On All Things Meditated

When she'd first arrived, Nahida had felt quite on edge, poking and prodding at every nook and cranny of the dreamscape for any similarity to the Sabzeruz samsara. But, after a while - and a decent amount of research into the fall of the Oak Family - she'd concluded that her fears were just that; fears.

Thus reassured, she'd set out to explore with renewed curiosity and confidence, eventually finding her way to Paperfold University. And it's here that she truly finds herself enjoying Penacony; the Golden Hour was impressive, but still busy and noisy; she's heard interesting stories about Dreamflux Reef but hasn't had a chance to visit yet; but this place is simply wonderful.

It's like the Akademiya, in its own way, but entirely without the callousness towards the arts, even if it is in the midst of shaking off the last remnants of a memetic virus - another fascinating concept, and one that prompts her to redouble her own psychic shielding. The focus on fame and stardom that also permeates the place comes with its own problems, naturally, but it's still refreshing to see an academic environment so accepting of the arts. It's giving her some ideas to think on, some new inspiration for the future of Sumeru, perhaps in a few decades or centuries.

And there's another interesting thing Nahida's discovered in her exploration: a novel that seems to have a different ending in every copy. She's bought three copies to test it for herself, and the rumors quickly prove themselves to be true. It's fascinating - she's been using that word a lot lately, but there's just so much to discover here - and she can't help but consider what it means, for a story to be so fluid and ever-changing, never the same from one moment to the next. For such a thing to be found in a dreamscape of all places feels...important, especially to her. No dream is ever quite the same, after all-

Abruptly, Nahida flicks her eyes upward, away from the three books floating in front of her on dendro constructs. There's someone watching her, someone trying to sneak through her mental shields.

She quickly locates the source: a tall being in a dramatically-tailored outfit, wandering through the busy central courtyard and dipping into people's minds and memories as easily as she might brush her hands over the leaves of plants when walking through the forest. And, unlike most people here, he doesn't have that tether back to the physical realm, either.

Nahida narrows her eyes and focuses on the intrusion. He's cunning, sneaky, and so very clever - but inside her own mind, the very realm she's spend 500 years of solitude mastering in every conceivable way, he doesn't stand a chance. She leads the mental probe through a constructed maze similar to the ones her aranara like to create, letting him think he's wormed his way through her barriers - and then, when he thinks he's succeeded, she strikes, catching the both the original probe and the others trying to sneak in around the edges like a rishboland tiger scruffing a kitten, and none-too-gently ejects him from her mind.

"Now, that's rude," she says, lingering for a moment in his rather-unusual mind, "besides, isn't it more fun to discover things for yourself, as a part of the world?"

The girl is faster though, and he can't help but watch in amazement as the arrow - now a glittering streak of vibrant green and sparking lightning - hits the bullseye. And the cliffside finally falls silent.

Not for long, of course. No place is ever quiet for long when this cowboy's around, and he whistles at the sight, turning to the girl with excitement on his face that he can barely contain.

"Well, butter my backside - y'got moves, gal! Couldn't tell by just lookin' at ya. That's on me."

With a flick, Boothill empties the cylinder of its spent shells, then holsters the gun as he surveys the damage. A few bodies litter the hillside, along with a handful of scorch marks, but fortunately the torches they'd been carrying had quickly extinguished. Boothill nods up the hill, gesturing past the wooden structure that denoted the center of the hilichurl's former camp to the spot where the cliff meets the sky.

"I've been posted here for the next few days to keep an eye on the weather. Folks 'round here seem real nervous about a storm or somethin', but it's been as clear as you could ever hope for since I arrived." If it wasn't obvious by looking at him that he wasn't a local, then he made it abundantly clear now with how skeptical he was of his task.

Settling his hands on his hips, he glances down at the girl again. On the surface, everything about her looks young - from stature, to style of dress, to her hair tied up in a youthful updo - but something about her face seems to tell another story. A sorrow in her eyes that only comes with an understanding of the world. Maybe she'd been forced to grow up far too early - he can't even begin to guess - but she's here now, alone, and that's a more immediate mystery.

There's a time and place to indulge her more childish side, but outside the Dharma Forest, the wilds are indeed not the place for it.

But, back to the matter at hand. "I doubt you'll have to worry about a storm - the god of these lands tends to take a personal hand in keeping the skies clear, even if his people often don't see what he does for them - but setting a watch is a smart precaution, nonetheless."

Nahida steps closer, inspecting the metal sections of his body with a curious eye. Should she ask? No...that would be rude, wouldn't it? Still, though, the allure of knowledge draws her in. She can't deny her curiosity about how this probably-offworld technology works, but curiosity should never be satisfied at the expense of kindness and compassion.

Passive observation it is, then.

But there was nothing left in the Grove, no one left to teach there. And he was nothing more than the remnants of memory and a fragile soul.

Anaxagoras chuckles softly, it certainly wasn't a lie that scholars found themselves often embroiled in debate. It tended to happen, when strong minds and personalities found themselves at a crossroads with conflicting ideas. He himself was more often than not bickering with a student or one of his fellow professors at the Grove.

"We certainly do enjoy a good debate, wherever we can get one," Anaxagoras smirks, glancing again towards the researchers buzzing around and arguing with one another. He doubts that he would be able to have any sort of meaningful intelluctual debate with these fools though. Not any that would interest him at least, "And anyone would be protective of their life's work; don't you think? I assuredly keep my notes guarded with my very life."

The more private ones at least. Those that contained his most personal experiments. The notes on his experiements with his own blood and body. The notes on the last time he had seen his beloved older sister, on what he had sacrificed then and how he managed to spite death for but a mere moment with that sacrifice. It was absurd blasphemy, and no one else must ever know - besides the teacher he had confided in - what he had done upon that day. He was the last one alive - as alive as he was now - who knew the truth that hid behind his eyepatch. May Cerces safeguard those thoughts, if they even could anymore.

Nahida starts by wandering up to the nearest researcher. "So, what have you heard about this stolen data? I find myself rather curious what makes it so important?"

The researcher, seemingly pleased to have someone else to vent to, unloads a blistering tirade aimed at their colleagues, Madam Herta, the IPC, Madam Herta, the station's security chief and lead researcher, Madam Herta, the Erudition THEMSELF, and, once again, Madam Herta - but within the wrath they spit, she catches a few glimmers of truth. The others chime in too, adding their own conjectures, accusations, and conclusions - some of them even accusing each other, which proves to be entirely unsurprising. After a while - truly, quite some time of simply standing and letting the group of researchers disparage seemingly everything in sight - Nahida reconvenes with her new ally on the balcony once again.

"So, to summarize my initial findings," she begins, "the station's security staff have dug into everyone's accounts and found no trace of the data. There are no security recordings of anyone downloading it, nor records in the system of such. There are countless people with potential means, motive, and opportunity, so much so that it may be easier to ask who couldn't have stolen it. And, of course, every single researcher seems to believe that their latest rival must be the culprit, even in the complete absence of evidence."

For a few moments, Kallen just watches from where she is, somewhere between baffled and concerned. The girl is methodically reviewing the equipment available to her with a measuredness that almost makes Kallen second-guess her initial impression. Well, maybe the girl’s parents are both alchemists. Or maybe, she is a child prodigy?

There are no other spots open. Somewhat hopeful at the prospect of working with a potential prodigy, Kallen approaches the bench with unearned confidence. Her companion’s greeting catches her off guard ever so slightly—it has been a while since Kallen’s been around children, but she is quick to smile back. “Hello, Nahida! I’m Kallen.” At Nahida’s question, Kallen turns her attention to the furious-looking things trapped within their containers. Vaguely, she recalls something from a dream, maybe—a cold, terrifying thing of infallible ice. The smaller creatures here look similar, if only bluer and less chilly.

Oh. Right. Nahida’s question…

The blue things must be hydro slimes. Hydro is a familiar-enough word, even if it takes Kallen a moment to recognize it from the lessons her father once would sometimes try to teach her. Isn’t it Greek—for water? Then, it dawns on her. She has never learned how to make dough. Flour and water, right? How hard could it be? Anyway, that would explain the cooking supplies. “Probably, right? Those little things look like they’re mostly made out of water…”

She grabs a notebook and starts sketching out some alchemical equations - her handwriting's much improved from where it had been right after she'd been freed, thanks to much practice - taking a moment as she does to gague the elemental energy within the slimes with elemental sight. "Technically, these slimes are non-sentient lifeforms formed from a type of energy that is found within Teyvat's waters and shares many characteristics with it - but is not, chemically speaking, made up of the same atomic components. The distinction between and interactions involving chemical and magical elements is an entire field of study in itself, but for our purposes...I can safely hypothesize that Hydro will react similarly enough to water."

It does, however, prove not quite enough against Mr. Auguste, if the stream of accusations from the struggling man is anything to go by. Neuvillette stands still, hands behind his back as he listens; another might perhaps laugh or sneer in his place while hearing such pointless drivel, but the Iudex' facial expression is still, unmoved, giving the impression that the guy may as well be snarling at a wall.

Before he can answer, however, Nahida steps in front of him, and only then does the Chief Justice stir in mild surprise. For a moment, as she snaps and unloads her anger, a series of vague, blurry images pass through his mind in quick succession. Darkness, barriers, seals, more darkness, chains, darkness - it is unclear, and if he had not the context and knowledge for the Dendro Archon's past predicaments, it would have been completely confusing -

but he does, and in that brief moment, he comes one step closer to understanding her feelings on what this man did.

For that reason, he makes no effort to stop her; he needs not, anyway, for - just as she has always done - she regains control of her emotion on her own.

Only then does he move, offering her a small nod, before turning back to Mr. Auguste, his eyes just as cold and unfeeling as most of Fontaine believes him to be.

"We will speak of it at the court. I certainly hope you will prepare better defenses than just your social standing. Given the amount of evidence found in a matter of minutes, to which I was direct witness, you will need them. And if you can't..." He half-closes his eyes and lets the threat hang in the air unspoken for a moment, before he finally finishes, the words echoing akin to a prophecy.

"Down there, in the Fortress, to each comes what he deserves."

She falls silent again, and for a while, they simply watch the starlight on the waves. She's never particularly liked the ocean, full as it is of creatures entirely beyond comprehension, but something about Fontaine's seas - perhaps the fact that, with the blessing of the sourcewaters, she could in fact swim to their deepest depths and discover those truths - feels less strange and hostile. Perhaps, some day, she'll work up the courage to do just that.

But for now, there are other truths that should be spoken of. She's weary of discussing cages and trials and that arrogant man's folly, but there's one thing she owes to both the dragon beside her, and the one she'd met in the desert. "I'm not sure if you already know," she begins, "but the original Dendro Sovereign is still alive, living in an oasis beneath the desert of Hadramaveth. I can show you the way on a map, when you have the time - you should both know you're not alone in this world."

General Mahamatra Cyno was many things. A pragmatic man, a loyal man, even an intelligent man. He was an executor of justice, a defender of Sumeru. He would do everything in his power to protect his Archon. Anything, his life for his country. Justice was eternal.

Despite all of this however, he certainly was not expecting anything like the question that had been asked of him today. He blinked at the short Archon before him. Nahida was also many things. But of all the things he could think to attach to her name...

A martial fighter was not one of them.

The training grounds had fallen silent when Nahida stepped out into the ring - she's pulled her hair back into a thick braid, left off her jewellery, and exchanged her usual dress for a more practical sleeveless shirt and loose pants, but she's been actively existing as part of the world for long enough to be more recognisable, now - and she takes advantage of that silence, striking the haft of her training spear against the ground for emphasis before continuing.

"My elemental power is strong and versatile, but even it cannot resolve every situation. Relying solely on a single method of defense leaves you vulnerable to circumstances it's not prepared or suitable to counter," she explains, carefully focusing on her General and ignoring all the other eyes on her. "There's only so much dendro constructs can do at close range, for instance. Accordingly, I've decided to start with the spear for several reasons: it will allow me to compensate for my lack of reach, offers more options against multiple opponents...and, I have a master of the right fighting style right here to learn from."

There's also that unshakable little voice in the back of her mind, saying I need to be able to better protect myself, so that I'll never be imprisoned again. It's been a background hum of anxiety for the last few years, but now, Sumeru is stable, new systems set up and old ones rebuilt to address all the damage the Sages had done. Now that Nahida's not trying to piece together a functioning government from the half-gutted remnants of the previous one, she has the time to dedicate to her own studies. She'd done what research she could, and made sure to select a practice weapon the appropriate size for her height, but this is the sort of thing that needs proper practice and training.

They'll get closer to the kidnappers' hideout before too long - but there's more than enough time for a brief history lesson, and the Aranara will warn her if anything dangerous approaches. And so, as she leads the way though the depths of Mawtimya, she reaches for both Irminsul's records and the instinctive knowledge that comes with being who and what she is, and begins to explain. "Long ago - to briefly summarize, as the full history of these lands would take a very long time to explain - all Sumeru was a lush and beautiful rainforest, all life within living at peace under the protection of a mighty dragon. Yet...it could not last, as war swept the world, and a weapon fell from the sky, turning the once-verdant land to a storm-scoured desert. Life remained, congregating around oases, and for a time, a grand civilization arose under the guidance of the Three God-Kings. Though even their dream could not last, and after the death of one, the remaining two went their separate ways...and one of them traveled eastwards, to these lands, and created these forests as a home for her people."

Nahida pauses to scan their surroundings for any sign of danger, and finding none, continues. "As for the other regions...this, of course, is Mawtimya Forest, home to a variety of unusual plants and fungi not found elsewhere. To the south and west is Avidya Forest, which comprises the majority of Sumeru's forests, and is considered the safest, frequently patrolled by the Forest Watchers as it is. Further to the north, along the coastline and the northern border with Liyue, is the Lokapala Jungle - where we're heading. Unfortunately, much of that area was also damaged during Fontaine's great flood last year, and there are few settlements. Vanarana, home of the Aranara, is to the northwest; and in the southwest, closer to the edge of the desert, lies Apam Woods, notable for three things: great trees that grow as tall as mountains, an artificial weather cycle...and the very device that recreated the rainforests after their destruction."

Nahida takes another look at her companion - and finds no reason to worry. He's listening with rapt attention, drinking in her words like a flower absorbing sunlight.

It truly is so very nice to be able to talk at length about her forests, but a lot of the humans she knows start to get a glazed look in their eyes whenever she really gets into it. But Argenti's still listening, and she hasn't even moved from history to more complex ecology yet!

That gives her another idea, and she points to a kalpalata vine trailing from the edge of one of the great mushrooms, its blue-white flowers shimmering in the sun. "As for Mawtimya itself, many of the plants found here can also be found across the forests if you know where to look. Such as Kalpalata Lotuses - the first plant I personally created. There's an old legend that they're the progenitors of all life in the forest, but that's simply not true. I wasn't the first to tend to this garden, after all."

Though if she’s right, their next steps are much more precarious than he’d like. A thousand years into the past is an incredible show of power. Very few beings could manage it, and the ley lines were often more unstable. “Your theory has merit,” An easy concession, and already he leads, pausing steps ahead as Buer seems to falter. “It would be unwise to overlook the connection. Perhaps a wind spirit who has earned a consciousness of its own. Or the ley lines, calling the past under duress.”

While he talks, the other seems to shake herself from a stupor. His gaze narrows, hands coming to fold behind his back as they walk, taking in the world around them with a more critical eye.

He knows where they are, despite the geo signatures of the earth around them striking a resonance several fractions different than what it was one thousand years into the future. It’s younger, with different trees, different structures shaping the land. The wind – as alive as ever in this nation and bearing the threat of a storm unlike any other – it is still Teyvat. Mondstadt. “If I have been affected, it has yet to manifest-“ He gestures to the amulet, settled, all its previous power focused at the center of the wind’s symbol. “Perhaps your scattered thoughts are an attempt to lead us in a direction. Or… a snare. Does the artifact feel malicious to you?” A tenured Archon, he would leave it to her to decide…though wearing something unknown was a substantial risk in and of itself.

Zhongli’s time in Mondstadt over the years was few and far in between, but he’s surprised by the rolling plains of grass between them and their destination. The decimated temple was visible even at a great distance, rising over the fields. Haunting then and haunting now, wind howling around them in ways that often seemed like voices shrilling a language not meant for his comprehension.

Now more than ever, it filled his head. Words and meaning so far from reach, dizzying him until he had the sense to tune the tone towards annoyance. So maybe he was affected, though it was nothing concrete. Not worth drawing Buer’s attention. “Do you remember what you were doing on this day?” Conversational. He certainly remembers, knows where Rex Lapis dwells on this day. Irrelevant except for the security that he never comes face to face with himself.

The exact words are just barely out of reach, like an echo carried on the wind from somewhere far away; clear enough to be recognizable as words, too indistinct to truly be deciphered. It's not unlike delving so deep into Irminsul that all physical sensation ceases to be, leaving only thought and will and memory - but, in this case, far more bound to the physical, living world. "I think the amulet is an anchor? No...a key?"

His next question should be simple to answer, and yet it once again gives her pause, once again brings that sharp, spiking headache. "I don't remember, no. I wasn't even born yet-"

That sends an even sharper jolt of pain through her mind, and she stumbles, falling to her knees in the soft grass with a quiet gasp. She tries, desperately, to reach for the memories, to understand why there's such a sharp disconnect in her mind between what she knows of her past and what's slowly filtering in from this timeline's Irminsul. And slowly, oh so slowly, a horrible thought begins to take shape in her mind; a thought shaped from biting-cold grief and a searing, helpless anger.

"Zhongli..." Nahida hesitantly asks, one hand rubbing her head to dispel the pain and the other nervously twisting the fabric of her dress, "who is the current Dendro Archon, in your memories? I don't mean Buer - that's just a title handed down by Celestia, and not one either of us have ever cared for - I mean their name."

She's referring to her past self as someone else again - as not truly her past self, if her dreadful theory holds any weight. That terrible, weighty something she's forgotten, the thing that so often haunts the edges of her dreams, is drawing closer, inescapable and inevitable. The Thousand Winds Temple is just down the hill, the mystery of Istaroth hangs like a sword above their heads, but all she can think about is this terrible, shattering truth.

The sins of her people made against her were of no mystery to him, after all.

"That would be appreciated. I can help accelerate communication," he says, before a realization dawns on him, and he crosses his arms with a quiet huff. "I'll arrange for one of the more experienced judges to handle this case. After all... I will be the one prosecuting this time around, it seems."

When was the last time he did? A hundred years ago? Two? He finds it hard to remember for sure. The fabric of time is all too slippery in the hands of one who pays it as little attention as he.

But that is his problem to solve, not hers. Kusanali's request is met with another nod, aimed at both her and the concerned guard standing by her side.

Hotel Debord is far quieter by the time they climb back up all the claustrophobia-inducing stairs and return to the main reception hall; quiet, but not peaceful. It's a fragile, stretched-thin quiet, imposed by the force of the Iudex's glare and the musket-wielding Special Patrol agents. There's no gossip crisscrossing the room, although there likely will be soon; the few attendees who have not yet been escorted out watch the proceedings in shocked silence.

The two members of her guard who'd remained topside swiftly fall into place at her side, quickly exchanging a few hand signals with the two who'd come down with her - Nahida thinks she recognises the signs for quiet and leaving and situation under control - and then she feels them, the nearby Gardes, and the entire room tense as two more Gardes drag a struggling Monsieur Auguste past.

The criminal mastermind's eyes slide over her, sneering and dismissive, and come to rest on Neuvillette. "Well well, the mighty Iudex graces us mere mortals with his presence," the man spits, struggling in the Gardes' grasp. "You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? You've ruined my fundraiser with your...baseless accusations! Do you have any idea how much damage you've done to my social standing? Are you so bored without Lady Furina around that you feel the need to invent crimes to bring down such highly-regarded members of Fontaine's high society as me?"

And now there's that old, long-buried anger, bright as the desert sun; and before Nahida can think better of it, she steps past her guards to challenge him in return. "There's no need for anyone to invent accusations when we've seen the cages with our own eyes," she snaps. "Do you even care what you've done? The pain you've inflicted, all for what...to protect your reputation? You sicken me."

Assuming, of course, that it was done without their knowledge.

The Dendro Archon's men soon arrive, accompanied by his own. As the leader of the unit reports to him, Neuvillette points to the disabled Gardemeks. "Shut them down for good. We will have to confiscate them and find out how a private person was able to gain access to them. What of the situation up there?"

"The gala has been shut down. Mr. Auguste and his lackeys were arrested. We've already found incriminating papers in his office and illegally acquired firearms in his men's possession. Other participants have been identified and are waiting for developments."

... Well, that is a few interesting individuals he will be, presumably, sending to Wriothesley in the near future.

"Understood. Well done. Get to work here now."

A few Gardes set out to do just that; the others begin to tend to the hostages. Luckily, someone happened to have water and emergency rations with them, which now come in handy. Neuvillette remains in the back now, aptly aware where his place is in these situations; before long, he is addressed by Nahida, and turns his attention to her.

"We will have them examined at the Court of Fontaine hospital first. Their health must be the first priority." He speaks loud enough for the Special Patrol to know that they are meant to hear this as well, for his answer to her doubles as their next orders. "We must also see about locating their relatives. After they have sufficiently recovered, we will take their testimonies... before the interrogation." He crosses his arms, his expression serious - the kind that intimidates even the most rebellious criminals into their proper place.

"Investigating nobles is always a particular pain, what with their connections - but we have our methods as well. I guarantee you that justice will be served, and the hostages cared for and compensated for what they had gone through." A pause, followed by a sigh, as he looks around again. "We will also have to investigate the Hotel itself. This place should not exist, not in this shape. We will have to find out what happened here."

He stops here again, before turning his full attention to Nahida.

"I should offer you an apology, Lesser Lord Kusanali. I do not imagine that this is how you imagined this evening to go. I am grateful for your assistance today."

She's drawing parallels again. Try as she might to be objective about the situation, she simply can't help it. The sight of these people, locked away in the dark to be forgotten about, all because they'd said something some rich, arrogant old man hadn't liked-

Neuvillette's apologising for the evening's events, she belatedly realises, and she turns the idea of the apology over in her head, examining it in relation to the situation. "There's no need," she eventually replies, still feeling all too distant and faint. "We saved these people, so it was worth it. I despise cages," she adds, and her voice breaks on the last word; and for a moment, Nahida hates this too-small body and its too-fragile instincts, how its guileless face leaves her every raw, bleeding wound visible and exposed for everyone to pry and pick at; and though he's not drawn attention to her slowly-fracturing composure, that could just be mere politeness, surely there's no way everyone around her hasn't noticed-

Breathe. Focus on your senses, bring yourself back to the here and now

The once-dim basement around her, now brightly-lit with torches and elemental lights. The increasingly-worried guard at her side. The Dragon Sovereign right in front of her, resplendent in fathomless power. The former prisoners, being rushed to the hospital, where they'll be cared for and their families found. She's on the other side of the bars; she's broken open the bars with her own two hands.

Very deliberately, Nahida takes a deep breath and unclenches her fists. "...sorry. My mind was...elsewhere. Um, you'll need my testimony for the trial, right? I'll just need to send a letter back to Sumeru explaining that I've extended my trip."