Work Text:
She should have guessed who posted that commission. "Help a foreign guest train", of course, that had Childe written all over it.
Doesn't matter, Lumine is happy to oblige.
It ends with her sitting on his chest with a blade to his throat. Jumping from geo constructs is effective, although perhaps that's a trick that would only work once.
"Do you yield?"
He looks up, dazed, chest heaving under her. Then he swallows and nods, Lumine feels the hydro swords dissipating.
He's pretty when he's out of breath like this and she lingers, hand pressed to his sternum for balance.
He seems a bit too happy for someone who just got defeated, the lopsided smile almost dreamy but his eyes are dull and inexpressive as always. Perhaps nothing gets to him. Perhaps she'd need to threaten him for real to get a reaction.
There's a cut on his cheek, trickling droplets of red. She must have nicked him with the dust storm she created.
Lumine leans forward, trailing a thumb over the cut, smudging the blood. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, breath tickles her wrist. He watches a bit too intently as she presses her thumb to her lips.
The taste blooms on her tongue. Just blood, no foreign elemental traces. So he's human after all. Good to know.
What she didn't expect is for him to fall so quiet, stilling under her.
"You all right there?" Lumine asks.
Maybe he hit his head stronger than she thought.
"Yeah," Childe breathes.
She brushes a stray lock of hair away from his face and he flinches barely noticeably. Silly boy, she's not going to attack. His pupils are wide but the same size. Should be fine.
Childe stares at her as if hypnotised, expression unreadable. He'd make a lovely painting model in some other world, she thinks with a tinge of regret. Perhaps they do paint him back home, even if not like this.
He keeps just as still as Lumine reaches into his jacket to pull a mora pouch out of the inner pocket. When she stands up, dusting off her dress, the look he gives her can only be described as sad.
"Well, see you around." She waves.
He makes no effort to respond or to even get up, but she has long stopped trying to understand why he does or doesn't do anything. Maybe that's his idea of a relaxing day.
The sun still shines brightly in the air—it's not even noon.
Three more commissions to go.