#laumbina

And just like every other day, finding an opening for “escape” proved difficult. No, the elders didn’t keep her occupied too long tonight — the dishes demanded their full attention, and she reckoned they barely noticed her slipping away from the joint table with a smile, stuffing some containers in her pouch.

Lauma has barely made it out of the main grounds before she hears it: little thumps on the ground, soil pushing back, the essence of kuuhvahki alerting her of the possible delayed arrival tonight. What stops her are the kids. Precious children. They look up at her, eyes bright and wide, hands clenched with anticipation.

“Miss Lauma!”

Some tumble over the syllables, her name drifting off into a small whisper, while others stretch it long, loud, almost deafening the silent night on Hiisi Island.

Lauma controls the urge to hiss. “Hello, children.”

Noticing some leftover food on one’s face, she leans down, still holding the pouch tight to her side. She can’t help it. Her hand lifts on its own, and she wipes the child’s face. Little pats, a swipe to the right, as gentle as she would be with her beloved animals. “I presume every one of you ate well?”

“Yes!”

“It was so delicious!”

“Thank you, Miss Lauma!”

And they take flight again, sprinting through the main area of the Enclave. Lauma’s glad; she thinks they would be careful in the dark, though she yells her concern anyway. “Slow down!”

From here on, the journey sails smoothly. Still cautious as ever, Lauma spends an extra five minutes hiding behind a broken pillar. She leans forward again, peeking from behind the ruined stone, on the lookout for any lingering tribe members, and she can’t help the slight tremor in her heart.

Lauma doesn’t have to do this, actually. She looks down at her side again, at the pouch cinched at her waist, with sudden realization. A sigh breathes into the quickly cooling air.

“She” told her there was no need.

But... Lauma wants to.

Would that be overbearing of her?

Lauma blinks, eyes unmoving from the pouch. She must make haste, or else the food will go cold. She doesn’t waste time anymore. Conflicted thoughts come and go as she makes her way down the island, weaving through the cold water on the shore to the other side of Hiisi Island.

The Silvermoon Hall awaits, and so does “she”.

Her heart skips again just as the stones to the entrance come into view. So, yes. It’s unlike Lauma, and she believes it is not entirely wrong despite the absurdity.

Inside, the Silvermoon Hall remains stuck in time.

Lauma walks quietly through the little pool of water, traversing down and into the cave. Here, it is pleasantly warm, in contrast to the water flowing along the shores. She feels the same upon the sight of the still blue color of the flowers adorning the hall — “she” is faring well.

That’s all that matters to Lauma.

“Colum— K-Kuutar?”

She comes to the center, already noticing the empty spot on the main structure where she would usually see a small body lying calmly. Her cyan eyes flit across the meadow to the small stone crescent on the side. “Luonnotar?”

No one replies; both Kuutar and the Kuuhenki are absent, it appears. She glances back at the center, noticing the gleam of the stone. Only a couple of months remain until the moon-prayer night.

Lauma moves forward, threading through the flowers toward the moon structure. Only a couple of weeks until this little routine of hers stops. And she can’t help the long exhale.

As the moonchanter, it’s her responsibility to see her goddess’s wishes fulfilled. Like her, Kuutar also longed for a home — the moon that remained like a painting in Teyvat’s sky, unchanging, unreachable. And Lauma believes being a confidante for her goddess was the highest honor one could ever grant her.

However... Lauma desires something more. The Frostmoon Enclave never felt like home to her either. Only when she found “her,” or rather, when Kuutar herself wanted to be found, did Lauma realize just how wrong she had been. Almost blasphemous, yes, but her heart wants what it wants.

Water ripples somewhere, just as Kuuhvahki fluctuates. Lauma doesn’t turn, instead opting to sit in the usual spot that longed for its owner alongside her. She does not need to wait any longer.

“You are here.”

A blink, and Lauma turns to her right. There she is.

“Kuutar—”

“Columbina.”

Columbina places her finger on Lauma’s lips, bending toward her. “How many more times must I say this?”

“I—”

Lauma feels the moon maiden glide back gracefully before floating around her back and settling beside her.

“Columbina...” Her name joins the low wind that has begun to flow in the hall, becoming lost in the sweetness of the night. Lauma doesn’t dare to look at her, knowing the goddess is staring at her despite the blindfold over her eyes.

Lauma wonders what her eyes were like.

“You brought food?”

From Lauma’s side, she sees her hands reach out to the front as if calling for something, someone. Columbina whispers, “Luonnotar.”

The Kuuhenki appears out of thin air, tilting its head as it always did. Lauma immediately pulls the pouch from her waist, taking out some of the containers. “I hope you’ll like these.”

“There was no need.”

There wasn’t. Lauma already knows and detests this.

“Still—” Columbina extends her hands, soft skin gracing Lauma’s fingers for a moment. “I must thank you.”

With the water rippling, the moonchanter watches her moon maiden indulge herself. She takes small bites, chewing only for a little bit before swallowing with a hum. Lauma takes it as approval for her cooking.

“These are delicious.”

Lauma laughs gently, her own hands reaching for the clueless Kuuhenki. “I am appreciated.”

“I will miss this.”

The moon-prayer night. Columbina must be waiting for it, every waking moment until the moon dipped into the sea of the horizon, until the night swept over the wake. Lauma looks at her begrudgingly, gulping, hoping the small knot in her throat will unfurl.

“Columbina...”

Despite the number of times the name has rung in her mind, Lauma still can’t get past the whisper. “I wish to ask you something.”

“What is it?” Columbina pauses, hands still holding one of the containers. It’s full of greens, leaves, drenched in honeyed soup. Lauma had especially made this for her, knowing her aversion to anything that wasn’t plants or fruits.

“I—uh...”

In the distance, Lauma hears Luonnotar sing gently. She can picture it treading through the flower fields, probably happy and free. Luonnotar reminds her a lot of Columbina. And Lauma wonders, fears that if she asked her this right now, she might prevent her from feeling the same.

“Lauma?”

Columbina asks. She hopes the goddess doesn’t have the ability to read minds. “Columbina... I—”

She can’t. Lauma cannot say this.

“Hmm...?”

A breath, and the words she meant to say never come out; instead:

“I wish you find your home.”

It’s quite unusual, yes. However, Lauma doesn’t care anymore now. With the pouch cinched on her waist and a soft smile on her face, she moves across the shore back to Hiisi Island. The orange sun has begun to peek from the horizon. The night has ended, and just like everything, her little routine might also.

But Lauma doesn’t fear that anymore.

“I will miss you too, Lauma.”

Lauma closes her eyes for a second, lips parting, and says to no one, “I will miss you too, Columbina.”