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There's something to be said about the irony of the work ethic Varka has fallen into these past five years. He often finds himself being one of the last few awake aside from those on shift to watch over the Keep. He stays in the main tent long into the night, reading over reports and logs, formalizing new plans when the need arises. Such behavior isn't perculiar for him—there's been plenty times he's done this exact thing back in Mondstadt. But everyone is fully aware of how much Varka hates paperwork to the point he'll use any excuse to push it off. He's probably better known for his paperwork avoidant tendencies than his strategic genius by this point.
Yet in the past five years they've been on this expedition, Varka's avoidance has dwindled significantly. It's needed to, with how serious their mission is, with how many things can go wrong. If Jean saw him now, she'd probably ask if he was an imposter, heh.
Perhaps it's the stress pushing him to work late, the uncertainty and the unknown, the fragments he carries with him. All of it gives him reason to stay awake. It's far easier to express his concerns when no one else is around to see it. If the knights knew the shaky confidence Varka has it'd be a hard hit to their morale. He keeps it to himself, wears the easygoing smile, like they've got everything under control. And part of that is true. The expedition has been going well, they've gotten through any obstacles in one piece. But they're slowly getting closer to the North, where the Abyss is becoming a larger threat.
It's important to go in with some kind of strategy, a plan. Varka isn't the type to blindly lead his people into the fire, after all. Yet there's such little information to work off of, and Andrius…
Sighing, Varka leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. He stares down at the sand table in front of him, map laid out and important locations marked with flags. He's been working out the best route to go while balancing the pockets of Abyssal activity they've been stumbling upon. Not to mention more than a few Fatui camps. Varka drags a hand through his hair with a low sound. His main goal tonight was to start putting together teams to subdue the Abyssal zones so they could start to get a move on soon. But all he's really managed to do is stare blankly at the table.
There's simply too much going on in his mind, far more thoughts circling than usual. With no one but the shadows as company and privacy to feel the weight of being a leader on his shoulders, it's easy to let emotions fester. It hasn't gotten him anywhere, though.
A stack of half finished paperwork sits beside him just on the edge of the table where logs of the knights patrols wait to be read through. Maybe he should switch focus a bit, go through the daunting stack. It might help make things easier for planning.
Turning his attention away from the map, he picks up one of the reports, instinctually reaching for the tankard beside him. Yet his hand grabs at nothing but air, making him sigh in defeat. "Man, I could really use a drink right now," he grumbles, recalling the lack of booze nearby. As per camp rules though, he's the only one that's remained sober while the others drank and sang the night away. It was both to allow his knights to loosen their worries for the night, and give him a clear head for the long hours awaiting him. A choice he's beginning to regret.
"Not drinking on the job? Who are you and what have you done with Varka?" a sarcastic, amused tone rings out from just a few feet away, drawing Varka's attention.
He lifts his head up to address the other, finding the familiar face of his Vice Captain. "Lohen!" Varka greets, albeit a bit confused at the knight's arrival. "I haven't seen you all night." The other had disappeared sometime in the middle of the afternoon, shortly after his squad returned from reconnaissance. Any other person unfamiliar with Lohen's manner of work would've been concerned at the young man's sudden disappearance. However, Varka is quite used to it by now, knowing it's just typical Lohen behavior.
Lohen's lips curl in a self-satisfied smile, all sharp around the edges, laced with mischief. "That's because I went back to deal with the monsters the others reported to you. Oh, and a Fatui camp nearby. Real sneaky those guys were." His clothes are free of any evidence of said encounters, hair ruffled and a thin cut along his cheek. He's abandoned his capelet, still fully dressed in uniform. He walks into the tent with a soft snicker, coming to stand in front of the sand table, popping a piece of gum into his mouth. "I figured it'd be more efficient if I took care of them right away. No point in sitting around if we know where they are after all."
"Of course you did," Varka sighs, unsurprised. "I keep telling you to stop pulling dangerous stunts like that." And every time it falls on deaf ears. Lohen's going to give him gray hairs at this point. "At least you made sure to report the monsters this time…" he adds in a mumble. The Fatui, however…. that's a headache waiting to happen.
"See? I did exactly what you asked!" Lohen says, pleased. "Mostly, anyway. But in my defense, those guys started it by trying to jump me. Like that'd actually work on me of all people, hah!"
"Fatui aside, not running in alone to fight monsters is a part of all that," Varka points out before dropping it. Lohen won't listen, no matter how many times he asks. The Fifth Company's Vice Captain follows his own whims—something Varka doesn't have an issue with most of the time (despite the complaints of others). The only time he does have a problem with Lohen happens to be whenever the other does something particularly reckless. Varka shakes his head, "Never mind that. Is there something you needed?"
Lohen, who had been walking closer to the table, looks over at him. "Hm? Oh, no no no," he chuckles, waving a hand. "I'm just here to make sure our Grand Master doesn't work himself to death." Lohen talks with a slight purr, blowing a bubble. "Someone has to, after all," he says casually, shrugging his shoulders.
Despite what he says, what he does, there's a certain tension radiating from him that's hard to miss. It's one he's well acquainted with seeing on the knight after knowing him for so long. Lohen puts on airs, seeming casual and flippant. He smiles like there isn't a problem, deflecting with an ill mannered joke like this one. But Varka sees past that. He sees the uneasiness in his steps, how his eyes linger on certain points in the room for a touch too long. Lohen holds himself like he's ready to strike at any moment, keeping weapons in easy reach. Or, if needed, bolt for the exit.
Varka's more than willing to bet Lohen didn't come here right after getting back to camp. He doesn't miss the exhaustion in the other's eyes either.
However, he knows that if he were to point any of this out, odds are Lohen would turn tail and leave. So he says nothing, doesn't acknowledge any of his observations. Instead, he exhales softly and allows a slight smile to tug at his mouth. At least Lohen came to him—something that's been happening more and more as of late.
If someone asked, Varka wouldn't quite know how to explain their relationship. It's something that just naturally happened over the last few years, like two magnets coming together to collide. Brushing hands, lingering touches, a stolen kiss here and there. They haven't quite sat down to put a label on it, to really define what they are to each other. They have… something, neither bringing up what it could mean, what it would look like.
Varka was hesitant about any of it for a number of reasons: his position as Grand Master and Lohen being his subordinate, their differences in age, not to mention his half baked plan involving the ley lines at the end of all of this. But none of that changed the fact that they somehow always found themselves at each other's sides. None of that changed the warmth that seems to flood Varka's chest whenever he sees Lohen smile, or hears him laugh.
And that doesn't change it now, as he stands before him, having chosen to join him. The observation tugs at something in Varka's chest, spreading warmth along his ribs and heart, slipping into his lungs.
Lohen lets the pink gum bubble pop, giving a few more chews. "What's got you up so late anyway?"
"What do you think?" Varka pats the stack of papers before him. "There's quite the number of reports to go through here, and if I want to assign task teams to deal with the zones we've marked out, these are pretty important for that."
"So busy work is all it is," Lohen dryly comments. He looks, no rather he glares, at the reports with scorn. "Can't the captains here organize the teams themselves? I mean, seriously it's not that hard," he scoffs. "Or~ you can just send me and I'll clear out those zones in a day. Besides, aren't you busy enough?" He tilts his head.
"What, worried I'll overwork myself?" Varka teases, cheeky and light. "I didn't realize you cared so much, Lohen."
To his amusement, Lohen bristles, crossing his arms. "I'm just being pragmatic," he retorts in defense. "It's obvious here no one uses their brain."
Rather than being offended, as most likely would, Varka merely laughs. "Well then I better get started on thinking with mine, hm?"
"I get the feeling you've been doing that a little too much tonight," the younger huffs, though he doesn't try to stop him. Instead, he rounds the table. "But fine, if you must." Lohen sighs with resignation, as if Varka's choice has condemned them both. He doesn't say any more as he approaches, rounding the table until he's standing right beside him. Varka cocks his head, lifting a brow as he looks at the other. Lohen spares him a glance before seating himself on the ground. He shifts until his back presses up against the side of the chair, leaning some of his weight on Varka in the process.
Bewildered, Varka continues to watch him. "What exactly are you up to?" he can't help but question, squinting.
"What does it look like?" Lohen answers, as if it's obvious, producing his dagger from who knows where and a cloth. "Didn't I say I was going to keep watch?" he adds, giving a small twirl of his blade.
"You did say that," Varka nods, "but you don't have to stay here, y'know. Why don't you call it a night and get some sleep?" he tries to suggest, voice gentle. Lohen may not care about how much sleep he gets, but Varka very much does. "I'll be a while anyway."
Lohen's shoulders tense, so fast it's easily missed. "I want to," he admits, dropping to something quiet and almost… fragile. The sound of him so small catches Varka off guard, unused to hearing Lohen like that.
It's easy to forget that Lohen isn't an indestructible knight that fearlessly forges a path ahead for his allies. That he isn't just an tough yet cocky young man in it for the thrill of battle. With the way he constantly presents himself, it's not difficult to fall for the facade. But in moments like these, where he drops the act, Varka remembers.
Lohen is so much more than any of that. He hides his kindness and fear, rarely allowing it to slip through. He's not the sort to show that so easily without something external forcing his hand. With Varka however, some of that heavy guarding falls away, revealing the anxious and loving man underneath. The very real, very human beating heart Lohen tries to hide for protection from the unknown.
It spreads warmth through Varka's chest, encasing him like an embrace, knowing that he's trusted enough to see any of it.
"Stay for as long as you want," he murmurs, words dripping with honeyed affection as he offers that soft and mushy smile Lohen often manages to bring out. Not that Lohen sees it from how he's sitting, but Varka gives it anyway, because there are many things in this world he'd offer if it was asked of him. There's just something about Lohen that makes Varka weak to him, makes him want to do everything in his power to put a smile on his face. "It'll be a long night, so get comfortable."
"Hm." Varka hears the pleased lilt in his voice despite the lack of proper response. Nothing more is said as Lohen focuses on the weapon in his hands.
Likewise, Varka returns to his own work, finding it easier to focus. Funny how Lohen of all people manages to do that for him.
They fall into a comfortable silence, sitting in each other's company. Varka reads through reports while Lohen drags the cloth along the dirtied blade of his dagger with precise and methodical movements. Neither of them speak much, except for when Varka asks for his thoughts on building task forces. Lohen is strategic, with an understanding of battle that Varka doesn't see many possess, something he admires in the younger man.
(It fills him with regret when he remembers why Lohen holds such a deep understanding of battle, of the armor it grants him.)
Hours pass by, the two hardly moving an inch the entire time. Conversation fades in and out, and Varka is blanketed with the feeling of warm content.
From the corner of his eye, he notices the lack of movement from Lohen's hands, and pauses with curiosity.
When Varka looks over at him again, he finds Lohen's head tilted to the side, chest slowly rising and falling. He sighs, corners of his mouth quirking in a smile as fondness tugs at his chest. Moving carefully, Varka rises from his seat, grabbing the blanket from his bedroll and wrapping it snugly around Lohen. Kneeling beside him, he leans in, pressing his lips to his head. "Sleep well."
Lohen comes back the following night, appearing the same way. He offers the same excuse, and Varka doesn't turn him away. He takes up the same spot as before, right beside him, and this time toys with his crossbow while Varka works. He takes the weapon apart and cleans each individual component before putting it back together again. Neither of them talk about the real reason Lohen is here, nor the real reason why Varka remains awake.
Once more, Lohen drifts off, and once more, Varka wraps him in his blanket.
The night after that, Lohen comes back. Varka has a warm mug of tea ready for him.
Admittedly, Lohen never intended for his nightly visits to Varka to get so out of hand. That first night had been a fluke more than anything, a moment of weakness. He couldn't sleep, nightmares creeping around the corner, unease nestled deep in his mind. Most nights he'd lay still until his eyes closed when he was kept awake. He'd deal with it on his own. That was how it's always been. But then he started to circle around Varka, drawn in, finding some semblance of comfort with him. And suddenly the idea of being alone with his thoughts wasn't as comforting as it once was.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was standing outside Varka's tent, like a magnet being pulled in. He came up with an innocuous excuse and sauntered right in, making himself comfortable beside the man. It's a miracle Varka hadn't pressed, hadn't questioned him.
Maybe it's because he didn't have to. Perhaps he already knew the moment Lohen opened his mouth. For once, he was grateful for that.
But it was only ever meant to happen once. That was it. Lohen gave himself one lapse in judgement, one defeat. He could recognize that somewhere along the way in their developing something, Varka started to feel safe. That didn't mean he intended to just give in to the safety the man made him feel. One sleepless night at Varka's side, and then he'd go back to dealing with it alone.
Except he kept coming back. Except the thought of lying awake in darkness made his insides twist uncomfortably. Except, Lohen's subconscious reasoned, why be alone when he's awake too?
So Lohen started to make an unintentional routine out of it as the expedition continued, though he refused to think of it as such, finding himself alongside Varka night after night. He'd use excuse after excuse to justify it, ranging from "I'm bored" to "Somebody needs to be standing by in case you get a paper cut." Varka bought all of them, or at least pretended to, offering Lohen that same affectionate smile each time. The one that made his chest flutter without fail.
And every visit would end with Lohen eventually drifting off, lulled to slumber by Varka's presence beside him, his warmth against his back, and the promise of safety throughout the night. He'd wake early the following morning, covered by the man's blanket, Varka sitting not too far from him, fast asleep. Somewhere along the way, it had simply began to appeal to him more than his cold, lonely bedroll.
(Maybe it's more accurate to say Varka started to appeal to him even more.)
For the sake of his pride, Lohen isn't planning on saying anything about it. Even if Varka already knows his underlying motive, he won't say it out loud. Any knights that happen to see him leaving the tent in the morning are given a warning glare and a little extra spice to their breakfast for added encouragement.
Tonight, like many nights, is no different. Lohen returns to camp late after hunting some Abyssal monsters (the Wild Hunt, as they recently learned from the Lightkeepers since arriving in Nod-Krai). Most of the knights have turned in for sleep except for those keeping watch. Lohen greets them with a barely noticeable nod before strolling right toward Varka's tent. He completely forgoes his own, knowing it'd be pointless to even try resting there. As he approaches, he sees light peeking through the bottom of the tarp, along with the sound of quiet mumbling.
Not ever one to really care for formalities, Lohen pushes the flap of the tent's entrance up and slips inside. There, he fits Varka hunched over the sand table, a sight that's become quite common these days. An uncommon sight, however, is the two Lightkeepers standing beside him.
The first to catch his eye is the taller of the two, midnight blue hair that fades to a lighter shade at the end falling down his back. His skin is oddly pale, almost ghostly, along with his dull yellow eyes. It sticks out against the dark colors of his outfit, dressed in more chains than Lohen has ever seen someone wear. There's a lantern hanging from his side, metal silver with blue flames flickering inside at a gentle pace.
In between the ghostly looking man is a shorter Lightkeeper with silver hair and auburn strands underneath. He stares down at the sand table, red-blue eyes sharp and focused, brows furrowed in concentration. Unlike the other guy, he's dressed in lighter colors, sweater a creamy white and coat brown with orange ends. Sitting atop his head is a strange looking yellow bird.
None of them seem to notice him, wrapped up in whatever they're doing. Curious, Lohen silently steps to the side to observe.
"Here," the bird wearing man says, arm moving to point somewhere on the map. Varka and the other Lightkeeper lean in closer to look. "We could do with some reinforcement near the Paha Isle route, as well as Starsand Shoal."
"Hm," Varka hums, a hand on his chin as his back straightens. "Let me think…"
"Ah, you needn't worry about the area near the cemetary, Young Master," the taller of the two shaking his head, "I assure you I have it handled. Let us not force the Grand Master to spare more of his men than necessary."
Lohen lifts a brow at the name as the other frowns. "I fully trust in your abilities, Sir Flins, but the Wild Hunt has been more volatile as of late. You're only one person, what if something happens and you're alone?"
That Flins guy chuckles softly, a smile curling his mouth. "Then I suppose I will exercise the utmost caution while on patrol. Perhaps I can even send you detailed letters on my experiences if it would ease your mind?"
The shorter pinches the bridge of his nose, a hint of pink in his cheeks. "At least it'd be some form of report from you," he sighs, exasperated. "Still, I don't think the extra back up would hurt."
Varka looks between the two of them for a moment before his eyes stray toward Lohen, finally noticing him. Almost immediately a smile tugs at his lips, "Lohen, welcome back! Didn't even hear you come in!" The two Lightkeepers look at him at Varka's cheery greeting.
"That was intentional," Lohen says, breezily. He moves to stand on the other side of Varka, curious. "What's all this about, hm?~ Holding a secret meeting now?"
"More like an impromptu one," Varka chuckles, dropping a hand on Lohen's shoulder. "This here is Vice Captain Lohen of the Fifth Company. He's one of the toughest guys you'll ever meet and an excellent fighter. Gives some of our most experienced knights a run for their mora, haha!" The squeeze he gives is light, as warm pride fills his tone. The sudden praise catches Lohen completely off guard. "And these two are Captain Illuga of the Nightmare Orioles and Flins."
Flins bends slightly in a polite bow, hand resting on his chest. "A pleasure to meet you, Vice Captain. The Grand Master has spoken quite highly of you before." He smiles, and something about it makes Lohen uneasy.
The Captain interjects then, "You can just call me Illuga, no need for all of that." His smile is far warmer than Flins', "It's nice to meet you though. We'll probably be seeing a bit more of each other in the future." The bird on his head flies up, circling Illuga before landing on his shoulder. "Ah, of course," Illuga laughs lightly, "This is Aedon, my companion."
"Lohen will do," he says in turn, nodding at them in greeting. "Sooo, what's this little gathering about?" He looks more at Varka as he inquires, still keeping the two Lightkeepers in his peripherals.
Varka's hand falls away from his shoulder, as if suddenly remembering it was still there. "We're trying to determine where the Knights can help with the Wild Hunt patrols at the moment," he explains, nodding at the map.
"Oh?" Lohen smirks. "Just tell me where to go and I'd be happy to cut down—sorry, help out with the Wild Hunt. Don't even need to bring any backup."
Illuga frowns lightly. "All by yourself? Isn't that a bit reckless?"
"Eh, the danger is what makes the fight even better," Lohen chirps. "If you're worried I can't handle it, you could go take a look at the trail of monsters I left behind on my way back." His smirk widens into a sharp grin. "That'd be proof enough, right?"
It's Flins who blinks then, brows raising in surprise. "So you're the one that's been handling the areas around Nasha Town."
"Still, Illuga is right. It's better to be working in a team rather than by yourself. Strength in numbers," Varka says, looking at Lohen. "I know you're fully capable, but a helping hand is never a bad thing."
He simply shrugs in answer with a lazy smile, half acknowledging the point while still showing he doesn't particularly care.
Flins looks between the two of them as Varka sighs, expression stoic and unreadable. His eyes linger on the Grand Master for a beat before he quietly chuckles to himself and smiles. He very gently nudges Illuga with his elbow. "Young Master, perhaps we should take our leave for the night. It has gotten quite late, after all."
"Hm?" Illuga meets his gaze, understanding flickering across his face as he sneaks a glance at the two knights. "Oh, right, yes! I hadn't realized. Sorry about that, Mr. Varka. Why don't we pick this back up tomorrow after we've all rested?"
Varka chuckles, "Sounds good to me. I'll see what ideas I can come up with in the mean time."
The two Lightkeepers nod and take their leave, saying their goodbyes and "it was nice to meet you"s to Lohen as they exit the tent. It leaves just him and Varka alone together, joined by the symphony of crickets and passing birds. The moment it's only them, Varka exhales with something akin to relief as he lets himself drop into the nearby chair.
"Whew, I thought that meeting would never end," he breathes, "that Illuga kid is nice but he can be as stubborn as a mule when it comes to strategizing and cooperation." He smiles over at Lohen, "Your timing couldn't have been better."
"Want me to drug their drinks next time?" Lohen offers with a cheeky smirk, leaning against the table. "Bet that'd take good care of them. A peaceful little nap."
Varka shoots him a deadpan look. "Please, I'd rather not have to explain to the Starshyna why his son's drink was laced," he protests. "That wouldn't go over well—especially when we're forging alliances."
"Suit yourself." Lohen shrugs. "I'm just saying the offers there."
"Thanks but no thanks, I'll pass." Varka waves a dismissive hand before it falls. His eyes focus on the sand table, staring at the map and locations of spiking Wild Hunt activity, forehead creasing between his brows. "Say, Lohen, where were you hunting today?"
"Hm? Ah." He grabs a pencil and draws little circles around each Wild Hunt spot he visited in just today alone. "One, two, mm, six spots."
Blue eyes squint then, and Lohen can see the wheels turning in Varka's head. The man taps one finger along the ridge of the table as he thinks, the edge of his lips dipping. He switches between crossing his arms and pointing at the map to mumble to himself, the frown marring his face on moving lower. Lohen watches him the whole time, and it's because he does that he sees the cracks in Varka's Grand Master mask.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's eating at the man, though Lohen doubts anyone outside of himself and Seamus have noticed. They're in the thick of it now, having arrived at their goal. Things are in bad shape, alliances are shaky at best until more trust can be built. They're finding their footing. And of course, everyone is looking to him to guide the way, to call the shots in a time of unease. Lohen knows Varka is strong, there's quite a lot a man who changed his own fate can handle. But even that weighs on a person, especially one who has to keep up appearances as a leader.
Lohen just knows what to look for in Varka's waning facade. The exhaustion in his eyes, lined by stress. The careful thinking and reconsideration, any flashes of doubt in his expression. The slight slump of his shoulders. The things he tries so very carefully to hide from others.
But he lets Lohen see them, little by little. He lets his guard down, lets Lohen see a side of him that no one else does. The fear. The stress. The doubt. He's let him see more and more of it. The blatant display of honesty and trust always leaves Lohen feeling a little off-kilter, unbalanced. Having so much trust in his hands by Varka of all people is intimidating at times, such blind faith. Yet, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make him happy (even if he doesn't think he deserves it).
Which means it's up to him to do something about it, he supposes.
He wouldn't quite consider himself a comforting person, but for some reason his presence around brings that exact thing according to Varka. So, Lohen does what he always does. He takes up his usual spot next to Varka's chair, sitting back until his body is pressing on the man's armored leg. He pulls out the weapons that need cleaning—he used quite a few of them today while fighting against the Wild Hunt. He doesn't call Varka on his obvious stress, the man would only deflect with humor and his silver tongue. He's almost as bad as Lohen, if not worse at deflecting from himself. So, to make up for not asking him, he'll just have to mix a draught for Varka tomorrow that's strong enough to knock him out.
Or Lohen can try knocking him out himself. Hm. Things to think about.
"Here to keep watch again tonight, are you?"
"Mhm."
"What's the mission this time?" Varka asks right as he's in the middle of plotting how to take him out. "Here to protect me from more paper cuts or choking on my drink?" His light tone hides any semblance of stress, playful and even fond.
"Yourself," Lohen responds simply, refusing to elaborate any further. He leaves it there, nothing to add, even at Varka's confused noise. Instead, he grabs a dagger and starts his usual process of maintenance.
"What do you…" the older trails off, attempting to piece the meaning together. Lohen is so cryptic sometimes, one would think he's a fortune teller and not a knight. He'd certainly fit the bill with how observant he can be and—ah, he understands now. "Heh, can't hide anything from you, can I?" Varka sighs, followed by the sound of papers being shuffled.
Lohen smiles, the perfect picture of innocence. "I've spent a lot of time watching you," he casually admits, as if he's talking about the weather. "So you can try, Grand Master," he drags his gloved finger along his dirtied blade, "but I've gotten rather good at reading you." A skill which he unfortunately knows goes both ways. Just as he's able to read Varka well, the same could be said about Varka reading him.
Varka knows he should probably be concerned about that statement and how far Lohen's 'watching' goes. Maybe it's more concerning he isn't. Though, as most things with Lohen, he isn't even surprised. He tends to let his heart lead more often than his head at times, a fact that he's well aware of. And it's only gotten worse since this something started to develop between them. "Of course," he huffs.
"Go on and do whatever it is that you Grand Masters do," Lohen says with a wave, so lackadaisical it makes Varka chuckle. "Feel free to act like I'm not even here. Or do! …if there's anything you need, that is." His words come out softer than intended, almost gentle and raw, like he's silently asking for Varka to lean on him. And maybe Lohen is, just in his own way. It's not a side of himself he shows often, gentler and kinder. Adorno and Theodore are probably the only ones that've ever seen it. There aren't many Lohen trusts with it.
"Thanks, Lohen," Varka returns, painfully warm and adoring.
Lohen's cheeks grow warm, leaving him thankful he's turned away from the other. If this is the sort of reaction he gets from Varka, maybe it's worth showing that side of him more often.
They fall into their respective work flows as usual, staying up late into the night. Just as usual, Lohen drifts off after cleaning his weapons, arms crossed over his chest. Just as usual, Varka gazes at him with affection, taking his turn to keep an eye on Lohen. And when the Vice Captain wakes up the following morning, he finds himself laying on Varka's bedroll for once, the other fast asleep right next to him.
If Lohen spends some time memorizing the way Varka looks while asleep? Well. No one has to know.
Neither of them really expect their little routine to follow them back home to Mondstadt. Both believed that it'd be left behind in their tent, now having their own two spaces at night.
Not that Lohen would say it, but it was… disappointing to think about. There was something comforting about knowing Varka was there to watch his back in case danger occurred. He certainly slept better for it, nightmares quieter and infrequent. Sleep felt more restful. So returning home and being without it hadn't felt right. Even more so since he returned a month or two before everyone else thanks to his letter deliveries. Sleeping in his bed again was weird, almost unnerving. He ended up trying to avoid sleeping when he could, resorting to naps throughout the day. The sounds of his comrades made it easier, at least.
It was something he continued to do even after Varka returned. Lohen thought it'd be easier than asking, is it cool if I start sleeping in your bed? Oh and by the way, what are we?
Yeah… no thanks. Besides, he had more important things going on at the time! Like totally not being pissed at Varka for his little ley lines stunt and having him deliver what could've been his last words (Varka's drinks and meals tasted suspiciously bad for two weeks after, and Lohen certainly didn't dig deeper pits for the man to fall into). Or letting Theodore experiment on him so they could keep Adorno from dying and he'd have enough power to stop anyone from making him feel weak again. Only for the inevitable to happen anyway.
Avoiding Varka and, well, everything just felt easier while he tried to untangle the messy emotions of grief after Adorno.
Except now, Lohen lays wide awake in bed, freshly woken from a nightmare. He stares up at the ceiling of his room, trying to take deep breaths to slowly calm his hammering heart. One of his fists grip his blanket in a tight grip, scrunching the material in the process. Not for the first time, he misses Varka. His warmth, his embrace, even his stupid and sometimes obnoxious laugh. It was all proof that he wasn't alone. Since returning to Mondstadt, Lohen's felt more alone than he ever has. Being alone hadn't bothered him in the past, not even in childhood or his years spent as an adventurer.
However, he's been spoiled rotten by constant company, noise, the presence of another person at his side. People to call his own. And if he were brave enough, someone to call home.
Right now, that home is exactly what he needs.
Feeling weak to this widening pit of aches in his chest, Lohen finally caves. It's been sitting there for weeks since he got out of solitary confinement, growing a little bit more each time he saw Varka or was reminded of him. It rooted itself deeply in his chest, wrapping around the space between his ribs and burying into his organs, the growing buds of yearning beginning to sprout. Now finally do they blossom, brought forth by the mess in Lohen's head. He pushes himself out of bed, covers himself with a hooded cloak and grabs the key that sits on his bedside table.
Varka had insisted he have it after they returned from the expedition, saying it was only fair since he has a key to Lohen's room.
He takes a shortcut he discovered to Varka's house, one that he found shortly before being tossed into solitary confinement. This isn't his first time paying the man a visit in the middle of the night; he was serious when he told Varka he'd been watching him for a while back in Nod-Krai. But sometimes he just wanted to make sure the man hadn't suddenly croaked, and would sneak over to watch over him through the window while he slept. It's not his fault if it happened to be the same nights sleep evaded him.
He sticks close to the shadows, not that being seen mattered much—most citizens were asleep in their homes, and anyone still out was too drunk to pay him any attention. Alas, old habits die hard.
When he arrives, he takes a careful look around, not seeing anyone else. Coast clear, Lohen glances down at the doorknob, holding up the key in his hand. He stares at it, the metal work surprisingly simple. He always imagined the key to the Knight of Boreas' home having more… finesse, though he supposes that isn't the kind of person Varka is. The key feels heavy in his hands despite that, far heavier than it ought to. It's meaning isn't lost on him, nor is what he's about to do, the reason why he's here. He curls his fingers around it and releases a breath before slotting the key into the door.
Unlocking it, he twists the knob and pushes on the dark wood, stepping inside. The door shuts behind him as he ventures into Varka's home. It's rather modest, small with high ceilings. There isn't much to make out in the darkness, he'll get Varka to give him a little tour in the morning if he doesn't leave before the man wakes. For now, he focuses on reaching Varka's room, finding the door to it open.
His footsteps are silent as he enters, shrugging his cloak off. The first thing he spots are Varka's twin claymores leaning against the wall, shining in moonlight from the window. One of them has a large cloth hanging over the handle. His armor rests nearby on the floor, and Lohen scans the room before his gaze lands on the bed. Tucked under the covers is the man himself, fast asleep. He lays on his side, chest rising and falling with ease, blond hair splayed out over his pillow. Some of the light from the window hits his hair, making it look pale, practically glowing.
Lohen swallows.
He doesn't freeze very often, but right now he finds his feet firmly rooted to the floor. He stands right besides Varka's bed, heart pounding along his ribs. This feels too intimate, too real, which makes it something he could lose. That's why he's been avoiding this exact thing, isn't it? Because this doesn't feel like a routine that formed out of needs during the expedition. This isn't a tent, and Lohen isn't using the excuse of work to seek him out. This is unexplored territory, deeper and more meaningful than everything they were skirting around before.
But he's tired, and tired of denying himself this much. Surely it wouldn't be wrong if he just laid down next to him, right?
Carefully, slowly, he crawls onto the bed, eyes trained on Varka's face the whole time. He keeps his breaths silent as he shifts into place, laying above the covers with his head on the mattress. Lohen waits a beat, then two, then three. He only relaxes when Varka shows no signs of being awake. He lets out his breath and traces over the man's features with his eyes. He looks so relaxed, in a way Lohen doesn't typically see him. Most of the time, there's some sort of wolfish grin on Varka's face that sharpens and brightens his eyes. It's a good look on him, but this one is just as good too.
Varka's face is free of stress lines and furrows, utterly relaxed. He almost looks younger, without the worries of Grand Master or the Knight of Boreas on his shoulders.
Lohen hadn't realized how deeply he's missed this. Laying beside him, greedily taking the space next to him and indulging in the safety it brings him. He tells himself that this enough, not moving any closer, staying where he is. But then his eyes focus on Varka's hand, which has been laying right between them. His heart stutters, want crawling up his throat. Archons does he want.
It's pathetic really, how easily Lohen lets himself crumble. How easy Varka has made him. He reaches for that hand, allowing himself this much. He sets his palm right in Varka's, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath. His fingers and palm are rough, yet a part of Lohen wants to curl around it, into it, cling to the comfort it brings him. Even in his sleep, Varka’s touch is reassuring, the feel of his skin against Lohen’s near addicting. If he had it his way, he’d never want to let go. His hand is smaller than Varka’s, enough that the older could easily hide it under his if he wanted. Lohen can’t tear his gaze away from it. He keeps his hand right where it is, feeling more content than he has since returning home. Like this, he lets his eyes shut, feeling safe enough to do so. "Good night, Varka."
(In the morning, Lohen will wake up with Varka's arms wrapped around him, tucked in close. He'll wake up warm and safe right where he is, well rested. They'll have a proper discussion over breakfast, and a new routine will be created. But for now, Varka pops an eye open once Lohen's breathing evens out, eyes softening at the sight. He gingerly brushes some hair out of his face, just happy to see him there, that Lohen is still willing to seek him out. "Sleep well.")