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Thoma is there at the counter and Aether can't help but smile at the sight as he slides open the door. He had been hoping to see his friend when he stopped by the teahouse but hadn't planned on it, knowing how busy Thoma's aide duties kept him.
"You're not a dog this time,"
Thoma looks up, startled, pressing a hand to the face of a book Aether hadn't noticed until now, half hidden by the pot of a small blooming tree.
"Hello," Aether says simply, too pleased at the sight of a friendly face to continue his joke. Inazuma isn’t unilaterally hostile, but the people are wary of new things.
Thoma startles again, just slightly, his head twitching like someone had stuck an electro crystal beneath his seat before meeting Aether's happy gaze fully.
"Um. Uh. Hi?"
Thoma smiles, helplessly, charmlessly, vaguely. So unlike himself.
Aether pauses for a moment to study him. His eyes drift over and past Aether's to some unknown center point in the room. Not like he's not there, more like. Like. Like his presence holds the same level of foggy, distant interest that the paper panels or the wall fixtures would garner.
It reminds Aether, chillingly, of that dark night underneath the glow of the inverted statue. When Lumine had been there, been real and in front of him, how she had stared down Dainsleif with a cold anger that made her feel further away than she had during all of his searching.
He couldn't believe it was her. Not because he hadn't thought he would find her, but that she wouldn't look at him. The way his scratchy, lost voice- the one he had used in the past, at times when he was too fragile to go forward under his own power, the voice that said "sister, I need help, I can't do this on my own" had called to her and she had barely twitched? Absurdity to the point of disbelief. Either she wasn't real, or he wasn't.
The idea had some merit, or at least it had felt like it at the time. He had met ghosts on his journey, stuck in their own reflection of reality. A faded outline of a person who had no real substance left, made up of the missing things. The void where his wings used to be echoed the idea back. A ghost shouting nothing, reaching for something they couldn't touch.
Lumine had been gone again before the thought had fully formed, leaving nothing but smoke and memory behind.
Aether is almost as tired of feeling helpless as he is of being alone.
He shakes off the dark thoughts. The here and now. A necessity for a traveler- to not let what has been overwhelm what is.
Thoma is here now, and there is something going on.
It could be nothing, everyone has an off day now and then. It wasn't a crime to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. He certainly wouldn't begrudge his friend that. But Aether can't let go of a growing sense of unease as Thoma's gaze drifts from the far wall to the bushy little tree in front of him.
His hand, Aether notices, is picking erratically at the ties binding the small book on the counter together. It looks handmade, with roughly cut leather wavering along the edging of the pages and is dyed a brilliant red similar to Thoma's own jacket he usually wears.
It's missing now, Aether notices as well. Which is surprising, usually he wouldn't part with that thing for all the mora in Teyvet. Aether had asked him about it once, on one of the nights when the four of them had filled their time with food and song and stories. "Oh," Thoma had smiled cheekily "I was told once it suited my figure, so I can’t bear to part with it.". This had caused Ayaka to let out the most undignified sound you had heard from her yet, a shrill peep that started as soon as it stopped. A story there, Aether could tell, but hadn't inquired further at the time, assuming it was maybe a more complicated subject than Thoma felt ready to talk about just then. The plain black undershirt he's wearing now seems odd in comparison, like Thoma had shed his second skin.
"What are you reading?" He asked, curious at both the contents and if this was what was causing Thoma to act so off. His friend often showed him the new legends or fictional serials he had dug up from one place or another. He leaned over the counter, glancing in permission to see if it was alright to do so but all Thoma did was shift the hand covering a page slightly to the side. Aether took that as a go ahead to look closer.
The penmanship was messy, hand inked and rushed, but forming perfectly straight lines. I was asked if I would join the household today. That girl, she never fails. She looked at me with this little furrow in her brow, like she was standing in front of a tribunal and knew, just knew every word she said had the weight of anvils. She said "Thoma, I ask this of you,- Aether stops there, glad he had comprehended what he was reading before he had seen something more personal.
"I'm sorry." He blurts, stepping back. He might be nosy at the best of times, but it would take a lot more than a halfhearted acquiescence like the one he had gotten before he was comfortable reading a friend's personal diary. He wants to say more, like 'why would you let me read that' or 'what's the matter' but he feels so disconcerted it's hard to get anything more past his throat.
Aether believes in getting to know someone slowly, at their own pace, the bond of trust forming at the same speed as knowledge is shared. In the grand span of time the moments spent with friends feels so small, to demand the knowledge upfront feels unearned, like skipping to the end of the story, like it's saying the journey doesn't matter. It's a quirk of his, one that makes him feel all the more terrible for reading Thoma's diary just now.
Thoma blinks slowly, like he's reaching for the words in the back of his mind. "It's okay." he says, still more vague than Aether has seen him before now. Thoma moves his hand back to the book, resting limp over the corner and Aether is left with the feeling that Thoma doesn't quite know what is being apologized for.
“No, really.” Aether gets control of his mouth again, “I shouldn’t-”
Thoma's face scrunches in pain suddenly and he brings his hand up, pressing at the bridge of his nose as his breath quickens.
He stands now, and that's odd as well, Thoma being still, even for this long. Sometimes it feels like he is made of movement, energy pushing to get out, bouncing from stall to stall at the Sunday market or from task to task around the teashop, doing flips and kicks at the slightest provocation just for the pleasure of the action. He likes to keep busy, he's said in the past.
His eyes are closed, and one hand is gripping the other's wrist tight, light he's fighting against himself. He's breathing harder now too, rubbing at the space between his eyes with the knuckles of the other hand and shaking slightly with the effort. There's visible distress on his face and Aether doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what's happening.
He pulls at the space Paimon disappears to and she slides out, still yawning and blinking sleep away from her nap. She looks like she's about to gear up to complain at being woken so abruptly. He cuts her off.
"Paimon, see if you can find Ayaka. Something's wrong with Thoma. I'll stay here and watch him."
Eyes wide and very awake now, Paimon nods vigorously. "Paimon will get help, don't you worry Mister Thoma!" She flies out of the entry area towards the back rooms. Aether hopes Ayaka is actually here today, hopes she knows what's going on.
He reaches out to Thoma, awkwardly over the counter, and gently places his hand over his friend's, trying to pull it back gently.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey," He soothes, trying to remember any of the lessons Barbara had given him one patient care when they had hung out in Mondstat. Um. One, assess the patient’s state of mind to um. See if they are able to communicate their issue. Okay. Calming Thoma down enough to assess what was wrong was the first step.
"Can you talk to me? What hurts?"
Thoma's eyes flew open, meeting Aether's own with an intensity that they had lacked until this point, panic in his eyes as they skitter around his face.
A thin mew of pain slips past Thoma's lips and Aether is gutted at his friend's distress. "I. It's Gone. Aether. It's gone.. I can't." He closes his eyes again, the bitten off words seeming to rip through him anew, this time leaning his head into Aether's hands as he breathes heavily, shuddering slightly.
It occurs to Aether, with a sudden flash of dread, that at this angle, even standing, the view of Thoma's lower half is obscured. "What's gone?" He asks gently, careful not to jostle Thoma as his breathing evens out slightly, but desperate to check the rest of him as a horrible suspicion grows in his mind.
"'s mussng." hissed through Thoma's teeth, is the only response he gets.
He leans forward over the counter, nearly half supporting Thoma's weight now, and he finds nothing. Not even the brilliant sash usually hung around his waist is there, just dark work pants, sterile in their blankness. Aether finds suddenly, he understands too well what is wrong with his friend.
"Thoma, where's your vision?" He doesn't know why he asks, perhaps hoping Thoma perk up again, will say something like "Oh, it didn't go with my outfit today." or "You know me, I'd forget my own head if I could." or something else glib. But Thoma says nothing, only opens his eyes again, this time only halfway, the momentary clarity in intensity gone, instead fog covers them so deep Aether can't help but wonder if Thoma even knows he's there.
A crash echoes to the side of them.
"Paimon found Ayaka! Don't you worry Mister Thoma, everything's going to be okay!"
They've returned. But all Aether can do is stare, uncomprehendingly, as something rancid grows teeth in his stomach.