Niniixs

His reluctance to harm you only drives his spiral of interest further. The level of empathy he is able to extend was near non-existent, it has to be in order to fulfil the Tsaritsa’s vision for the future of Teyvat. The doctor had long forgotten how it felt to falter or yield and yet he cannot bring himself to harm you. He has watched you for weeks now, day in day out. Reports detailing your daily routines have piled up on his desk. All it would take would be a word and some skirmishers would force you to your knees before him and he could do as he pleased yet he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted from you. Perhaps he could rip that halo right off your head but then… what would he have? A meaningless ring of light? What would he stand to gain from harming you other than your resentment? Why would he rip you apart when he could keep you intact? Does he truly need to pull you apart to possess you or can he keep you his and whole? As each new day passes he finds himself less and less inclined towards gaining your resentment. Of course he ponders on how you may react to different stimuli but actually inflicting such distress upon you is something he will not entertain.

He is tormented with thoughts of you. What to do with you? Are your wings more or less sensitive? If he ran a hot poker or an ice shard across those delicate wings would they twitch? If he pressed gentle kisses to where the delicate expanse of your back blossoms into a delicate field of white plumes would you appreciate the restraint it takes for him to treat you with the gentleness he thought had long gone since disappeared from himself. He decides the only way to try and tame these conflicting thoughts is to bring you into his service. He must demystify you. Once he gets to know you he will realise that you are just as pathetic as the rest of humanity and he can return to his experiments without any unnecessary distractions.

Both his fellow harbingers and his subordinates were surprised to learn about Dottore bringing someone into his service. In his over 500 years of being a harbinger no one could seem to recall Dottore entrusting his work to anyone but himself. Of course Dottore will not permit you to assist in his experiments (If anyone asks he will insist it is to prevent sensitive information being leaked, in reality he frets over the possibility of you coming to harm), instead assigning you menial paperwork and administration to complete as he finally returns his attention to his long-neglected experiments.

Unfortunately for the second harbinger, your close proximity only exacerbated the issue, seeing you perched on a desk in the corner of his eye was nothing short of captivating. The faint glow of your halo illuminating your features and casting a warm glow over you even in the cold, dim lights of his laboratory, the way your wings gently fluttered as you adjusted in your seat, watching your delicate hands scrawl countless correspondences, the sound of your gentle breathing. 

Much to Dottore’s chagrin, he is besotted. He simply cannot cast you out of his minds despite his efforts. He entertained sending you away to some inane mission in the furthest corner of Inazuma to collect seashells, nothing dangerous of course, but he knows that distance would not remedy this illness you have inflicted upon him and the thought of sending you from his side leaves his hands trembling and ears ringing.

It was maddening, he cannot recall a time in which he felt such emotions, not even in his youth (much to the disappointment of many of his classmates) and most certainly not now that he was the mighty second harbinger. His power rivalled that of Gods and yet the thought of this delicate being could bring him to his knees

Initially he didn’t realise what he felt for you was romantic. He understood his fascination with you on a purely scientific level, you were unlike any woman he had ever met before, not just in regards to your physical attributes but also the warmth you seemed to exude, the tenderness in the caress of your hands over his as you handed him the letters sent from his subordinates. However he is eternally a practical man, he has yet to encounter something that he cannot produce a logical explanation for. As such he is able to observe the speeding up of his heart when he hears you call out for him, he takes note of the warmth that spreads to his cheeks when you look up at him, the way his eyes always seem to fall to your lips, the fact that his thoughts to you extend far beyond what he feels for any of his test subjects, how he frets over you when you part from his side. Looking at the facts of the matter he cannot deny the facts, despite his desperation to hide from the truth