Chapter Text
Ah, my dear esteemed benefactor… My proud, beautiful flower of evil.
Durin is not dreaming. He's made himself very familiar with the workings of a relatively human-shaped body, studiously following his brother's footsteps in documenting his every experience. He took special care in discerning waking from sleeping, for when he was but a hatchling in a book, there was little difference between the two.
So, if he is sure of anything, Durin is certain he is awake. But this place is akin to a dream, and familiar like Simulanka, so whatever rules are at play can be assumed as similar. He follows the haunting melody of words spoken with power, ingraining them in his memory. There's no particular direction, here, because there is nothing at all but endless black, but as he seeks the voice grows louder.
You are truly the fairest one of all. O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat… Reveal unto me the visage I seek…
Lisa has been teaching him poetry. Not the dancing, childish joys he knew from his birthright, but the varied, somewhat headache-inducing literature of humans, and all their emotions. This is like that. Something he only somewhat grasps, but he will memorize the words. The cadence. Up it goes, down, smooth as ripples in still water.
You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth… If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror.
It is not speaking to him, directly. It is summoning a "potential". He has that potential. And, if Durin is curious enough… He could know more about what it asks of him. What task it is, that it brought him, of all people, to complete it.
It sounds like adventure. Like a story he can't help but want to read. Participate in, even, if he's understanding the implications.
As flame reduces even the stars to ash. As ice seals away even time itself. As great trees swallow even the sky. Fear not the power of darkness.
Now—demonstrate your power.
Fear not the power of darkness… Durin doesn't fear his own power. He did, once, and he respects it, even now- dangerous and lurking -but it doesn't scare him anymore. It is, after all, his power. It doesn't control him.
He reaches out and lights a flame. It illuminates nothing in the endless darkness. Then, the voice comes from behind, and Durin turns to find a great, beautiful mirror, within which he sees not his own reflection, but a swirling green mist.
To me. To them. To yourself. The hour grows long, and time is scarce. Keep steady your grip, no matter what may come...
A hand reaches out. Durin grasps it and holds firm, closing his eyes as sensation spins him dizzy, imprinting this false dream deep within his heart, where it will be safe until he "wakes up" in reality once more.
When Durin thought of "reality," he didn't expect a coffin. They aren't so often used in Mondstadt, where the dead are most often turned to ash, carried upon the wind to nurture the land they loved. Even those truly buried will be buried unconfined, unfettered by caskets or coffins. Freedom, even in death. Nutrients for the soil. Durin rather likes the graveyard outside the Cathedral. It's honest.
He knocks gently on the lid and listens. His arms are dragged down with unfamiliar robes, long and luxurious but uncomfortable for their unexpected nature, and it delays him from analyzing the sound. Durin knocks again, and ascertains he is not underground. Good. Digging himself out of his own grave would only be a fun training exercise with Albedo around to manipulate the earth itself, ensuring his safety, and of course to grade his performance.
Then another voice, grumbling and mewling, comes echoing through the room that Durin has yet to escape into.
"Better hurry up 'n find that uniform before someone spots me…"
"Hello!" Durin knocks on his coffin, drawing a noise of surprise from the new presence, "Can you help me?"
There proceeds a minor round of negotiations, in which Durin reaches several conclusions about his potential help.
One: he is not a cat. If he is a cat, he is sensitive about it, and sentient enough to experience such emotions. Durin will not treat him like a cat.
Two: the exception to "Durin will not treat him like a cat" is the promise to help him find some tuna, something he is evidently obsessed with.
Three: he calls himself Grim the Great, and wants to be the most powerful mage in Twisted Wonderland.
Durin does not know what or where Twisted Wonderland is, but refrains from asking, for now. Grim has agreed to "blast off" the coffin lid. Durin told him to proceed when ready and sandwiches himself as far back from the lid as possible, watching as Pyro energy builds in big, heaving breaths through the dendro-heavy barrier of wood and fabric surrounding him. Oh. Oh, this might end poorly.
Grim has enough precision to not set the entire coffin alight, flames dispelling as the lid crashes across the room, yeowling triumphantly.
"HAHA! Grim the Great does it ag- again…"
Durin steps out of the coffin carefully, noting it floats slightly above the floor, and then comes to crouch beside Grim. He sees the resemblance to a cat, at a glance, but it falls apart easily. Flame licked ears, a forked tail- all of his teeth are sharp, like some fish, and he favors standing on two legs. He's staring at Durin like many of the children in Mond would, at first.
"Hello, Grim. I'm Durin. Thank you for helping me."
Grim looks at his outstretched hand, then his horns, and cautiously places a paw down. Durin shakes it gently.
"A dragon… You're a dragon! Dragons are the coolest, strongest monsters ever- what EVERY monster aspires to be!"
His awestruck quiet shatters with a joyful ramble, and Durin mentally files away that Grim likely falls under the "monster" category despite his obvious capacity for reason. He speaks of "monsters" like they are his kin. Still, it's better to nip the idea of becoming a dragon right in the bud. The dangers would be unprecedented, and divine law isn't something Durin wants to tempt more than he already has.
"Well, I think you're cool just the way you are, Grim."
This puffs the little monster up with pride.
"Of course I am! I'm GRIM."
Durin nods and stands up, fiddling with the robes he's wearing and frowning. They fit him perfectly. He doesn't much like that. Purple and black, gold embellishments… he fidgets with the back of the robe and finds a hood, one with space cut out for his horns to fit through. When he pulls the sleeves back, he finds most of his usual outfit intact, and sighs in relief.
Grim scampers around his feet, dexterous as a quadruped despite ability to stand upright.
"Where're we goin' next? Even if you are a super cool dragon, you promise me tuna! And..."
Grim bats at the long sleeves of Durin's robes.
"Man… I wanted one of these so bad."
"Maybe we'll find one in your size."
Durin glances around the room. More coffins, just like his, but all emptied. He checks with Elemental Sight and finds nothing. Time to move on, just like in the storybook. No hidden objectives or further interactions. Durin crouches again, offering his arm to Grim.
"Here, I can be your ride while we search."
Grim looks like he's been offered the keys to the kingdom, but after only a moment of hesitation, scrambles up Durin's arm and perches happily on his shoulder.
"Hell yeah!"
Durin smiles and starts moving, a new companion at his side.
It would be nice to take notes, but Durin will have to memorize, for now, as much as he can. Grim talks a lot, but doesn't say very much.
This is a school. Night Raven College. Twisted Wonderland seems to be the world, a different one from Teyvat entirely, which… is worrisome. An adventure is one thing. Becoming something akin to the Traveler, a Descender, is a much bigger problem. Durin smiles and quips back at Grim's newest complaint about the school being big and boring looking. The hallways and rooms are beautiful, well kept despite obvious age, though startlingly empty thus far.
It's hard to focus on what's in front of him when he's trying to think through a veritable deluge of information. Mages, the student robes he's appeared in, Grim wanting robes so he can be a student- something Durin finds adorable, but decides not to comment on, since Grim the Great wouldn't like that very much -and something about a carriage.
Durin walks straight into someone. Grim yeowls and sputters as he's dislodged from his shoulder, and Durin stumbles, yes, but recovers with all the grace of his combat training and extra balance provided by his tail.
"My goodness!"
"My apologies, sir."
The person in question is tall, adorned in the familiarly dramatic sense of most allogenes, and distinctly fond of birds, given the theme of his outfit. Durin dips his head in acknowledgement.
"Well, apologies are very much in order! I've been looking for you far too long, young man, Orientation is nearly over- come now, come, the Dark Mirror awaits!"
"WAIT A MINUTE!!"
Durin pauses. The bird-man (faculty of the school?) crosses his arms and sneers as Grim scrambles back up Durin's side, scowling just as fiercely in return.
"The Great Grim's been promised food for helpin' your student outta that coffin!"
"So you're the one at fault for this mess!"
Durin dodges the lunge for Grim. Grim is less successful, caught squirming in "air jail" like many a naughty feline at the Cat's Tail.
"Sneaking onto campus, disrupting Orientation, I should have you disposed of properly- magnanimous as I am, you shall only be banished from the grounds!"
"That isn't magnanimous, sir."
This stops the man in his tracks. Durin folds his hands together and looks up at him, channeling Albedo's disappointed stare.
"Grim helped me when I was unsure of my circumstances. He's been very kind to me, and I promised to help him in return. I will apologize for overstepping if that was against the rules, but without knowing the rules, I can't follow them."
"A-ah… of course, of course. Disorientation and memory loss is not an uncommon side effect of the gateways… Very well."
Grim is placed in Durin's arms.
"If you've made a pact with this… Grim of yours, then it is your responsibility as a student to keep him under control."
"Understood."
Grim growls, but clings to Durin possessively, and protests no further. The bird-man huffs, dusting his clothes out and muttering some benign complaints, and turns away. A pact. The wording gives Durin pause, but for now, the assumption will provide him cover to help out his new friend. He can research the specifics later.
"Now come along! Best not to leave the students waiting."
With that much, Durin can agree. The longer he spends here, the more he feels as though, in responding to that call… he may have bitten off far more than he can chew.