Akademiya!Zandik × Akademiya Scholar!F!Reader
CW: Emotional neglect, Corpse Desecration, Human remains, References to dysfunctional family dynamics, Morally questionable protagonists, Grave robbing, Past parental death, Dark humor, References to decomposition, Moral ambiguity, etc.
Author’s Note: First time writing fanfiction. I usually write articles so this is kinda new for me. Zandik might be a bit OOC. Still figuring out how tags work. I'm so nervous about posting here. Feedback is really, really appreciated ^^
Proofread: Lightly. Grammatical errors may be there.
Summary: A student studying in the Rtawahist Darshan of the Akademiya. Completely, entirely fed up with stuck up, arrogant, insufferable Akademiya scholars who refuse to talk about anything but how hail and hearty they are for studying at such a prestigious institution. You wish to be left alone, far away from all this snobbishness. What better place than Sumeru’s graveyard? Akademiya scholars avoided it because of, well– superstitions. You didn’t believe in those. It was simply the best place to read and ponder. One day, you happen to meet the strange scholar everyone whispers about– Zandik, the boy who didn’t belong to any particular Darshan. Tall, lean, eyes as red as blood, hair the shade of crystalfly wings– you’d never seen a boy so… pretty. Albeit, he was strange. People whispered, the rumors said all sorts of things about him– monster, maniac, what not. Sure, he’d pilfer the bones of dead people by digging up graves and using them for his… odd research. The dead didn’t seem to mind. And you didn’t either.
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Jaded and exasperated, that’s how the Akademiya left you feeling. Every scholar seemed convinced admission into the institution entitled them to an ego twice the size of Sumeru City itself.
You decided to take refuge in your safe space– the graveyard. It was mostly avoided by people because of superstitions. But, you liked it. It was quiet, peaceful, no disturbances, nothing. It was just you, your books, the rustle of leaves, and the dead.
Today, however, the graveyard wasn’t empty. It seemed you weren’t the only one who sought refuge among the dead. At first, you assumed someone had come to mourn. The cemetery wasn’t completely abandoned, after all. The metallic clang that followed shattered that assumption. Someone was digging up a grave. Walking deeper into the cemetery, past weathered headstones, you found a patch of freshly disturbed earth. Not just any grave. Your mother’s. A grave robber? No. Grave robbers sought valuables.
This one… wasn’t after jewels. He was pilfering… bones. Your mother’s bones.
Your gaze settled on the skull cradled carefully in his hands. Your mother’s skull. He was examining it like a specimen. You could practically feel the clinical detachment radiating off of him. Whoever this was, he’d definitely done this before, multiple times.
Horror should have seized you. Revulsion should have followed. Instead, all you felt was a distant curiosity. You had never mourned your mother the way people expected daughters to.
She’d always told you that respectable women smiled politely and stopped asking unsettling questions. You’d never managed either. To say that you were lamenting her death would be a white lie. You were shaking with suppressed glee when the news reached you. But, you couldn’t exactly express that feeling— questions would be raised.
You should’ve screamed, reported him. But, you didn’t.
An Akademiya scholar digging up graves?
You took in the sight– the dirt beneath his nails, the quiet indifference that clung to him like moonlight over cobblestones. Your eyes drifted to the brown splattered over his sleeves– dried blood. Probably from an experiment gone wrong. You decided not to ponder on that too much. You caught the whiff of the decay that was drifting out of the grave. It was hard not to notice the smell– it clung to the air like a mist.
He must’ve heard you, or sensed you, because he lifted his head and looked at you with a blank expression, like he didn’t care at all. Ah, well… This wasn’t any random Akademiya student. No. It was… that one. The scholar everyone whispered about. The boy who asked questions no one answered. The one who looked at people like they were specimens instead of classmates. The sort who seemed capable of vivisecting someone for looking at him wrong. They said he didn’t belong to any Darshan. He didn’t really unnerve you or creep you out, though. He intrigued you. Powder-blue hair. Crimson eyes. Lean, tall. He was… Beautiful, in the same way a venomous snake is beautiful. But, before you could think of something to say, your tongue betrayed you–
“Well, if you are going to desecrate a corpse and pilfer its bones, the least you could do is set aside the jewels for me.”
How foolish. What a first impression.
He was quiet for a few moments before letting out a sigh.
“...And who are you to tell me that?”
Damn. Even his voice was velvety, rich.
“That’s my mother’s grave.”
He paused. His eyes widened a bit.
“...You’re not going to scream? Call the Matra? Report me?”
You laughed. You laughed. He looked taken aback. Made you feel a bit uneasy about yourself because if he was weirded out? Something was horribly wrong with you.
“I think my choice to silently observe you instead of hysterically screaming the moment I saw what you were doing is enough of an explanation, no?”
He stared at you for a few seconds. “Doesn’t seem like you got along with her.” He said, lifting the skull.
“No, we didn’t get along.”
“You answered that too quickly.”
You rolled your eyes. “Because it’s true, Zandik.”
“Who doesn’t? You’re infamous around here. Though, the rumors didn’t mention… grave robbery.”
“I’m not robbing graves.”
“Not for the jewels.” You correct him. “Robbing graves for cremated remains is still robbery.”
“What are you going to do with… these?” You ask, sitting on your own mother’s headstone.
“Okay.” You shrug, opening the book you brought with you. “Just leave the jewels for me. Sure, my mother was a horrible woman but at least her taste in fashion was unique.”
“What in Teyvat is wrong with her?” were his thoughts. He snapped himself out of it when he saw you looking at him, clearly expecting an answer.
“Fair enough.” He replies, looking down at the remains before kneeling down to shove them into his sack. He wanted to get out of there as fast as he could. For someone who thought he wasn’t easily fazed or unnerved by things, he could feel the uneasy creeping underneath his skin. This was her own mother, and yet she was acting this way. It creeped him out, and yet? It still piqued his interest. Someone who understood him.
“Do you come here often?” You asked, as he was leaving the cemetery.
He thought of lying. But, well, smart people could recognize others sharing their intellect. And you certainly checked the box. So, instead… “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Okay, then. Zandik. I hope your research is fruitful.”
He turned around and left.
But, he would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to see you again.
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Written by @alalalalalalalalalalalalalalaska . Please do not repost or use my work without permission.
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