#meonsdrabbles

Deep in the snow-coated mountains of Snezhnaya resides a humble village, one fortunate enough each summer to host a lodge for wanderers in the winters. Survival depends on everyone contributing to the local economy. Some young men are able to dodge this by fleeing to the capitol to work as low grunts for the Fatui. Though, many had the displeasure of being sent back home to instead redirect revenue to the Zapolyarny Palace. It was a dirty, disgusting trade in the eyes of a local hunter. Years ago a dear friend had been sent off to be a part of the Fatui, and to her dismay her own brother followed soon after. That was all the Snezhnayan authorities did.

Take, take, and take the scraps that were dropped.

Today was no different as the fur-clad hunter marched through the main street of Orenskoy. Head tilted low into her scarf, she was quick to take notice of a fairly ornate carriage sat outside of the two-story lodge. From the carefully crafted gold detailing, the hunter did not need to look at the side to know that some higher ranking Fatui member had taken ahold of the lodge. Anyone could imagine the excitement that radiated from those inside, eager to make good with whoever had “blessed” them with their presence. This personally failed to keep the interest of the hunter as she was far more concerned with the heavy sled she dragged behind her. Two large stags laid awkwardly over one another, wrapped firmly in heavy skins that were becoming stained in red as time continued.

Ksenia wanted to take the time to carve out a few parts of the flanks to keep for herself, but the impending storm forced her into town. Perhaps the butcher would be kind enough to do it for her without charging her. Despite the storm, the main street had grown popular with people flocking around the lodge. Mothers and aunts alike were bundled heavily in their own furs to try and catch a glance at whoever represented the Tsaritsa. One muttered to another about trying to marry her daughter off to one to get her off the mountain. Another hoped that it was her son returning home to flash a new rank. Mutters and whispers ran wild. Even the men had fallen into chatter between taking drags of warmed tobacco. It was a pitiful sight to Ksenia, and one that could be easily ignored.

The local butcher had become a close friend to the archer after she entered the village a few winters ago with fresh rabbit for him to sell. A beneficial relationship formed between the two over a set of grilled legs that same night; Ksenia supplied his shop and he looped in her personal wishes with his large catalogue order that he would make monthly. It kept her ties small and her trail covered. Today was like any other to the two as she pulled her sled around the back of the Butcher’s shack, pushing open the back door to announce her arrival. Inside, the sounds of chopping had been replaced with quiet chatter. “— I swear, I saw a Harbinger!”

It was easy to decipher that it was the wife, Viktoriya. The woman was just as kind and patient as her husband, but what she lacked in butchering skills she made up for in observation. There had been plenty of times that Ksenia had (teasingly) offered to take the older woman along to hunt with how good her innate instincts were. Viktoriya preferred to use these skills for evil, being a proper gossip throughout Orenskoy. The mental reminder of her gossiping nature was shaken off the same way Ksenia shook the loose snow from her boots at the back door. “There you are,” Ariy chuckles, blatantly trying to flee his wife’s exaggerating.

The two made quick work of dragging the stags in, shocking Ariy once again. Outside, the sky had begun to darken and she had begun to worry about getting home. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck sleeping at the lodge. Ariy was quick to skin one patch of the first stag to ensure she had enough to eat after this blizzard rolled through. Ksenia attempted to push some well-worn Mora into Ariy’s hand for the meat, but he was quick to close her hand, curling her gloved fingers over the coin. “You bring me more than enough with a single stag, these two will keep a few families full and warm.”

She would however, never reject the Mora given to her in exchange. With the looming presence of the carriage alone, just outside the shop, Ksenia wondered if this money could save her life tonight. Between the hike, their presence, and the underlying scent of iron she had begun to grow sick. The type of sick that only comes from a burning stomach that carries up and to the throat, introducing a type of dizziness only it could. She must have grown pale due to the visible worry on Viktoriya’s face. A warm hand came to the hunter’s forehead just as a gentle ring of the shop’s front door filled the stagnating air. Ariy went off to greet whoever had come in as his wife escorted Ksenia further to the back of the shop.

Over the stags and closer to the drafty back door. The hints of fresh cold air wafting through the cracks seemed to help straighten her head. “Will you be alright getting home,” the older woman asks, “If you want to wait until we close, Ariy and I can drop you off on our way home.”

“No, no,” the younger woman’s gruff voice comes out insistently, “You need to get home quickly if this storm will be here soon. I’ll be just fine.”

Viktoriya was visibly not convinced as she managed to talk Ksenia into gossiping for “just a moment.” So they stood there in the back, one talking far more than the other. It was apparent that the butcher’s wife had grown giddy over the Fatui coming to their village. It was odd seeing how despised the group was, but as much as no one wished to admit it… they brought wealth with them. Something everyone needed. “— I’m sure you could snag yourself a handsome officer,” Viktoriya hums out, fixing a wild strand of Ksenia’s.

“I’m not interested in an officer, they move around too much,” the hunter plays along.

In all honesty, she would rather meet the end of one of her own arrows than align herself with the Fatui in any manner. Speaking in such a way however was begging for problems that she did not need. Viktoriya was only

able to gossip for a few moments more before her husband rounded the corner. Ariy’s brow was knitted as his expression seemed almost… grim. “The storm is approaching faster than anticipated,” he states, “Whoever our… esteemed guest is at the lodge, the owner is requiring our freshest cuts. Viktoriya, please head home before me and bunker down with the children, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

His wife was immediately concerned, turning to him fully then. In that moment, Ksenia was practically forgotten about. “I can’t leave you here! Dmitri has plenty of meat from just two days ago, so come home with me now,” she argues, “We can stash Ksenia’s hunts in the shed where they’ll freeze.”

The couple bickers for a moment; Ariy insisting that the meat would still go bad as it was now cut while Viktoriya simply wouldn’t hear of it. If the blizzard was coming in as quickly as it sounded, Ksenia wondered if she would even make it home in time. “I can butcher the stags for you, deliver the meat, and close up your shop,” she hesitantly offers.

She doesn’t have children, or even a pet to fret over. If anyone was qualified to stay in Ariy’s shop to take apart stags, it would be her. The offer halts the bickering then as Ariy seems to instead contemplate the offer. “We have the loft area upstairs,” he mutters, “It’s not the nicest, but it can keep you warm if you have to stay here.”

Suddenly the howls of winds rapidly forcing its way through the town could be heard inside. The subtle creaks of wood combining with the soft thuds of blowing snow hitting glass was enough of a warning of what was to come. “… Are you sure,” Viktoriya asks, brow knitted in worry.

It was the least she could do for parents that needed to keep their children and livestock alive. They should never have to decide between their lives or pampering the Fatui. It was the thought that looped around in her mind as she hacked away at one of the stags that Ariy kept inside the shop. It didn’t make sense to go for both now, so they stored it in a secure shed out back before he and the wife rushed home… The sky had been dark for some time and she could only wonder if it was so dark because of the looming authoritative presence across the street or the impending blizzard. Amidst separating hide from flesh, Ksenia had to acknowledge the glaring issue with a potential high ranking officer showing up out of the blue. A small spike of pain came from behind her left eye for a moment; a simple reminder of how tethered she was to problems far outside her comprehension. This all had gone on for so long that it was a pleasant surprise to be somewhere long enough to almost befriend people.

For now, she knew she was stuck in this village until the storm was over. The issue with being this high in the mountains was that these storms could range from hours to weeks at a time with little to know warning. Ksenia’s gaze slides to the pot behind her that had a few different ingredients she had with her simmering with her cut of the stag. Had she put too much in? Would she be forced the eat the whole damn stag before her, herself before the storm was over? These questions were a constant in these mountainous villages. Back home in Morepesok, there was some mercy as it rested in the mountains’ shadows on the coast.

As she wrapped the fresh “steak cuts” of venison, Ksenia’s mind wandered back to her home village. Were they warm? Safe? Did they even miss her or did they believe whatever lies the Fatui conjured up? The twine to secure the paper was pulled and knotted at the thought of the Tsaritsa and her devotees. Twine cut the circulation off to her blood-coated fingers as her nails bit into the skin. For years she skittered throughout Snezhnaya’s smaller villages; doing what she could to stay alive while helping others. Mora for meat that families couldn’t achieve on their own, clothes for cleaning homes; it was all worth the struggle if it meant she could do some good for people. However, as she crossed the street to the lodge, Ksenia made a mental note of which direction Nod-Krai would be in… Though that place was probably no better, at least the Fatui stayed back.

The streets were empty as the winds whipped around violently, lashing at any soft material with the intent to harm. The highest points of her cheeks that were exposed instantly stung and burned as she crossed through the now nearly ankle-deep snow. Being outside for less than a minute had frozen her to the very core as her legs fought the urge to move. Snow latched to her lashes almost instantly, no amount of batting could battle them away as a twenty second walk dragged on for nearly a minute. Each step had to be made with vigor to try and outpace the sub-zero temperatures. Just as her lungs had begun to feel as though they were full of ice, Ksenia pushed open the heavy wooden door of the lodge.

Inside, the crackling of a roaring fireplace almost melted her in an instant. For a moment she wondered if she should settle in the lobby for just a moment to relax and warm up. As the snow on her lashes began to melt away, her answer was then ‘no’. If she began to sweat in her many layers just to return briefly out there, she would be begging for an illness. She needed to be in and out. The manager of the lodge appeared from his office behind the counter, a skittish young man that was following his father’s orders. “You’re not Ariy,” the boy stutters out, flinching as the hunter sets down the wrapped stack of meat on the countertop.

“You know who I am,” she grumbled, pushing the stack a bit for emphasis, “Ariy and Viktoriya have kids to keep warm.”

The manager eyed the stack, brow still furrowed tightly before he hesitantly picked it up. “Thank you,” he mumbles, “We have an extra room if you need—“

Ksenia did not give him a moment to finish his sentence as she turned on her heel. There was no way in hell that she would stay under the same roof as some fatui member. The loft above the storage area of Ariy’s store was drafty, but a few layers of heavy fabric and tanned hides could fix that. The shop had been locked up and secured from any wind or opportunistic lowlifes before she climbed up to the snug location. Finally, her aching muscles could rest as she lay on the flimsy mattress. Outside, the winds whistled and whipped against anything in their way, filling the building with the sound of creaking wood. If she didn’t know better, Ksenia could almost compare the consistent creaking to that of a ship on the ocean.

With a groan, she rolled to her side, pulling the layers of fabrics and furs with her. Perhaps she could make it south that way; on a boat with a small crew of others that never wished to fear the Fatui and their leader again. It was a tantalizing thought, one that lulled her into a restful sleep.

Dreams were a rarity, but that did not particularly mean that nightmares plagued her either. For Ksenia, sleep was simply that. A passing period between days with nothing of substance. Last night hadn’t been much different outside of flashes of memories. They were specifically from when she fell into the abyss. It hadn’t been her intent, she was looking for… Even in her dream, her stomach was in knots as she thought about him. That damned boy whose hat was out on the ice. Everything that followed from her trusting the essentially perma-frosted lake was his fault. Flashes of horrors painted in vibrant hues haunted her. It had all been for nothing which stung worse.

Coming to, that was when Ksenia was forced to wonder how much of that was a dream or her mind attempting to process what was happening. She awoke with a gasp, drenched in cold sweat. It felt as though her eyelashes had laced together to keep her eyes pulled shut for just a moment longer as she greedily took air into her lungs. When she freed herself from the last moments of sleep’s grasp, Ksenia found herself keeping her eyes shut for just a moment longer. There was an odd feeling that came to her full attention.

It was the feeling of a predator’s gaze locked on her, one that was all too familiar from her many hunts throughout her homeland. That chilling feeling paired with… Was someone fiddling with her hair? With some last moments of hesitation, Ksenia’s eyes opened. For a split second, everything was far too bright before her vision began to focus. Gaze wondering, that predatory feeling washed over her completely as a figure sat next to her. With the ends of some of her hair pinched between their fingers, Ksenia started to contemplate her next move. Their posture was relaxed, leaning back on their free arm. “That seemed like a hellish dream,” a masculine voice comments.

The accent was impossible to miss… it was the accent of someone from Morepesok. All of the details of the last twenty four hours rush to her in that moment as the man’s face finally turns to her. A Fatui carriage, the quick gossip of a potential Harbinger… That damned accent. Ksenia sat up then, but was unable to go far as that gentle grasp tightened. The hunter winced as Ajax- No, Tartaglia, held the ends of her hair in a vice grip. She hissed in protest as he maintained his lax position. For a moment, she could feel the tremble of his muscles as he snatched her in place as quickly as he did. “You’re quite slick,” he continues, “For a woman with a broken eye.”

Another hiss rang out as Tartaglia roughly pulled her closer to him by her hair. Ksenia struggled to keep upright for a moment as she begrudgingly came closer to the Harbinger. Head yanked back, she was finally forced to face the man she had once called a friend. His childish sparkle had died so long ago, when they were barely teenagers… And yet it still hurt to see that it had never come back. The woman’s jaw clenched as she quickly closed her eyes. She knew what he was trying to look at and she refused to give him that satisfaction. If she had things her way she would’ve carved that troublesome eye out decades ago. Maybe if she was able to she would be free from whatever hell this was in the moment.

The hunter’s hands balled into fists as Tartaglia’s grip placed more tension on her scalp. It was almost agonizing as she wondered if her hair would go with his hand if she shoved him off at this point. “Who would have thought that two plain children from Morepesok would end up in such a weird situation,” he rambled on, “You always said we were destined to live and die there, right Ksenia?”

Her name sounded like a swear on his tongue. It turned her stomach in pure disgust before she felt herself get pulled back and forced to lie back down on the ground. She instinctively reached for the back of her sore scalp as the floorboards around her creaked. “Don’t you have anything to say to your dearest friend?”

Finally, Ksenia opened her eyes, squinting them mostly to see that Tartaglia’s uncanny gaze was unwavering. There was no recognizable bit of him. Not anymore. Ajax was long dead and this man was just wearing his skin as far as Ksenia was concerned. Freckled skin that had visibly aged overtime, gray hairs littered into his dull orange tufts of hair, and a sickly purpled scar that took over his right cheek. For a moment, she thought of how his scar had come from the same place her “broken eye” had. That abyss had stolen their futures from them… “Don’t tell me you’re still mad at me,” he eggs on, attempting to force any conversation out of her.

She couldn’t bring herself to speak, instead her gaze fell down to where his heart was supposed to be. The abyss worked in the oddest of ways, allowing her to see the thrum of anything’s beating heart. His heart thumped that same sickly hue of purple, it was no longer warm. That was Ksenia’s confirmation that Ajax had truly died the day he had gone missing… Or at least the humane parts of him. “You’re not him,” she croaked out, swallowing hard afterwards.

There were endless rumors of what the Fatui Harbingers were capable of. Rumors that made them all seem stronger than the archons, or even the sovereign dragons that ruled before them. How Celestia ever allowed seemingly mortals to have such powers were beyond her if they were true. Whispers of some type of “Foul Legacy” had floated through the villages that she traversed through. Had that been him it would explain his state. Tartaglia’s head slowly cocks to the side as he pulls her up more, forcing a wince out of the hunter. “I remember when we were kids,” he muttered, “How you would always kick my ass somehow when we would wrestle.”

A pained gasp rang out as he suddenly used his grip on her hair to throw her head back down against the floorboards. Ksenia instinctively grabbed at the back of her throbbing head, curling her knees up in hopes of being able to kick him away when the moment revealed itself. “This is kind of therapeutic, knowing that I could pay you back for all of that.”

Ksenia’s gaze locked onto Tartaglia as he leaned back into his previous relaxed posture. A look of malice in his eye as a small cocky grin formed on his face. She had no idea what he was talking about. There was no way that he was pissed off about things they did as children, right? Slowly, she sat up while attempting to maintain a neutral expression. He was as much of a brat as he was when they were children; doing anything he could to get a reaction. “Why are you here, Harbinger,” she spits out, eyes narrowed.

Her remark seemed to surprise him enough for his smirk to fall. He seemed unenthused by her attitude as he leaned forward to prop his elbow onto his knee. “You know why I’m here, Ksenia,” Tartaglia’s tone shifts to a more serious one, “You’re wanted by the Tsaritsa, even more than those that are openly against here. I won’t lie, I assumed that you were Nod-Krai at least. Staying in Snezhnaya was a risky choice, but it seems to have worked until now.”

She quickly leaned back on one of her hands as Tartaglia attempted to reach out and seize her face again. It wasn’t a secret that she was wanted; posters of her sketched portraits were littered throughout the land with varying bounty prices for years now. He was right, it was a risk to hide in plain sight, but the multiple heavy layers needed to traverse Snezhnaya helped in hiding her identity. The Harbinger’s hand stayed in the air for a moment before dropping. Inside the loft, things had fallen silent as the winds outside screamed and wailed, mercilessly ramming into anything in its way. Ksenia could not bare to look at him for any longer as the weight of everything began to weigh on her.

How long had she been on the run now? It had to have been nearing ten years at this point- no, longer. Ksenia had to force herself to isolate from her family, friends, and the life she was supposed to have. None of it was fair and it was all because of…

Slowly, her head rose as rage began to boil under her skin. It felt like a moment of possession as she lunged at Tartaglia in the low, cramped space. Fists were balled and swinging blindly as she screamed in pure hatred for the man below her now. Her life was in utter shambles because he had to go missing in the ice. From within the abyss and out, Ajax-Tartaglia-Whoever-the-hell-he-was had completely ruined her life. In him constantly wanting a fight, he had dragged her down with him! She wouldn’t have this abyssal curse or the Tsaritsa’s vision latched to her if it wasn’t for him.

The scuffle lasted mere moments as he easily subdued her. Ksenia found her face being pressed into the floor with her arm pinned behind her back as he sat on her to hold her in place. An amused fit of laughter came from above her as she tried to look at Tartaglia through her hair. To her disgust, he spat out the blood from his mouth onto the floorboards next to her. “Shit,” he gasps out, “You still have a mean right hook!”

Was he getting excited over a three second scuffle? Her muscles relaxed slightly then as she was brought back to when they were kids and how he always loved a good fight. Even when he was losing the fight, he enjoyed it. Perhaps there were some parts of Ajax in there somewhere, buried deep down. She began to tense up once again as he leaned down, bringing his face close to hers as he pulled her hair from her face with a surprising amount of tenderness. “Look, we’re stuck in this shack until the storm is over. We’ve been snowed in since maybe three in the morning… So let's just get along until it’s time to leave. I would hate to accidentally get you stuck on a meat hook while squabbling.”

So… She played nice. As nice as one person could be towards a childhood-friend-turned-psychopath. If the weather was on her side, she could be out of here in two or three days. The issue would be to get out without Tartaglia noticing her while also being able to make a run for it in potentially waist deep snow. There were valuables of hers’ to collect as well. It was normal to be on the run, but not when sharing a confined space with a Harbinger. At the very least he had been kind enough to not tie her up. “There’s no where you can run anyway,” he had mocked her.

⋆⁺₊❅。

Days came and went, dragging along painfully as one refused to indulge in any proper conversation. Eventually night would roll around and Ksenia found herself stuck next to him since he only carried limited blankets to stay warm. “Touch me more than you are and I’ll kill you,” was the only thing she had properly stated.

Tartaglia must have anticipated her to crack eventually, but on day three of almost complete silence he felt his sanity slipping. As he ranted late in the afternoon about how bored he was and that she wasn’t helping, Ksenia was more fixated on the outside. Unfortunately, the snow and ice had sealed the doors shut from the relentless blizzard. The positive was that the wind had finally slowed down. There was some hope that soon she could leave him behind, even if she had to crawl through a window. “Can’t we act like normal long time friends that never went out separate ways,” he suddenly asked, causing Ksenia’s grip on the knife she had been using to tighten.

“No.”

“Why not,” he prods, leaning over the butcher counter that separates them, “Neither of us belong up here in the mountains and yet we’re stuck here because you’re as stubborn as you were in Morepesok.”

Her gaze shot up to him as her neutral expression shifted into a glare. It felt as though he was blaming her for their current situation. Though perhaps it was the stillness of their situation pushing her to be more irritable… It didn’t help that she was watching herself carve away mora piece by piece to feed the both of them. “And you’re as gluttonous as a pig going to slaughter,” Ksenia spits out under her breath.

The feeling of a glare stabbing into her was blatantly ignored as Ksenia continued to shave away at one of the steaks she had been eager to sell. They were silent for a time until Tartaglia suddenly pulled the knife from her grasp and set it on the counter. She refused to react, standing still and locking her gaze on the flesh before her. His presence was looming then, radiating irritation that she stood strong against. “All of this would have been settled if you hadn’t pissed off our Archon. Do you seriously think she’ll let you off the hook after you took a vision from her and ran?”

No. It wouldn’t have been settled. A life being a pet to the Tsaritsa was a date worse than death from Ksenia’s perspective. So many follow her out of pure fear of a hypothetical war she wishes to wage on on all of Teyvat. To be some servant that feeds into the fear opposes all she stands for. Becoming some type of monstrous pawn that no one would ever recognize disgusted her. “Look at what she has turned you into,” was her calm response, “I refused to be anything similar.”

Naturally, Tartaglia had taken offense to her words and things grew physical. That seemed to be the cycle each day they were stuck in the butcher’s shop. Silence, momentary conversations, and ending with some type of brief squabble until someone reluctantly stopped. If Ksenia wasn’t needed alive, she was sure she would’ve just been killed in her sleep nights ago. That was fine though as it meant she had time to plan and flee. Or well, enough time for her to store the shavings of fat from the stag to stick on a small window in the back of the shop where Tartaglia never bothered to venture. With the extra coverage of a curtain, she packed the fat on the edges of the window overtime. Her grandmother had taught her that fat could melt ice if patient enough, and patient she was. After their last altercation that only ended with a knife to her throat, Ksenia knew it was time to move. His patience for the Tsaritsa’s orders was fading faster than the storm would end.

That night, under the blank statement of needing some privacy, she moved out of the lost and abandoned the half asleep Harbinger. It wouldn’t take him too long to realize that she was taking too long to use the restroom before investigating so she needed to move quick. With her coat and boots waiting at the back door already, Ksenia sloppily pulled everything on. She wasn’t as meticulous with her layers as she should have been, but it was now or never. Bag of Mora stitched into her sleeve to reduce the sound of jingling, Ksenia pulled the curtains back to see that the fat was stuck but not frozen. Past the window was white, with a glimmer of the pitched sky. It was time to go; now or never.

With a cringe, the hunter used her strength to force the window open. The wood echoed and clattered in loud protest as whistling winds took over the space. Above her, the sound of skittering in the loft soon followed. With a huff, Ksenia pulled herself through the window, onto the snow, and used her heel to kick the window back shut. She couldn’t hear what was happening inside of the butcher’s shop due to the wind, and she gaze herself no time to watch and wait. Instead, the scrambled through the snow that was far behind a head taller than her. Crawling across it before finding a softer spot. In the midst of desperation, she was quick to bury herself under the snow. Heavily covered hands digging into the forgiving surface until she could be covered. Mentally, she thanked her father for teaching her to do this in case she ever ran into hillichurls as a young girl. They wouldn’t see her, but she was aware of them. Thankfully, the aggressive winds should have been merciful enough to cover up her splayed out tracks…

Suddenly, the shaking earth caught her attention as she could see some type of spectral lights faintly flash through the snow above her. That, and the same oddly thrumming heart by the shop. His heart was beating rapidly, but seemingly dashing about. The sight caused her own heart to stop for a moment. Had he turned into that alleged Foul Legacy? It was a ludacris thought she had convinced herself. And if it was not… then she had tried.

⋆⁺₊❅。

The trek was one she had made plenty of times before; most would do the same as her after the storm was over. After so many feet the snow would grow solid and make a walkable surface. Currently, she felt as though she was walking on gelatin as she traversed through the snow. When it seemed to be somewhere around midday was when she found her home. With the dense tree population around her shack, the impact wasn’t as intense as in town where the trees were long gone. With a last moment of strength, Ksenia shoulders into her frozen door to stumble inside. To her utter relief, her home was beyond empty. The single room home was dark and frozen, but a few logs would aid in that.

It was bittersweet to stumble into this space she had come to call home. Ksenia had even been bold enough to decorate a bit with paintings or bones from varying creatures. Alas, it would all need to be left behind… all of it would have to be. The carrot seeds that were stored away from last year to begin this year’s. The ceramic dish set she had been talked into buying by Viktoriya. All of the memories she had formed here were to be abandoned. For now however, she would have the luxury of enjoying at least one more night in her home before moving on once more.