Chapter Text
The roads through the valley are much worse than Kyryll remembers.
They’re gray, stiff, and scraped raw by wind which nearly sends him sliding back down halfway up a sizable hill. Bare trees claw at the sky along either side of the path, black-limbed and brittle, casting long, skeletal shadows over him like rib bones. He wouldn’t normally be out here, hell, he wouldn’t normally leave his island, but for better or for worse he owes Aino a heavy debt.
It's nice to finally have the chance to repay it.
He adjusts the collar of his coat over his mouth, the wind sharp today, even for Nod-Krai. It’d be worse if the camp were located by the sea or cliffs, so for that, he supposes can muster up some gratitude. Even so, he is careful to keep his lantern close to him. While it’s impossible for the light to be snuffed out given its true nature, it would be bothersome to chase after it if the wind were to rip it from his hands and send it back down the road.
Thankfully, he doesn’t need to rely on his enhanced night vision nor the lantern’s meager glow for long. The expedition camp peaks into view just as he crests over the next hill, its tents pitched low and taut against the wind. He counts fewer than thirty people, which is honestly impressive, and not a single banner stating allegiance in sight.
Good. With how volatile and bloodthirsty factions have gotten over the past few years, nobody needs another excuse to resort to impulsive bloodshed these days, especially not against the Clink-Clank Krumkake Craft shop of all things. It does make him wonder just what manner of allies Aino has managed to procure.
As if summoned by thought alone, a small figure bursts through the biting chill, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks as she zeroes in on his position. Her pink hair is wild in the wind and a strong gust makes her stumble, but she doesn’t quit until she crashes into Kyryll’s waist at full force and throws her arms around him. It’s only a quick movement that keeps her from bonking her head against his lantern.
“Aino,” Kyryll begrudgingly rests a hand on top of the little girl’s head, awkwardly patting. It’s strange how warm she feels. Are all living beings this hot? Did he used to be this warm? Certain people always teased the tips of his fingers to be rather cold so who knows. Well maybe he’s being dramatic. He’s not technically dead–
His train of thought is cut off abruptly. It seems the simple motion is enough to draw out a fresh round of sobbing. “Flins!” Aino wails the name over and over again. It’s almost like she’s a broken machine herself, spitting out the last bit of code successfully processed.
Hah. Hearing his last name from another human being after so much time unsettles him more than he’d like to admit. Is it nice? Is that a flicker in his chest? Something he appreciates or detests or resents? He’s not sure, but it’s something to examine later. “Thank you so much for coming! It’s been so long I didn’t even know if you–”
“You would do well not to thank me. I’m settling our debt,” Kryrll hopes to assure her this isn’t done out of some misplaced good will. He doesn’t really have that. He operates on a Lightkeeper’s ideals now. The little girl won’t have it, grabbing his hand out of nowhere and tugging him toward the camp. Stranger still, for some reason he lets her.
Aino’s grip is fierce, even as they go over the uneven ground, pulling Kyryll toward the cluster of low tents nestled just over the ridge. The camp is quiet except for the murmur of scattered voices and the crackling of the fire struggling against the cold. Everybody has the mind to ignore him as Aino leads him towards the largest tent, or at least, pretend they’re paying attention to anything else.
Before they can reach their destination, a blonde girl, eyes bright and attentive, steps out from a different tent and behind her, a white floating…thing follows suit. Upon spotting Aino and him, the both of them put on kind smiles.
“You must be Flins! I’m Paimon and this is Lumine,” the ‘Paimon’ says, zipping twice around Kyryll’s head like he’s a planet to orbit before dashing back to Lumine’s side. What a strange creature.
Lumine, for all her companion’s high energy, is much more reserved, giving a simple nod. “It’s very nice to meet you, Flins. Aino has told us a little about you.”
Kyryll knows he’s staring, and if that makes them uncomfortable so be it. They’re not native to Nod-Krai and their coats are new, not weather worn from several winters. Travelers? “How does Aino know you?” It comes out cold and he feels nothing at the surprise on both their faces.
Aino feels distinctly different about his sudden attitude. Her face tightens, tugging on his sleeve to reprimand him for his less than friendly behavior. “Ineffa is programmed to send out a distress signal if she’s in danger before she shuts down. These are the people Ineffa knows. They came to help. They’re our friends.”
Kyryll lets out a soft hum, glare not easing a bit. Aino is the last person who deserves to be taken advantage of by foreigners, especially in this moment of weakness. Strangely though, he doesn’t sense any mistrust or foul intentions, at least for now. He’ll keep a close eye on them.
“Who is organizing this effort?” Kyryll asks in lieu of an apology. It’s not a dig at Aino of course, but she’s far too immature to successfully round up this amount of people, let alone organize them to this degree. It screams of an outside faction’s help, but since nobody is wearing any identifying insignia or waving a banner, they all just look like a band of mercenaries.
From the large tent in front of them, the flap opens drawing everyone’s gaze as a large, broad shouldered blonde man steps out. The second he lays eyes on Kryrll, the wide toothy smile that had been plastered on his lips melts all at once into shock.
“Kryrll?” Varka tries as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Flins.” Kryrll corrects, low and deliberate. He shakes off Aino’s hand now, gaze never leaving Varka’s. He doesn’t move otherwise. Lightkeepers do not run nor do they harbor fear in their heart. It’d be a disgrace to the Ratniki who came before him.
What is there, however, is something colder. A pressure in his chest like water setting in ice. He’d like to say he feels nothing but cold detachment, but it seems he still has some capacity for emotion around this man and it’s the most dangerous of all given how many innocents are in close proximity.
A spark of electro arches between his lantern and the sleeve of his long coat before he can help it. He has to be very careful with his temper right now or he may very well risk an explosion in the middle of camp. It wouldn’t be the first one, but he’s sworn he’s beyond an outburst like this.
“Whaaaat is going on?” Paimon whispers not so subtly to Lumine who only shrugs.
“Flins, you know Mr. Varka?” That’s Aino. At least he thinks it is, but it’s hard to hear over the ringing in his ears. Maybe it’s the tinnitus acting up, something that’s plagued him since his little ‘accident’ on the catwalk, but something tells him it’s the overwhelming sudden hunger for bloodshed.
“Barely.” Pointedly, he drops his gaze to Aino, trying to ground himself on the tear streaked face, to the idea that he is here to repay a debt and that tearing Varka apart limb from limb would not be nearly as sweet as severing his last mortal obligation to Nod-Krai’s mainlands. Once this is done, he can finally devote all thought and rationale to his service as one of the last Lightkeepers. “You will show me to my tent. Do not disturb me until we intend to move.”
-
“Wow, um…that’s a lot to take in Grandmaster Varka.” How is that the most delicate way Paimon could’ve put it?
Lumine stares at her and Paimon at least has the shame to immediately pat at Varka’s back.
Varka, the infamous Knight of Boreas, the indomitable Grandmaster of Mondstat, who is currently face first in his arms over their map of Nod-Krai and looks like he wishes the moon would swallow him up and never spit him out.
He reminds Lumine of a dog scolded by his owners, pathetic countenance, drooping ears and all.
“So, let’s go back to the beginning,” Lumine pinches her brow. She wishes desperately she could throw back a beer right now, but she needs a clear head and it’d be impossible to convince The Flagship to send for a few kegs out this far into rural Nod-Krai. “You met him three years ago when you were looking for more information on the Abyss and had a situationship—”
“Private relationship,” comes the shameful, muffled correction.
“I said what I said,” Lumine presses forward, “But you were madly in love with the guy, right?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, throwing her hands out palms up at either side as if that somehow will make this next part easier to follow. “But you went out on the Moon Flats and met a witch who in exchange for,” she feels her blood pressure spike because only a man would do something so stupid, “the memory of something important to you, she would tell you intimate knowledge about the Abyss that would change the nature of the war against them in a way that would favor you.”
Varka makes a pitiful ‘mhm’ .
“And you negotiated that in exchange for not taking any action against her because giving you this information would put her coven at risk of reprisal, you would get this memory back upon laying your eyes on the memory she took from you.” Lumine drops her arms with an audible plop.
“That’s why I came back to Mondstat and took most of the Knights with me to Nod-Krai. I didn’t mean to leave,” Varka offers as if that would help this at all. “I needed to act on the information I got and I needed the manpower to do it. And it worked we set the Abyss back by a large margin for a bit–”
Lumine holds up a hand to cut him off. Yep, she needs a drink. This is too much light novel bullshit even for her, but hey, if they’re ever in a pinch for mora, maybe she could sell the idea to Yae Miko.
“Paimon thinks you’re lucky that tall, dark and spooky didn’t zap you on sight. You messed up big time, buddy. You didn’t even ask what memory that witch was going to take?” She scolds, crossing her little arms. “You just said, ‘Sure, take my brain chunk, witch lady!’ and BOOM – she took your boyfriend!”
“I told her it couldn’t be anything to do with my position within the Knights of Favonius,” Varka lifts his head, resting his chin grumpily in his hand. “I couldn’t risk Mondstat’s safety if I suddenly forgot who I was. She agreed it wouldn’t be, but she wouldn’t reveal which memory she was taking. No reward for no risk and all that."
“I’m beginning to think that anemo users have to suffer some type of social death as part of the requirement for getting their vision.” Lumine blows some of her blonde hair that’s slipped down in front of her eyes. “Keeping you guys happy feels like wrangling feral cats.”
Varka huffs a breath that might’ve been a laugh if there was a better mood to keep it afloat. He looks hurt, not blood and guts obviously, but more so like a piece of his soul is cracked in two. Disgustingly enough the tips of his ears are red, undeniably red, as if not even the self deprecation could stop him from being head over heels in love with this ‘Kyryll’ guy.
For a laid back charming knight, who just hours ago gave Lumine the impression that nothing could hold him down, he sure seemed pinned to wax poetic about his love when explaining how exactly he got into this situation. It’s as cute as it is sad.
Paimon bobs in place for a moment, thinking and watching Varka marinate in his own misery, and then, as if the idea physically lands on her head, she grabs her skull, eyes going wide. “Wait… wait wait wait! We can fix this.”
Lumine doesn’t even dignify her with a glare, too focused on trying to understand how this tactically gifted man decided to gamble and fumble his happiness so spectacularly. “Paimon. No.”
“No, seriously!” Paimon floats closer again, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “C’mon traveler. This doesn’t have to be sad. This is, like… the perfect setup for a reunion arc! We can totally do this! We deal with so much sad stuff all the time; wouldn’t this be a nice change of pace? To make someone extra happy?”
“This isn’t one of Citlali’s light novels,” Lumine shakes her head finally giving Paimon the attention she craves. Big mistake.
“But it could be! ” Paimon gestures wildly between the two of them. “Think about it!” She holds up each finger as she rattles the next words off. “You’ve got tension. Regret. Undeniable pining. All we need is a little nudge here! A little shove there!”
Varka just stares at her. “You want to do what?”
Lumine sighs, long and slow. “She wants to meddle. We are not meddling. It’s messy enough--”
“ Help, ” Paimon corrects, zipping into Varka’s face and trying to get him excited. “Besides, you clearly are still madly into him,” her eyes slit with amusement, “And you’re not exactly subtle about it.”
Varka grimaces, the flush on his ears turning indignant and conquesting across his cheeks and meeting on the bridge of his nose. “Our first priority is finding Ineffa. I don’t think—"
“You’re not allowed to think anymore. You’re batting at zero, so leave the thinking to the best traveling companion and your Honorary Knight!” Paimon beams. “We’ll help get Ineffa back and fix your disaster love life. You just have to go with the flow. Operation: ‘Re-ignite the Lanternman’s Heart’ is a go! C’mon Lumine!” With that she shoots out of the tent in a fit of mischievous giggling, unidentified flying chaos on a mission.
“No,” Lumine calls, getting up from her seat and running through the flaps after her. “Paimon, get back here! That is ugly! We are absolutely not calling it that! PAIMON!”