INASSOUVI

Lauma  too  remains  quiet  as  the  move  ,  conserving  any  energy  she  had  for  the  short  journey.  She  tried  once  to  let  go  and  support  herself  once  they  were  in  some  what  of  a  steady  rhythem  ,  but  it  seems  she  needed  more  support  than  she  would  have  liked  in  this  moment.  Keeping  her  eyes  down  towards  the  cobbles  of  mondstadts  streets  ,  Lauma  was  thankful  that  no  one  seemed  to  know  her  here.  If  she  had  been  in  Nasha  town  ,  the  poor  moonchanter  would  have  been  stopped  multiple  times  already.

Her  room  was  on  the  first  floor  ,  well  sized  ,  aesthetically  it  seemed  to  fit  in  with  the  rest  of  what  Lauma  had  seen  of  the  city  so  far.  She  was  thankful  once  her  bed  came  into  view  and  she  was  finally  away  from  the  sun.  ❝  I  will  repay  you  somehow  for  your  kindness  ❞ ,  speaking  to  Rosaria  once  again  now  she  was  able  to  sit.  ❝  even  if  the  price  be  to  never  speak  to  me  again  ❞ ,  a  sorrowful  smile  ,  but  Lauma  didn't  know  what  Rosaria  was  thinking  after  all  this  time.

there's considerable silence between her first sentence and the second, time well used to arrange her thoughts and preen her words and weed out her madness. soon enough, lauma will return to nod krai; there won't be another encounter in the foreseeable future. and this, whatever this mess is, will have time to fade away.

“ it was fun. but that's all i'm up for. i should've communicated better before starting anything. that's on me. ” there are many things she could say. the only word she won't say is sorry. no, she isn't sorry for being who she is. “ i'll have someone bring you a parasol. ”

Jean  had  let  it  go  last  night  ,  if  Rosaria  wanted  to  get  patched  up  alone  ,  the  acting  grandmaster  was  not  going  to  take  that  away  from  her  but  today  ,  she  would  be  continuing  the  conversation.  Having  already  cleared  having  a  quiet  word  the  Rosaria  through  sister  Victoria  ,  Jean  would  like  to  see  what  kind  of  escape  she  would  put  up  this  time.

❝  not  so  fast  Rosaria  ❞ ,  the  acting  grandmaster  catches  up  to  the  other  ,  lowering  her  voice  now  so  only  the  two  of  them  could  hear.  ❝  are  you  alright  today  ?  ❞ were  her  wounds  clean  ,  did  she  need  anything  ?  too  many  questions  might  just  scare  her  away  ,  Jean  would  keep  it  simple  for  now.

hate might be too strong a word, but she is nothing if not extreme. mondstadt's kindness is the only reason she has a home, and yet it's a weight that often suffocates her. all the well-meaning souls with their all-encompassing goodness cannot begin to comprehend how a crooked woman like her feels under their constant watch. when everyone, consciously or not, tries to fix you.

jean walks over. she considers her options and decides to make a run for it. even if she can't get away, jean will certainly pick up on the hint and keep it short.

“ acting grandmaster, ” rosaria turns her head to offer a nod. she is putting on her best poker face as to not let her frustration show. “ of course, all is well. ”

in case that's not convincing enough, she gives jean a thumbs up. “ don't you have work to do? ”

Jean  knew  better  than  to  jump  down  the  others  throat  with  concern  ,  at  least  not  here  out  in  public.  There  was  no  doubting  that  Rosaria  was  being  serious  ,  which  did  lead  the  acting  grand  master  to  frown  ,  suddenly  hoping  there  was  something  she  could  do  to  lessen  the  load  that  made  life  in  Mondstadt  that  unbearable. 

Still  there  were  many  things  Jean  wasn't  privvy  to  knowing  ,  and  she  wasn't  someone  who  could  fix  everything  with  the  click  of  her  fingers  ,  but  perhaps  watching  out  for  Rosaria  a  little  more  going  forward  could  be  a  step  in  the  right  direction. 

She  can't  help  but  blush  as  Rosaria  commends  her  ,  ❝  okay  shhh  ❞ feeling  her  head  sink  a  little  into  her  neck  ,  Jean  still  cared  about  apperances  ,  drinking  in  the  middle  of  the  day  was  not  something  the  acting  grandmaster  should  be  caught  doing  ,  even  on  her  birthday.

❝  please  don't  tell  me  there  is  some  thing  planned  ?  ❞ she  hated  a  fuss.

“ that's my guess. by the way, you didn't hear if from me. ” she refuses to confirm or deny it, but that alone should be enough an answer. “ and i certainly won't tell you what to do or where to go. angel's share is packed as it is on a regular weekend. you might prefer some private time on your big day. who's to say? ”

sorry to everyone who is breaking their back to make this party happen.

It’s a stupidly simplified version, but that was the gist for Will.

There is also the fact that Will rarely talks about himself this much. His work and world had never been centered on him but rather on other experiences, often unpleasant ones. He has been given the opportunity to explore and turn over all the things he wants in a space deemed acceptable. How could he begin to even explain his own gratitude for that grace? He chuckles, mostly to himself. He must seem very pathetic, no? 

He doesn’t want to sleep with her, and that is true. The intimacy he requires is another kind altogether. His base desires are secondary to his other proclivities. He has many things that fall into this category, neatly arranged and sorted by importance and his flexibility with him. If she wanted her spreadsheet, she found the perfect person to do so with.

There were still some things he was a bit undecided on. It’s his only hesitation as he peers at her, sniffing through the subtext, trying to gauge all her reactions and catalog them for later when he has over time to explore them. What was she thinking, what was she feeling, how did she feel about x, y, z? Perfectly normal chain of thoughts centering on curiosity and obsession. He shrugs, “It mostly depends on you. If you’d welcome it, then yes. However, if it would present itself as a problem or unwanted, then no– I have no interest in touching you.” He smiles faintly, given the conversation sounds much more loaded than it was.

It was clinical to a degree, two professionals expanding upon an unwritten (aside from her napkin) agreement between them.

He nods a little, “I appreciate that. If anything changes about anything– well, it’s important to me you have the space to say so. I understand this by nature is terribly one-sided, but I’d like to at least be an obliging employer. As long as you’re honest with me, we can tweak this as much as we need to." He knows as soon as he tastes her dishonesty for the first time, it would do irreparable damage. It was his only warning. 

but she is no stranger to contradictions. all the cushy office jobs pale in comparison to the allure of solving a will graham-shaped puzzle for money.

“ does anything about me say average? ” she sets her pen down and folds the napkin into a small triangle, which disappears behind her, presumably tucked into her purse; her hands are deft and stealthy, and all that time, her eyes remains on him. “ it sounds like you're paying me to have fun, ” the irony of her providing emotional value tickles her. she leans forward, cheek in palm, a smile so sweet and misplaced on a woman unwell like her. “ i have no other preoccupation, but we can start slow. a couple of hours a week, just let me know when and where. and, if you have any preferences regarding what you'd like to see, ” she gestures at her face and attire, “ tell me like you did last time. i don't mind bluntness as much as i do ambiguity. ”

it doesn't matter if he decides to take up her entire week. the plan is to make as much money as she can with whatever time she has left, then make sure it goes to the kid who deserves it. whatever happens to her is irrelevant.

What had she been up to…?

Though the concern doesn’t leave his expression, he chose to humour her. Ill timed as it was. 

“Hmm, that depends on our Captain, I suppose.” A pause to get her a glass of water (and for the dramatics). “Perhaps, she will have a change of heart and we’ll depart within the hour.” 

Indeed, ‘we’. Including the sick woman currently resting on the Crux. He placed the glass of water on a table nearby. 

“Are you well enough to sit down?”

she looks at the glass of water and tries her darnedest to sit up. her back aches at every second she peels herself away from the floor, but she manages to take the glass and drink from it. it tastes good, and it's never a good sign for her when water tastes good.

“ honestly? i prefer lying down. ”

Besides, it’s not as if the Acting Grand Master hadn’t imbibed before in her youth. Never regularly and somewhat embarrassingly, she’d nearly choked herself to death in front of Kaeya, but this was perhaps a touch more than rebellion these days. It was a search for a closure, for catharsis, something to lessen the constant gnawing ache of continuing to keep too many plates spinning all at once. Anyone else might have dared to take a holiday, to step back from a workload that wasn’t entirely of her own making and put her own needs before those of a nation - yet alas, the blonde didn’t have such a luxury. She was shackled to her position in much the same way Rosaria had found herself bound to the church. 

 ❝It’s not my first rodeo. ❞ The knight hums back, deftly plucking the offered smoke from her companion’s fingers and toying with the match as if deciding whether she wanted to go through with it. It was hardly a criminal offence. Neither loaded with a sudden commitment to continue smoking for the rest of her life, or to choke the very air that Barbatos had blessed her with. Yet it felt more symbolic than anything else. Like falling from grace, to do the exact thing she had warned others of time and time again, as if some grand consequence would suddenly leap from the ether and smite her. 

It’s oddly refreshing to be treated with such indifference; to be spoken to as if she were a child and not the the acting leader of the very nation that had given the burgundy haired nun a place to call home. The demonstration alone warrants the faintest flicker of a laugh, a mirrored action imitating that of Rosaria until plumes of tobacco laced toxicity swirl into the air. She wants to pretend she’s dignified, when she takes that first drag. Wants to maintain the illusion of composure and decorum, only to be left coughing, spluttering as if every fibre of her being is rejecting the decision to dare to pollute the temple of an otherwise anemo blessed body. 

Scarlet bleeds into her cheeks as the humiliation sets in, yet at least it silences the nagging noises in her head for the time being, an unexpected reprieve really, while avoiding both her sister, father and the chokehold of responsibility. ❝How do you even do this regularly?❞ Jean finds herself asking, as if gleaning this one little scrap of information will somehow lessen the sting of the fact she knows so very little about a woman that is so inextricably tied to so many important people in her life. 

but vices are vices. smoke a thousand times and it's still a cigarette. rosaria doesn't try to glorify it, not that it would've worked, but she also knows better than to put any meaning behind it.

out of the two of them, it's the knight who has the saviour complex, not the nun. the nun doesn't even embrace the notion of patriotism, let alone perform reverence to its leaders — to her, mondstadt is the land under her feet and the people living in it, not an abstract concept. politics that function on the idea of nations-as-entities have no bearing to her values.

“ the same way you do your work. ” because that's all it is, isn't it? routines are routines. the first thing you reach for when you wake up in the morning. the first thought on your mind. there's no effort required for a habit like that. she reaches for the pack of cigarette again and, after another moment of considering, hands it over. “ it helps take off the edge, but that requires you to at least allow yourself a smoke break every now and then. ”

❝  windblume  ❞ the  name  gentle  rolling  off  of  the  moonchanters  tongue  ,  ❝  it  sounds  enticing  from  the  name  alone  ❞.  A  soft  smile  ,  Lauma  liked  the  idea  of  each  nation  having  their  own  celebrations  ,  never  having  thought  that  perhaps  if  she  were  to  travel  ,  she  could  experience  them  too.  Lauma  however  was  not  planning  on  travelling  ,  she  couldn't  leave  Nod  Krai  ,  she  never  had.  The  moonchanter  couldn't  help  the  feeling  that  she  was  not  permitted  to  do  such  a  thing  ,  she  had  a  role  here  ,  abandoning  her  post  surely  wasn't  allowed.

But  who  made  those  rules  anyway  ? 

It  was  too  much  to  ponder  ,  at  least  for  right  now  ,  ❝  tell  me  about  it  ,  perhaps  if  you  have  the  time  ?  ❞ not  wanting  to  keep  the  other  longer  than  she  wished  to  be  there. 

and yet, she stands there, silent. what is there to say about windblume? she is the farthest existence from it. a moment later, she decides to channel the spirit of their walking talking humanoid encyclopedia and fake it through.

“ windblume, where should i begin? ” with her head tilting at an angle, two fingers rest on her chin. this is how their chief alchemist poses when he is deep in thought. “ mondstadt has spent year after year attempting to settle on one flower as the windblume. eventually, they agreed that windblume means different things to different people. ”

she cants her head to the other side. more ponder-posing.