Lost in Cotton Candy Dreams

The coffee machine bubbled cheerfully to a mechanical tune as the scent of roasted beans permeated the air.

While waiting for the cups to fill, Phainon gently stirred the boiling milk on the stove; and a breeze, soft and kind, tousled at his hair, messing up his already unruly bangs from sleep.

All in all, it was a quiet morning; the happy chirping from nearby birds created the perfect melody, giving the small kitchen an even cozier ambiance.

"Yess, finally!"

The white-haired halted his stirring, opting to listen to his lover's morning rambles. Turning off the stove, he peered from the door, sky eyes drifting to the living room where you sat hunched on the sofa, blanket across your shoulders and console on your lap.

A wide smile pulled at your lips as you hummed contentedly; your eyes never leaving the screen. A few feet from you, on the coffee table lay an empty packet where the new game once stood.

Cups in hand, Phainon approached with a gentle smile of his own, he sat on your left.

Sensing his presence, you gave him an impossibly wide smile, -the sole sight of it made his heart flutter-, and pointed excitedly towards the screen.

"Look! Will you marry me!"

At that moment, something stopped.

He felt his smile crack.

Phainon of Aedes Elysiae halted.

Mind huffing and reeling, failing to cool the worst short-circuit ever known to mankind.

Only one thought circled round and round.

It wasn't meant to be like this-

"We... what?"

"This is what they just said! Aren't they the cutest?"

"We just got married!" You continued, shoving the console in his face.

At that, he followed your gaze and met with a photo of your mii and his among the Australian fish and corals, looking at each other in what looked like the most lovesick gaze of the century.

Oh.

Ooh.

His heart nearly skipped a beat.

Thank God.

Sighing softly, as you were too preoccupied with the fake marriage, Phainon managed a fond yet exasperated smile.

For a moment he thought you were going to propose right then and there; of course not that he would have hated it, quite the contrary in fact, but he would rather be the one to ask.

For now, he just hoped you wouldn't surprise him like this anymore.

And as he listened to your gushing and fangirling of your mii's new love life, he couldn't help but imagine what the real deal would be like. But that would take another bit, until he finished planning everything and maybe even gather enough courage -Mydei keeps nagging at him to just ask-.

NIGHTS in Nod-Krai were always quiet.

There was something about them, something that made the earth hold its breath, a pause from the daily ruckus.

Once night descended, even the roughest of souls were silenced in shy submission.

There was something reverent about them.

Something holy.

Like the statues that marred the temple and the prayers you recited each night, after the sun set.

It was a simple ritual, really. But one you never failed to miss.

The scent of a fresh lit incense. Small red fruits, round and perfectly shaped. And the burning smell of herbs, simmering into a cup, like a fresh tea waiting to be tasted.

And hands joined in prayer, held together by beaded strings and maybe a feather like graze.

You worked at the temple; had been for years.

It was in the way you acted, gestures poised, moves controlled as if you had been there for your entire life. And even when the wind called your name, letters gently whispered by the blinking stars of moonless nights, you knew how to respond.

Once night descended, everything was quiet; you preferred it like that. The silence, the mute respect of being alone, and the soft prayers that fell from your lips.

Then, one day, after the morning prayer, you found it.

A gift.

A small berry, perfectly round, like those you used to put on the altar, freshly picked, gently poised on your nightstand, not accidentally, but with purpose.

Then a small rock, perfectly round.

A cookie, half-bitten.

A shiny gem, little but blinding.

Then a feather, soft and white and pure, like the tunic that fell across your shoulders, draping your head like a veil. It was different from the others; you never asked why, not when the delicate fabric framed your face, caressing your cheeks like a lover's touch, tender and sweet.

They made you happy. Made you feel seen. Made those restless nights plagued by bad dreams a little lighter, a little more comforting; like a weight blanket, warm and just a bit tight like the touch you felt across your shoulders, a hug so full and complete and binding.

And of course, you knew who left them, of course you did.

The Moon Maiden made herself scarce. Her smaller frame difficult to catch between the temple's ornate columns.

But her presence always remained.

It was in the little gifts she left for the following day. In the soft melodies she hummed, as she stroked your hair, gently, almost reverently.

It was in the way the moon just shined a bit brighter, free from stormy and dull clouds, whenever you visited her sanctuary, where the statue lay in all its glory.

And at night, when she held you close, lips pulled into a soft smile, hands intertwined just a little tight.

The veil on your head felt strangely heavy.

You wondered if that was how a god loved.

So softly, but so utterly consuming.

Your throat tightened, felt as if you would suffocate.

Maybe you should leave.

But then- a touch, and all your thoughts quietened.

Day, then night.

The cycle repeats.

Once again, when night fell, you were there at the temple.

NOD-KRAI had always been a cold place.

Snowstorms would mercilessly shatter the skies, where the darkest of clouds dwelled and simmered in their own sadness. The land was unforgiving, merciless in its haste, and harsh in its cold heart. Such was the fate of being directly linked to the southern part of Snezhnaya.

A land hidden, shrouded by the mysteries of a dead moon.

Maybe that was why your mother had always been overprotective; her moves were sharp and quick, precise with a goal only she knew. It was in the way she acted: hands hovering longer than necessary on your shoulders, fingers tightening the buttons of your wool jacket just a tad too much to be comfortable and the piles and piles of scarves she never stopped putting around your neck; hiding the tender flesh beneath, marked by a long and thin silver necklace, where a small moon charm lay embedded in blues and whites.

She never let you leave home alone, one of her gloved hands never left yours, while the other always carried a basket full of bread; unless it was to go to the nice grandma next door, who gave you chocolate chips cookies and had that nice tea blend made from fresh fontanian tangerines.

She also liked hanging small iron bells on windows and doors, said she liked how the wind made them chime. And you, like the good child you were, believed her, even when her gaze grew heavy, circles ever darker underneath.

She never talked about dad, no, but she liked refilling the small jar of pink salt in the center of the table, near the jars of mashed spices and herbs, the ones dad always used to forage before winter, the ones that gave the house that nice homely smell you knew since you were an infant.

Your mother was a good person, raised you all alone, fed and bathed you even when her eyes were singed in red, and the small smile on her lips wobbled, strained at the seams. The two of you were alone. She was your anchor, your light into Nod-Krai's darkest winters. But now that light had been replaced by something stronger, harsher and blinding. And that was why, like the good child you were, you always listened to her.

But even good children grow. And their mind begins to wander, begs to explore unknown places.

It started little. Small acts of rebellion here and there. A walk out alone, a curfew ignored. Your mother had resisted in the beginning, a frown would mark her features already worn from age, she disapproved, was disappointed in you.

But you didn't care.

Not when you could finally explore your home nation on your own, alone, the dancing snowflakes your only companions, while the moon watched over you, smiling, as if sharing your joy of finally being free. The early blooming years of adulthood completely yours to take.

Not when the cold air felt from the boat nipped playfully at your cheeks. Not when the earth bent under your feet like a prayer. Nature bloomed in your presence. And animals bowed to you as if captured in reverence.

And certainly not when you met another lonely soul like yours.

Golden eyes, a soft smile.

The two of you met, often. His words seemed to carry the island's quiet breeze; a gentle, melodic cadence to each lilt of his voice. They left you captivated, curious.

He carried himself effortlessly, a gentlemanly way in his acts, and a kind of wisdom that seemed to belong only to him; classy and timeless.

You fell for him.

And loved him like a young school-girl did: sweetly, purely.

Naively.

Then, things started to disappear.

First your iron bracelets, then the strings of bells on your jacket, and then that small silver necklace that had marked your entire childhood. It wasn't rushed, no, it was done sweetly, quietly, so as to not disturb your soft sleep.

You didn't notice, not when he held you so gently, not when he cradled your face close, fingers brushing at a thin and delicate chain made of the finest gems, where his name lay intertwined with yours. His presence a steady constant, enveloping your body in a comforting warmth that never seemed to let go.

But you should have listened, about the tales of the harshest winters, when monsters dwelled beneath the snow, under the dying earth; their ugly coats hidden by soft, pale frozen tears.

Maybe then, you would have understood why your mother had always looked so tired, haunted; why her hands shook so much each time she fastened the chain of your small silver necklace, when the moon still had sworn to protect you in the form of a childish pendant.

Nod-Krai had always been cold.

His hands touched your shoulders, leading you gently away from the window.

NEUVILLETTE

The clinking of glass filled the air, along with the never-ending chatter with words of silver and golden wine. From the ceiling, chandeliers hung in all their glory of glistening diamond lights, shrouding the room under the spell of an enchanted fairytale.

People raised their glasses filled to the brim with glittering gold and crimson; a resounding applause echoed in the room, following the ending speech of Fontaine's Archon. Her hands moved animatedly, posture poised gracefully while her tone remained joyfully flamboyant.

You raised your own cup, lips curled into a smile as you all drank a courteous sip and the orchestra started its tune.

In no time, the white marble speckled with pink and silver resonated with the rhythmic clapping of heels whose owners were lost in their lovers' embrace, so tender and filled with unspoken affection as they let themselves sway along the notes of a simple yet elegant melody.

Your fingers traced absent-mindedly the rim of your cup where most of the wine lay untouched. Your eyes gazed with wonder at the twirling couples in the centre, unconsciously mimicking their movements as you swayed from one side to another. But your hues were focused on one person alone; the distinguished gentleman holding gently your Archon in an intimate embrace that seemed to radiate softness and unspoken affection.

Lady Furina smiled, lips stretched wide as she talked to her partner, who only nodded in response, sometimes chiding with words of his own.

For a moment, you wondered if you could be held like that too.

A tap on your shoulders halted your thoughts. You turned, eyes locking with that of an old friend. Their golden eyes crinkled slightly, "How is it?" they asked, knowing very well that was your first ball, "Feeling well?"

You gave them a small smile, as you nodded, while not-so-discreetly adding another one of those delicious delicacies filled with whipped cream and chocolate, something that prompted a laugh from them. They watched as you slowly nibbled on the pastry before stealing exactly the biggest one -the one you were carefully reserving for last- of the bunch. Their laughter continued merrily, despite your enraged protests consisting of how 'true friends don't do this', to which they answered that 'friends do, in fact, this' leaving the: 'to their favourite victim- friend' rule unspoken.

Cue the gloomy aura that soon descended on your face, as if a cloud had decided your head was the perfect home for its rain.

They laughed, poking mercilessly at your -fake- misery as you wiped away -again, fake- tears.

"Would a dance lift your spirits, my dear?" they asked, their mocking tone turning softer at the end. But before they could charm their way with sweet words, seeking for forgiveness, someone grabbed your hand and dragged you away, leaving your blond-haired friend completely dumbfounded.

Long white hair greeted your vision as luscious light blue stray strands tickled your cheeks as you stared, almost rudely, at your Archon, who didn't seem to notice until you failed to respond to one of her questions. Something that made her huff, comically appalled, as she turned towards you, before freezing completely. A flash of panic in her mismatched eye drops that was soon concealed by a flutter of lashes.

But Lady Furina, always someone for theatrics, just said something so incredibly flashy that the words just flew over your head before sliding away, hurriedly but still with an air of elegance, probably to mask her embarrassment behind the tallest tower of cake she could find.

But that left you, alone in the centre of the dance floor, where couples still twirled joyfully, without a care in their love-filled worlds. You turned and turned, searching for an exit, your robes somehow fluttering along their own colourful ones, when a hand was placed before you, palm outstretched and gloved fingers curling in a shy invitation.

"Please, allow me."

The alluring eyes of the Iudex stared at you, through long eyelashes. Their pink and violet hues masking a blue so deep; it resembled that of the sea written in fairytales: so dark yet so mesmerising.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I saw you were quite flustered, here, alone by yourself."

"It's...- you pursued your lips, flustered -fine. Thank you."

You slowly lay your hand on his, as you let him sweep you off your feet. Monsieur Neuvillette smiled softly as the two of you swayed together, the music blurring into the background, accompanying the shared chatter between the two of you.

His hold on you was delicate, almost afraid, as his deep timbre gained a softer and rounder edge. He twirled you, gently, his hands never leaving yours, fingers almost intertwined.

And some time in your dance, you caught sight of Lady Furina standing on the sidelines. Her mismatched eyes locked with yours; they crinkled slightly into two crescent moons as her hands covered her lips in a silencing gesture.

COLUMBINA

Broken shards reflected a thousand images, their sharp edges accentuating your features in speckles of gold as the broken image of your reflection stared back at you. You hummed a quiet melody as you traced absent-mindedly the golden rim, following every curve. A knock came from the door; "Come in," you said, mind still trapped into a never-ending loop. It spinned and spinned like the spindle of a fairytale. Meanwhile, your maid entered the room; her warm, gentle eyes widening at the sight of the broken mirror and the small wet and red trails circling your wrists. "Oh, dear child- she gently pricked the shards from your hands, making you sit on your bed as she grabbed your stained palms, -what happened?" she asked, fussing over you as she had always done during her younger years. You didn't give her an answer, not that she needed one as her brown hues softened once again, one of her gloved hands moving to cup your cheek, thumb tracing the faint red lines under your eye, "Don't worry, dear. Everything will fall back into its place. Now go and enjoy your birthday." and moved to smooth the wrinkles of your robes. She huffed, smiling in satisfaction, "There, now you're perfect.", as you gave her a small smile of your own. Hours passed by in a blur of colours and sweet notes of wine and music. Your gaze lingered on the dance floor, irises moving from one couple to another until a bitter taste coated your tongue. You should have been there, in your lover's arms, dancing to your hearts' content until the clock struck midnight when you would place a gentle kiss on her bold, red lips. Alas, fate was cruel, and in the place of her warm embrace was the unforgiving and cold truth of cheating behind backs and unsuspecting affection. The wine seemed to turn stale in your hands, that tightened over the transparent glass until you felt the sensation of smooth gloves cover them, halting that spiraling path of self-destruction. First, there were locks of obsidian, so long that they seemed to tie into ribbons at the ends; then the white of feathers, so pure and untouched, the colour alone sparkling bitter envy in shapes of yellow roses and marigolds. Closed eyes crinkled in delight behind a lace mask. "Wouldn't want to hurt yourself, again." she said, her tone as light as the feathers she carried on her hair. Her hold seemed to tighten over yours, "Why are you here?" she said, legs dangling from the balcony with childlike glee. You opened your mouth to respond -your gaze trailed once again on the ballroom, on the same lady who donned that sparkling red dress that complimented her bold lips perfectly- when an airy light giggle came from the dark-haired lady as she stepped down, her shoes landing on the white marble with no sound. You stood there, mouth slightly agape as she neared her face to yours, lips near your ear, her laugh airy, like a faerie's bell. She looked at you, with eyes lidded -it was still impossible to see their colour- and outstretched her arm, hand poised in midair: a silent invitation. And there was something, something so extremely captivating about her, that nullified all of your thoughts because as her fingers curled around your own, bringing you to the dance floor, you couldn't find in yourself to mind. People blurred in colours around your twirling figures. Columbina -as she had previously introduced herself- smiled lightly, humming quietly to the melody, before her head tilted slightly to the side. Your eyes followed her movement where you were met with the sight of your enraged ex-fiancé, sputtering venomous words -sounding more and more like 'how could you!" and 'betray'- in barely concealed rage at her dancing partner. Your stared, flabbergasted, when the next twirl brought your attention back to your own partner, her rosy lips wide with innocence, which prompted a laugh from your own. For a moment, when your laughter clouded your judgment, eyes crinkling shut with mirth, her own hues opened, a colour so unspokenly captivating, swirling with delight, under the envious gaze of a certain lady.

LYNEY

Voices rose around the stage, whispers of excitement and trepidation filled the room adorned by colours of crimson red and pure, clean white. Couples stopped in their dance, as more and more people flocked towards the bold red curtains, holding their breath and waiting in anticipation once the orchestra reached its momentarily end; the sounds of instruments dimming with every passing second as if they, too, could not wait any longer for the famous Lyney and Lynette's Magic Show.

And their restless waiting was rewarded because, soon, lights started to dance across the stage like fireworks, while the long and bright crimson curtains unravelled like flowers, showcasing the two magicians in all their glory of ruby and aquamarine.

The first one to approach the edge was Lyney, "Welcome everyone-" arms outstretched as he welcomed the audience, his voice boisterous, thriving under the limelight. In his hand, he held a white rose that soon withered into a crown of cards falling at his feet.

He retreated a few steps as Lynette took place on his right, "-To our magic show." and finished his phrase, albeit with a more contained voice.

Among colourful flowers and fantastic tricks, you watched, eyes filled with admiration for the two magicians, basking into the particularly magical atmosphere they had created with the first and most simple tricks. And somewhere, along the way of the enchanted evening, you found your own irises locking with light lavender more than once; each time ending with a playful wink.

And as the two bowed together, bringing the enchanting show to an end, you clapped your hands, along with everyone else, who had been perfectly captivated by their sheer talent.

The previous hustle and bustle resumed almost immediately, as the violins, violas and piano made themselves known once again, taking on a more upbeat and quicker tune.

You stood on the sidelines, a glass in your hands, pristine pink rose coloured wine swirling in elegant waves. A sudden shiver crossed your arms, turning the small waves into a bit of a jumbled mess. Paying it no mind, -because the window in the back was open, allowing the cold fontainian air to sweep in with a dance of its own- you settled it on the table and moved to join the dance: a simple one with only a few repetitive steps, not too easy yet not too tiring.

You bowed curtly to your second partner, her soft cobalt irises curling upwards, framed by her long blond locks, perfectly styled in beautiful curls. The two of you danced for a bit, before the music required, once again, a change of partners.

Soon, deep hazel eyes stared at you, prompting a sudden shiver which made you turn your own irises down, blinking almost uncomfortably as you took the man's hand. And once it was time to swap, you found your arms firmly entangled with his own, as his deep laughter reached your ears.

Somehow, the music seemed to become louder, hurried, bordering on a panicked tone as you struggled to break free, nearly bruising yourself in the process.

But as his hold tightened, it soon loosened and when you opened your eyes, you found yourself lost in soft lilac ones. The magician's cheeky visage coming into vision as he winked at you, "Figured you needed some help." his pink lips curling upwards.

"Ah... thank you."

He smiled wider, "There's no need to thank me."

His hold was gentle and almost imperceptibly soft as his thumbs slowly drew comforting circles, seeking both to ground your flustered self and to ease your worries as you finally breathed, fingers curling around the expensive red and black fabric, like a small child clinging to a mother; an action he didn't seem to mind.

"Thanks..." you repeated, lungs burning greedily, a new kind of warmth blossoming on your cheeks.

"No need" he repeated, holding you closer.

The music turned louder, no longer muffled by sheer anxiety and arising goosebumps but spurred by soft words and bashful, genuine smiles.

And when Lyney bowed one last time to his new dance partner, -a fairy skinned blond young man- proceeding to head for the sidelines, to his awaiting sister. He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing at a certain gentleman -who was conveniently his target for the night- cowering under his gaze, a lone withered rainbow rose between his hands. As he joined Lynette's side once again, his lavender irises always managed to find their way back to you, admiring the way you danced, robes fluttering elegantly behind you. And-

Ah... he forgot to ask your name.

Peering through the matt glass, you scrutinized the streets of Belobog. You gulped as another pair of Silvermane Guards filled your line of vision before joining the others on their all-out manhunt. You let out a breath of relief when they were headed to Eversummer Florist.

Turning around, you called your friend who was busy removing the nefarious chainsaw. With just one pull, she took the last row of teeth, their sharp tips shined menacingly under the soft glow of Neverwinter Workshop. She gave you a silly smile and thumbs up to which you reciprocated.

Meanwhile, her phone rang, displaying a message from the trailblazer -and may the Aeons bless them- saying they would keep your secret.

But then, a soft knock came from the door.

You neared the window closest to it -"Who is it?" asked the mechanic from the counter- trying to peek in the most natural way possible. And when your irises caught tuffs of soft blonde locks, you felt your soul leaving your body.

"Serval, it's Gepard."

You sweated nervously as you heard the scrambling of mechanical parts followed by a hushed 'what-'.

"It's Gepard." you repeated.

Serval, who was still holding the disassembled chainsaw, hurried to find an empty box.

"Huh... Stall for time?"

Another knock.

You rushed on your feet and opened the door, greeting the Silvermane Captain who looked surprised for a moment before a rosy tint painted his cheeks and his lips curled into a shy smile.

You tried to return with a smile of your own but it was so stretched and fake it was almost comical. And somehow, the Aeons above seemed to have finally heard you, as your sweet boyfriend -unaware of the previous chaos- greeted you shyly before asking for his sister.

You faked a cough and robotically turned around just in time to see your blonde friend emerging from the counter with an equally comically fake, enthusiastic smile.

"Hey, lil' bro.- she said, nearing the two of you and swinging an arm over your shoulders -How's work?"

The tall blond squared his shoulders.

"Someone has shattered one of Qlipoth Fort's windows, we've been searching for the culprit. Have you seen something or someone?"

Serval cleared her throath, "No, we've been busy, very busy... uh... you know... repairing machines here and there." she said following with a small awkward laugh as you furiously nodded.

Gepard stayed silent before nodding.

"I understand, please, let me know if you discover something."

"Sure sure- said Belobog's mechanic as she grabbed the handle -but we are very busy right now, so, see you later!"

As Serval pushed the door, you waved to the poor unsuspecting male.

But, just as the twin doors were almost closed, a couple of stubborn morning rays peeked through the hinges and landed straight to a box vibing near the counter.

And then he saw it.

The tip of the cursed automaton chainsaw shining under the light.

Ahah... ah.

A tiny child looked at you with glossy grey-blue eyes. Her arms open, displaying the pristine white unbuttoned blouse. She stared at you with a doe-like gaze, a small pout on her rosy lips.

Your face was blank as you crossed your arms.

"What? Get dressed."

The child puffed out her cheeks.

"I can't" she said.

You raised your left hand "How many?" you asked, as you waved four fingers in front of her doll-like face.

"Four!"

"See?- you said, patting her head -You're a big and strong girl, get dressed."

You smiled, satisfied, before going towards the bedroom's door.

The child looked at you with an incredulous and betrayed gaze.

Little Freya screamed, stomping angrily on the wooden pavement, before charging at you, tiny teeth biting your leg.

A yelp escaped your lips.

Opening the faucet of the shower, you let the cold droplets ease the numb aching of your right leg.

Slowly massaging the biting-mark, you sent the stink eye to the seemingly harmless child, who was watching you with feigned innocence.

"Will you button up my shirt, now?" she swung from side to side, the knee-length dark green dress flowing adorably behind her.

A tight smile was plastered on your lips as you mercilessly pulled her cheeks, seeking revenge.

*

Screams and laughs bounced along the dining room walls, creating an astounding echo of noises and words.

Children ran and infants crawled around your legs, their hands covered by snot.

Sometimes you wondered why you were still there.

Little Freya (who was swinging left and right, hanging from your arm like a monkey) watched with curious interest, huffing with pride as she found herself being taller than all of the kids. But her prideful moment was soon interrupted by one of the older children. Her pink rose lips turned into a pout at the sight of his height.

Your eyes twinkled with bored curiosity, stomach growling, wanting to see the long awaited breakfast, but just one look at the abomination meant to be porridge had your stomach churn uncomfortably, all hunger gone.

In the middle of the room, your caretaker gently cradled a blonde toddler in her arms as she happily chatted to the headmaster of the orphanage. Your mother chirped, small sounds of joy leaving her lips every time she told the white haired woman one of the youngest children’s silly successes.

Your headmaster mustered a small smile, dark grey eyes glinting with feigned curiosity.

You snickered at her predicament.

The red cross in her eyes glared at you as you feigned an innocent whistle.

On the left side, from the kitchen’s door, a small child no older than nine was pushing a tray holding a large, dark grey pot filled with the nefarious soup, its small wheels creaking on the floor. 

Your mind blanked, thoughts filling with flashes of the spilled liquid, but disappearing as soon as they came.

Without thinking, your legs moved on their own and only when you heard the loud 'clank' of an old raised plank returning to its place, did your mind focus on the scene happening in front of you.

The black haired boy gazed at you with confusion, he shrugged his shoulders before resuming his work.

The child who was settled comfortably on your back, looked at you with twinkling curiosity as you stared intently at the wooden floor under your feet.

The morning prayer echoed in your mind as your hands hurt from the usual rhythmic clap.

The cold spoon in your hand felt heavy as your mind kept focusing on the previous event.

The small bits of oath, you had seen fall on the ground, floated around the milk broth without a care in the world. Their aimless wandering seemed to make fun of you.

Little Freya finished her meal in less than five minutes, her hungry metal blue eyes stared at the plate in front of you.

Wordlessly, you pushed the bowl towards her.

The little girl brightened as she hugged your arm, before resuming her ravenous eating.

*

Snow crunched under your boots.

You swept away the snow from the wooden bench and sat down, curling up in your jacket as white as the snow falling over the horizon. White puffs of air escaped your lips as you buried your nose, underneath the thick layers of the poorly handmade scarf you had decided to knit out of boredom.

The kids played with snowballs. You muffled a laugh when one of them hit a little boy on the face. Its puffy red face erupting into sobs as his companions panicked around him.

You stretched your limbs, sighing contently at the absence of Little Freya who had decided to make a snowman with the other girls.

Your shoulders hurt from the constant stress the little monkey had put on them. You mentally cursed the little girl's older brother who had been adopted two weeks ago and had dumped her on you, saying he didn’t want her to feel lonely.

You closed your eyes for a quick nap, a snowball landed on your face.

The small culprits’ snickers soon turned into screams as you slowly walked towards them, a wicked smile on your snow-stained face.

Dull grey eyes watched the scenery through lattice stained windows.

Arlecchino's bright red cross-shaped pupils looked at the scared children running for their lives, before focusing on you. As you pretended to be a fierce beast, with long fangs and sharp pointed canines, the words from your caretaker echoed in her mind.

"Ah,- she said as your heavy gaze focused on the wooden pavement, worry coated her voice -[y-n] is spacing out again, I wonder what goes through that child's mind, it's been happening more in the past few days."

An old document was violently thrown on the long desk, its content spilled on the polished wood.

A pristine white paper was illuminated by an old desk-lamp, its soft glow reflected by the faded colours of a detailed photograph, hiding the [h/c] locks beneath.

*

The young fatui recruits stood with their chin held high.

Big, proud smiles adorned their faces as their gloved hands held a small suitcase with all their belongings.

Some were hugging the younger children, whose faces were red and puffy, stained with tears. Others were laughing, sharing their last memories before the start of a new life.

From the corners of the stairway, you watched between the shadows of the sidelines. Your eyes narrowed at the new shining crest glaring on their chest.

You went away, your frame melting in the darkness of the candle lit hallway, leaving behind those young children you used to call brothers and sisters.

The yellowed pages of an old novel were illuminated by the dim light of a candle.

Your bored eyes sluggishly looked at the scribbled ink.

Finding the frivolous romance to the point of being almost ridiculous, you closed the book, before the second-hand embarrassment of the protagonist's actions could get to you.

The candles hanging above the stairs flickered.

You rested your forehead on a cold window, your tired irises overlooking the wooden stairs that stretched beneath you.

Outside, a soft, warm light ran on the snow, its movements reminding you of the small cute fireflies floating around the woods during the warmer summer nights, when you used to run outside, over the white fence.

The small fairy dropped what appeared to be a doll. As if realising the missing item from her small hands, she turned back.

When she picked up the little doll dressed in the shades of light blue, the fairy's small face was illuminated by the lantern she held in her small frail hands.

Your eyes widened.

Your chest burned with heaving breaths as your heart beat, running miles.

The cold white snow sank underneath your boots, mercilessly caging your legs in knee-high holes, you wondered how did the little girl managed to traverse alone so effortlessly.

Darkness draped a black veil over your eyes.

The stillness of the night would have lulled you to sleep had it not been so suffocating.

Alone, with only the guidance of the timid moonlight, you trudged through the snow, exhaling a relieved breath only when your boots touched the hard stone ground of the main road.

Your legs ached, the snow on your aching limbs froze all over the fabric of your clothes, attaching itself on your skin like stubborn glue.

The streets were silent as soft pearly tears fell from the weeping clouds.

A warm glow illuminated the cobblestone path where a lone little girl stood.

You picked up your pace once again, before stopping a few meters from her. You mustered a small relieved smile, mouth ready to call her name.

But that same name was stolen by winter's frigid wind.

Little Freya's cries were lost in the silence, small hands trying to grab the young male's sleeves in front of her.

You could see her rosy pink lips moving, but nothing could reach your hearing, drowned by the ringing of your mind.

The boy looked at the small child with lifeless gunmetal irises, sunset golden, ruffled locks framed perfectly his face, casting a doll-like glow.

You gritted your teeth, biting your tongue as you picked up Little Freya, hiding her small face in the crook of your neck, under the protective wings of your cloak.

You wanted to move but you stood there, frozen, as your eyes were solely focused on the puppet-like joints of his long fingers.

The freckled boy raised his hands and gently pushed your shoulders.

The ringing became overbearing.

The soft dreamy snowflakes turned black, like the monster of a child's nightmare.

"I'm sorry"

Your last words were quiet.

"Who were they?"

A small smile graced the boy's lips.

Mechanical sounds echoed in the night. A giant, finely dressed machine carried a young beautiful lady in its hands. Her dull topaz eyes focusing on the cloaked young adult running across the stone path.

The boy gave no answer, not that she had expected one.

She sighed.

"No matter.- her voice was soft -Come, we must go." she said, turning to the opposite direction.

The boy stood still for a moment, before following the young lady whose mantel was as white as the soft snowflakes of the weeping clouds

The little lantern lay forgotten.

The candle inside flickered one last time before the darkness devoured its light.

You didn't know how long you had been running.

The scenery around your figures became more and more unfamiliar as time passed.

You slowed to a walk.

Little Freya's grip tightened and you felt your shoulder become wet with tears.

Your hold tightened, cradling her small frame in a protective embrace. You bit your cheeks, trying to muffle your own trembling breath and quivering lips.

You had to be strong if not for you, for the small innocent naïve child in your arms.

But your legs trembled. You tried to walk to the nearest bench until your limbs gave up.

The hard stone floor was cold, ice nipped at your legs seeping through the fabric, burning the skin with frozen hungry kisses.

"Need a hand?"

You flinched, scared by the unknown voice.

The shades of ruffled ginger locks invaded your vision as your mind filled with gunmetal.

A young male extended a hand as dull blue irises watched you expectantly.

The same shade of the snow you found sitting on the windowsill every morning filled your line of sight.

You slapped his hand away.

The ginger didn't seem fazed as a small chuckle escaped from his lips.

He raised both his hands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to-"

"I don't need help from a Fatuus." you cut.

The bundle in your arms moved. Tired grey-blue eyes gazed at your [e/c] irises.

Little Freya yawned, "Where are we?"

You shushed her gently, placing her head in a comfortable position.

The young Fatui crouched down, handing the small child the little doll you had lost during your fall.

"Thanks, Mister..." she said, her tiny voice soft and tired.

Mustering all your remaining strength, you resumed your walk.

The youngest Harbinger trailed a few steps behind.

"Why are you following us?" your voice was cold.

You gritted your teeth at his unresponsive stare.

"I don't need your help." you repeated, words uttered to convince yourself.

Your limbs trembled again. A pair of arms circled your shoulders, stabilising your body.

"Are you sure?"

Your gaze settled to the small shivering child in your arms. You closed your eyes.

"... I... please"

Something heavy fell on your shoulders. The sleeves of a long scarf as red as blood fell gently to your hips. You draped it around the child's body, her shivering stopped.

"Where to?"

"...the orphanage"

On the way back, you kept silent, quietly observing the male walking in front of you. His steeps never making a single noise.

The small snowflakes hidden in his locks made his hair appear almost as white as his long coat, whose feathers as black as night tickled his cheeks.

Little Freya was softly snoring, her small hand still gripping a handful of your cloak.

Old tiles came into view. Little by little, the building where you had spent all your childhood appeared in front of you.

As you stood in front of the wooden and heavy front door, you spoke.

"So, why did you help us?" your words were coated by a thin layer of mistrust.

“No reason.”

The young Harbinger smiled, dull eyes filled with mirth as he watched you close the door.

"Let's just say- he breathed -I don't want to anger a colleague of mine" he said, walking towards the stone path.

A cold gust of wind breathed, the white coat disappeared, hiding in the shadow of a frozen whisper.

Carefully, you tucked Little Freya under the heavy blanket of her bed. Slowly, you left her side, but were soon stopped by a small hand grabbing the end of your cloak.

"[y/n]- she whispered your name -what... happened to... big brother?"

Your hands balled up into fists.

You kept your gaze fixated on the floor, unable to look at her big tired eyes.

Words of truth wished to leave your lips.

You bit them back.

"I..." you began.

Your throat seemed to restrict and for a moment you couldn't breathe.

"I don't know."

Your nails created dents in your palms.

*

*

*

CHAPTER I

WEEPING CLOUDS

-----◇-----

GENSHIN IMPACT - Ballad of Melting Ice

Citizens and visitors from all over Teyvat competed for the best spot, the most rowdy sometimes with punches and raised voices.

The moon irradiated Zapolyarny Palace under an ethereal glow as the building towered over the crowded main square obscured by its shadow.

A heavy coat as pure as snow was unceremoniously thrown over your already aching shoulders for the strict posture you had to keep.

But soon your pain faded into the background and, as snow began to fall, your breath was stolen, carried by the playful snowflakes running over the whispers of the freezing breeze.

Your eyes widened when the Cryo Archon walked in front of you, her white dress flowed behind her, following her movements like a soft snowflake gently guided by the wind.

Her most trusted knights, the Harbingers followed just one step behind, their chin high and proud. Their coats glistened pure white under the moon, reminding you of the fresh snow you found every morning atop the windowsill.

The small cube in your hands felt suddenly heavy.

A ticklish feeling crawled up your spine.

Your face surely wore a strange expression for the girl next to you nudged your arm with her elbow, mouthing a quiet "relax."

You sighed.

Yeah, as if you could do that.

You wished you still had all those white powders your caretakers had put on your face that same morning but were then scrubbed off by order of your older sisters.

Puffs of white escaped your trembling lips as you slowly began to walk towards her.

Your trembling body felt unusually stiff, the tedious lessons of posture you had endured that same morning were finally taking their toll.

You bit the inside of your cheeks, anxious.

Your trembling arms hidden by the large regal blue sleeves.

You took a deep breath as you began to walk once again. Your steps marked by a veil of uncertainty.

Your eyes scanned the long dark blue carpet.

Suddenly, images of yourself slipping on ice flashed in your mind, you halted, you tightened the hold on the pristine white plate.

You took another breath.

Your shoulders relaxed.

You were fine.

Maybe you should stop that little annoying habit of yours. Stop thinking about all the worst possibilities.

But then you made a larger step.

Ah, you slipped.

The ancient relic fell.

Ice met ice.

You had never got up so fast in your life, hands already going towards that little (and probably cursed) cube, whose smooth surface was already reflecting your flustered figure.

In the midst of your panic you failed to notice the tall figure approaching your small self.

A cold hand gently touched your right cheek, frigid fingers grazed upon the skin.

Your eyes widened and when [e-c] met light crystal, your movements halted and you stood there, lips slightly parted, mesmerised.

Your irises were solely focused on the woman in front of you and only when you heard a small quiet chuckle did you realize you were probably looking like a fool.

Your cheeks felt hot as you panicked, hands gripping the ice in front of you with an unsteady hold.

The small cube trembled in your hands, threatening to fall once again until bigger and colder hands gripped yours in a firm hold.

A gentle smile adorned her gaze.

***

A long orange scarf was thrown over your head, one of your older brothers ruffled mercilessly your hair.

He laughed, bright lemon eyes filled with mirth.

"Can't believe you dropped that!"

Cheeks puffed and arms crossed, you turned your head the other way, watching the colourful stands of food and toys.

"I didn't do it on purpose."

He ruffled your hair again, ignoring your protests.

"I know, I know" he laughed.

As you tried to contain your annoyance at his boisterous laughs, you saw a glimpse of white streaks.

You slapped his arms away before sticking out your tongue and hiding behind the long coat of one of your older sisters, who sighed as soon as she looked at the pouting and offended male. Her short white hair swayed gently, as she shook her head at your antics.

As you stuffed your face in the dark feathers of her hood, you unknowingly touched your right cheek.

When the tip of your fingers grazed the skin, you flinched at the coldness. On reflex, you immediately touched the other.

You looked at your hands, before squishing your cheeks.

The two children watched with curious gazes wondering why you were so obsessed with the plush skin.

The ginger snorted, "What 're you doin'?"

You said nothing as you continued to touch the plush skin with a serious expression.

Your eyes lit up.

"My right cheek is colder than the other!" you proudly exclaimed like a proud detective who had resolved an impossible mystery.

The two watched you with dumbfounded expressions.

The male burst out laughing, you stomped your foot on the snow before focusing on the girl at his side who was trying to hide her giggles.

You felt betrayed. So you stomped away to your caretaker who was busy talking with one of the store owners.

When you pulled her long skirt to catch her attention, a small brown stuffed toy at one of the stands caught yours.

Your foster mother smiled at your cute little figure and pinched affectionately your left cheek with her warm hand.

"Love is warm"

Suddenly, a phrase that one of your sisters had told you a long time ago filled your thoughts.

You remembered how her dull round glasses had shone when she had told you that phrase she had found in one of her favourite novels.

But the so called Archon of Love's touch was as cold as the ice that every morning took over the stained glass of your old window.

You frowned.

Your cheek was still cold.

*

*

*

PROLOGUE

ICE HOLDS NO WARMTH

-----◇-----

Krsnik Noc is an original festival of Snezhnaya, as told by Ivanovich during Lantern Rite. It is said that, in Snezhnaya, it's as famous as Lantern Rite in Liyue.

Everything that will be told in this fanfiction will be a mix between Snezhnaya lore and my imagination.

The images taken by A Winter Night's Lazzo belong to Hoyoverse, I just edited them for the story.

Happy Halloween 🎃

“Thank you” you said, giving a small squeeze to the new gold mask in your hands. You dark brown pouch of mora was light, you sighed, it was already so empty... well, at least you had enough money for a caramel apple. An exasperated sigh caught your attention, the blue haired girl at your side shook her wallet, but her beloved clinking sound was silent. You smiled sympathetically at her dejected look.

The Plaza was so crowded that you had almost lost your balance twice. Masks adorned the faces of those near you, keeping their identity unknown in bright and dark colours. You tightened the lace around yours. You couldn’t afford to lose it, if you did, you would have to leave the main square, the rules said so. During Carnival, identities were meant to be a secret, of course, there were always those who travelled in groups or couples. Nonetheless traditions were traditions.

Sweetness melted on your tongue, a smile found its way on you lips at the taste of the freshly baked caramel apple. The thought of your little adopted sister invaded your mind, you wondered where she was, for when you had entered the main tallest gates she had left you hand, in favour of searching for the boy who held her affections. You smiled amused, already knowing she wouldn’t say a word to him, her shy nature had never let her after all. Who knows, maybe she would surprise you, but you hoped not, as you liked pestering her and seeing her red face. 

A small yelp escaped your lips as someone collided with your back “Sorry!” and quickly got away, words formed on your tongue but stopped as soon as you realised your sight was clearer than before. You touched the area around your eyes, your mask was missing. Using your hands, you covered your face. Your gaze shifted from place to place, scrutinizing all the small copper coloured tiles, saying a quick ‘sorry’ everytime you bumped into someone.

The broken pieces of your ex-mask sat comfortably on your palms. The small fountain droplets behind you were loud. You watched the small pieces, hoping that somehow magic would fix them back into their place. You raised your hands, trying to observe them from all the possible prospectives. Angry steps moved from left to right, your feet carried you impatiently above the sun kissed stone.

You stopped, an idea in your head.

You just had to find a glue...

You plan was... more difficult than you had thought. The glue, lent by a shoemaker, barely held the golden pieces together. You mask had become a mosaic, at least it was artistic (in reality it was quite depressing). Incomprehensible noises left your vocal chords in broken angry monologues. Chin in the palm of your hand, you sat on the border of the small fountain, listening to the sound of water running quickly towards the ground, clouding the joy and cheer inside the Plaza. 

Small golden bells sang, jingling together with white pure pearls. A shadow was cast above you. You yelped as a white mask appeared in front of you. It was decorated with a dark green motive similar to that of a butterfly, a small teal gem was embedded between a pair of stylised wings at the top. 

“A ghost!”

The stranger moved their index finger from left to right and crossed their arms, light blue braids adorned with chains of pearls and bells bounced with the lateral movement of their head. They looked at your hand-made mosaic before pointing it and tilting the head to the side.

“I lost it and now it’s broken” you said. They hummed, understanding your words. You wondered why they didn’t speak, maybe they just didn’t want to, but their clothes were finely decorated with threads of silver and gold, the short jacket was opened in a long cloak that flew along with their movements. Perhaps they were a performer, during the festival a small group of people was chosen to perform above the highest stages of the floats, they were called performers, they weren’t allowed to speak so they wouldn’t reveal their identity nor show themselves in public, as their beautiful dresses would give their role away. In other words they were meant to wait in the shadows, until the light of the show would rain on them.

Strange hurried noises escaped behind the porcelain mask, the stranger suddenly dragged you behind a tall bush “Hey! Wha-” and put their finger in front of the green tinted lips. Hasty steps reached the small square, a girl with sand-coloured pigtails looked around, a small pout on her blue lips. Her blue and silver mask framed the bright cobalt of her eyes, veiled by a speck of worry. She sighed, her white gloved hands curved in loose fists over her heart. She circled around the fountain born from stone, her maid-like skirt followed her steps. She sighed once again, before going towards a narrow street. 

A silent breath of relief found its way on the stranger jade-tinted lips, they took you hand and wrote with the tip of their fingers, invisible ink created words and letters on your palm. 

‘Name’s V, what’s yours?’

“[y-n]”

‘Come- they wrote -let’s go inside’ and pointed towards a large street decorated with banners and confetti, feathers and pinwheels. You shook your head, “I can’t my mask is broken.” The skip in their steps stopped, the vacant eyes of the mask looked at your face, then at your mask. They repeated the action several times.

An emerald coloured mask proudly sat in your hands, reflecting the sunrays in small rainbows through small silver glitters. Hands on their hips, the stranger took a satisfied and proud pose, you swore that sparkling stars were dancing around them. 

Following V was difficult, they leaped from one stall to another like a dendro slime in the mood of bullying poor travelers, they reminded you of your little sister, when she was only a four-year-old child. V had told you (or more like had written you) that they had never been to the festival in broad daylight. You smiled, chest puffed out, filled with pride, you would be the best festival-guide in the world. After all, you knew Carnival like the back of you hand. Oh, it seemed like you had lost them, fortunately the jingling bells guided you towards them once more. 

Streamers exploded in long intertwined threads, carried by puffs of laughter. Colourful pinwheels petals, that hanged from the long wires between houses, followed the winds currents, slowly and fast, first on one side and then on the other. The winds of freedom breathed happily through the feathers of high headdresses.

You took a deep breath, sugary aromas filled your lungs, creating clouds of sweetness. You hummed, you could recognise the sweet scent of crostoli from miles away. You couldn't wait to eat one. The sound of bells distracted you from your sugary dream.

“Here you go, youngster!”

V bowed their head as a sign of thanks at the happy laughing bearded man, who shook him in a half embrace, beating their chest with a fist.

You smiled at the sight and was that beer-

A dejected braided stranger walked lethargically at your side, their head down in probably fake depression. Soft grumbling was heard beside you, who didn't believe them when they wrote how old they were. Maybe they should have wrote twenty instead of over two thousand.

V stiffened, a biting cold shiver ran down their spine. Playful winds whispered the coming of a certain red-head dressed by an aura of calm rage.

Trying to seem eager, they pulled your sleeves and pointed at a random point in the colourful crowd before running in that direction, leaving you in the dust, a dumb expression on your visage. “Hey- wait!”

White doves soared from the black cylinder, painting the sky in soft clouds of white. A round of applause surrounded the bowing magician, who moved his wand, flowers blossomed from its white tip. You smiled, even though you had seen those tricks several times, they never ceased to amaze you, the young stranger must had felt the same way as they continued to clap.

The golden bells of the cathedral sang, their melody echoing through the streets and canals, bringing hidden reminders concealed by strong notes. A bright teal firework blossomed in the azure sky, its flames following each other in intertwined dances. Excited words fell from porcelain masks "The performance will start soon." "Mum! The performance!" "How pretty..."

You smiled but soon became confused at the sight of V, who didn't seem to share your enthusiasm. Brown loafers tapped on sun-kissed tiles. 'Watch me?' they wrote on your hand, you nodded, confused. V raised their hands in a funny military salut. A skip marked their steps, the golden bells sound became distant.

Another firework bloomed, its pink colour reflected in your eyes. As all the pieces fell into their place you huffed, amused.

Colourful flames exploded in the sky, by uniting and by separating they blossomed in petals crowned by sunrays. Wisps of wind played in the air, running together in a messy game of tag. Trumpets and drums sang in the opening ceremony, where acrobats flew, carried by long ribbons, singers reached the highest notes and dances were led by swift steps. Confetti shined in the vibrant blue, candies and streamers were gifted to smiling children. Your eyes twinkled in amazement, [e-c] irises stopped at the sight of your little sister holding hands with Tom, a mischievous smile found its way on your lips. 

Playful whispers of wind tickled your ears. Golden bells jingled. Sparkling teal soared with emerald wind currents. The long forest cloak shined under the sun, gold threads glistened in small rainbows. Words of a carefully crafted story were accompanied by teal irises playfully half-closed. The porcelain white mask kissed by a butterfly was tied to a hat made of lace, feathers and cecilias. Notes flew free from the strings of a treasured lyre. Venti moved across the white stage, giving life to the characters’ gestures and voices. Deep blue searched through the crowd, looking for someone. Jade tinted lips tempted to form a pout as from the start of the ceremony he had yet to find you. His fingers brushed against the wrong note, which was soon covered by another one. Turning his head to the right, he masked a sigh of relief.

His chest filled with pride, as gazes watched filled with admiration. Confetti and streamers rained on him, bathing him in colourful specks, candies fell near his polished loafers and oh! They were apple flavoured. A shame that they weren’t wine flavoured, maybe he could ask Diluc for nice bottle of dandelion wine later.

“And then. The hero...” he sang, his story was already coming to an end and, soon, he would have to re-tell it from the start, but it was starting to bore him, perhaps he should tell another one. A new sets of notes emerged from his instrument, he turned his head around, but he couldn’t find you. Red, purple, pink and blue. Gold, silver, orange and grey, but no emerald. Maybe he should have told you to watch his show atop the walls, however, even those were crowded. 

As the winds carried the last words of his poem, he began preparing the chord for his next song. His throat was already becoming sore. Just one more... he thought, as his mind was already thinking about wine. A bright gleam of light blinded temporarily his sight, he rubbed his slightly irritated eyes. Curious, he searched for its source. 

Small rainbows reflected on silver glitter.

His eyes widened, as rich deep blue clashed with [e-c], his lips gave way to a smile.

Fireworks bloomed in the sky, freeing confetti above the wings of freedom.

*Gondola: a boat characteristic of Venice, led by a single oar.