( * ❝ Master Albedo, sorry I’m late! ❞ The young alchemist hurried into the lab, breathing heavily from her trek up the snowy caps of Dragonspine to Albedo’s lab, tucked away between two cliffs. Setting down a rucksack by her own station, Sucrose took a moment to regain her composure. Adjusting her glasses as she straightened up her back once more, amber eyes flitted to the Chief Alchemist, hand coming up to fix her rounded glasses.
There was a brief pause, and she averted her eyes sheepishly. The way her fingers fiddled in her lap was meek in nature. ❝ Master Albedo, do you think ... Do you think I’m weird? Or scary, even? ❞ The question came out of nowhere to most, but she had been thinking about it the entire trip here. ❝ I over-heard some woman tell their kids to behave, and if they didn’t, I’d take their bones. I’d never do such a thing! ❞ A small huff escaped her then as her crest-fallen features turned towards the camp entrance. )
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Childe knows how to be patient. To most, it may not seem like it, but he does. He knows how to lay in wait for an opening. He knows how to be alone with his thoughts, mulling over past battles. Stasis is not his preferred state of being, that much is true, but he can still appreciate the quiet moments when they come.
It's when the peace and quiet drags on too long that he starts to get restless. The lull between his last mission and the next is especially excruciating. It was the worst kind of victory- not a victory at all- just a stageplay for the general public to consume while the actors and scriptwriters cashed in on the ticket sales. It leaves him feeling restless and hollow, nothing substantial to sate his hunger until the next battle.
In the hollowness, loneliness creeps in to fill the spaces, a liquid chill that seeps into every nook and cranny of him. Liyue Harbor is warm and sunny, vibrant and full of color and life, and in all these ways it is not home. Yet he can't return home, not yet. All he can do is pen letters to his loved ones and tighten his bow strings, waiting, waiting, waiting to be set in motion again.
Perhaps a day trip is in order.
He's heard tales of a mountain nestled in the crux between Liyue and Mond. Brutally cold, forbidding slopes full of corrupt monsters, energized by some mysterious force. A cursed place of eternal winter, no matter the time of year.
In short: The perfect vacation spot.
Childe travels lightly as always, only taking his weapon and a new coat to brace against the anticipated cold. He's Snezhnayan, not an idiot. A boat or cart would have probably cut his commute in half, but he's in need of the exercise so he simply leaves early one morning and walks the entire way there. It really is that simple. No sudden rainstorms, no random ambushes from bandits. Just Childe and the sun, making their way from one end of Liyue to the other.
The sun is just starting to sink behind the mountain range when he sees it in the distance; a splash of red standing out against the stark white snow.
"Hmm?" A curious noise escapes him and he changes direction, making a beeline from the beaten path to investigate. It's blood, he thinks. He can't smell it in this weather, but he recognizes the shade and shape of it, the color perfectly preserved in the damp and cold. The crimson snow is caved in on itself in a strange way, like some impossibly large creature left a footprint.
...Or like something average sized fell from a very high height. When he reaches the edge of the crater he spies the bleeder, what can only be a crumpled corpse laying deep in the center. An unfortunate way to go; not in the throes of battle, but a simple slip, it would seem.
"Bad luck," Childe says out loud, to no one in particular. He doesn't particularly feel like carting around the dead body of a stranger, but he knows there's an Adventurer's Guild encampment at the base of the mountain. It's one that he'd been intending on making a pit stop at anyways, so he figures at the very least he can tell them about it and let them deal with it. All he needs is some sort of identification and he'll be on his way.
The bloody ice is a little slippery as he carefully makes his way down into the crater. The body looks even smaller up close like this, like they wouldn't have come to his eye level if they were standing upright. He squats down beside it to get a better look at the clothes, brushing off some fresh snowfall to look for some kind of insignia. Strange clothes for sure, even as torn up as they are, but nothing he recognizes as belonging to a Guild or organization.
"Who are you?" he mutters to himself.
Almost as if to answer him, the body twitches. He jolts slightly in surprise, taking his hand away. Perhaps it's... still fresh? Cautiously, he stands up again and takes a step back, summoning a Hydro spear to gently prod at the thing from a safe distance. It must be thirsty somehow, because the tip of his polearm gets absorbed into it.
"Woah." There's a strange tugging sensation in his Vision, yet it doesn't hurt, so he decides to wait and see what happens, watching in amazement as the mysterious corpse starts to reform. There really isn't a better word for it. Twisted limbs swivel and snap back into places with sickening crunches, like breaking in reverse. Half frozen, bloody slush starts creeping back to its source, disappearing into rapidly sealing cracks that Childe can only notice now that the mess is cleaning itself up.
Cracks?
"What are you...?" The better question to be asking, really. Despite how grotesquely inhuman the display is, he finds himself enthralled by the sight, thoughts of melancholy and ennui dissipating in the face of the strange and unknown. He feeds a little more of his elemental energy into his polearm, tapping into the Electro of his Delusion, just to see what will happen.
Sparks flicker and sink into stained porcelain. The body jerks with a gasp. The only phrase that comes to mind is honestly the miracle of life. Without a second thought, Childe crouches down in front of the ex-corpse, addressing them conversationally, "Well. I can safely say, I've never seen anything like you before! How are you feeling?"
Aias, being the incredibly modest individual he is, would say that his only flaw is that he isn't strong enough to conquer the world. Yet. Every lost battle is just an opportunity to get stronger, so he doesn't let that discourage his ambitions.
⧱ what really is my muse’s biggest flaw
In the pursuit of strength and victory, he's willing to risk everything; his safety, health, humanity. Long term consequences mean nothing to a man who lives purely in the moment.
🤳name three physical imperfections my muse has (birthmarks, gray hairs, muscular definition, etc)
Freckles, cowlicks, and slightly crooked teeth. Like his codename Tartaglia (lit. The Stutterer) I like to imagine him as the scruffy boy-next-door with skinned knees who grew up too fast.
🙈what’s my muse’s biggest blind spot?
Somehow, he doesn't seem to be aware that other people assign more emotional weight to events than he does. See: his devil may care attitude about almost drowning Liyue Harbor and how he treats the Traveler so casually despite being on opposing sides. To him there was no major harm, so he doesn't think it's a big deal and can't understand why someone would hold a grudge about it.
🍰what’s my muse’s guilty pleasure?
Aias is a hedonist by nature and therefore feels no guilt about enjoying everything life has to offer; good food, good drink, good company, he'll take it all gladly and ask for seconds, too.
😰when my muse is stressed, how do they act out?
In contrast to his high energy personality, when he's genuinely stressed about something out of his control he actually tends to withdraw to process difficult situations. These are the times that he prefers to be somewhere quiet and secluded; ice fishing his go-to hobby for destressing.
💚what does my muse get envious over?
Someone having a more exciting time than him. Hearing about other people's battles and adventures is both entertaining and disappointing because he wasn't there to be apart of it all. As a result, he tends to stick his nose in as many people's business as possible, just so he doesn't miss out.
🛌my muse’s biggest nightmare
Losing his family. For someone who doesn't cherish even his own life, the lives of his family members are of the utmost importance to him, so he goes to great lengths to safeguard them (See: Those fun 'toys' he sends home occasionally.) God forgive any poor soul who thinks they can use his family to get to him, because Tartaglia won't.
👾what was my muse’s childhood bogeyman?
His parents attempted to instill obedience in him as a child with cautionary tales of the Baba Yaga. Unfortunately, Aias has always been a strange one and scary folk tales only served to intrigue him. If something is going bump in the night, he wants to go find it- and fight it.
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"Lumine? What's wrong?" He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear gently, thumb gracing her cheek. "It's rare of you to come to my quarters so late." (ig this is suggestive- albedo's a romantic prince ok)
LUMINE IS NEEDY HOURS ( open )
Lumine had learned the hard way that stars were not meant to be alone. They were supposed to be in clusters. So, coupled with a restless mind and a heavy heart, that was how Lumine had found herself knocking at Albedo's door, so late into the night. She hoped that she wouldn't be causing him any trouble, and she almost changed her mind and left when he had actually answered the door.
Her eyes fluttered shut at the gentle, warm strokes of his thumb, a small breath escaping her. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, she stepped closer into the alchemist's arms. Hiding her face into his neck, her fingers found purchase on the front of his shirt. " I—I didn't want ... To be alone tonight ... " she whispered out, the heat of her breath fanning out against the flesh of his neck.
The alchemist was sought with intent, though not to discuss the sequel to his book ( at a later date perhaps ). Rather it was ADVICE Xingqiu wished for, any tips & tricks that the captain had to offer. Albedo was a commendable artist, a talent so many desired. Though Xingqiu had some prowess when it came to WATERCOLORS & PAINTING, he was far from the master he yearned to become.
Alone with a canvas ( or at least relatively secluded ), the Second Son found painting to be calming in times of pressure. His position in the guild did not forego stress, though he’d continue to grin & bear it whilst carrying the weight, & nobody would ever be the wiser.
Now Xingqiu wanted to improve his artistic abilities, find the areas he could improve upon & that was why he set out to locate the geo-user.
“ Well — might I acquire your honest judgment? ” Plastered on the canvas was a watercolor, painted from one of the breathtaking peaks that overlooked Liyue Harbour. Needing to relieve some tension, he’d set off one day, only to return at dusk with the painting in tow. @ablutiio : // 🌊
