oh, mirror in the sky

She blinked slowly as you retrieved it, removing the thick sheet of parchment inside. Neat and delicate handwriting splayed over its rough cream surface, the ink filling its cracks and divots like glue on broken porcelain.

“Did you have Mr. Nine write this?”

Maybe…

You snorted, and her tone grew adorably defensive.

I wanted everything to be perfect for you!

“You’re perfect for me just the way you are.”

You– you just go back to your treasure hunt!

Her voice faded with a huff, your palm rubbing Lyra’s soft muzzle. She leaned into your pats as you read the letter:

Water flows beside me, soothing my colorful petals from the stress of the breeze. Brother and sister search for healing, while a fairy reclines in my leaves.

The city fountain!

“Let’s get you ready for a ride.”

Short white hair blew away in the gentle wind, Lyra’s upper lip shifting back and forth in satisfaction as your brush glided across her coat. She nibbled on the grass while your palm slid down one of her legs, silently asking for permission to pick her hoof clean. She gave it easily, her trust and confidence in you built over years of partnership. The other three followed and soon she was ready for her saddle pad. Its edges rested just below the end of her mane, providing comfort from the saddle. Said tack followed, a thin stripe of the pad visible at its front. Next was the girth, a fabric strap wrapping under her body to secure the saddle. You left it mostly loose for now, allowing her to adjust to its presence. You had learned the hard way early on, and this seemed to be an easy compromise. You gave her encouraging, proud rubs under her mane, the muscles of her neck sturdy beneath your hand.

Give her extra pats for me!

“Nicole thinks you’re a cutie!” you quietly cheered, leaning closer to Lyra’s face, “Don’t tell her this, but I think she’s a cutie too.”

The mage didn’t respond, and you couldn’t hold back your laughter imagining her blush.

I do not look like that right now.

“Of course not, darling.”

You bent down to tighten the girth, pulling down and adjusting your stirrups. You held the bridle up for her to inspect, allowing her to sniff it and remember the more touchy piece of equipment. When she lost interest, you unbuckled her halter and slid your right arm under her neck. You removed it entirely, gently keeping her head forward as you brought the reins over her ears and back toward her mane. You held the bridle’s structure together above her head, offering her the bit. She took it, and you lifted the bridle up, allowing it to slide up into place without hitting her teeth. You put the crown of it around her ears, pulling the fringe of her mane through. You buckled it, and gave her more neck rubs and praise. She always seemed to brighten at your words, much like a certain angel…

So do you!

You smiled, checking and tightening the girth once more before placing a kiss over the brown star marking on Lyra’s forehead. You mounted her, heading for the trail out of Springvale.

Fluffy clouds drifted across the bright blue sky, their shadows painting the ground below. Branches and bushes alike rustled in Mondstadt’s persistent winds, their leaves scattering over patches of pink cosmos. The tracks of wagon wheels flattened under Lyra’s hooves, the path’s story altering in an instant. Sunlight reflected off of Cider Lake’s wavy surface, each lapping softly against its rocky shores.

The rhythmic creaking of windmills drew closer as you neared Mondstadt City, stone echoing under every heavy footfall of your horse. Pigeons took to the skies as you crossed the bridge, greeting Timmie on the way. His usual sourness was replaced with excitement, a large smile on his face at the sight of Lyra.

You dismounted beneath a large ash tree, and she walked straight over to the closest dandelions, taking a big bite and making Sage laugh. You gave her a quick pat, your boots crunching the dirt as you passed through the city’s main gate. You waved hello to vendors and shopkeepers on your way up the stairs, the fountain drawing near. Its calming flow mingled with the crackling of Good Hunter’s stove and Anna’s quiet wishes. You carefully brushed aside the flowers in its left pot, then the right. A small scroll lay atop its soil, unraveling to reveal Nicole’s next clue:

Falcons fly toward the West, watching over the lands of Mondstadt. Branches of oak ascend to the sky, a crown of freedom for every citizen below.

“Hm, I wonder where that could be?”

Where indeed…

—

The soft scent of wild chamomile danced on the breeze, thin cattails swishing in the easily flooded meadows of Mondstadt’s wilderness. Foxes scampered into the bushes as Lyra trotted down the trail, cranes flying high above. Windwheels asters swirled against their stems, their sturdy petals flitting like the wings of nearby crystalflies. The world’s pace always seemed to slow at Windrise, its grandeur welcoming to all walks of life.

“Remember our first date?”

Nicole hummed, How could I ever forget? Our picnic was in perfect view of the Hexenzirkel’s island – Alice teased me about it for weeks! You were well worth the embarrassment, though.

“It seems she’s rubbed off on you.”

Well, between the two of you, it was inevitable that I would master the art of teasing.

“And flirting?”

Your smile is the closest to the heavens that I shall ever be again.

…Perhaps that is a little too poetic for what humans in this age consider flirting. Should I go back to the drawing board?

“Not at all, Nikki. That was perfectly you.”

So you liked it then?

“Of course. I love anything your beautiful mind creates.”

I suppose I should have expected that… just get to the clue!

“Yes ma’am.”

Don’t call me that!

“Sorry, darling.”

She went quiet once more as you dismounted, retrieving the periwinkle envelope from the stony steps leading to the grand tree. The letter inside read:

I rest under the Archangel's gaze, where wind and time meet. The light of the moon heralds Her arrival from an island beyond the mist, beside the final resting place of gladiators past.

“I remember this story… this is how the ancient people of Mondstadt told time, correct? Because of the angels’ guidance? Those of the “moon city” used its light to know when to worship the Archangel…”

Yes! Thank you for remembering, my love.

“Always.”

—

Mondstadt’s ruins sprawled over the hills and cliffs leading to the Thousand Winds Temple, history laid bare for any passersby to witness. Perhaps it made perfect sense that a nation so entwined with time and its breezy flow would boast what formed it. Pink anemones and wild blue flax flowers coated the trail’s edges, something Lyra would no doubt investigate after you left her.

A large broken “sundial” lay at the dirt’s end, surrounded by old mossy paths and pillars. Its golden arrow pointed directly at you, as if the wrath of the heavens had honed in on a target.

“Ah! Over here!”

A brunette gentleman wearing glasses and formal Mondstadt attire called you toward his campsite, a fragrant soup boiling over his fire and notes scattered about his tent. You dismounted, letting Lyra roam as you approached him. He held out a hand for you, introducing himself as Henry Morton – a researcher for the Akademiya and the local chapter of the Adventurer’s Guild.

“I have a letter for you from your partner.”

“Oh, thank you.”

He handed over a plain white envelope, the handwriting on this letter messy and charming:

Find me where stars can be snatched from the sky, where forbidden love is soaring high.

I’ll see you soon.

—

You and Lyra weaved through the ruins and rocky terrain toward Starsnatch Cliff, breaking out onto the main path quite quickly. Frost asters and the early evening sun greeted you immediately, the sweet scent of caramel and butterscotch matching the sky’s growing golden tones. Lyra’s gait seemed to speed up the further up the path you got, her excitement at seeing Nicole again palpable.

Cecilias blossomed alongside pink cosmos and chamomile, each cascading brilliantly across the cliff’s meadow. Small traces of fog floated atop it, the air taking on a slight chill. It was welcome after your escapades, Nicole’s figure flitting about the horizon.

You’re here! She cheered, coming down to meet you and coo at Lyra.

“Thank you for the adventure.”

Anytime.

She lowered her forehead to Lyra’s, their star markings touching. She left a kiss on it before turning back to you.

Your eyes rest on the view, looking out at nearly half of Teyvat. All of Mondstadt unfurled beneath you, accompanied by the Nameless Island and the sea’s grand expanse. The Sacred Sakura of Inazuma and Votive Rainjade of Chenyu Vale glowed a brilliant cerulean in the distance. The edge of Fontaine flowed, and the sanatorium of Dornman Port stood hauntingly crumbled.

Most astonishing was the picnic Nicole had prepared, a soft blanket laid over the grass with tea, snacks, and plenty of sweets. A stack of books sat off on its corner, a bookmark haphazardly placed in one.

“I hope you weren’t bored watching me,” you teased.

How could I ever be?! A treasure hunt is one of the most intense emotional experiences an angel could have!

“Speaking of which, is this date my reward?”

A blush suddenly claimed her cheeks, her hands joining as her fingers toyed with each other. Still, she never broke eye contact. In them was a mixture of anxiety and love, your hands rising to hold her elbows in comfort.

Actually, I wanted to reward you with something else. This was just a… bonus!

“Oh?”

Her palms spread over your forearms, her lips sealing over yours. Her kiss was messy and passionate – so utterly her that you couldn’t resist melting into it. She gave you another, then one more, and soon her hands were on your cheeks and she was peppering your face in them.

Congratulations, my dearest adventurer! You found your treasure!

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Milf!Tsaritsa who texts you again the next morning, thanking you for a lovely night and providing you a “trial” date. You would be spending time with her and her son, so he could familiarize himself with you and she could observe your attitude and behavior towards him. You readily agreed, and she responded with a simple “Good. See you then.”

Milf!Tsaritsa who sits beside you at the city park, her son sipping on hot chocolate to her left. He had grown tired from playing with you, now enjoying a treat from one of the various food trucks. His mother simply stared forward, watching the world pass by in a daze until he leaned into her side with a happy sigh. His gaze peeked beyond her figure, a chocolate moustache on his lip as he asked if you would be playing again. “I don’t have many friends, and mama’s are all boring.” You grabbed your handkerchief, gesturing at your lips with it before handing it over to him. Anastasya observed your interaction, passing the stained cloth back from him to you. “Of course. She will be watching over you while I am at work.”

Milf!Tsaritsa who sends her driver to you on your first official day. They don’t converse, merely taking you from point A to point B. Anastasya’s house is as grand as you expected, an old gated manor with a lush garden of perennials. Cool tones, sharp angles, and bright silver form it, the wooden front door dressed up with swirling stained glass. Her butler lets you in, her son rushing down the stairs to greet you. He’s still in his school uniform, yet listing all of the games and books he wants to show you. “How about you go change, then we can do whatever you want!” He cheers, taking off back up the foyer’s large staircase. You take the time to adjust, noting the precise and perfect positions her furniture and decor sit at. Not a speck of dust haunts any surface, everything organized neatly to match. Her hearth is lit, a photo of her and her son on the mantle. Another rests beside it, though it lays down on its face.

Milf!Tsaritsa who sighs when she finally gets home, the moon high in the sky. Her brows are furrowed, and it seems as if the weight of the world is on her shoulders. She hides in her office, behind double doors inlaid with starry stained glass. Blue light fractures across her wooden floors as you approach, a hot cup of tea and warm soup in hand. She turns sharply as you weave through the cracked door, smiling sheepishly. “I thought this might help.” She says nothing as you place the tray on the corner of her desk, straightening everything on it. A small smile grows on her face, gone as soon as you blink again. “Thank you. You are dismissed for the night.” You shut the door quietly, though her butler still manages to surprise you. “She has turned me away every night that I have tried to tend to her.” “What do you mean by that?” “I simply thought you might wish to know.”

Milf!Tsaritsa who comes home early one night. She unpins her bun and removes her blazer right in the foyer, her heels clicking into the dining room. Her son gets up and runs to her, hugging her waist tightly before bouncing back to his seat. She took her own at the head of the table, directly to your right. Her butler beamed as he brought out her meal, her etiquette still the same as your first dinner together. She asks about your day, seemingly engaged in the stories shared by you and her son. Strawberry shortcakes came out for dessert, and a small bit of cream stained the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got something there.” She looked a little surprised , before simply licking it away. You couldn’t help but grow a little flustered, and her amused eyes drank in your flushed features.

Milf!Tsaritsa who invites you over on her day off. Her hair is down in curls, her business attire traded for a black sweater and light blue slacks. Still classy and presentable, yet more casual to suit the day. She sat in the garden with you while her son watered and played in its greenery. She poured tea for the both of you, providing how much cream and sugar you preferred. A chess board lay on the veranda table, pieces set in place. “Have you ever played?” “No.” “Then I shall be happy to teach you.” And that she did. Her smooth voice recited the rules and different plays, her expression remaining cold as her foot rose up and down one of your legs. She pretended to be none the wiser to your flustered state. Today however, you decided to give some back. While she focused on her next move, you shifted your own foot against her leg, meeting her thawing gaze and taking a long sip of your tea. The lightest blush spreads across her cheeks as she reaches for her own cup.

Milf!Tsaritsa who stays up late with you one night. The hearth burns bright, it has been for the last three hours. A half-empty handle of firewater sits on the coffee table, two drying shot glasses beside it. Anastasya sat on the opposite sofa, her bun disheveled, her jacket and heels removed. Her skirt rides up her thighs as she shifts, her legs sliding beneath her. Her bleary eyes were transfixed by you, by the tales of your life falling from your lips. She wanted to kiss them, and that thought turned her veins to ice. What would the man on the mantle think? Her greatest love and only weakness tossed aside for what? Could anything ever compare? Could she truly deserve love again, after failing to prevent his death? “What are you thinking about?” Suddenly you were at her side, thighs brushing hers as you sat far too close. Part of her craved it… part of her wished to run. “Have you figured out why I needed your help?” You shook your head no. “I… I lost my husband many years ago. He was the love of my life, and like the young fool I was I thought I would have him forever…” “You still do, in that sweet and kind boy sleeping upstairs.” Her eyes widened, one of her hands slipping into yours. “I… I suppose you are correct.” Her tone was surprisingly soft, “Do… Do you think I can find someone after him?” Your gaze focused on her lips, her own darting between yours and your heated eyes. “I think… if he loved you as much as you loved him, he would just want to see you happy.” Her cold palm held your cheek as she leaned into you. Your heart hammered when her plush lips brushed yours, a single tear slipping down her cheek as she finally kissed you.

Milf!Tsaritsa who knocks on the guest room door the following morning. You open it groggily, unprepared for her serious tone. “I apologize for what transpired last night. I should not have taken advantage of your state. I understand if you wish to leave today and never return. I shall find a new babysitter and you can move on–” Your lips sealed over hers, silencing her rambling and guiding her into the room. She shut the door behind her, turning you back on it and finding your lips again. You pressed into her, leading her hand to your hair and your body even further into the door. “My room. Tonight. Please,” she panted.

Milf!Tsaritsa who fidgets with your appearance before she leaves. Old clothes had been dug up from around the manor, presentable and cozy enough for you to wear. She kept brushing and patting your shoulders, toying with your hair as her brows furrowed. You caught her hands, leaving a kiss on the back of them both. Her son’s shoes clack as he jumps down the last two steps of the grand staircase. “Are you dating?” Anastasya froze, taking her hands back. She clears her throat and replies, “We are courting, a process you shall understand when you are older.” He turns to you excitedly, “So will you be going with mama to the Krsnik Noc festival?!” “Let’s allow her to decide–” “Yes.” “Yay!” He ran out of the front door to his car, while Anastasya stayed behind. “I mean it, I would love to be your date.” A gentle smile blossoms on her face, “Then you shall.”

Milf!Tsaritsa whose affection arrives as a blizzard. Her night with you starts simple and slow, her lips moving over yours with cultivated patience. She relishes in every glide, in the growing heat of your body against hers. The winds begin picking up when her kiss travels along your neck, her chilled palm supporting its back as you lean to allow her more room. Her touch is reverent and grateful, this second chance a precious thing.

Milf!Tsaritsa who lays you on her bed with tenderness. She worships your body in a daze, one bred by loneliness and isolation. She has rarely felt anything since Saarelainen’s passing, plunging her heart into icy depths just to keep living. Only now, you’ve walked into her stagnant life with a torch, ready to love and aid the woman beneath the permafrost. Her clothes shed with her guard, allowing you to show Anastasya what she thought she would never have again.

Milf!Tsaritsa who moans when she first feels your tongue. Its heat slides down her throat, ending between her breasts. It finds one of her nipples, and another sharp moan falling into her bedroom. Her hands entwined in your hair, her thighs squeezing yours. “More,” she commands, and you obey – your lips wrapping around it and sucking. She whined and you sucked harder, her cunt grinding down on one of your bare thighs. You bit the top of her tit softly, soothing it with your tongue as her pale skin began to bruise. She guided your lips back to hers, her kiss sloppy and heated.

Milf!Tsaritsa who pushes you down into her pillows, turning around and placing her cunt over your swollen lips. She spreads your thighs and licks down your folds, groaning when your tongue satisfies her in turn. She works in time with each of your movements, slowly melting into you as she pays special attention to your clit. The blizzard is here and her affection is fierce. She wants even more of you, riding your face the more you work her up. Her hands dig into your thighs, savoring the sensation of your warmth against her chill.

Milf!Tsaritsa who loses herself in you when she comes. She whines again, pressing her cunt further into you, desperate to prolong her orgasm. You follow shortly after, her rough and hard sucks enough to have you trembling beneath her. She turns back to you, collapsing over your figure and stealing kiss after kiss. She groans at the mixing of your tastes, swiping her tongue over yours.

Milf!Tsaritsa who lays beside you, brushing your hair from your forehead and gazing at you with unbridled love. Her fingertips trace your cheek and jaw, her own smushed into her pillow. “Thank you. For everything.”

Milf!Tsaritsa who finally smiles when you cuddle into her, a long lost sense of peace and happiness washing over her.

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