Chapter Text
Dragonspine is just as cold as it was five centuries past. Maybe a little colder, if he accounted for the windchill, but he’d never been particularly good with temperature, and he hadn’t liked to go out much back then. He didn’t like going out even now- the Sun hurt his eyes and the frost made his hands tremble more than usual, the snowflakes twinkling through the air tickled his nose and- it was all too much, the outdoors, and that wasn’t even taking into account the pollen and dirt the further down the mountain you went. He much preferred the quiet, calm, cleanliness of the lab, the dimmed lighting was much better than the brightness of natural sunlight, reflecting blindingly off crystal white snow.
Unfortunately, he no longer had such a luxury. The cold wind of Dragonspine rushes around him, and he wraps that labcoat just slightly tighter around himself, feeling grateful for it, even if the white fabric didn’t provide much protection from the elements. Honestly he really could do with some new clothes… he’d make a note of it later.
Albedo tucks his red-tinted hands into his pockets, making a mental note to grab a pair of insulated gloves from his encampment the next time he drops by. Maybe that would help with his internal temperature. And maybe a hair tie- it was getting tangled with all the wind, and he preferred to wear it half-up anyway. Usually, at least. There’s an unfamiliarity in having his hair down, tickling the back of his neck and the frosty air kept blowing it into his eyes. It was actually getting quite hard to see. The blond squeezes his arms against his stomach and picks up the pace.
It was so cold.
The blizzard partially obscures his typical route to his camp, making it difficult to find his way back. Usually he’d be able to smell the chemicals- ozone, he thinks is what Master called it- but there is no such smell today. He isn’t in his encampment, and thus there are no experiments to be run; too much of a fire hazard, even in the frigid cold of Dragonspine. And no risk of his experiments being potentially tampered with by outside forces or unaccounted for variables. Albedo both appreciates this, and resents it. How was he supposed to make any progress if he had nothing to observe?
Albedo blinks slowly at a familiar hilichurl encampment. Or, well, former hilichurl encampment. He’d cleared it out a year or two ago, when he’d first taken Timaeus as an assistant. It was written in his lab notes. But this was… the third time he’d walked by it? Was he lost? His hands twitched in his pockets, eyes widening. Almost as if to rub salt in the wound, the wind picked up, blustering more snow into Albedo’s face, obscuring his vision even further. As the blizzard worsened, the visibility lowered to such a point that he could not even see the hilichurl encampment now. The blizzard was escalating, and he didn’t have any shelter. It’d only get worse once the sun went down- something stops him.
He’s tugged back from the hilichurl encampment, into a strange warmth. What had this person grabbed- ah, the chain at the back of his lab coat. Albedo turns his head and blinks at the familiar figure. Golden hair frames her face like a halo, a warm smile gracing her features. Lumine’s floating companion is nowhere to be found, but she’s carrying an extra scarf (how is she not cold? She should be using that for herself). Her hand reaches out and brushes some of his hair behind his ear, and her palms are impossibly warm- he can’t help but lean into her touch, even without meaning to.
“Traveler,” he breathes, “what a pleasant surprise.” The cadence in which he speaks to her is unfamiliar, his vocal chords left unused for quite a long time. Very few people to talk to, up on the mountain. She laughs airily in response as he seems to not realize that he’s still nuzzling her palm (but she doesn’t pull away, either), taking another step forward as she begins to settle the scarf around him.
It’s warm with her lingering body heat.
“What brings you to Dragonspine? It’s been… quite some time, since you last paid me a visit.” His voice is soft as he speaks, a certain warmth invading his tone as Albedo speaks to the twinkling star in front of him, shining so brightly, casting her light onto him. Her eyes are on his neck, adjusting the scarf as she does so, and she remains silent for several moments. Albedo hasn’t even realized yet that he’s taken a step closer, leaned into her. He hasn’t realized just how close they are, now. Lumine smiles softly.
“Someone commissioned me to come and see him for a ‘check-up’, as he put it, or did you forget?” she teases lightheartedly, finally settling her hands on the ends of the scarf. She’s been done adjusting it for a while, but Albedo hasn’t even given it a thought, too engrossed in watching her, his mind running a mile a minute. Has she always had that dimple? She looks so much different up close. Radiant. Watching her expressions in this proximity is much different than observing her from afar. She’s prettier than I remember. Does she still think of me?
“What are you thinking so hard about, genius?”
She pulls him from his rapidfire thoughts, as a hint of crimson spreads on his cheeks, flustered at being caught. He fails to speak up, and she just smiles and giggles in turn. She has a pretty laugh. He flusters over his words a little longer, uncharacteristically nervous, soothed only when she presses a finger to his lips and shushes him. Albedo’s shiny eyes watch her anxiously as she dusts off his shoulder.
“Are you lost?” she questions after another beat of silence, to which Albedo answers with a despondent nod of his head. Lumine laughs again and grabs him by the hand, gently leading him away from where he had been going. “Your camp is this way, silly alchemist.” She teases, though there's an odd quality in her voice. Albedo neither notices, nor cares to. Lumine doesn’t look back at him as she guides him back to his camp, and he can’t help but want her to look at him, to see him, to hold his cold palms between her own two warm hands, and- he watches the star that glitter in her other hand, illuminating their path and seemingly keeping the snowstorm at bay. He watches the movements of her hands, observes the soft blush at the tips of her fingers from the blistering cold.
She’s so pretty, he thinks.
The sun has just about set by the time they make it back to camp, and everything's in its place as Albedo can remember it. Not much has changed. He still probably keeps his spare gloves in the bottom drawer of the desk- and he finds that he is correct. The gloves are slipped on, meticulously straightened out and smoothed until there’s no wrinkles in the leathery material. It’s not as warm as Lumine’s hands. He wishes it was.
Lumine is standing in the entrance to the cave.
Albedo thinks he notes a hint of something shiny and silver out of the corner of his eye, but when he glances up there's nothing in her hand, just a soft smile on her face. Albedo has to suppress an excitable grin- he can’t look too excited to see her, now can he? That’d be unlike him. He had to keep himself calm, having already forgotten his overly affectionate behavior from before. Why has Lumine not come any further into the lab? It’d be much warmer for her if she did. That dress really did so little to cover her- his train of thought is cut off as Lumine finally speaks up.
“I thought you were going to be down in the city today, so I thought I’d surprise you by setting up camp here tonight,” she mentions, watching him carefully, a calculating look in her eyes, Albedo’s smile becomes more nervous, “I’m glad you’re here, though.” She finally finishes. Albedo chuckles, though it's clipped and nervous.
“Timaeus didn’t need my assistance too badly after all,” his words are hesitant, unsure of himself as he speaks, “I thought I’d come back tonight instead of staying in the Knights of Favonius headquarters.” The look on Lumine’s face doesn’t change, but she slowly nods and says nothing else, contemplative.
Albedo’s hand twitches towards the hilt of his sword.
Lumine smiles, and takes a step inside. “Well then, we’ve got so much to do, yeah? I remember you wanted to test my durability while being separated from Paimon, no? Still trying to test that hypothesis of her being a conduit for my elemental power?” Lumine teases, her voice warm and comforting to Albedo. His hand drops from the familiar handle of his sword, letting out a relieved breath. “Of course,” he breathes, “how about you start by telling me about your capabilities regarding Dendro? I have yet to see you use it.”
Albedo watches as a sprig of greenery bursts forth from her palm, soft green leaves delicate to the touch. It takes the shape of a cecilia, with delicate, off-white petals, peeling off of a delicate golden core. The blond man observes it, glancing up into Lumine’s curious gaze every so often. He jolts when he realizes she’s expecting him to say something.
“Your mastery of the elements never ceases to amaze me,” he stumbles over his words, reaching out to poke at the soft blossom. The petals are velvety under his fingers- or he thinks they would be, so he removes one glove to touch it. A cecilia, huh? It reminded him an awful lot of the girl in front of him.
“I’ve heard the Anemo archon is quite fond of them,” Lumine replies lightheartedly, twisting the cecilia from her hand and handing it to Albedo so he may observe it closer. Where had she learned such a thing? Barbatos certainly couldn’t have had a preference for a specific flower of all things, and if he had, it would be dandelion, like the dandelion wines Mondstadt was known for, surely. But Albedo doesn’t say this, instead he blurts out “I am as well.”
He of course refers to Lumine when he says I am fond of them as well, but she would have no way of knowing that she was a blossoming cecilia in his eyes, with her white dress fanning out around her like the petals of the flower, her golden eyes reminiscent of the stamen and pistil. Lumine smiles just a bit softer and tucks his hair behind his ear while he remains deep in thought.
His face must be crimson by now.
He longed to peel back her petals and unfold her lovely golden soul before his eyes, to trace the stardust freckles sprinkled across her shoulders, her cheeks, her legs, longed to peel apart her layers and carve open her chest so he could witness her heart, watched how it beat in her ribcage, so that he could perhaps bare his own rotted heart to her in turn. Would she be understanding, if he carved himself open for her? Would she listen to him and let him explain himself, why he’d lied to her, why he wanted to stay at her side, why he wanted to be hers?
Lumine hasn’t pulled her hand away from him yet, her thumb swiping lightly across the base of his throat.
Oh, he’d almost forgotten.
Albedo tries to squirm away from Lumine, just barely preventing himself from whining when she grabs his arm and tugs him back, observing him. At least she hasn’t drawn her sword yet, but her grip is rather tight. She hums in- what, approval? Acceptance? Acknowledgement? As she finally lets go of his neck. Albedo looks at her with wide, frantic eyes, but Lumine still doesn’t make any movements. His shoulders are tensed as she inspects his face, her gaze calculating and yet warm. Almost… not pitying, but empathetic. He jolts when she finally makes a move, but it’s just to gently coax him closer.
Like a skittish animal, he doesn’t move, but observes her. Is she going to stab him? Hurt him when he lets his guard down? End it right here and present his still-warm corpse to the other one? No, he wouldn’t let her, he wouldn’t be cast aside again- and yet, instead of doing what his brain screams for him to do, Albedo takes a hesitant step forward, and then another, until he's nudging his face into Lumine’s shoulder, his hands, one still gloveless, burrowing into the material at the back of her dress. It feels strange.
She’s soft to the touch.
The muscles in her back flex when she wraps her arms around him, hugging him, and she’s so warm. So, so very warm. Not warm like the inside of Durin’s guts, and not warm like a hearth, but uniquely warm in the way only Lumine could be. An all-encompassing sort of heat that warms not just from her external body heat, but from her internal warmth as well. Like a little ball of sunlight, all wrapped into one loving little package. His eyes flutter closed, and there’s a tranquil pause in the air, everything lays still, even the snow outside seems to have lessened its harshness.
“Albedo will be back in the morning,” she tells him, gently carding his hair out of the way, “we should have another name to introduce you by.”
How can she be so forgiving? He’d tried to kill her, many months ago, just because she’d realized he wasn’t who he’d said he was, and yet… and yet now she was holding him in her arms, playing with his hair, holding him like a loved one? Was the Traveler truly this kind? This… he doesn’t have the right word to describe the golden girl in front of him, and thus resolves to bury his face deeper in the crook in between her throat and shoulder, where he can feel her pulse against his lips. He breathes her in. The smell of windwheel asters, with an underlying hint of cecilias and something distinctly chalk-like greets his nose. She’d met Albedo in Mondstadt already.
She’d known from the start.
And yet she’d still helped him find his way in the snow.
“Dorian.” he answers her question at last. “Then, Dorian,” she hums his name in a soft, smooth, honeyed sort of way that has him shaking, “how about we figure out what we’re going to say to your brother, hm?” She hasn’t let go of him yet, and he can’t help but to nuzzle even further into her skin, ready to start begging for the hug to last just a little bit longer.
Dorian didn’t know a person could feel like home.