze landed. It would do him good if he does it with a little bit elegance, it’ll help reduce the motion sickness Flins endured.
Now that he's on the last cluster of the day, making his way back to the knights’ camp, rain couldn't have fallen on a more opportune chance. The aftermath blood that covered Lohen is washed by the pour. He freshens up, restoring the image of a valiant, courteous knight. He then takes shelter in a cave nearby. The walk to the camp isn't that far. Perhaps all the battle he engaged tires him so. The fae remains as is, observing what this strange knight ought to do.
“This sucks.” Lohen clicked his tongue, “Walking in the rain is the worst. I can't have this lantern being put out.”
“It's a special lamp with a special flame.” Lohen ogles the lantern in hand, “I bet this is that goth vampire- I mean, Lightkeeper, secret weapon. I'll use this chance to ask him for a spar.”
Flins would wrinkle his eyebrow if he could. He would frown at the statement if he's human. What a distasteful thought to have under the layer of integrity he's doing. Again, it's nothing new for humans to have ulterior motives in their act of kindness. But to hear them upfront like that, it leaves a bitter taste on his throat.
Thousands of droplets fall, yet there's no sign it'll halt its descent any time soon. Flins can see the knight has become weary. Eyes fluttering, struggling to keep it wide open. His body trembles an ordeal, visible shaking that the fae could feel the tremor. His breath turned to frosty air, curling in vapor like a veil of snow. His face has already frozen, keeping a steady expression, as if unaffected by the ice forming at his fingertips and toes.
Flins don't usually do this. If it's possible, he'd avoid using any of his abilities when in this form. But he is compelled to make an exception. After all, he wouldn't want this precious knight of Varka's to turn into an ice sculpture. Of course, he wouldn't neglect a soul in need of some warmth.
He blazes himself a little brighter, a little stronger, a little warmer. Lohen feels the temperature within this enclosed space rise. His eyes avert to the lantern by his side. The way the blue flame sways oddly seems mesmerizing, hypnotizing that he can't look away. Is it desperation to defrost his fingers? Is it a temptation to melt the ice away by throwing himself into it? He doesn't know. And responding to these thoughts, he embraces the lantern close.
He can feel himself getting toasty. Comfort returns to his bones once engulfed by the coziness the lantern exudes. The warmth seemingly increases. Lohen laughs to himself as a hilarious wonder pops up in head. Right now, he feels like he's hugging someone. A person. Maybe a kind one. It's…relaxing.
Eyes closed shut, giving in to the coziness in the air. His breath becomes gentle, inhaling in a tranquil manner. Moments later, Lohen leans to a fall. Fortunately, Flins transforms himself fast enough to catch. And thankfully, saves himself from shattering on the ground. He holds the other in arms. Because of his nature as the azure flame, the warm temperature of his body invites the freezing knight to inch closer. He unconsciously snuggles deeper into the embrace. His face rubs against the clothes, prompting for more touch of heat.
Not knowing what to do, Flins let him. He raises the warmth a little higher. In his convincing words, to ensure all the ice has defrosted. Not, he insists, as a means to have him closing the gap in their distance, tighter and tighter. He let himself burn, ablaze in a frenzy, to give this lost knight one less thing to worry about.
***
Two arms go through a large teal coat, fixed up neatly to brand a new pin. A monumental greatsword rested onto muscular back, ready to take off for a scouting. Varka has prepared himself for a patrol. In truth, he's actually on his way to look for Lohen.
Their Vice Captain has informed him of his departure to seek for an exhilarating battle, hunting down the Abyss for some fun time. It wasn't a strange occurrence at all. In fact, it was a normal routine even back at home to the point that it's a daily essential. What's abnormal is the duration he spent out there fighting those monsters. He has always taken heed of the order not to wander over dusk. The night is for the Lightkeepers to handle because of their lantern. It's their catalyst to cleanse the blight.
The sun is already set. Not even a strand of hair let alone his silhouette is seen, and so in turn Varka grew worried. He can't have their knight slain here. Not yet.
He takes a step outside, ready to scour the island for him. The Grandmaster stops in his advance. His eyes widened seeing such a strange scenario unfolding before his eyes. It was unbelievable, almost like a myth among fictions. Someone's approaching and it's Flins. Not a rare sight. But what's in his arms is what makes Varka stunted. It was Lohen, sleeping peacefully without a care in the world. For the first time in his life did he see this battle crazed guy calm and peaceful in the presence of someone else. It's almost like his lunatic side is nothing but a fib.
In his confused state, mind still buffering for a convincing explanation, Flins offered the sleeping knight into his care. He said with a smile, “For our next collaboration, I won't mind having Sir Lohen as my partner. I hope you can arrange that, Grandmaster.”
Varka awkwardly laughed, “Sure… Okay…?”
The fae leaves without a trace. Just like the will of wisp that dissipated once followed, he disappeared in the distance the further he tread. Varka takes another glance at Lohen. Still sleeping, unaware of what had happened. There doesn't seem to be any injury let alone a sign that he was indeed hurt. He looks fine just like the morning he leaves camp. The only difference is how he came back.
Flins has uttered his lack of interest towards their Vice Captain. Even to go as far as avoiding him from ever meeting, whether it's here on camp or out there during patrol. He said something about him lacking etiquette for someone who wears a knight's mantle on the daily. Varka would argue he also not as formal as the others and yet he is not bounded by such standard. He felt it was a little absurd, but he didn't speak of it.
And now, this bizarre incident occurs. He's the one demanding the Vice Captain, requesting to be partnered. He's the one bringing him back, without a complaint or a whine. The Grandmaster let out a sigh. He wondered what actually transpired behind the curtain. He'd like to know. That is, if these two would even tell him outwardly.