Chapter Text
His boat from Snezhnaya returns two weeks after she’s returned from Inazuma, there’s a cold and solemn aura that follows him as he steps onto the dock that quickly morphs into something fonder when he spots a pair of golden eyes watching him intently from the wharf’s entrance.
The Traveler waves a gloved hand at him before turning in the direction of the Golden House, and Childe’s face breaks into a grin.
“You’ve gotten stronger, comrade.” He grins up at her, wiping away the blood from a scratch on his cheek, still tingling with his opponent’s newfound electro energy.
(She’d told him before they’d begun their sparring session that she was still getting the hang of it and that she’d try not to short-circuit him, but as usual, she wielded her powers without a shred of mercy, truly Lumine must have been the girl of his dreams.)
“You have as well, I see you’re able to maintain your delusion for longer now.” It comes out as praise, but the look on Lumine’s face is downcast, her gaze unfocused like she’s off in another world entirely.
Right, the delusion factory, Signora, Scaramouche.
The adrenaline high dies off quickly as the events that played out in Inazuma return to the forefront of the redhead’s mind, the weight that he’d felt on his shoulders throughout his time in his homeland settles back down on him like a pile of boulders.
Between the heavy silence, Childe steals a glance at his companion, her golden hair is wetted down to her cheeks, a mix of sweat and the torrent of hydro arrows he had launched at her just a few moments prior, her skin and the edges of her beloved dress singed from where he’s managed to strike her with his own electro attacks. Her eyes, even still far away, still shine with a fervor and heatedness that he adores.
He wonders now, with one Harbinger dead and the other displaced, if Lumine’s strength that has been enough to best him time and time again, that had battled its way into his miry abyss of a heart- if that strength is enough to defend her from his superiors who would most certainly see her as a threat to be exterminated.
Out of the corner of his eye, Childe sees her fingers flex around the hilt of her sword, splotches of still burned skin recovering from Signora's wrathful flames peak out from beneath her glove and he frowns when he catches her staring contemplatively at the scarring. She must be thinking about the same thing, he realizes.
Exterminated
The word has never sounded so heinous before.
“Childe?” A gentle voice clears his thoughts and the man in question lifts his head to find Lumine standing over him, her usually carefully neutral expression tinged with concern as she examines him, “Are you alright? You were starting to look a little pale.”
It’s a rare treat to be fretted over by Lumine, if he wasn’t battling with such complex emotions right now, Childe surely would have milked this moment for all it was worth. Instead, he laughs, leaning further back against one of the golden columns so he can better meet Lumine’s worried eyes. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? I’m the third harbinger you’ve seen this month, I’m starting to think we might need to call for an intervention, girlie.”
She blinks, once, then twice before she scowls. “You know, I was going to suggest Wanmin for my victory meal, but now I think I’m going to tell Paimon it’s all-you-can-eat at Xinyue Kiosk.”
“How cruel you can be.” Childe sighs, practically feeling his wallet grow lighter at the thought of dinner expenses, his traitorous expression must mirror his thoughts because Lumine’s airy chortles soon fill the room followed by a huffed-out “sure.”
Her hand extends to help him up and before he can stop himself, his own hand has practically shot up to latch onto her like a vice.
Beneath his gloves, he feels Lumine tense slightly, but he doesn’t ease up, he sees the lightless blues of his own irises in her molten eyes like a faded starconch caught in the light of a sunset and it grants him the words to speak.
“Promise me something, comrade."
“What is it?”
“Don’t lose to anyone. Not to my colleagues, not to the abyss, not to yourself. I’m going to be the one to defeat you someday, so promise me you’ll keep growing stronger.”
Her hand is warm in his, the pulse on her wrist flutters beneath his fingertips reminding him of how wonderfully alive she is and the beat of his own heart thrums as he watches her face shift into a look of bemusement.
A gentle squeeze on his palm is all the reassurance he really needs, but the mellow sound of her voice resonating afterwards is enough to quell any remaining doubts.
“I believe I made a pinkie promise that I still have to uphold,” She smiles down at him with a fondness that nearly steals his breath away, “Don’t worry about me, Childe, I won’t be going anywhere until I’ve seen just how beautiful the snow of your nation truly is.”
“It’s truly a sight to behold.” He agrees, though he's certain they aren't talking about the same thing.
Staring up at her then, their palms still pressed together, Childe feels it, somewhere in the recesses of his mind the visage of the ever-loyal eleventh Harbinger Tartaglia, begins to crack.