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Mondstadt is a quiet place to live, most of the time. Yes there is the occasional large incident that sends the main city and surrounding villages into a flurry, but it isn’t common.
The breeze is gentle and the scent of flowers sits heavily in the air while you stand outside of With Wind Comes Glory. You greet people as they walk by, passively trying to entice people to come inside. You aren’t trying as hard as you could or would be if your boss Marjorie was watching.
The quiet of Mondstadt is undercut by one man who seems hell-bent on irritating you. Your brow pinches slightly as you see him coming through the city gates. There had been three whole days of absolute peace in the city, Lohen having been out on an expedition personally escorting a merchant caravan.
You haven’t a clue why they sent a vice captain to do the job, but maybe the grandmaster was getting sick of Lohen too and just needed him out of the city for a bit. Whatever the reason, the man in question casually strolls through the gates of Mondstadt.
You’re about to escape back inside the shop, maybe pretend you have a question for her in an attempt to disappear before Lohen sees you, when you meet his gaze. Ah. Too late, he’ll just follow you inside without a care. A slow and smug smile curls on his face, visible even at the distance. Your chest does something complicated. And unhappy.
You would like to say you hate him, honestly. On a level, you very much do despise him. Trouble follows in his footsteps, he spends his time harassing you and laughing when you snap at him, and he’s always picking a fight with something or another.
He is also, unfortunately, one of the highest rated knights in Mondstadt purely because he takes as many jobs as possible, making him well liked by the citizens even if his personality is a bit nasty. He’s helpful. He’s helped you out many times.
“Hey,” Lohen comes up on you, slowing to a stop right in front of the shop. You fold your arms on instinct.
“Lohen,” you say flatly before he can finish his greeting. The nice aroma of flowers feels like too much now, cloying and thick enough to make you lightheaded.
He smiles, gaze traveling over you like he’s sizing you up. He pretends to be the picture of chivalry as he presses his hand to his chest and gives the slightest of bows. He’s a little unnerving as he stares you down. The blank smile fixed firmly on his face does not shift.
Being around him always makes you feel like some sort of prey animal, and not in the fun way. Disdain practically drips off of you as you glare, scowling at him without bothering to at least pretend to care about customer service.
“Esteemed citizen of Mondstadt,” he says as he straightens up. “What is the cause of such a bad mood?” Lohen’s voice dips with a mockery that only irritates you further. If the way he smiles means anything, then that was precisely his intent.
“He’s standing right in front of me,” you say plainly. “There’s nothing in this store that will interest you, find someone else to bother.”
He keeps showing up at With Wind Comes Glory looking for ‘souvenirs’ for his return trips to Mondstadt. You both know it’s just an excuse to come and bother you, but your knowledge of it does nothing to deter him from it.
“Ah, don’t be cold,” he tilts his head to the side slightly, eyes flicking to the glass windows where Marjorie keeps the most tantalizing of her wares displayed. “I’ve been gone three whole days, Marjorie might have something new.”
“She doesn’t,” you follow his gaze to the latest things put up in the windows. Clothes, jewelry, knick knacks that will get put on someone’s shelf and collect dust. All of the classic souvenir shop sort of junk. With the Kamera coming to Mondstadt, Marjorie was excited to have post cards of the various places throughout the region.
“Now look at that, turning away a paying customer. Your boss would be unhappy with you,” Lohen tuts, like he actually cares about spending his mora. “Imagine what this looks like,” he whispers conspiratorially. “The greeter being so rude…you’ll turn all the customers away!”
“I am nice to people that deserve it,” you say primly. “You,” a pointed stare, “are not here to do anything but disrupt business.”
“And now you pretend to be a diligent worker,” he rolls his eyes. “Real convincing. Now, if you will,” he waves his hand with a satisfied smile. “Do tell everything that you are selling so I know what to buy. Look, there’s even a few curious ears.”
Smarmy. Frustrating. Asshole. These are three words that do not cover the depth of bad personality tucked inside the man standing in front of you. He keeps doing this. Trapping you into conversations, that is. Conversations is a strong word for it, but he calls them friendly conversations.
Lohen raises a brow slightly, as if he’s telling you to go on. A few people have stopped to listen, whether out of curiosity for what Marjorie actually sells or because everyone in this city is nosy has yet to be seen.
Since you can’t exactly yell at one of the Knights of Favonius in the middle of the city with a bunch of on-lookers, much less actually detract from the business by kicking up a fuss, you have to take a very slow calming breath and count to ten in your head.
It does not help that much. You’re still annoyed, and he’s still smiling. You want to slap him across the face. Later, you think. For now, you start on your pre-rehearsed spiel about With Wind Comes Glory that Marjorie drilled into your head so often that you can recite it in your sleep.
Lohen nods along like he’s actually listening and hasn’t heard this speech a dozen other times when he’s pulled this exact same stunt on you. He watches you with a content smile, hands clasped neatly behind his back in a picture of polite interest.
It is offset by the blank intensity in his eyes. You would like to get a better look at them some day, they’re unique and somehow both dull and focused. Your heart is a traitorous thing, you have long been aware. It does a weird little flip at his attention. You internally beat it with hammers and ignore it.
Of the small group of onlookers, you manage to pull a few inside and leave their fates to Marjorie. Some dissipate, and some are clearly just there to listen to you and Lohen. It’s your own fault too, you can’t scold a prominent figure of the town without catching a handful of eyes.
“—so please come look, you can’t get it anywhere else,” you finish. The couple of people who slipped inside during your speech, you picked the longest version to make Lohen suffer along with you to no avail, come out a few moments later with bags in hand. Marjorie must have done a number on them.
The rest of the onlookers slowly dissipate as a bard sets up further down square. Thank Barbatos. Lohen doesn’t move, continuing to watch you. His smile has smoothed out now, leaving behind a strange mix between neutrality and satisfaction.
“Happy?” you recross your arms now that there isn’t a crowd. “Like I said, nothing new.”
“Maybe so, but my presence brought more business! How kind of me.”
“You—!” the rest of the unwelcome butterflies die in your chest. You look around to make sure there are no eye witnesses before grabbing him by the hair and dragging him inside the shop. The door opens with a soft jingle. His hair is unfairly soft beneath your fingers.
Lohen doesn’t have the good graces to pretend to be hurt after being dragged by his hair. In fact, he laughs. It’s an amused thing with not an ounce of malice behind it. His eyes sparkle with mirth as he straightens up to smile at you. He doesn’t move to remove your hand from where it must be gripping painfully against his scalp.
Marjorie isn’t in the main room, probably gone to the back to take inventory or a break, meaning you aren’t worried about her telling you off for how you’re treating one of the knights. Bad for business and all that.
You shake him a little, venting your frustrations with him in the movement. Lohen’s smile only grows. It would be better if it was a mean smile or at least one that promised retaliation. No, he’s smiling at you like you’ve said something sweet to him. It is only his mouth that smiles.
Scoffing, you let go of him. Nothing gets through his head. He catches your wrist before you can step away fully. You want to be uneasy, but something like warmth sparks up your arm at the contact.
“Let go or I’ll slap you,” you pull slightly. You aren’t sure if you mean it, but it would be satisfying. You meant your words more strongly a few weeks ago.
Lohen laughs again. “Go ahead, I don’t mind.”
What a freak. He always seems to want you to hit him, rough him up in some sort of way. You don’t get it. It’s like he’s begging for it. He comes and pesters you to hell and back, sets up little tricks and trips you when you’re walking, and then he turns around and all but taps his cheek and tells you to give it your all.
He’s confusing and unnerving. He doesn’t let go of you yet, adjusting his hand to have a firmer hold on you. “Missed me, right?” Lohen asks, giving you a slight tug.
Miss him? He’s joking.
You stare at him. It’s so hard, nigh impossible, to read his expression. You don’t know what it is he wants.
“As if,” you scoff. “There was no one bothering me for three days straight. Was. Get lost.”
“Hey now, I’m a paying customer. I want a souvenir from the best shop in the city,” Lohen looks around with exaggerated curiosity. Irritation coils low in your stomach. It’s directed at him primarily, but you’re also irritated with yourself. His hand on you is nice, the butterflies you have been trying to kill for awhile now continue to beat their wings up against your ribcage.
You can’t like him. For starters, this is one of the vice captains of the knights. More importantly, this is Lohen. Reckless, frustrating, unsettling, and intense Lohen. No way.
“Shop is closing for lunch, now you’re trespassing,” you try to pull your hand away again. His grip only tightens.
“That’s not nice,” he chides you. “I came all this way to see you.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” you say, “besides, you have to walk past the shop to get to headquarters, it’s not like I’m out of your way.” Your words end on a strangely bitter note that should not have been there. Fantastic. Now you’re double annoyed with yourself.
Lohen watches you for a painfully long moment, eyes locked on you. It feels like he’s dissecting you and then playing with your guts. You want to snap at him, shove him away and out the door for disturbing the peace, but his stare pins you in place.
“Huh,” he smiles again, gaze drifting to the side. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. He sounds like he’s figured you out and then some. You aren’t sure if what you’re feeling is humiliation or discomfort. Whatever it is, it’s sticking to your skin. You try to pull your wrist from him again.
This time, he lets go. The sudden loss of contact sends you stumbling back a step with momentum. “Alright, alright,” Lohen raises his hands in surrender. “I’m going, geez. Talk about bad for business.”
He doesn’t let you respond. Lohen gives you a lazy grin that promises to see you later over his shoulder as he pushes the door open. The bell jingles behind him and then he’s mercifully gone, leaving you alone again in the quiet to deal with your thoughts.
His amused ‘huh’ bounces around in your brain on a loop. You clench your fist as you watch him slip down the street and further into the bustle of Mondstadt. You hate him. Hate is the singular feeling you have for him. That’s what you tell yourself anyway.
You look down at the sleeve he was holding. Warmth lingers on your skin. The shock of orange and red tucked into your sleeve gives you a pause. Your breath stops, mind reeling. He tucked a flower into your sleeve. You hadn’t felt it. Did he do it just as he let go? You can’t remember how he had released you, focused in the moment on staying upright after he intentionally meant to make you lose your balance.
You pluck it carefully from your sleeve, settling it on your hand so you can look at it. In your palm is a windwheel aster. The orange petals are cool and light on your skin, the green stem neatly severed when it was pulled.
He cut it with the intention to give it to someone, and then he put it in your sleeve, you think distantly. The butterflies in your chest try to surge forth to get the nectar in the flower. Yes, you think as your heart climbs your throat, you are going to kill him the next time that you see him.