Work Text:
“So, that’s it?”
Lumine had been staring at the glass ceiling of her room in Sumeru for so long the sun had fallen and the city lights had dimmed. She could make out a few stars through the branches of the Divine Tree. Paimon had long since passed out next to her, snoring away idly without a care in the world. The Traveler herself was far from such contentment.
She shouldn’t be. Another adversary in the grave, one less headache to have to keep in mind on her journey. One less…
She sighed in frustration and carefully extracted herself from the pixie’s loose grip and slipped out into the night with her smaller satchel in tow. She carefully shut and locked the door before making her way to the teleport point near Lambad’s. A rush of familiar energy, a thought, and she was at Windrise.
The summer heat wasn’t nearly as oppressive high in the branches of the great tree. The full canopy of Teyvat’s stars twinkled overhead. Lumine had seen countless skies in her travels, with and without stars, but there was something distinctly vivid about Teyvat’s. Whether it was just a side effect of it being a projection or not, it was one of the most brilliant skies Lumine had ever seen in her long life.
The city of Mondstadt illuminated the skyline, and something sweet was passing in the wind. Speaking of which, a very forceful gust blasted her in the face before swirling all over her body. Lumine giggled as the wind continued to envelop her in the closest approximation of a hug as the wind could give.
“Good evening Venti. Mind keeping eyes off me for the night? I… have some things I need to think about in peace. I’ll make sure to treat you to a drink and the story sometime soon at Angel’s Share.”
The warm breeze caressed her cheek before rushing off. At least one god knew about boundaries.
Normally Lumine wouldn’t mind the dendro archon taking a peak at her mind, in fact the young goddess was often an excellent partner when she needed someone to work through her thoughts. But it didn’t take a genius to see that this was a topic Nahida herself would not be open to discussing. For such a benevolent god, she had a shocking lack of empathy, or even attempted understanding for one individual in particular, which had served as Lumine’s central point of suspicion when she had started to investigate Dottore’s past.
Lumine carefully extracted some of her most volatile cargo from her satchel. Three chunks of deep blue resin, cool to the touch yet brimming with vibrant energy. It reminded her of knowledge capsules, but clearly much more unstable and probably risky to try and absorb the data from. But they were all Lumine had managed to find in the ruins of Irminsul and she had barely managed to stash them away quickly enough before someone saw her. Also inside the satchel were a series of carefully preserved documents and journal entries, alongside a small book containing Lumine’s own notes about the shocking amount of information left scattered over Teyvat by the heretical genius.
The outcast scholar was crazy, borderline psychopathic, and at least the segment Lumine had come into contact with the most had more than earned his fate. She had no reservations about that. However, there was something painfully human buried in the clinical observations and intentions behind his terrible actions that spoke to her before she even pieced together the subject of the lost notes and transcriptions.
Zandik. Allegedly, driven from his village at a young age before joining the Akademiya. Continued to research and experiment with topics viewed as taboo and forbidden in the wake of the Cataclysm and the role Khaenriah’s technology played in it. A kid, born in the wrong place at the wrong time for people to appreciate and encourage his passions and genius in a better direction.
“To think Irminsul was destroyed because a student wanted to reverse engineer Ruin Guards,” Lumine remarked to herself as she rolled the marrows in her hands. Carefully probing at the slightly squishy things with both her fingers and her abilities. Teasing a connection with it. The largest marrow of the three glowed a deep blue and eagerly jumped at the small tendril Lumine had extended to it, causing the starfarer to smile.
“Eager to share aren’t you?”
She continued to tease the marrows, encouraging them to chase the light with their own little energy tendrils. Unlike the Knowledge Capsules she had interacted with in the past that were clearly vessels of information alone, these things acted like they were alive. They heated in her palms and adhered to her skin. They made coordinated efforts to tackle the little rope of light that Lumine kept just out of reach.
So reminiscent of their… creator? At least in their desire to impart as much knowledge as possible if there were listening ears around. No matter if the ears were receptive or not.
Lumine would never tell, but the title of “Traveler” was a rather ironic translation of her true name. A moniker that could be more closely attributed to her brother. She had flipped through a few dictionaries in the House of Daena out of curiosity one afternoon and the closest Lumine could find to her own was “Chronicler”. When they were together, it was often her brother who would go around trying to help others and accepting requests to fulfill while they were exploring. On the other hand, Lumine would work her way to wherever the people gathered. Taverns, campfires, libraries, stages, parties, wherever there were stories to be told Lumine would be there. And then she would seek our ruins, abandoned towns and civilizations, wrecks of every kind imaginable when she accompanied her brother on his quests and treasure-hunting ventures. Every book, scroll, tome, record or piece of paper she could her hands on would either be
If Lumine wasn’t committed to playing her cards close to her chest until she recovered her full abilities and had the complete picture of Teyvat’s circumstances, she would have loved to stay at that table. True to his name, Dottore had so many unorthodox theories about reality and fate in Teyvat. She would have probably held him hostage in that memory and picked his brain for weeks about his ideas and inferences from her notes and transcriptions she had gathered from all over the continent.
Now, these little stones were all that was left of him. And Lumine didn’t know why that thought weighed so heavily on her.
She held the resins close to her chest and breathed deeply before finally allowing herself to connect with them. Unlike the cold, structured information of regular knowledge capsules, she was assaulted by a vortex of fragmented memories and emotions.
“To suffer for family is the truest act of love.”
Are we family?
“KILL HIM KILL HIM BURN HIM”
But I didn’t do anything.
“Such heretical nonsense will not be tolerated within these sacred walls!”
Then why are we here if not to uncover
and explore the foundations of this world?
“Do not even think about questioning me further, boy.”
“For the picnic this evening, do you have a preference for spicy or sweet?”
MURDERER
C̵U̴R̵S̸E̷D̸ ̷C̶H̵I̴L̴D̷
M̸̫̏O̵͇̘̕N̷͚͉͘S̵̻͚̀T̴̠̉̔E̴̛͙͆Ṛ̸͎͒
I̷̪̺̳͈̓ ̶̢̖̳̥̺̉̋̿̃D̸̻͍̥̟͎͌́̈́̄I̴̱̔̊̑̀͗͜͜D̸̢̯̊̃̋͘N̶̛͍̬̪̬̄ͅ’̷͈͋͌͒̀͑̉T̷̥̩̦̹̩̈́̀̃̈͒ ̷̱̄͌D̵͇̈͛͜͝͝Ǫ̵̡̫̯̐̓̈̀͝͠ ̴̧̟̟̈̆͜Ȋ̸͈̳̗͋T̵͙̬̹̽̅͂͜͠ͅ
Ẇ̸̡͉͇͖̟̓̾̃̐́̏͝H̴͚̙̀͆͑͊͋̀͛̀͋̚͜Ỹ̸̻̙̓͗́̈́͗̄̒̑ ̷͖̪͕̜̘͉̪̪̋̿͌̑Ḑ̶̤̝̲̦̋̾͋̌́̈́͝O̵̱̭͑͆̎ ̴̡͔͙͕̪̪̪͈͖̊̋͗͋̏̋̔̚͘Y̸̱̺͙̾̐̉͗̚O̵̥̗̯͗̿́̽̆͐͌̏U̸̢̠̝̮̤̤̝̞̙̎̽͂͗͠͠ ̴̧̧̼͉͙̹̝̗͆͗C̶̹̘͋̌̋̚͝H̸̨̖̻̼̭͖̯̠̬̬͛̀̑́̑̃Ò̷̢̩͍̣̜̫Ō̸̧̲̥͈͙̯̘͚̱̄̌͌̾͐̓̕͝͠Ș̵̖̼̯̱͊̅͐͊͊͂̍͠Ë̸͔̫̞̙͕̤͉́̔̇̇͝͠͝ ̸̡̳̉̇͋̕T̴̞͌̌͌͠O̴̞͈͙͓͇͂̊́͋̽͝ ̵̡̯̯͇͖͈̔́͐͘B̴͙̬͚̠̤͇̊̆́̐̂Ơ̴̜̼̺͓̺̮͈͗̋͋̔̒͛͗̕̕W̸̜̻̉̎͑͛͝ ̶̫̮̟͈̩̄ͅÝ̵̛̻̤̊͊͊̇̈́͐̕͜͝Ő̷͖̫̞̪̹̖̠̞̐̿̔͝ͅU̵̡̹͎̻̹̟̇͒̕̚R̷̡̢͎̈́̆͊͛̕͠ ̶̱̠̰̱͊͋̑̉́̃̇̾ͅḪ̸̢͕̠̞̮̥͈̘͇̉̉́̈́̔́̃̋E̶̛̠̘͍̫̎̒̎́́͂̚͝͝A̴̟̲̤̤̰͆̽͜D̵̘̻͇͙͂S̷͚͎̬̩̭͐͂̋̓̃ ̸͉̃̿̀͐́̾̕͝Ȉ̷̢̛͉̳̬̜̓̍̾̓̐̍̄̕N̸̦̦̥̟̭̖̺̺͎̋̀̅̅̃̔̕ͅ ̷̟̜̙͉̰̌͑̀͗̚ͅÌ̵̢̲̳̻̙̤̪͓̠̽̓̆Ṋ̷̆͊͂̑̀͜͝G̵̜͙̳̓Ơ̴̜̳̬̞͎̈̓͂̌̽͗̕͠R̶̡̛͈͉̳̞̼̃͊͊̂͑̂̌͐Ȧ̸̰̯̬̤̤͙́͘͘͝N̸͎̰̖͈̈̄̀̓̋́̕Ç̶̫̩̼͈̞͎̩̹̏͋͊̂̃͋͘̕͘E̴̟͚̅̍́̅̇̀͝͝
T̵̛͍̪̰͌̀̔̅̈̑̔͊̎́̃͗͗̾̑͋̄̈́͘͝H̴̨̨̪̬̣̐̀̄̇͛Ḛ̸̡̲̜̣̹̞̜̥͎̳̘̙̹̗͙̖̙̗̯̻̰̮̏̽͐̅̽̈́̈̑͐̿̌̊͊̋̉͌̈́̏͜͝͝͝ ̷͔̝͙̞͙̘͇͋Ş̴̢̛̜̟̺͈̜͍̘̭͖̫̃̄̈́̇̈̂̀̈́̑͌̈̓̀̚Ç̸̛̛̺̙̻̥̻̯͔͈̫̗͖̠̥͖͙̱͖̫̰̺̗͇̬̣̎̍̇͊͗̎̒͋̽̊̈͗̾͌̌̋̚̕̕͘͘͠H̷̢̡̛͕̦͍͍̤͇̦͙̥̱̜͓͍̰̤̼͕̄̒̎̾̀̕̕̚Ǫ̶̛̫̹̱̦͕̱̖̰̼̗͓̦̩̝͋̇̽̈̑̆̎̏̏͑̚͜͜͠L̴̡̝͎̪͙̐́̀͊̇̒̏̓̋̀̉̌̓̆̾̾̀̊͌̉̚͘͝͠͠ͅA̵͉͔̼̣͖̾͗̾̍͋̾̋͐̇̎̾̒́̀͑̑̈́́͋̚͜͠͝͝͝ͅR̴̖͍̤̟̺̬̹̹͕̹̄̍̔̿͒̀͒̏̄͛̎̾̉͊̓̅͋̀̏̈́̿͘̕͘͝S̶̢̛̛͚̭̥̮̪̳͉͉̺̝͓̥̅̊́͑̎̾̑̆̌̌̏̉͘̕ͅ ̸̨̧̛͓̩̤̳͕̳̱̲̥̤̞̣͈͖̝̣̻̟͕́̎̈́̽́̚͝A̷̭̗̲̣̲͗̍̈́̆͆̇͑͐͗̒̅̈́̈͆́͌͑̂̐̂͘͜͝N̸̢̡̧̡̧̮̤͔̲̲͉̜͖͕̻̜̋̾͑͒̍͒͋̃̌Ḋ̸̡̧̢̢̘̯͙̱͙̯̰̘͎̗̤̞̥̾͝͠ͅ ̵̺͍͋͆́̅̀̒́͐̊̇͠͝͝Ǵ̷̨̧̢͓͙̼̱̖̬͕̬͔̩̠̰́̊̂̽̋̾̎͒͐̈́̒̾̇̕͠͝Ơ̷̢̢̡̙̼̰̫̫͙̹̙͓̼̩̺͈͚̤͍̼͙̝̫͂̾̋̍͑̑̽͝ͅD̶̮̥̫͈͉͚̠̥̖̭̮̥̻͎̤͋̀̑͗͑̇͋͋̽̀͑̀͌̐̿͘ͅS̷̢̆̊̾̌̃̓̄͒͆̇̃͘̕͘͝ ̶̡̝͇̜̱̖̦̩̬̫̤͖̰͊̋̌̀A̵̬͊̾̄̚Ȑ̸̼͂̂̓̈E̸̢̡̢͖̫͓̦͈͈͚̮̹͍̦̰̱͎̜͆͆̾̂̉̓͋̄́̈́̍͌̆̿̿̾̑̂͛̀̑̅̐̚ͅ ̴̖̳͖̳̉́̓̇̈́̕L̴̛̮̳̼̙̱͔̖̼͇͎̏̈̓̎͒͘͘͝Ȉ̶̢̡̢̤̬͖͚̰̮̬̞̯̥̪̱͔͖̘̘̇ͅĄ̷͔͕̘̟̹̞̤̬̪̙̬̱͕͍͓̜̃͊̈̐̕͠͠Ŗ̸̨̛͔̜̥͔̻̞̹̹̞̥̥̱̣̳̟̼̼̖̦͙̟̎̌̇̔͐̂̅͋͂̓̇̈́̂̓̚͜͠͝S̸̯̺͍̦̱̮̹̳̮͔̓̓͑̉
T̸̨̡͖̲̪̝͕͉͓̝̮̗͇̻͓̙̺͚̫̙̬̪̓̉͛̄̀̄͆̄̅̏̈̾̋̏̽͝H̴̡̻͓͕̮̫̹̰̬̰̲̲̭̆E̷̢̯̹̪̩̜̟̪͉͓͇̲̭̟͓͇͕͗̈́͜ ̸̧̢̢̳̭̻̖̳̝͙̲̹̳̝̭̹̻͍́̏̾̃̐̑͆͒̅́̀P̶̛̻̰̾̈́̍̋̌̇̔̍͑́̕̚͝͠ͅŖ̶̭̣̳̲̦̝̠̙͖͙̻̘̙̜̼͇̈́̚ͅÎ̴̼̞̰͓̘̠̬̫͙̝̬̱̱̜̗̬͖̯́̇̿̓̐̋͜͝Ń̷̨̪̬̺͖͉̰̤͓͇͓̈́͆͑̿̅̓̌̂̃̽́͛͒̿͐̏̏́̀̕͝͠͠C̸̢̛̛͇͚̗̟̺͓̙͌̔̿̏̈́́̓̈́́̾̊̀̊͗̌̊̊͛́̚͜͝͠I̷̢̢͈̩͓͎̟̝̺̿̾̈́̀̿̃̿́̀́̈́̾͊̔͐͑̅͋̚P̶͎̖͆̐̏̿̑͑̓̾̆́̑̕L̶̢͉͍̱͍̬̯͍͔̯͉̘͒̈́͛̍͘Ę̴̧͈̰͔͉̰̥̰̬̞͓̹͇̼͚̃̇̀̓̓̽͛̈́͆͂̽̏̀̈́̕S̵̨̛͇͇͓͉̗͚̘͕͑̈́̾̒̉̅̒͒̑̾̄̾͐̄̎͘ ̸̨̙̙̬͍̙̭͍̝͎͈̮̣̜̈́̏̋̏̑̀̓͗̔͐̄̌̈́̾̊̚̕͝͠͝͝͠ͅǪ̸̺̬̤̜̝̭̙͇̘̎̈́͐̌̚͝͠͠F̶̧̛̛͓͚̲̲̖͇̣͕̦͎̦͚̗̙̝̳͚̀͌̑̔̔͆̃̋̄͐̍͛̅͐͛́͐͘̚ ̸̡̢̹͚̰̝̻͇̞̗͓̺̙̣̜̼͈̩͊́͐̓̐̈͛͗͋́̔̚ͅT̵̡͇̮̦͍̞͕͍͔͔̏̌̅̆̎́̄̾̍̓͝͠ͅͅḨ̶͍̰̺̻̙͓̲͎̖͍̩̞̞͙̽͜ͅÍ̴̬̳͉͉̺̪͓̝̯̝̲̣̟̖͇͖̫̮̤̫͖̬̓̊̆́̈́̽̌̂̆Ş̴̧̡̛̭͍̻͔̠͉̗̲̱̜͎̠̾̆͐̔̈́̆́͑̚͘͜ͅ ̶̨̼̞̥̖͈͉͖̻̳̪̹̱̮͚̌͂͑̆̄W̵̡̛̥̞͓̻̦̬̟̩̿̅̾̐͂̆̉̍͝͝ͅǑ̸̧̢͓͇̩̞̮̜̣̫͉̜̪̹̦͍͙̿̈́̅͋̔̎͋̑͆̕͝R̷̡̛̺̝͖͎̩̙̞̟̝̟͈͙̙͙̹͈͌̀̊̇͌̾̍̾͌̚͠͠͝Ĺ̴̠̺͍̬͔͑̉̆̉͠D̷̛͕̲̮̺̺̪̰̝͚̊̍͊̈̈́̊̽̈́̈́͊͂̍͂̏͛̐̿̀̚͝͝ ̸̥̘̮̱̥͙̘͎͈̗̐̂͂̇̔̕ͅS̵̡̢̡̛͈͖͉̦̗̹͓͈͙̣̳͙̣͉̮̻͚̃̎͆̃͒̇͗̆̇̌͗̍̽̇͌̾͆̕̕͘͝E̷̡̢̤͉̪͔̜̮͍̹̣̼͈͈̓̚Ë̴̢̱̳͇̘͎̣̪͇̦͖̎͐̊͊͑̍́̀͆̓̑̉̋͆̈̅̅̕͠ͅĶ̴̢̨̥̖̩̱̜̫͕̳̟̪̮̟̪͇̘̻̅̍̊͋͑̈́̀̒͒̔̄̊͆̈̚͠͠ ̷̢͎͍̝̳̥̩̼̪̙̝͉̤̜̞̜̟̦̒̓͊͊̀͗̒̀̋̀͋͠͝͝ͅƠ̶̡̘͕͔̪̬͓̭̲͚̯̪͖̭̼̞͔̻̍̒̄̓̐͛͑̽̀͐̾͛͊͒̄͘͜͠͝N̵̡̢̧̧̡̨̬͖̩̩͍̠̦̘͓͕͓̠͉̻̮͖͛̓̐̏̀͂̉̾͛̊̒̒͜͠L̷̨͕̯̖̺̙̘̏͑̄̌̇́̓̅͆̓̉͛͌̈́͊̎̍̓̒̕͝͝Y̴̧̭̠͔̝̲̗̖̗͔̲̙̲̍̿̑̑̈̓̎̅͘̕͘͜ͅ ̴̨̢̩̲̜͚͙̦̳͈͙̭͖̳͛́́̄̍̈́̒͂̈͒͛͜T̵̨̛̯̲͉̺̯̻̫̰̝̐͂͛͋̔̇͗͛̾̈́͌̽̿̅̽̈́̚͝͝Ŏ̶̢̧̢͖̠̲͖͉̲͉̙͚͓̥̩͍̫̭̫ͅ ̴̢̝̞̟̳͉͔̯͚͖͈̙̟̬͍̎̾͋̕ͅŞ̴̨̩̎̀͒̅̓̅͐̈́̚͠H̴̗̓́͛Ā̶̛̫̲̦̯̱͎̙̫̫̗̥͎̀̈́̎̀̈̇̕C̵͕̪̕͜Ķ̸̨̛̛͉̭̫̥̥̹͉̠̗͕̯̜̜̫̖̞͕̥̻̘͂̃̏̓̈́͑̆͛̀͒̇̾̚L̶̢̨̼̜͔̭̤̰̓͒͘E̴̢̡͚̣̤͊ ̵̨̙̳̼̻̦̱̺̯͈̂̈͊́́̀̏̉̀́͆͘͘͘̕U̶̧̡̧̖̮͓̥͎͔̅̑͒̓̐͒̿͛̀͆̌́̀̓̽͋́̀̈́̀̓̕͘͘S̷̡̨̪͚̹̙̟̜̻̏̊̏̆̀̉́̌̕͝
Ḑ̸̛̣̗̹̭̝̜̼̘̜̰̲̪͖̣̈́̊́̌̏ͅͅǪ̸̨̖̥͍̲̖̪̜̱̣̞͚̻͈̙̟̟̩̠̪̩̭̩͍̼͔͙̥̤̻͇̦͖̪̜̹̜͎͇̿̊̏̿́̔̂̋̒̄̂͂͜͝ͅ ̵̢̡̧̯̖̗͓̹͖͇͙͎̲̫͖͉̭͇̖̰͓̗̖̪̏͑̈́̂̃͛̄͑̾̿̓̐̏̓͆̒̉̉̿̑̋̂̂́͘͝Ĩ̷̡̧͍̪͖̖̥͖̘̣̣̤͇̘̥͖̮̠͚̼̺̼̦̪̼̰̜̦͛̊͑̈̽̉̐̈́́̆̍͊̈͂̀̃͊͗͋͒̓̾̎̏̀́̇̕͘̕̚͘͜͜͝͝ ̷̧̧̨̣͍̮͍͉͖̜̣͓̤͖̘̼̩̟̭̞͎̺̪̺͖̜̖̈̆̃͆͊̀͒̉͜L̸̫̹͗̋̄̽̄̾̾̈́̽̌̈́̈̋͆̈́̐̀̆̉̆͌̾̐̈̈́̕̕͝I̴̢̢̢͉̭̬͈̼͖̦̮̲̭̹͚͔̘̮̲͚͎̞̫͒̆̓̈̀͜͝͠ͅṼ̷̢̨̛̛̭̟̺̲̞̟̯̲̥̩͇͍̜̭͍̯͕͔̻͖̙͙̩̯̠̻̰̹͕̫̰̑̔̈́͋͒̂͂͋̾͛̏̆̆̉̍͆́̀̉̑͋̈́̐̽̍̏̊̈́̂̓̚̚̕͜͝͝͝ͅͅȨ̶̛͕̣̬͎͉̱̝̹̫̮̬̥͍̦͔͖̝͖̹͈̟̦̫̊̽̈̈́̈́̏̋́̈́͐́̅̿̔̕ͅͅͅ ̴̢̭̠͚̤̱̣̹̾͛̍̈́̌͊̀̏́̒̐̏̆̑̑̏̔̈́͘͝͠͝ͅƠ̶̡̡̛̬̻͙̞̦̜̙͂̓̑̓͋̽͑̈́̂͆̌͑̓̉̈͘͘Ņ̷̧̯͉̟͍̬͓̭͍̭̠̳̭̬̭̼̰͇͚̼̲̖͖͌̏͑̏̒̾̈́̾̀̓̚͠L̵̺̝̥̼͈̣͋͑̎̓̍̈́̐̈́̐̆̓͌̌̋̇̽̉͒̄́͝͝͝Y̶̡̛͙͔̟̘͔͓͕̣̖̜̻̱͂̓̉̅̋́͗̽͊̆̔̎̀̓͌̿̈́̓̃̎̏́̋͋͋̌̃͗̅͂͘̚͝͝͝͝ ̷̛̩̙̜̀͒̔͋̒̊̔̽̾̂̍́̎̃̀̓̓̔̃̒̆̀̔̃̐̄̈̂̐̑̆͐̍̃̚̚͝͠͝͝Ţ̵̨̨̖͙̮̩̬͙̦͕̣͈̤̱̰̼͍̯̪̭͉̥͔͎͎̭̟͎͕̾͐̄͊̍͒̿͛̈̊̀̏͋̎̒͐̌̋̀́̅̒͋̌͛͊̌́̃̀̔̍͊̈͜͠͝Ơ̷͔͕̓͊͛͛́́̏͋̍̓̿̃͐͆̀̈́́̾͗͐͆͂͒̿̓̈͑̋̈̊́̂̕̚͘͝͝ ̸̧̨̨̨̛̱̰̪̝̜̩̭̯̥̺̭̻̹̹̟͙̗̝̬͓͉̱͉̫̺͕̗̈̒̾́̉̉̋̄͊̄̂͆͑͐̂͜ͅͅͅB̷̳̩̏È̴̬̞̱͇̣̖̻̫̼̤̼̾̊̓̈́̋̽̈́̃̔̀̀̄͑̃̈̔̌̾͗̌̈́͛́̓̅̂͘̚̚͘͜͝͝ ̶̡̧̧̻͉̖̯̗̹̯̪̭̹̘̼̳̪̺̦̠̟̣͈̠̖̈́̈́̐̌̃̿̐͐́̓͊̊̂̀̂̊̈̋͗͂̆͒̃̐̈́̌̊̀͘̕͘̕͘̚͠ͅͅƠ̸̧̟̮̞̞̺̘̅̀̿́̔̔͘͘Ȗ̴͓͖̘̳̹̼͚̻͖̲͔͔͚̝͇̫̄̈́͊̽̂͂̾̓͊̀̇̄̀̍̓̉̈́͋̌͑̅̈́̒͐͂͆̎̿̀͘̕͘͘̕͜͝͝Ţ̶̛͕̯̩̙͖͍̦̻͗̿̎͗́̑̓̓͊́̏̄͂̿͗̓̾̌͂̄͊̄̅͂̿̆́̀̓̎̈̊̈́̓͌͝͠C̵̢̨̧͔̰͔̞̤̺͔̺̤͔̦̪̏̈́̓͒́̀́̂̄̍̊̐͆́͊̒̈́͐͗̋̅͗͌͋̍̈́̆̌̈́͋̃̇̎̕͘͘͜͝͝͝À̷̧̡̧͙̖̣̣̦̞̭͙̗͉̙̦͈͎͔̥͔̼̥̱́͑̍S̵̨̨̨̢̨̞̳̲̮͈̩̰̯͍͇͕͙͎̗̫̦̥̜͍̞͙̥̻̳̳̞͉͖̺̱͍̬̉̅̃̀̃̓̑̈́͌̓͋̓͘͘͠͝ͅT̸̨̡̨̧̧̧̲͕̫̣̳̤̜̯͓̞̮̮̰̥̻̞̝͍͇̲͙̠͓̖͎̲̰̻͚͇͎̜̖̈͌̈́̀͊̂͘͜ͅ
“A toast then, to the anniversary of our lucrative partnership.”
I swear if that’s another pack of cigarettes,
I’m going to make this man rue the day I spared him
“Is that all I am to you? Another careful investment? How pragmatic of you, banker.”
“I, no longer wish to participate in your experiments, Dottore.”
Ỳ̸͍͓ó̸̧̘̩̎ú̶̘̼̀ ̶͈̖͌͗͒ţ̷̘̙̒͋͊ẇ̵̡̝͕͐ȯ̸̺ ̷̢̙̭̂͋ș̴̃̈́̓ḭ̴͍̼͂s̷̭̯̩̉́t̷͚͊e̶̖͐͝r̴̤̣̼̈́̊?̴̫̖̣̾̅̔ ̸̯͚͂̏̓A̴̢̛̗̠̚ń̸͉d̸̲̽͜ ̶̦͕̮͐̃I̵̫̝̙͠ ̵̲̤͕̈́̐t̶͕̖̹͂͠ḧ̵̨͔ö̸̯̫̼̈́̾u̴͈̐ǵ̷̢̺͙̿ẖ̶̡͐̿͝t̵͙͚̤́͂̈́ ̸̥̌w̷̧͙̭̎ḛ̶̽ ̷͍̥̾͂c̷̣͈̅ô̶̫̙̑u̶̖͉͝l̶̛̲͚̈́̍d̶̨̟͌̓͑ ̶͉̍͠b̷̡̭̥͒̚e̵̟͛̈́͜͝ ̴̟̻̞͛̊p̵͓̯̔̓a̸̦̬͚͒͌͝r̵̦̈́̑̾ĩ̸̥̂a̵̦͐̍h̵͈̏̊͆’̶̡̱̌s̷̤͈̲͊̀́ ̷̗̞͓̌t̵͉͙̓͠o̶̬̊ġ̶̬͠͠ė̸̡̨͇t̶͓͛h̷̖́ĕ̸̜r̶̻̹͋.̶̸̨̺͇̳̤͛̈“
“Have you… considered the incidental damages that your complete and total death will cause?”
You no longer need me Feofan, if you ever did at all.
“I’ve already formulated you an antidepressant derived from your lab results over the past few centuries”
“Goodbye. We will never meet again.”
“Farewell, Lord Kusanali.”
I̶̢̥̫̣̦̾̌́̀̕n̵̙̬̗̿̈́̓̓̀̏ ̶̞̯̙̈́̕a̷̛̛͖̱͖̙̹̅̈́̌͌n̶̻̒͆̈́o̶̘̻̓͌͑̽t̵̡̹̗̰͖̰͈̓h̶̘̄ẹ̴̄͌͘͝r̷̺̦͚̐ ̶̣̩͔̔̓ͅḽ̸̬͊i̷̖͉͚͇̩͆̐͐̐͜f̸̨̤͆̎̎ĕ̴̛̿ͅ,̷̗̯̠̱̈́̃͗͆̓ ̵̳̖̉̊̆ẃ̵̝̲̏̂̃o̵͉͎̿̑̚͝u̷̮͕͖͖̓̕͜ͅḻ̵̲͈͉̳̤͋̈́̑͋͘͝d̴̡̛͙̤̞͍̻̔́̃̈͘͠ ̶͇̹̩́ỷ̴͍̎͒̔o̵̯͎̒̀͠ȕ̵̢̠͉̣̟̏ ̷̡̠̯͈͖̖̐̾̎͂̄h̶̋̅̐̋̃̾͜͝ā̵̠͎v̶̢͈̜̟͕̇̔̿͘ē̵̫̺ ̵̦̈̃́̆s̴͕̝͌̈ē̷̻̋̚é̷̢ń̸̬̝̠̟̜̝͐ ̴̟̦̞͓̜͔͉̑̋͒Z̵̧̛͖̰͉͚̫͍̓̾̋́͋̅à̵͙͇n̶͙̲͈̭̳̉͐̋̓́̃d̷͖̺̤̬͗̈́́́i̴̯͚̞̐̈́́͝k̵͇̦̼̹͙̎̀̄̀̉̐̎?̴̠͚͚̀
Lumine let out a piercing wail and keeled over, scrambling blindly to keep herself from falling out of the tree. Her vision was a kaleidoscope of blinding color, broken images and figures that she had no hope of processing. Panic, sadness, longing, hatred s̸̻̓͌̉̿o̶̥͝ ̸̰̼̜͖͎̒͛͗̓͝m̴͉̠̚u̶̼̙̣̹͚͐́̀̓͠c̴̛͙͕̯̆ͅͅh̶̖͔̙͙͒̔̅͜ ̸̡͍̳̥̑ḫ̷̥̒̎́̿ȁ̷̹̜̓̾͋t̸̹̖̋̔ṙ̴̳͖e̵͖͂̅̀͌d̶̙̆͛̐, contempt, she couldn’t tell what what hers and what was ẖ̶͔̣̍i̷̧̠̜͈͙͠s̸̢̬̲̙̽̄̋. They invaded every corner of her mind, drowning and merging with heŕ̷̞̻̰̀̏̽͠s̶̛̲͍̿́,̶̢͖͖͑͆̋͊͝ ̸̨̾̽̿͌͋ẗ̷͓̙͍̭́ẖ̷̱͛̄͐̆e̸̤̍̏̊̅i̷̧͎̍̈ř̸̟̪͙̬̺̎s̴̝̋̽͜ ̵̢̢̛̃̇,̷͖̞̯̀̈́ ̸̨̫̖̊̽̆͑͝h̸͔̪̩̻͖̀͐̕ḭ̸̰̗̄̀̉͂s̷̰̙̟̒̑̃̿̓. Her skul̷̩̰͑̎͘l̷̻̙͂͋͋̀͆ ̵͇̙͍̩̩͆̉̎̉f̵̗̜̄̑̎͜é̶̢̬̯̜̆̆l̵̛̖̗͒͗͐̕ṯ̴̯́̈́̉͋͠ ̷̣̪̈́̆ͅl̸̤͓̫̱̽̅̋̚͠i̵͕̻͕̘̊̕k̷̲̋̀́ē̷͚̌ ̷̛̣̃̽̑̚i̵̲̻̎͂̆t̶̪̮̺͌͛͛ ̵̧̊̍̊͊̕ẉ̵̰̉͜͜͠a̴̩͋̆ṣ̶̨̃̽ ̷̖͖̣̀͛̒̋ȁ̸̞̃̓̂b̴̠͉̈o̴͔͔͔͆̉ut to split down the middle.
The cries the screams the promises the lies the betrayal the indifference the hurt its too much too much too much too much too muč̷̮̱̹̼͓̾̂͒̕h̶̩͇͍̏͌͋̃͠t̵̢̺͚́͒́̚ỏ̵̝̘̊͊͜ͅó̴̬̮́́m̷̡̆̃͂̇͝ů̶̈́̋̐͜͠c̶̡͚̰͐̄ȟ̵̼͎͚t̴̻͓̠́̎́̚ǒ̵̢̻̠̭͔̍͂ŏ̵̧͙̟̙͒̃͘m̸̡͚͈͕̳̿̊̾͘ų̸̛͔̠̈́c̶̢͓̼̒͋̓̇̑h̵̥̄̓̐͊̒t̷̢̫̭̖̻̓̍͊̐̂o̵̤̊ơ̵̝̐ḿ̸̛͙̞̖̃̾ǘ̷̬̼̈́c̴̞̙͍̔̂h̷̤̺̭̗̪͛̉͝t̶̛͚̋̈́͠ṏ̶̧̭́́͐́o̵̲̟̪͐̄̽m̴̯̦̳͛ú̶̗̙̫̏ċ̴͓̹̑͂h̶̜͈͚̙͍͋̇̚t̴̨͚̺̭͆̓͊͘o̴̢͇̖̲͑ͅǫ̴͕̾͌̉͠m̶̞̖̲̓̅͛̽́u̸͙̣̳̺̓͗c̷̱͉͎̝̚h̶͍͔̓t̷͇̖̍̇ỏ̵͕̫̳̰̅͂o̵̳̞̩̙̍̀̃͠ͅm̶̫͔̃u̶͎̹͌c̷͓̏̈́̋̅h̷͖̤̰͒̈̃t̸͎̀̎o̵̢̢̢͓͎̾̌͌o̸̧̫̩̕m̸̥̩̱̿͗̆͝u̴̪̫̥̮̓̐͘c̷̼̯̖̭̻͒̇̈́͌h̶̪͙̙̲̖̄̊́͂͛t̸͉̍ͅo̷̹̟͌͗́̕͝ǫ̵̍͊̽m̷̲̗̘̰̘̂̔u̴̢̞͇̿͐́͆c̸̥̥̹͒͂͑͗͆ͅḩ̵̘̺̖̆t̷̤̄̈́͜ǫ̴̱̱̃ỏ̸͚͋̈́̏̿ͅ ̴͚̫̮͎͆͒̔͘m̷̖̱͐̕ǘ̷͓͍̔̆͂͝c̸̬̰͋̔̑̚h̸̩̺̙̬͑́̔ṯ̷̥͉̾̽ȏ̸͙̹̼͈̤̀̍̽o̴̬̥͇̖̎̎͌̇͠m̶̫͂ͅu̶̧̻̥͖̐̈́̄̇͆c̸͈̥͓̰̋́͗̐̕h̸͎͍̦̞̎́̚͝ẗ̶̛̺̀͂̒ͅö̴̠͔̗͔́͊̍̑̈o̶̧̼͌̋͛͋͆m̴̠̺͖̺̾͌̍̉̕u̸̱̦̮͆̓͗̕ĉ̶̡̧͎͖͋h̷̡͖͂͛t̶̡̫̚̕̚o̸̢͇͚̽̏͐ǫ̵͕̪̩̈́̂͋̓̕m̴̨̯͒̆̍̓̚u̴͕̙̟̲̗̅̽͆͛͠͠c̵͙̣̓ĥ̶͖̣̣̠͎͉͉̤̭̍̄̋̓t̷̛͓́o̴͇̍̈͂͛̅̀̍̈͑o̸̜̿̍̇͊̽̓m̵̲̃̋ũ̸̡̉̌̽c̷̡͙̖͙̖͚̀͋́͜͜h̸̢̤̲͓͙̖̠̄͒͆̽̍̂̏̚͝t̷̰̣̭̹̗͋̈́̂̇̀̽̕ͅǫ̶̝͍͍̻̈́͜͠ỏ̴̥̯̭̮̀̏̎̈́̾̀̕m̶͕͉̺͍̫̤̖͕̐͂̄̐̄̆͛ǘ̵̙̖̹̟̳͙͉̯͚́̇̓̾͊ć̷̨̩̺̜͔̬̰̎̎́h̵̬͈̼͕̽͑̇̔t̷̢̖͉̼͉̣̊́́o̶̧̎͗͆̒͠ò̷̯̏̐̚m̷̹̫̘͆̊̔̂̌͘͝ủ̶̯̜̠̈̿̍̈̿͝c̶̣̗̲̼̮̓̀͛h̴̫͓́͑t̷̺̱̬̘̪̼̥̋̐̀͜o̴̩̩̙̓͗͜o̸͎̳̗͈̝̎̍̏̏̓͆̍́̕m̶͍̱̥͕̺̬̈̐̈́͒̑̕ü̶̧̥̰͓͙̞̟̃͊̂̕͘͝cm̵̡̡̙͔͍͕̘͐́̋̊͒͒͋̔̀̋̀̈́̊̄̉͐͗̕͠͠͝u̷̢̥̖͇͙͎̦̼̥̹̝̬͎̘̲̣̲͉̬̾̉̀͂̑͛̄́̔͠c̴̢͎̞͇̻̩̝͎͎̲͈͔̦̠̳̗̠̭͚̲͂ͅh̸̨̡̨̨̛̛̲͖͖̭̖̹̦͙̦͙̳̬͇̯̜̫͛̓̍̇̉́̿̌̀̈̎̀͜͝͠͠t̸̨̡̲͉̖̜͉̦̩̰̙̂̾̈́̈́̑̀̓̃͛̍͂̀̌͜͝͠ó̴̪̬͙̤̼̜͚̫̣̳̈́̉̀ơ̵̤̻̹̥̮̂̉́͆̽̐̋̑͒̌̿̏̉̀͘̕͝͝͠m̵̡̙̼̰̞̮͍̥̪̜̝̟͉͉̤̺͈̰̅̎̀̉̍̏ͅǘ̶̧̙͈̫̠̞͇̱̗̥̼͍̃̈́́̕͜c̵̡̡̦̱̠̬̖͎̭̦̼͎͚̻̳͆͋̊̆́h̷͕̺̰̫̬̗̥̤͕̲̣͍̲̹̀̈́͂̔̈̀́͆̀̋͌̓́̒̍͘͜͜͝t̴̠̦̘̼͙̟͖̪̯͓̎̈́́́̄̈́̆̓̓͗͆̈̿͌͐̈̉̏̕͝ö̵̢̧͚̠̻̖̬̬̝̜͍͔̪͙̖͇̠́̓̌̊͆̈́̅͊̿̈́̍̒́̍̎̔̚̕o̵̡̨̧͕̼̤͓̺̩̺͈̘̼̳̮̩͋̄̊́̓̑́̈́͊̆̈́̚̚m̵̢̟̞̣̤̤̯͙͍̱̺̝̱̮̥͑̏̀ͅų̸̢̢͉͈̜͈̝̘̝̘̇̉͑̄̾̐̂͗̇͐̈́̆͗̃̀͘̚͜͝c̶̨̛̱̣͖̖̞̣͔̤̺̙̽̈̈́͆̌̂̇́̋̚͜͝h̶̡̫͖̥̝̯̩̖͉̥͙̗̞̬̮̮͖̔̍̊ͅṭ̶̢̳̞̞͖͍͖̹̩̦̮̬͚̜͚̖̭̾̌̏͠o̵̦̳̗̻̥͕̱̓̔́͊̉͑͛ọ̴̯̎̂̑̏͆̓͂̄͊͊̂̑̾̕͝m̷̨̨̠̰͈͚̫̤͖̜͙͔̄̔͑͊͒͌̄͘͝ų̶̯̬͔̥̫͕̯͈͇̟̤̠̳̙̱̗̗͖̄̽͑͒̌͆̌͋̌͆̈͘͝͠ͅc̶̢̲͔͖̖̹̟̲̮̙̤͖̼̳̘͂̀̍̋̉̾̿͝ͅḩ̵̩̖̝̞͎̤͈̦̩͖͈͛͜͜t̶̢̨͇̝̹͉̼͔̯͉̯̄̐̒̐͆̍͌̀̃̈́́͒̋͌̽̃ȯ̷̼̙͂͆̽́̓̿͗̌͑̑͠ō̷͖̹̬̯̃͘͜m̵̢̛̛̰̤͖͓͍͔͉̭͎͍̱̤̙͙͙̪̻̖̙̙̓͆̒̃̋̋̂̔̀̚ū̵̡͙͈͚̘̻͕̘͚̘̥̤̭͎̞̯̩̬̬́̇̀͂͘̕͠͠ͅMAKEITSTOP
The crystal-clear ring of a harp cut through her impending madness like a warm sunbeam through a hurricane.
Come back Lumine. Linger not in tainted spaces. Return to yourself. Fly home.
In a burst of clarity, Lumine clawed at her arm. Using the momentary pain and the call to drag her consciousness out of the riptide trying to drown her. Her vision gradually came back into focus, the stars l̵̛͖̰̉̓î̸̡̼̹͋̓̇ȇ̶̢̂̓̓̀ş̵͎̹͌ twinkling overhead like nothing had happened. She could feel her heartbeat thundering against her ribcage, her breathing shallow and no doubt contributing to her light-headness.
Lumine felt hollow. Physically and mentally empty. The data was still there, settling down in the back of her mind, but it felt like it had torn through everything else in its way. She raised a shaky hand to her face, tracing the tear tracks down her face and stopping when she felt another liquid at the corner of her lips. She withdrew her hand to see golden blood running down her hand, and only then did she register the dull metallic taste in her mouth and the dry ache in her throat.
But even now, with her hands still unsteady and her mind reeling, she knew with certainty that the pain and risk was worth it.
“Is this what ŷ̴̹̹͎̇o̷̗̜̖̭͑͜ử̷̬̖͂̂ wanted me to understand?”
A light breeze brushed against her back, but Lumine waved it off.
“Th-thank you, Venti. I’m okay.”
Now that her mind was clearer, so much of Dottore’s (and by extension Omega’s) actions and philosophies made sense. She didn’t have the full picture, far from it, but even the blurry image she had been given was enough to confirm some of her worst theories about how such rigid order was maintained in Teyvat.
If Barbeloth’s theory is true and the Abyss is the manifestation of all the roads not taken, then by everyone having a fixed destiny and general path in life it eliminates the question of “what if?” all together. Closing off the fates of everyone in Teyvat from the wider universe.
“Zandik”, born heretic and condemned from birth to be misunderstood and shunned for whatever purpose he was supposed to fulfill in the Heavenly Principles ever-repeating narrative. Perhaps even twisting people’s perception of him even before his actions strayed into the monstrous crimes he would go on to commit.
“If Dottore’s fate was truly immutable, then there is a deep flaw in Teyvat’s laws. As the Equilibrium demands there must always be opposition in the universe, something to sit on the other end of life’s scales. Challenges, setbacks, even unfair ones in order to maintain the weight and power of agency. But humanity is supposed to be given the chance to tip the scales in their direction. Condemning an individual to such a horrible fate without the shadow of a chance to better their circumstances no matter what they choose is beyond cruel.”
Lumine carefully placed the emptied resins back into her bag and pulled out a frayed journal and pen. Flipping to a fresh page she started jotting down ideas.
“If Durin could overcome the fate system through alchemy and story-telling, surely I could do something similar for Zandik. Durin’s rebirth consisted of three main steps. First, the story written and realized by M. Framing his existence as a character in a fairytale in order to trick Teyvat’s fate system. Second, creating a body composed of both the original Durin’s blood, and some of Gold’s materials she used to create synthetic lifeforms. Third, when Mini Durin manifested into Teyvat and overcame the Abyssal corruption still plaguing the original Durin, he was able to take on his name and role in Teyvat without the restrictions fate had placed upon him.”
Lumine circled the words “story”, “body” and “transformation/merging”
“The issue is I certainly am not a writer, I don’t have the alchemical experience or resources to give Dottore a suitable body, and I doubt Alice or Gold would be eager to help me bring back the man who had personally tricked them and wasted their time by messing with Teyvat’s border.”
Rather ironically, Lumine is a terrible author. She enjoyed the written and spoken word alike and found no greater joy than in listening, recording, and retelling tales from wherever she could find someone willing to tell them. But on the many occasions she sat down and attempted to write something original, she typically shredded, burned or took her sword to it before she even got to the bottom of the page. She had been meaning to work on it but she didn’t want to make Zandik’s potential second chance a writing exercise.
“So I need to find a suitable author.”
There were a few names that came to mind, but almost all of them were immediately discarded. Alice said herself that M’s stories felt like magic made reality, even if the human witch possessed no such abilities. Lumine hadn’t met many people in Teyvat who possessed that level of talent for fiction who she would both be able to trust with Zandik’s story and would agree to help her.
After much deliberation, Lumine put down one name with a question mark next to it.
“Next, finding the materials and constructing a body. Actually, the body should be the least of my worries. Dottore seems to have perfected the act of crafting bodies to hold souls recognized by Teyvat, and I would bet there is still plenty of materials and resources where he was conducting his research. The problem will be making sure I can find some remnant of the original Zandik’s DNA and figuring out a substitute for the witches’ magic to get story Zandik into the real world.”
So, she would also have to find an experienced alchemist. And get access to Dottore’s main lab in Snezhnaya.
Lumine continued to brainstorm ideas until she had a rough outline of a plan, as well as several potential leads she could explore over the next few weeks as she finished up that last of her long-term commissions and personal investigations in Nod-Krai.
As she looked over her notes, she was struck with the weight of what she was doing. It wasn’t often she found the opportunity to act so boldly on her own without the risk of bringing the axe of Teyvat’s rules down on her head by accident. While she was granted certain privileges being a Descender, there was still too much she didn’t know about what the Ruler’s plan for her was to be acting out often. Years now of biting her tongue, restraining herself, choking out words forced into her mouth by the role placed on her had Lumine itching to do SOMETHING to stop the catastrophe this world was plummeting towards head first.
An alien flame flickered minutely in her chest. Lumine tried not to think too deeply when Mavuika and Nahida revealed that the pyro gnosis had vanished in the aftermath of the fire. Wherever the gnosis itself ended up, Lumine could still feel lingering traces of its authority burning away inside her. She still hasn’t been able to gauge what exactly the Tsaritsa is planning with the gnosis, but she probably isn’t happy if she has figured out that the pyro gnosis was lost with the burning of Irminsul, and who knows what the Tsaritsa would do if she found out the Traveler possessed its only lingering traces. Lumine was already walking a fine line with her association with the Fatui, and while she wouldn’t mind a civil conversation with the infamous God of Love if for no other reason than to sate her own curiosity, this was a being who stained her hands with the blood and tears of half of Teyvat over the course of centuries and weaponized her subjects for her own interests. If she walks into Snezhnaya and the Tsaritsa decides she would be useful as a prisoner or elemental battery, it will be a bloody and brutal fight out.
The blonde hummed contemplatively and raised her eyes from the page to the stars. The moon was already starting to dip, creating a lovely halo behind the clouds. Another sweet breeze swept over her, filling her with a calm buzz that both relaxed and energized her.
Countless answers waited for her in Snezhnaya. Lumine couldn’t abandon them, or her new objective just because of a few unfavorable possibilities. All she had to do was plan accordingly.
————-
Paimon yawned and rubbed her eyes. The sun was blazing in through the ceiling and its shine had crept right onto her face. Oh well, since the bed was cold, Lumine was probably up already. Paimon rolled out of bed and floated out of the bedroom to the sitting area. Lumine was in fact up, but Paimon was interested to see her bent over a desk, scribbling what looked like a letter.
“Watcha got there Lumine?”
Lumine jumped a bit and turned to face her guide. A tired smile in place, but a hungry glean in her eyes Paimon hadn’t seen for days.
“Morning Paimon. Just some letters I’m about to run to Katheryne. I woke up early and I remembered some people we’ve met who it would be good to keep in contact with when we go to Snezhnaya.”
Lumine turned and scribbled something on the corner of the last letter before getting up.
“Breakfast is on the table in the kitchen. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Paimon immediately flew towards the sitting area with a fading “Sounds nice goodbye!!” that caused Lumine to laugh as she exited their quarters for the second time that day. She knew she would have to tell Paimon about her new direction soon, but it was probably best to put it off until they were in the middle of the wilderness somewhere. Without anyone being within significant range who would hear the inevitable screaming.
Sumeru City was lively as ever on a weekday morning. The streets were packed with merchants and shoppers alike, filling the air with the smell of spices and freshly baked meat and pastries. Lumine recognized a few members of Zubayr Theater who were putting on a show outside the tavern. She even gave a quick wave to Cyno as he passed her with a few mahamatra soldiers in tow. Despite the crisis only being resolved a week ago, everyone had dedicated themselves to getting everything back to business as quickly as possible. The tenacity was admirable, another expression of the indomitable human spirit.
Lumine quickly navigated the crowd to the Adventurer’s Guild, which was thankfully mostly devoid of people. Katheryne herself was sifting through papers when she approached, only putting them away once Lumine’s presence registered. Her polite smile and cheery demeanor an unwavering fixture.
“Ad astra abyssosque! Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild. How can I help you today?”
Lumine offered the letters to the mechanical puppet, quietly hoping her guess was correct.
“Just sending some messages to a few acquaintances. Oh, and I’ve been thinking about opening an account at Northland Bank and wanted to go ahead and fill out the paperwork before I leave for Snezhnaya. Can you make sure these reach the correct hands?”
Katheryne blinks in the closest approximation to human confusion as her system allows and sifts through the letters. Only one of them was marked with the Fatui insignia, as well as the symbol of the Ninth and no return address. Katheryne's smile didn’t move as she separated the letter from the rest.
“Of course Traveler. I believe you already have your train ticket and departure date for Snezhnograd correct? I will ensure your responses are waiting for you on the train.”
“That sounds perfect Kathyrene.”