because the fairy tales were right.

#PHANTOMIAOU: private lynette of genshin impact. written by sen, 25+, he/they, low activity. tumblr IM preferred for communication if we don't already have each other on discord. ★ carrd / wip info. tumblr-accessible guidelines under the cut. + other blogs: albedo, [pending multi if i can clean up the list lmao]

a lone pamphlet shivers in the wind. it's been stepped on and laughed at, yet still it remains.

don't people know not to litter? she's fairly certain that's some degree of offense among fontaine's code sections, and maybe if it didn't have so many ridiculous ones about keeping your balloon on a leash the laws would be easier to reference. but lynette keeps this, too, to herself.

she really does keep most remarks to herself.

"...where did she even find these people to pose?" in the same breath that lynette plucks the pamphlet out of the air, though, the abuse it's already taken makes it separate into two halves, previously held together by dabs of glue. one with just the picture itself—clearly snipped out from some other printed issue—and one half with just the marketing hook. "oh. i see."

one does not earn the title of captain through mercy alone, but it is kind of beidou to spare it. lynette returns the courtesy of her name as if it makes up for damaging personal property before even giving one.  “lynette. pleased to make your acquaintance.”

at the compass, she cannot say she is surprised.

“i was just wondering what one of these looked like up close.”  down at the now-scrap metal does lynette blink, slow and half-lidded.  “the other day, i spotted some shameless man holding one with his lover... ‘what is North, if not you?’ ...he went.”

(lynette had no idea where she stood; that it was either the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard, or the most romantic. maybe both. she repockets the line to run by lyney later.)

“i'm sorry, though. i'll pay for a replacement.”  perhaps a bit awkwardly, she holds what's left of the sad little trinket back out to its owner.

what  does  your muse  smell  like ?    ⸻    almost nothing. lynette’s sensitive sense of smell makes her unable to walk past emilie’s perfumery without sneezing or holding her breath, so it’s a no-brainer that she won’t wear anything strong herself. she keeps herself and her laundry clean, but doesn’t want to stand out—she prefers to stay soundless, scentless, just entirely untraceable in the shadows and ready to vanish at a moment’s notice. it’s in a cat’s nature to keep itself well-groomed and undetectable by prey, it could not be an apex predator otherwise, but lynette’s advantage is that the average human doesn’t have the heightened senses of any small animal. she knows she has leeway so it isn’t too pressing. it matters even less if she’s not on business, and she’ll allow the traces of her usual routes to cling to her hair or clothes. this can range from the coffee beans of café lutece to the murkier damp of underground pipes, maybe hints of lumidouce bells and rainbow roses. if it does matter, she’ll take her orders at lutece to go and her travels brisk. if she expects to be in a pinch, she’ll bring a change of clothes with her props. side note: she does enjoy the natural scent of tea leaves and wishes there were a way for her to smell like that without rolling around in them or anything (and no perfume has been able to emulate that for her 1:1 because of the alcohol; she’s extremely picky)

what  do  your  muse’s  hands  feel  like ?    ⸻    lynette wears gloves at almost all times. under them, though, there’s nothing too remarkable aside from how quickly they can swap your card or brandish a knife—the smaller nicks she’s gotten from practicing with one in her earlier teen years have faded into virtually nothing. her palms and pads of her fingers have an oddly satisfying squish to them, if you’re not imagining things, but she’d only let her siblings pull off her gloves to poke at them. once upon a time, around the 4.6 patch mark, she was overtaken by a rare instance of letting her emotions get the best of her, and while cooking a pot of soup in the kitchen, she unwittingly curled her nails into her bare fist hard enough to draw blood. the skin is slightly uneven there, and you can see the offending crescents if you really squint for the discoloration, but it’s a minor inconsistency that will vanish within a few years.

what  does  your  muse  usually  eat  in  a  day ?    ⸻   without fail, she takes at least one cup of tea and hates functioning without it. lynette takes hers bitter/straight to the point of it being undrinkable to nearly the rest of fontaine, even though she loves confections and pairs this tea with them. otherwise her diet usually consists of seafood. but although fried fish is a guilty pleasure, it’s too oily and she only allows herself one or two nibbles of it to keep her diet in line with lyney’s. she’s always prepared to swap in as his double, so she won’t let her build skew from his. grilled and steamed fish variants don’t scratch that itch as much (she doesn’t have the patience to cook it only to have to spend even more time picking out inedible bones), but she usually settles for those or poultry dishes, if not raw shellfish.

it’s important to note that whatever muscle lyney loses or builds, though, she’ll double down on emulating and adjust her protein intake (and fitness) to meet it. shellfish is her favorite, but the issue with it is that she’ll crack and eat it right out of the water, seasoned with nothing but ocean salt and a squeeze of lemon (if she even has one on her), but the portions are small and don’t provide their highest nutritional value uncooked. this is when she’ll switch to poultry. she isn’t picky or overly routine when she’s eaten far worse out of the trash.

does  your  muse  have  a  good  singing  voice ?    ⸻   she’s never tried and doesn’t want to, but she already knows her singing would be awful. she really, really hopes that she never has to take on any work that requires her voice at all. lynette doesn’t like to break her silence if she can help it, and she’s gotten spoiled by the luxury of pre-show recordings, but only lyney himself would have any idea what lynette’s voice is actually capable of. she can nail an impression for espionage—most importantly her twin’s, for whatever they might personally need—but it takes heavy strain for her to manage certain pitches and cadences, and as you might imagine, she doesn’t even exercise her regular voice on a daily basis. any time she pulls it out, she’ll insist on 3 business days of resting it (and obviously that’ll be why she can’t speak, right?)

does  your  muse  have  any  bad  habits  or  nervous  tics ?    ⸻   her tail and ears aren’t a guaranteed tell for someone as trained as she is, when she's actively trying to obscure her feelings, but the body is the body and there’s also no guarantee that her physiology will never betray her. if her tail starts swishing, she does want you to get the hell away from her for whatever reason, whether this signal is intentional or not. her main bad habits are picking up strays, indulging her sweet tooth, and being dodgy about things she doesn’t want to be responsible for. most of these responsibilities, she pushes on lyney—asking him to write/sign as her when answering her entertainment agency offers, answer an invitation, etc.

what  does  your  muse  usually  look  like / wear ?    ⸻   her hair is neatly tied, her expression remains blank, and most of her movements embody elegance. she gets mistaken for a puppet, one of lyney’s props, or even a highly advanced mek by people who don’t know her. custom tailored by chiori, her assistant’s outfit is both perfect for her to move in and for her to steal your attention when she wants it. misdirection is the magician’s bread and butter, and she helps lyney command his audience (she insists it is his) thanks to her sharing his beauty. she takes no umbrage with the uniform’s low cut, and she’ll wear it outside of performances whenever she wants. she’s perfectly capable of gauging out the eyes of anyone who catcalls, and after a few incidents people have generally figured out that she’s not just a silent pretty doll, she’s from the fleuve. but mostly, she just cares that something can flex with her acrobatics and swordplay.

is  your  muse  affectionate  ?  how  much ? how so ?    ⸻   as much as she can mimic it, she does not inherently have her brother’s romance or charm. brief kisses to the hand or cheek might only be gifted if you’ve done something absolutely remarkable to win her favor, and they are more token than intimacy from her. otherwise, she detests physical contact with almost anybody outside of her closest family members (she will even seek it from lyney; he is always her exception). she affords women and children far more wiggle room, but after being manhandled and taken as a child by the most vile scum of the earth, she's going to snap the arm of any man who ever tries to grab her again; and not only that, but she's going to snap them off any man she ever sees trying to lay his hands on another girl. never let her see it. if you’re smarter you just won’t do it. it’s one of the only times she’ll choose force before observation, so if anyone's had to catch her like this, blank-eyed and robotic while twisting her heel deeper into a face, you’d think she wasn’t capable of affection at all. that being said, she’s grown leaps and bounds from the night of her kidnapping, and says she doesn’t have problems facing anything from it. to her, all of that trauma is in the past, and she no longer needs protecting. as a result, i don’t think she’s completely opposed to physical affection, but you do have to let her come to you first and you have to let her leave. almost like a real and fickle alley cat.

she struggles to express herself through words and touch, but tries to make up for it through acts of service and gift giving. preparing tea for you, seeing something she thought you’d like and picking it up for you. a cat who brings home a dead canary for you except the canary is your enemy i’m only kind of kidding with this LMAO. for example: when observation is off the table, lynette communicates best with her sword and she won’t bat an eye to subdue anything that obstructs lyney’s path, the only time she gets up close and personal, because he protects lynette in countless other ways. this is her affection. lynette is her father’s daughter, and just like she tells the traveler, their type of love is not for everyone. but ‘home’ together can only exist because of it.

what  position  does  your  muse  sleep  in  ?    ⸻   curled on her side and almost completely under the blankets. she and lyney no longer have to spend their nights in the alleyways huddling against each other for warmth, but she always does sleep the best if he’s around.

could  you  hear  your muse  in  the  hallway  from  another  room  ?    ⸻   never. if you do, something’s seriously wrong. forget the hallway, lynette will jumpscare you by appearing right behind you without a sound once again she is her father’s daughter thanks nod-krai

tagged by: @hopetune and @aesthetecomplex yayy thank you

(credit)

"... ... ..."

it is the way she skirts around it that makes her all the more adorable. lynette does not do so much as blink—how could she miss even a moment of robin's expression right now, so gentle and hopeful with rose-dusted cheeks?—and where two wings seem to flutter with anticipation, pointed ears flick forward with mild curiosity.

she has none of her brother's romance, nor her father's chilling persuasion. what she has is the charming appearance of one and the efficient wrath of the other. she has a tail and two ears that crueler people have pulled on, she has claws she has sharpened to slash back at any who try now. she has a family, but in reality few friends, and for some reason robin insists on being one of them.

most of all is this: lynette has all-perceiving eyes. they are her life's labor, her greatest asset and strength. they have trained on a young woman who shines so radiantly in the spotlight, unafraid to perform with the universe as her audience. but when it comes to a matter as meager as this...

she is tempted to keep watching. she is both fascinated and endeared by robin's attempt to ask for affection, and lynette almost answers with a cornering, deafening silence that would have the other elaborate. a kiss? when? where? with her, and how many? maybe this is a small, mischievous product of the warmth that has come to come with robin's company—the cat wants to play with the canary.

but lynette cannot bully her so much. she can be gentler when she wants to be, and with robin she does want to be. she can retract her claws to cradle feathers, she can set aside robotic settings and modes. she can stare at robin for just a moment longer before showing her mercy, gloved fingertips catching her chin. (is it mercy, truly?)

lynette strikes from the shadows and folds back into them even faster. this, too, is how her kiss comes—lips that brush against robin's cheek, briefly, but with purpose.

"... like that?" or...?  half-lidded gaze flits down to robin's mouth, then back up. an unabashedly plain question. like always, the rest of lynette gives away nothing.

but...he's not sure. after so many birthdays spent with just he and lynette, large parties and family gathered around cake is the odd thing. the greatest gift he could ask for, when so rarely could he ask for gifts at all. but the secret he can never reveal is that lyney needs to recharge just as often as his sister does, weariness long since worn into his bones. and he does it faster—better—when lynette is here. as he does most things.

lyney shakes his head and sinks into a seat, reaching for a conch madeline to chew on. “...nothing. i just thought we could have some tea and snacks together before the day is officially over.” he cracks a small smile, faint, but more genuinely lyney than any other that has graced his lips today. “why don't we just rest tomorrow? we've been working hard, after all. we can get some fried fish from a street vendor—i'll eat just as much as you do, so it should be fine.”

one day, will these quiet, normal birthdays be just out of reach too? another thing lost to the flames of a hearth and the crown he must bear?

that is for the heir to wonder. just for today, a brother simply leans back in his seat and closes his eyes with a content hum, listening to the clockwork count down the minutes until the day ends. “happy birthday, lynette.” i hope all your future birthdays will be happy.

and lynette knows.

when does she not? she knows it is lyney before he even arrives, and alongside the conch madelines she knows exactly which snacks to set out that pair best with the blend he brings—even if, of course, her pate de fruit is not nearly as good as his. his beckon is met with a flick of ears and a drone that nobody but her other half himself could know the fondness in.

“welcome back, lyney.”  silly lyney. big brother lyney. spreads himself thin and thinks he can fool her lyney. lyney, whom she holds most dear—her only truth in a life of falsehoods, even if he vies to leave her behind a little further and further each year. lynette acknowledges his humble offering with a hum, gloved fingers pinching the handle of her prepared cup. it may not be her tea, but it is lyney's. after exhausting himself on his own birthday, he still makes time for this.

lyney is the only one in this world who understands her without a single uttered word; in turn, she is the only one in this world who sees through him every time. all the time. (“of course i can, but this matter is top secret.”) and this time, too.

there is no use in lecturing him. she is not keen on doing it, besides. because lyney is no longer her brother alone, and beyond all of the hearth’s dealings, this is the true price of ‘home’. the world they live in is give and take: when you gain something, you also lose something. you gain food in your stomach and a soldier’s itinerary. you gain a crown of flames and lose a piece of your sister trying to protect her with it; you burn her, the embers dust her cheeks like stars, like teardrops. (and still, she returns to him like the wind that stokes fire. she will return to him every time.)

lynette does not announce herself. soundless, her movements, but that should not startle lyney except when she means to. a quiet snap of her fingers—his hat, wherever he might have laid it, vanishes in a plume of smoke and reappears on her head. she steps before him, arms unfurling like two wings, and leans forward to fold her weary brother within their embrace. no matter how high the tower, no matter how high the throne, she will catch him just like this. this time, too. every time, too.

“i want two skewers.” you need to recharge, right? 

“and then some lakkaberry cake...” it’s alright. rest here.

“for that place we’re headed to next, i hear there’s a local specialty called ‘sweet bun trio’. let’s bring one back to share with freminet.”

as long as i’m with you, they'll always be happy.

lynette’s chin rests atop his head in lieu of any crown. in this moment, at least, they can just be. and before she forgets: