#aether.

or walls

idk i dont judge (i misspelled that 8 times jfc)

im bored

In clothes idk what the material is called it's like silk ish but it's not silk 🥹 I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S CALLED

let aether adopt klee 2k20

"so," he says, making a sweep-gesture at the open room, "this is it." the chestnut-colored walls and flooring, the modest furniture, the sparse decorations. subpar to what scara—the wanderer (his brain supplies, self-chastizing, momentarily halting his thoughts) is used to, he's sure. the other islands—ones actually intended for guests, for his friends—are a thing of beauty, curated methodically and with the care of a host intimately familiar with teyvat's terrains, but he's kept the main island noticeably bare; lacking any of the upgrades he's accumulated since he first set up his teapot. a simple two-bedroom house, a crafting station at the base of the steps leading outside, and a fir tree out front with a matching bench and table set situated underneath.

"um. make yourself comfortable, i guess." he sounds stilted, even to himself. it's not intentional, but it has been—difficult, in a word, to plaster on a smile and try to pretend the wanderer is the stranger they readily presented themselves to be. he does believe it, if not their story then at least nahida's words, but hard-earned animosity is a tricky thing to let go of. 

(paimon definitely hasn't! he recalls her saying just days prior.) 

he stands fixed in place, mirroring their stance, for (probably) an uncomfortable amount of time, until—right. he should probably.. something. host. "i have—tea? in the kitchen somewhere, if you'd like?"

If you’d asked Aether as recently as a year (and some change) ago whether he could imagine traversing Chinju Forest with Childe at his side — with Childe as his companion — he would’ve…  Well, he actually wouldn’t have anything, because, as recently as a year ago, the chance of that developing was as much of a non-reality as the possibility of leaving Teyvat is shaping up to be.  

A year ago, the suddenly-picturesque scenery of Inazuma still made him sick — a vague, indescribable sort of uneasiness he forced himself to sit with every time a commission brought him back to the islands.  He couldn’t avoid it / wanted to and refused to in equal measure / so he stewed in his ill-ease and let Paimon do her best to distract him from how much this place ate at him.

A year ago, his injury still ached in the small hours of the night, leaving him shaking and with sweat beading his forehead and neck.  He refused to look at it, then, the branching scars as perfectly splendid as Inazuma’s scenery.  It’d made pretending this world hadn’t permanently altered him impossible.

And then came Sumeru.

And then came Nahida.  

In some ways (in a lot of them), meeting Nahida, saving her, paying for the gift of her life with over a hundred deaths, the same way he’d paid for Inazuma’s peace, settled him.  He was tired, and he still hurt more than he didn’t most nights, but the heartsickness had miraculously disappeared, like a piece of his soul being set to rights.

In the wake of that, seeing Childe in a different light came almost naturally.

the days are getting shorter. it’s the first thing aether takes notice of once the gravest of his injuries have healed and he feels well-enough to venture outside. he estimates it’s mid-afternoon, but when he looks on into the distance, searching the horizon, the feathers of rose-pink amidst the blue are unmistakable. the air feels crisper, the breeze stronger than before, and he watches the still-blooming silk flowers tremble from his vantage point on the inn’s terrace, idly wondering how long till they’re to be harvested— the last batch of the season. he’s so, so tired, weak and aching in this plaguing almost-mortality, but the shoulder he could always turn to and rest his head on in his lowest moments is gone.

the passage of time onsets as it is due—

autumn approaches, a reminder in and of itself

—and it’s a frighteningly heavy burden to have to bear alone. 

“ that’s a grim forecast, ” he laughs. his tone betrays none of the apprehension he should feel, and neither do his eyes when he meets xiao’s steadfast gaze across the several steps of distance separating their respective spots, aether sat on the ground, his legs dangling freely from the terrace edge and xiao stood to the side, arms crossed. it was kind of him to visit; even kinder to caution him, despite. it’s a kindness aether won’t soon forget. “ beidou says the alcor’s due to set sail in seven days. i did hope to have a bit more time before we had to leave, but… ” he rests his arms on the perch of the balustrade, body canting to the fore. he’s growing listless again. it’s been harder to stay awake— regardless of the rest he gets, these days it never feels enough.