⋆.˚ ★— the moon's biggest fan

Xilonen is a chronic napper. Despite how busy she always is, she would never pass up the opportunity to take a good nap under the afternoon sun. This much, everyone is well aware of. That said, she is more than happy to let you join her… so long as you don't kick or thrash in your sleep. Much like Mavuika, Xilonen is incredibly warm, and she is oddly soft save for the pieces of her outfit that might poke you in the side if you lay wrong. Overall, cuddling with Xilonen is hardly any different than sleeping in a comfortable bed despite the fact that she tends to fall asleep anywhere, be that in a tree or on a sunny patch of grass. The two of you are quite likely to end up with your limbs all tangled, pressed against one another securely with little intention of separating. If you so much as try to leave, Xilonen will usually just clutch you tighter in her unconsciousness. Additionally, her tail tends to sneak its way around your waist or leg, even though Xilonen seems entirely unaware of the fact that it happens. Her chest also, strangely, seems to rumble a soothing hum when she's curled up asleep with you…

Lauma is never opposed to holding you. She enjoys her time to herself, of course, but… Well. She's a woman known for her strength and guiding kindness, both as fierce and as gentle as a ray of moonlight—naturally, if someone dear to her wants to be held or just wants to be close in their most vulnerable state, why would she ever say no? It's simply beyond her to deny you something so simple and so sweet. Her hands are always gentle (though, they are a little rough due to the abundance of scars littering her palms) when they hold you, calmly stroking the hair out of your face and rubbing your back until you drift off in her arms. She'll listen intently if you want to talk until you nod off. Of course she will. However, she typically won't talk much herself, especially if you're inquiring about the things that trouble her in hushed whispers when the two of you are curled up together. She'll open up slowly, but it takes time and patience. Aside from that, she's always extremely conscious of herself to ensure that she doesn't bump you with her antlers. The last thing she wants is to hurt you, even if it's only a little bit. That said, she might bump you a bit when she begins to drift off herself, but it's easy to ignore when she looks so at peace next to you.

Columbina thinks the idea is endearing. You want to be that close to her in your most vulnerable of states? The inherent trust required for such a thing is… sweet. It's the sort of intimacy she never really got with the Fatui or with the Frostmoon Scions way back when she left Nod-Krai in the first place. She herself is one to sleep when she needs to regain energy, so she doesn't mind too much if you'd like to join her once the two of you are closer. She'll lay her head on your shoulder and drift off to the sound of your breathing or your voice. She likes to hear you talk, whether it's about your experiences or simply your day. She wants to hear your thoughts and opinions and ideas… which really isn't very conducive to sleep, but it's alright. She doesn't mind if it turns into an engaged conversation instead of a nap like it was originally meant to be. Sometimes, she prefers to simply sit under the cool moonlight and guide your head into her lap, singing you to sleep as she threads her nimble fingers through your hair and pulls the tangles apart gently. She might tell you stories upon occasion, too. She's interestingly vocal, for such a mysterious person.

Dehya is more used to guarding you in your sleep than she is actually cuddling with you. It's her job, after all. That said, Dehya definitely isn't opposed. She's merely a bit more on edge than the average person since her entire career revolves around protecting her clients. You aren't a client, however. Perhaps that just makes her want to protect you even more. You're one of her loved ones—not someone who hired her as a bodyguard. Your bond with her extends so far beyond the simple "bond" between a guard and that which they are meant to protect. Dehya compromises to the best of her ability: she lets you curl up against her side while she stays alert, precise gaze piercing the night so that you may rest undisturbed. She's very warm, so the frigid cold of the night doesn't so much as graze your skin, and one of her arms is always secured over or around you. She tends to subconsciously but gently nevertheless drag her nails across your back.

Sandrone scoffs when you bring up the idea. She actually scoffs. Why would she—ugh—cuddle with you?! Gross. She doesn't even need to sleep, so why would she waste her time doing something like that? She has so many better things to do! What a ridiculous idea. Of course, she doesn't address the fact that she lets you stay in her general vicinity as long as you'd like and as often as you'd like. Naturally, she doesn't address the fact that she's recently added a small, very comfortable and quite expensive sofa in her offices and labs for you to lounge and nap upon whenever you'd like. She certainly will not be addressing the fact that she's taken to making soothing blends of tea when you show up looking tired, either… but the fact of the matter remains that she has indeed done all of these things. She still won't cuddle with you, but she's created a soothing and safe space for you to fall asleep in. She tends to quietly observe you when you sleep, watching the rise and fall of your chest with such intention and dedication that she must not get caught under any circumstance, lest one of her subordinates think that she's gone soft. Every now and then, she'll even sit next to you, letting her fingertips ghost over your temple before withdrawing. It's almost like you're the most precious thing on Teyvat to Sandrone, but that's… ridiculous. Obviously. Don't let the fact that you have a Fatui Harbinger on your side go to your head.

Xianyun, otherwise known as Cloud Retainer, is actually quite used to the idea. She has raised and nurtured many different disciples, after all. Some were clingy while others were less so. Therefore, it wouldn't be the first time someone has made such a request of her. She'll gladly indulge you. That said, be mindful—Xianyun is a talker. She'll speak to you about anything and everything, and usually it'll be about mechanics or something different that you have little grasp upon. Her voice is quite calming, however, and after so many years, she's learned to keep her voice a little soft and quiet as to not disturb you in your rest. In her adeptus form, she likes to tuck you under her wing while you rest, curled into her feathers. In her more human form, she doesn't mind keeping you pressed against her chest or her side. Whatever you prefer. Sometimes she'll meditate while you sleep. Other times, she'll fiddle with her newest project as long as her hands are free, sparing the occasional glance at your sleeping face. Other sorts of worldly attachments, as she calls them, are not her greatest concern… but her bonds are special. Sacred. You, her daughters, her disciples—she would spare no effort to guarantee the joy and peace of those she loves. If sleeping against her brings you comfort, so be it. She doesn't mind.

So when a tiny person knocked on her door in the middle of the night, having been given her (presumably secret) address, with a pile of papers and too many ideas to fill them, Sandrone saw herself with no choice but to let them in. Just for a night, only so that the child wouldn't be left alone and she'd be able to go ahead with a clean conscience.

Well, that was the initial plan: to stay unattached. It didn't go exactly as predicted — Not only did Sandrone take in this random kid, she also let them in and out her workshop as if it was also their place with the pretext of needing someone to take care of things while she was away on business.

The Marionette knew talent when she saw it, and was no idiot to let it pass by unnoticed. Of course, their projects weren't perfect, nor incredible as hers. However, with a little improvement here and there and some observation, they could soon succeed in creations that neared hers in quality.

And that's how The Seventh got an apprentice.

“You made tea? That's… odd.” Sandrone brought the pitch black beverage to her nose, smelling. “Is that… machine oil?!”

She turned around to [name], gawking at the child in pure disbelief. As a Harbinger, she'd seen many kinds of poisoning methods such as plants and mixtures — but machine oil? That was a new one even for her.

Was [Name] plotting to murder her? No, they wouldn't be stupid enough to think she wouldn't notice the smell, when it's a daily thing for someone who works with such engines.

“What's the problem?" They tilted their head innocently, taking small steps towards Pulonia and carefully handing the robot a cup of tea. “Pulonia seems to enjoy it."

“That’s because Pulonia is a robot, I'm not! There's a clear difference between us!” Sandrone took a deep breath, standing up and placing the cup on the table. Take back everything she said about [name] not being stupid —they were a little.

“Did you happen to hit your head again or something?” she clicked her tongue, muttering, “unbelieveable.”

Sandrone was about to roll her eyes when their soft laugh reached her ears. She turned around, giving them that angry look — [name] had learned by now that it was never that serious.

In many ways, the Marionette's care is all too nontraditional. She doesn't care for sentimental words, and even that is a vast understatement—Lady Seventh does everything she can to veil her care behind chiding and scolding that bites as harshly as the punishing frost of Snezhnayan winters. Sentimentality, in the verbal form, is completely and entirely beyond her when she thinks anyone is listening.

(And when she knows no-one is, only then will she allow the smallest slip, a quiet and stupidly emotional declaration of care for the ones she loves whispered on the wind… but only ever when she's certain it won't be heard.)

Much to her dismay, she knows there are people who see beyond her nasty words and fits of rage. Few and far in between as they are, they do exist. You are one of them. It really dulls the intended intimidation effect of her fury when you know she only yells because she cares. It makes what should be a moment of fear—she is still a Harbinger, after all, and that fact alone instills terror in many—into a moment of endear.

It's hard to feel anything other than love for someone whose care is so ferocious and wildly untamable that the only outlet she has for it in the heat of the moment is yelling at you.

"How many times do I have to tell you?!" she huffs furiously, shoving her index finger into your chest so hard that you wince a bit. She doesn't let up. If anything, she seems to push harder, as if she can force the point of her infurated rant to finally reach your brain through the simple harsh contact of her fingertip against your chest. "I'm not your babysitter, you know! I have better things to do than explain the reason why you're such an idiot! Some of my colleagues are far less forgiving than I am, so I once again suggest you stop wandering into places you don't belong!"

She turns on her heel sharply, stomping over to her desk where papers and notes are strewn messily and with seemingly no order or method to the chaos at all. The scribbles are all incomprehensible to the average person.

(Although, Sandrone has always had her own ways of operating. She probably navigates the chaos with ease as if it's second nature, even if it makes little sense to anyone else.)

"Forgiving," you muse slowly. She can hear the teasing smile in your voice. "I wouldn't call you… forgiving, Sandrone. I said I was sorry already and we're still talking about it. I mean, that's not very forgiving, is it?"

"Oho, really?!" she gasps, incredulous and enraged, as she turns to face you again. She turns so quickly and with such force that she'd surely get whiplash if she were human. "Well, fine, go be nosy about my colleagues and their affairs—as if I care what they do to a trespasser like you! See what the rest of the Fatui does to annoying little gnats that just don't go away like you!"

She cares. Deeply. Too much, perhaps, but she will never say that.

But the way you grin at her—that stupid, charming smile you do when you've won—tells her that you know the truth, nevertheless.

Secondly, she remembers all of your favorites.

Sandrone keeps tabs on you for a multiplicity of reasons—most relevantly, she likes to know in advance when you intend on making visits so that she can make the appropriate preparations.

(She also likes to know where you are so she can send her subordinates after you to keep you out of trouble. Sure, you can defend yourself, but she thinks of if as a… contingency of sorts. Backup plans both put her at ease and bolster her already sky-high confidence.

By now, her underlings all know better than to address the absurdity of their Lady Harbinger's whims. She cares for select people—select people. She isn't above making examples of what happens to nosy people who are not included in that strict inner circle.)

She tries to be flippant about it, but when she knows you're coming…

Conveniently, she always has tea freshly brewed and a small variety of your favorite pastries made. She scoffs and says that it was just about teatime anyways whenever you decide to point the pattern out.

"Take the leftovers when you leave," she murmurs absentmindedly with a dismissive wave of her hand, either too engrossed in the work in front of her or too embarrassed of the truth to face you. "I made too many this afternoon, so they'll just go to waste if you don't take them."

Her wording always stands out to you: when you leave, not leave now or something similar. She gives you the opportunity to decide when and if you depart instead of making that decision on your behalf. When she's in a good mood, she doesn't kick you out like she does with others.

She tends to be in a good mood when you're around.

"Oh," she says suddenly, as if remembering something. "We imported some sweets from Fontaine, too. As usual, they sent too much, or maybe my subordinates put the order in wrong… Ugh, whatever. Take some if you want."

You had mentioned the particular brand to her offhandedly once. She wouldn't have trusted her subordinates with an order like that. She ordered extra on purpose, for you.

Sandrone always remembers when it comes to you.

Finally, above all else, Lady Seventh finds solace in your presence.

It isn't uncommon for Sandrone to have bursts of rage and frustration when she's working, especially when her subordinates fail to leave her be. Her research is already yielding few results—the last thing she needs is her underlings bothering her about menial things that can wait until she's done.

Strangely, she finds that if you're sitting in the room with her, the ever-growing inferno of her temper subsides, if only for the moment. She's forgiving when she's with you.

Put simply, your presence places Lady Sandrone in a better headspace. You put her in a good mood.

Having you around soothes the ridiculous part of her that frets over you and your curious nature; she doesn't have to send her subordinates out to watch you like she's some kind of stalker driven mad (Archons, if she could roll her eyes any harder at the simple thought of such an insane accusation, they'd fall out of her head). Admittedly, she quite enjoys how inquisitive you are. You ask questions about her research. She gets excited to answer. Even if she tries to hide it behind annoyance, the glint in her eyes is clear as day. She just wishes you wouldn't draw too near to other Fatui units. She's certain some of her colleagues' subordinates would kill you on sight.

It's just… more convenient for her when you're with her. That's all.

Additionally, when you choose to spend the day in her space with her, she doesn't have to worry about having leftover pastries. Better yet, she can have you try new recipes she's been itching to make for someone other than herself.

You are an ongoing subject of research to Sandrone. Moreover, you are her friend, of which she does not have many. The connection you share with her is deeply cherished even if her ways of expressing that are unconventional.

Thus, she doesn't mind when you oh-so boldly dare to carve out a little place for yourself in her life—in her workspace, her heart, and her mind.

"You can stay if you feel like it," Sandrone states plainly. "I need an outside perspective on some things, anyways. I'm getting nowehere as of late and it's getting on my nerves."

You smile. Again with that inane smile that makes her chest bloom with the warmth of fondness. "You're asking me to stay? Oh, and I thought you were always saying that we aren't friends."

"What—?! Ugh, don't twist my words! Who would want you in their space bugging them all the time?! Not me, that's for certain, and we are not friends—!"

She continues to rant and rant and rant at you for the next thirty minutes, but she still doesn't tell you to leave, and she still wonders which recipe she should make first today while you're here even while she's yelling at you.

Her nasty words are her greatest expression of love, after all.