wanderer didn't enjoy being called pretty.
it was natural phenomenon, a puppet crafted from a branch of irminsul by the hands of the very electro archon herself, was bound to be flawless, composed of features revered by myth and legend.
but skin that remained pale and unfazed by the sun, or weight immune to fluctuation, were things that lacked any sort of humanity. they were unnatural, unrealistic, and characteristics no human should strive for.
dolls hardly resemble people, they were simply canvases to craft perfection instead of beauty. wanderer was completed, not born.
he knows very well of his artificial nature. he knows he cannot alter it, nor did he dwell too much on what he couldn't change. however, being called "pretty", was a jarring reminder of his inherent difference, and the absense of a heart.
so, whenever someone called him complimented his face, he didn't feel too much. he'd simply brush it off, before grunting and moving on with his day, books clutched tightly.
humans concerned themselves with 'beauty', dedicating hours of effort and an eternity of stress to pursue something that lacked a true form. it was something far too precious to subject to a singular, objective form, unlike the principles of mathematics and science. whatever 'standard' of it that existed was simply consequence of certain people being too vocal about their preferences.
wanderer had heard of dehya's complaints of her wide shoulders and muscular build, yet he couldn't comprehend why one should feel ashamed of such strength. layla kept her face down, excusing it with her dark circles, when wanderer thought they were rather pleasant, even though he hardly noticed their presence. he's overheard teenagers groan about acne and pimples, but all he saw was growth and metamorphosis, a bittersweet farewell to childhood. he wondered how proud their parents must've been.
humans are a bit dense sometimes, he thinks. and oblivious to how beautiful they can be, with a tendency to believe otherwise.
"what, that you're pretty?" you commented, poking him in the shoulder. "but you are pretty."
and for some reason, you were well aware of his inhuman nature, yet showered him with praise.
the house of daena was, for the first time in a while, empty, with the exception of you two. all that glowed were the desk lamps, and the midnight wind occasionally ventured inside through its large windows.
wanderer was skimming through his required readings, you were annoying wanderer.
"you do realise nothing about me is natural." he muttered. "that includes how i look."
you do not find him beautiful, or anything of the sort, you thought of his creator as talented. you were enamoured by the raiden shogun's craftsmanship, not wanderer himself.
you shrugged. "fake flowers aren't real. they're still pretty."
he grunted, continuing to read his book. fake flowers were also loveable.
"and." you slouched, inching closer to him while resting your head on a stack of books. "it's not just your face, y'know. bold of you to think you're handsome."
to that, wanderer snickered, before swallowing it down and turning a page.
"you're pretty because you're kind."
he disagreed, he knew otherwise. he kept reading his book, the ink words barely registering to him.
anyone who'd even heard of the balladeer and his violent ways would disagree easily.
"and you're my favourite." you added, slowly tapping a nail against mahogany. "my favourite person."
wanderer's breath hitched, and then he swallowed.
"like you finished the rest of my essay that one time. even though it was my fault i was falling behind."
he scoffed. that was because you were struggling to adapt to the akademiya and its overbearing walls. wanderer felt the same too.
"and you're a really good listener. i can tell you anything."
wanderer rolled his eyes this time. listening was hardly anything, he thought. everyone had their own life, a tale unique to them. if anything, for someone to open up is a blessing, a sign of trust and comfort.
"oh, and cats! you always pet cats."
of course he did. he adored all wildlife. cats just happened to be his favourite.
"i don't get what point you're trying to make."
you shrugged. "you're more human than you think. far more than most scholars of the akademiya. and people in general. you can yap about being a puppet all you want, but you have a heart."
finally, wanderer peeled himself from his book; he wasn't exactly paying attention to it anyways. disagreement danced at the tip of his tongue, but he refrained.
maybe it was how you glowed despite the absence of light, or the softness of your voice floating through the air. maybe it was because you said everything he wanted to hear.
but if you thought of him as human, then he must be one, regardless of his nature.
his cheeks screamed red. "you're talking so much today, what do you want?"
and lucky for him, you didn't think to stop and tease him. "you. i want you." you stood up, snatching his book, and he let you. "do you even sleep? take a break."
wanderer sighed, taking your hand. "fine, if you insist."
so through the house of daena you pulled him, promising to buy him all the snacks he wanted for working so hard. you reprimanded him for not sleeping and taking breaks, wanderer simply promised to do so from then on.
perhaps, he was the dense one, after all.
