Chapter Text
Of Greed:
Dandelion, Dandelion
To Where Do You Fly?
Why do you drift away
So high in the sky?
He had not quite died, but there was something about birth and un-birth, remembrance and forgetfulness, that felt awfully similar. He was still grappling quietly with the breadth of it all when he asked for a name. Perhaps he should have thought the request through properly, but at the sight of the Traveler’s hesitance, it only made him want to put his foot down more.
Finally, after more careful consideration than the Wanderer (still not quite-him, but as close as he had to anything, at the moment) probably deserved, the Traveler finally spoke up. “Vhenan.”
“Vhenan,” the Wanderer repeated; tried out the taste of it in his mouth. Okay. Sure. That was fine. He’d make do.
He thought that would be the end of it, but the Traveler seemed to be considering something again. The Wanderer was happy to allow him a moment to think, if only for the chance to continue to catch the breath he didn’t need. Even with that careful wariness to his face, the Traveler still told him quietly, “Aether.”
The Wanderer blinked. He’d been turning his new name around and around in his head, and was not prepared to decipher whatever that word meant. He wondered what Vhenan meant, but perhaps it didn’t mean anything. “What?”
“My real name,” the Traveler replied; smile careful. Cautious, but a smile nonetheless. “A name for a name seems fair, don’t you think?”
Fair.
The Wanderer was not sure if fair mattered for him anymore.
It certainly hadn’t mattered before. If fair ever counted for anything, he would be the dead one, not the ones he’d forced himself to forget. If fair was a thing that held any weight, that damned tree would have really, truly erased him. Then they might have had a chance to be happy.
Still, the Wanderer managed to reply with a carefully emotionless, “sure.”
That would be good enough for now.
He expected to never see them again.
Fate, as usual, refused to let him off so easily.
He was unsure if it was by the Traveler’s or Lesser Lord Kusanali’s meddling, but not long after things settled, he kept running into them.
Which was absurd, because he thought they’d already left to their new destination to save the world again or whatever.
And yet every time he turned around there he’d see it - a flash of yellow and the flutter of white trailing behind. Like a dandelion and its seedling, fluttering about in the wind.
Weirder still, they kept talking to him. Sure, the Traveler’s little companion was still quite verbal about her distrust for him (smart) and the Traveler himself also never truly let his guard down around him (smarter, the way he always stood just two steps away from a battle stance around him). And sure, the talks were brief and usually rather shallow, but still.
It kept happening.
And what truly drove him insane was that he couldn’t figure out what they got out of it.
But fine, whatever. Maybe they just wanted to make sure he didn’t try to commit blasphemy again. But something in his gut told him it wasn’t that simple.
His impatience (a fickle thing, his patience. Sometimes he could happily wait years for the right moment, while others he needed results that moment or else he’d tear his hair out) reared its head a few months in to seeing them here and there.
While the Wanderer had only gotten more and more tense with each passing interaction, the Traveler and his companion only seemed to relax more. It was, like many things they did, infuriating.
They were in the middle of eating lunch (of which he’d been badgered into joining) and the two had done something so peculiar he couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore.
The Traveler had, without any preamble, taken some of the fruit off of his plate and put it on a small, empty plate. And then the floating child had taken that plate and set it in front of the Wanderer. All of this was done nearly thoughtlessly, as the little bird twittered on about which dish she wanted to try first.
The Wanderer was stuck frowning down at the plate in bewilderment. Worse still, it was some of his favorites. Just. Sitting there. Staring at him.
And just when he thought he had a handle on whatever reaction his body wanted to give, the floating one just. Added more. To the plate. From her own.
“What the fuck,” the Wanderer exhaled, mostly to himself.
“Is something wrong?” The Traveler asked.
“Paimon will eat your food if you don’t eat it yourself!” Warned the other.
The Wanderer felt his eye twitch. “This is absurd. What is the purpose of - this?” He waved a hand to their general selves.
The child and the Traveler exchanged glances as though he were the strange one. “To eat, one would hope,” the Traveler replied, because he was an ass.
“Ass,” the Wanderer said, much on reflex. “I mean playing house like this. Why did you invite me here?”
The child tilted her head. “Uh. Paimon was hungry?”
The Wanderer sighed and rubbed at his temple. “I know that. I mean why me. Specifically. The person who was your enemy not that long ago.”
“Oh.” The floating one shrugged. “Dunno. We just did. We just kind of do things?”
“I don’t see why we wouldn’t,” the Traveler said with a remarkably similar shrug. “Everyone’s got to eat.”
Ignoring the fact that he was a puppet and didn’t technically need to eat, that still was a shit answer. “So you’re claiming you asked me to come along for no reason?”
“I mean. Yeah. That’s just what people do, right?”
The Wanderer was so dumbfounded by this that he decided it best not to answer. After a bit of silent staring, the Traveler simply shrugged once more and returned to his meal.
“Well. If you’re not gonna eat this strawberry, then Paimon is happy to - “
“I’m eating it, paws off,” the Wanderer hissed.
“Aw, man…”
After that, there came to them something of a comfortable rhythm. They bothered him for long enough for him to finally give in, and then they’d drag him into some ridiculous plan or another. It would either be as simple as lunch or as convoluted as a particularly annoying commission.
He wasn’t sure what to make of it, still. He knew their types - all painful optimism and bright eyed helpfulness. Maybe they just wanted to feel like they were rehabilitating the evil thing in their midst. Maybe they were just bored. Either way, he couldn’t deny it was rather entertaining. He was continually surprised by the Traveler’s ability to keep up a fun push and pull conversation - words sharp and clever. More knife’s edge than he would have thought the hero man capable of. And the floating one was sometimes thoughtlessly amusing with just how naïve she was.
So he let it continue, despite the small voice in his mind warning him that all good things must end, and there was a price to pay for everything in life.
The Traveler was quiet today.
At first, the Wanderer had been annoyed that Lesser Lord Kusanali (he staunchly ignored her voice in his head requesting so gently to be called Nahida instead) had pulled him away from his personal work for what seemed to be a simple mission. Now, though? The rare sight of the Traveler not only away from his chatty floating companion but also nearly somber was too enticing to ignore.
Usually, the Wanderer enjoyed their little word games. Logically, there was no evidence to suggest that it was only the Wanderer that could pull such reactions from the goody-two-shoes, but his pride told him otherwise.
The mission had been quick - deal with a hilichurl camp not far from Sumeru city, and return. Easy. Laughably so, actually. Not even an hour and a half since they left, and they were already treading back through the trees to civilization.
There was not much to say about it until the Traveler finally seemed to tire of his thoughtful silence.
“Is blue your favorite color?”
At first, the Wanderer thought it was a joke. But as he scoffed and rolled his eyes, he realized just how infuriatingly wide and earnest his gaze was. “What in the hell gave you that idea?”
The Traveler shrugged. “You wear a lot of it.”
“I’m surprised. That sort of childish reasoning seems more fit for that friend of yours.”
Instead of a scoff and offhanded remark, the Traveler instead gave a rueful smile. “Maybe you’re right. What is it, then? If not blue?”
“I don’t have one.”
“No?” He seemed genuinely surprised at that. “Why not?”
“I wasn’t told to have one.”
Sometimes, when he said things he thought were of little importance, the people within earshot would get these looks on their faces. It never failed to dig under his skin and linger there for days after. It was much worse when the Traveler was the one wearing it. He had to look away.
“Well, if you ever choose one I’d like to hear.”
“What use would that be?” With the Traveler’s answering shrug, the Wanderer huffed loudly. “What is with you today?”
The wind tugged at the Traveler’s hair like a child begging for attention. Still, his gaze did not move. He had an awful habit of that - pinning people with his gaze. A sudden impulse to bid the wind to tug harder was difficult to ignore. The Traveler let out a long, slow sigh. “Usually, when someone asks you something it’s polite to ask the question back.”
The Wanderer made sure his scowl was properly seen before snapping, “And when have you known me to care about something like that?”
For some reason, the Traveler laughed. It was still soft and nearly-hollow, but it was more emotion than he’d shown all day.
Again, again, again.
The Wanderer had gotten very good at ignoring his own thoughts.
“Good point.” The Traveler stretched, arms held high and yawn loud. Which was stupid. There were several weak points that could be exploited like that, especially with the smooth expanse of his skin on display. The Wanderer looked away to scowl up at the setting sun. “Mine is the color of your eyes, by the way.”
The Wanderer froze. It was a strange existence for those handful of seconds where his mind was at once completely silent and full of static. “Excuse me? What kind of gods awful joke was that supposed to be?”
When he finally managed to look back at the Traveler, he found him smiling not at him, but at the sun before them. “Why would I joke about that?”
“Because you’re awful,” the Wanderer hissed; face uncomfortably warm. He wanted to leave, but he was stuck walking through this stupid forest with this stupid, incomprehensible person.
“Oh. Was that a weird thing to say? Should I have not said that?”
It was the fact that he sounded genuine about it that really pissed the Wanderer off. “Yes. Now shut up, you’re giving me a headache.”
For once, blissfully, he complied.
Lesser Lord Kusanali frowned at him when he returned. “You seem a bit frazzled. Did everything go alright?”
The Wanderer, who had not quite gotten the words “mine is the color of your eyes,” out of his head yet and feared they would never leave, scowled. “I’m fine. He’s acting like a maniac.”
Her frown only deepened. “I was hoping the trip would do him some good.”
The Wanderer ‘tsk’ed and waved a flippant hand about. “He’s fine. Just weirder than usual. I know your default setting is to worry until you lose sleep, but he’s an adult.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded, “but that does not mean he should have to wallow in pain if we can help it.”
Something about that made him stop. “So you sent me along with him on a useless errand because you thought it would help? Me?”
She nodded, as though it were obvious. “Yes. Paimon had mentioned to me that she was concerned for him lately. Since he returned, he’s been restless. Distant. We came up with a plan to hopefully help him relax.”
“And that plan involved me. The person who tried to kill them multiple times?”
She had the gall to smile at him. “You haven’t noticed?”
He was afraid to ask, but his curiosity had always been one of his greatest vices. “Noticed what?”
“He has fun with you, I think.”
The Wanderer was quiet for a long, long moment before he finally managed a slightly strangled, “everyone has lost their minds today. I’m leaving.”
She did not try to stop him.
It had been a long day. A long week. Exhaustion he shouldn’t be able to feel sat heavy on his shoulders. He found his mind drifting more and more often. The Traveler had found him in the Akademiya library, staring down at his open book blankly, and didn’t mention it.
That was, admittedly, one of his better traits. He knew when to let things be.
The Wanderer wanted to ask him where his little floating friend was, or what he was doing there. Or why he’d simply sat down at the table across from him and opened a book. No words exchanged. Not even a glance. Just sitting in silence together. He couldn't force himself to speak even if he wanted to, though, with his mind so far away as it was. Even his thoughts were more snatches of impressions than anything concrete. He felt doomed to float there, unfocused and dim.
At some point, the Wanderer’s mind slowly staggered back closer to his head. When he finally grasped the edges of it, he let out a short; quiet sigh.
That must have been enough for the Traveler, who began to speak quietly. “You know, I didn’t first get the name the Traveler from Teyvat?” Their gazes met across the table. There wasn’t quite a smile on his face, but it was open and earnest. The Wanderer fought his impulse to look away. ”I originally got it from I think maybe the third or fifth planet we visited. My sister and I, I mean. Then it just sort of stuck, but… I don’t know. It’s been so long of being the Traveler. What else is there for me? Maybe it doesn’t matter much. I’m just tired, I think.”
The Wanderer didn’t know what to do with… that. “What brought this on?”
The Traveler shrugged. “It seemed like you might know what I meant, by the look on your face.”
“My face looks normal.”
“Sure.”
They went back to reading their books.
“Do you have a favorite color yet?”
“No.”
A shrug, simple and easy. “Alright.”
It was driving the Wanderer insane.
Every time they left, the Wanderer couldn’t help but notice just how quiet things were.
He wasn’t sure what to do with the revelation, so he ignored it.
The Traveler sent him a letter. The Wanderer could count on one hand how many letters he’d been sent that wasn’t for any sort of mission or intel - one. The one he was holding, currently, reading in wide eyed disbelief.
It’s me. I thought a letter might be nice. I realize I don’t write them as much as I could. For a while I wondered just what I would even write to you about. I had this pastry today, with powdered sugar and some sort of fruit filling. It was nice, but part of me wonders if it would have been too sweet for you? Do you enjoy sweet things, or did you only accept them before because we offered?
Paimon punched a hilichurl today. It was a little horrifying but mostly I was really proud of her. It surprised her - came out of nowhere and she just decked it. It shouldn’t have gotten that close. I should have noticed it. But it’s alright. She’s doing fine, and hasn’t stopped talking about her ‘new skill’.
She said her favorite color is the night sky. Not quite what I was looking for, but I get it. I mean, my answer is just as specific, so.
Have you found out your favorite color yet? I think you’d like the color of these little flowers that grow here in bunches - they change colors during the day. It’s pretty neat. Paimon told me the name, but I’ve forgotten it.
Do you still like the name I gave you? I hope you do. If you want to change it, though, I won’t be upset. It’s yours, after all.
If you changed my name, what would you change it to?
I’m not accepting any names like “Annoyance” or “Brat”, by the way. You’re more creative than that.
Think about it. I’d like to know.
A.
He read the letter three more times before he truly processed it. It was a bunch of useless information, but he couldn’t help but carefully tuck the paper back into the envelope it came in.
Part of him wanted to reply. The larger part of him was mortified by the very idea.
The letters kept happening. Sporadically so, but at least one every few weeks. It was… the Wanderer didn’t know what to think about it. It was almost painfully domestic - updates on their travels, the food they ate, the enemies slain, and almost always that same god damned question.
The Wanderer never replied - couldn’t hope to articulate everything he felt reading what should be such a simple letter - but that didn’t seem to deter the Traveler.
Eventually, he’d probably stop. But for now the Wanderer let him unthinkingly feed the fire of something hungry in his hollow chest. He did not know the name of it, but could feel the yawning maw open more and more with each letter, insatiable.
Lesser Lord Kusanali smiled at him. “You did well today.”
The Wanderer sent her a baffled look. “Being your errand boy is hardly a difficult task.”
She giggled, soft and childlike, but her eyes never failed to make him feel young and small. “That does not negate what I said. You did well today.”
The Wanderer grimaced, and turned on his heel. “I’m leaving.”
Just like always, she did not stop him. Just like always, she greeted him with a smile the next day.
Everyone was so weird.
Blue,
Rough day. I write to my sister sometimes, you know? I never send them. I just keep them in my bag and hope that one day I’ll be able to give them to her, but I think I wouldn’t be brave enough.
It was a strange thought. He’d always been the most brave person the Wanderer knew. Detrimentally, so.
Maybe I should burn them. But I don’t think I can. Would you tell me to burn them, if you were here?
Today I realized the color of the innermost point of a fire is really nice. What do you think? Favorite color worthy?
The Wanderer rolled his eyes.
You’re making a face right now, I know it.
The Wanderer’s scowl deepened, cheeks warm. “Idiot.”
Paimon thinks I’m depressed. I know she keeps talking to Nahida behind my back about it. It doesn’t bother me. It’s nice, to have someone worry about me like that. It’s hard to… nevermind. I don’t know if I’m particularly depressed, per say. It’s just been harder to force the pep out of me, you know?
I think you’d get it, at least in a way. Is that part of why they keep pushing us to hang out?
I’d do it anyway. You’re annoying in a fun way. Don’t act like you don’t act like that on purpose. I know because I’m the same way.
Oh. Paimon is asking for dinner. I guess it’s been a while now. She wants us to head back to Sumeru soon. I guess I’ve been of more concern lately, or maybe she just misses arguing with you.
Both, probably. Anyway. Maybe by the time you get this letter, I’ll be halfway there.
A.
Lesser Lord Kusanali stopped him before he could even say hello. “Take the day off, please.”
The Wanderer frowned. “Oh? Don’t feel like dealing with me today, then?”
She shook her head, hair swinging behind her gently. “That’s not it. You just look so tired. Take the day off and relax, okay?”
Relax. Sure. “No need to lie on my behalf. I don’t make it a habit to stay where I’m not wanted.”
“Look at me,” she ordered, gentle but firm. The Wanderer obeyed, although while keeping his grimace. “Tell me this is the face of someone lying to you. If you were a burden to me today, I would tell you. You are not. It is quite the opposite, in fact. Your shoulders are heavy today. I do not want to be the one to add to that weight. Go home. Rest. Do with your time what you wish. If you must be ordered to feel like you are able to, then I am happy to make that your mission for today. But my mind is made. Go.”
The Wanderer took in a deep, careful breath before he allowed himself a nod. The exhaustion he’d been carefully keeping at bay slowly began to slink in through the cracks of his loosening grip. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she told him, smile pleased.
“Yeah, sure.”
He turned, and left.
He did not rest, but she smiled at him the next day all the same.
Sometimes I forget what the sound of my name is like. It’s always Traveler. Tumaini. Honorary Knight. Hey, Guy With A Sword. One time, this guy thought I was his ex. That was weird. Apparently her name was Astrid. Fun name. Weirdly close to mine.
Lumine had this nickname for me. I acted like I hated it, but I didn’t. She could see right through me. I woke up this morning with the sound of it in my ears. I think I dreamt about her, but I can’t remember anything.
I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
A few days ago, I saw this fruit that was the most peculiar shade of red. Paimon said it wasn’t ripe yet, and would lighten up. What about red? Do you like it? You wore quite a lot of it when you were in your, ah, other job.
It was a nice color on you, too.
I like the blue the best though, don’t worry.
He resolutely was not worried.
Do you ever consider writing back to me? Part of me wants to ask if you get these letters at all, but I know better.
It’s about time to head out for a commission. I think it’s going to be a long one. Wish me luck.
A.
A few days later, and he received another letter. It was the quickest between letters, and something about it sent alarm bells off in his head. He opened it so quickly the envelope tore - a stark contrast to how carefully he always opened the others.
Traveler asked Paimon to send this to you. He’s not feeling well today, and Paimon made him take the day off. Don’t worry! He’s okay. But Paimon thinks we are headed back soon so Nahida can look him over. Paimon’s a little worried, but don’t tell him that. It will just make him feel bad. Paimon doesn’t know why he asked her to write you of all people, but Paimon guesses she knows who he keeps making letters out to now. Oh. He also asked Paimon about a color? Do you know what he means? He’s a little out of it right now.
He’s been having more nightmares since he’s been sick. Sometimes he’ll cry for his sister. Paimon doesn’t like this at all. Paimon hopes he feels better soon.
The Traveler asked her to call you Blue. Paimon will do anything for Traveler if it will help him feel better.
Paimon needs to go, now.
Below it is a drawing of her and the Traveler with an ice bag on his head.
The Wanderer felt… unsettled, mostly.
He did not receive another letter after that, but a handful of days later he heard that the Traveler and friend had returned.
It took him another day before he saw them.
“You look like shit,” the Wanderer said.
The Traveler huffed out a laugh, but the sound was muted and raspy. His breaths came in gentle wheezes that sounded painful, but he showed no sign of discomfort aside from a pale complexion and unhealthily flushed cheeks. “Feel like shit.”
“You let him walk around looking this pitiful?” The Wanderer asked the fairy, who stamped her foot.
“Paimon didn’t let him at all! He’s ignoring Paimon!”
The Traveler waved a hand about in the air. “I’m fine.”
The Wanderer narrowed his eyes. “…hm. And what’s so important that you’d want to walk around looking like this?”
The Traveler’s glare was quite pathetic, with the way he swayed a bit as he stood. “Got stuff to do.”
“Stuff we can do later! You’re still sick, you need to rest, you big dummy!” His companion chastised.
“I’ll be fine, Paimon. It won’t take long, just have to turn in these commissions and then check in with Nahida, and I think Dehya needed us for something - “
“You know, I really hate when you prove me wrong,” the Wanderer sighed. “Here I thought you were smarter than the other morons I have to deal with daily, but you might just be the biggest idiot of them all.”
The Traveler scrunched his nose at him. “Don’t be a dick. I don’t get what’s the big deal - “
“I’m done listening to you.” The Wanderer ignored the offended squawk of protest and instead turned to the other one. “I’ll handle this. Go do what you need to.”
She looked relieved. “Oh good. Paimon thinks you might be able to talk some sense into him. Or at the very least force him to rest!”
The Wanderer hummed. “I’ll knock him out if I have to.”
“I’d like to see you try,” the Traveler grumbled. They both ignored him.
“Okay! Paimon appreciates it. She’ll go tell the others that we have to wait until he’s feeling better.”
“Why did you even come here if he was still this dreadful?”
The girl sighed. “He’s gotten better, believe it or not… as soon as he could stand he was determined to come back.”
“Quit talking like I’m not here,” the nuisance groused.
“Paimon will meet you guys back at the hotel!” She chirped, and buzzed away.
“Traitor. Can’t believe she ditched me,” the Traveler sighed.
The Wanderer leveled him with an unimpressed look. “Do you enjoy acting this childish? How hard is it to settle down and heal?”
“I’ve got shit to do - “
“Nothing important enough to drag yourself around as half a corpse,” the Wanderer argued. “I refuse to look at you like this. What a mess.”
“Then don’t, and leave me to it - “
“Hilarious that you think you can get rid of me that easily. Come on.” The Wanderer didn’t give him a chance to argue as he took hold of the back of his neck like one might a rather troublesome kitten, and began to steer him back toward the hotel they always used while in town. Despite his loud disapproval of this, he made no move to shake the Wanderer’s palm off of the nape of his neck.
His skin was warm - too warm, in fact.
“If I’m such a burden then just let me do what I have to and you won’t have to deal with it,” the Traveler muttered.
The Wanderer shot him a narrowed eyed look, assessing. He was pouting rather loudly, but less in his usual mischievous way and more genuine displeasure. He had known people of flesh to get rather cranky when they didn’t feel well, but it was still odd to see it at play on the Traveler, of all people.
“Relax. I don’t do things I don’t want to.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” the Traveler mumbled under his breath.
The Wanderer didn’t deign him with a response.
His hand stayed there the entire walk back to the hotel, and into the room. And the Traveler, despite his irritation, kept allowing it. And he allowed the Wanderer to order him around to lay down and drink water. Allowed the Wanderer to watch him with a skeptical gaze while they waited for his friend to return.
Allowed him to impulsively press a hand to his forehead to see if the fever was as bad as it seemed (it was).
“Feels nice,” he even sighed at his touch.
The Wanderer did a good job of not jerking his hand away like he’d been burned, but it was a near thing.
He couldn’t think of a single time when he had ever heard - that someone had -
Thankfully, the chattering bird returned quickly after that.
“Thanks for watching over him for me,” she said with a smile.
And it hit him a little, then. Not only had the Traveler allowed him all of - this. But so too had she. She clung to the Traveler with the desperation of a lost little duckling in a storm, and she had allowed him to -
He needed to leave.
Infuriatingly, they both not only were not surprised by his sudden announcement of his departure, but they waved to him (even though the Traveler’s was a bit annoyed, still) all the same.
“There you are,” Lesser Lord Kusanali smiled at him not even an hour later.
The Wanderer stopped a short distance away, suddenly bereft. “Why is everyone doing that?”
“Doing what?” She asked.
“Smiling at me.”
Her smile turned all too knowing. “We’re happy,” she said, like it was simple.
The Traveler’s recent sickness didn’t stop his tendency to beat a topic into the ground. If anything, having been cooped up for so long had made him latch on to anything and everything that might bring him amusement. “So, you haven’t answered yet. Any update on the color situation?”
The Wanderer huffed and rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say it’s blue and be done with it.”
The Traveler frowned at him. His nose and cheeks were flushed with fever still, but he’d been able to keep his food down better recently and that had given him a burst of energy. Which he’d then used to badger the Wanderer relentlessly. “It’s great if that’s your actual favorite color, but if you're saying it just because that’s what I first thought, it doesn’t count.”
“This is a useless conversation to have,” the Wanderer pointed out.
The Traveler rolled his eyes rather loudly. “Says you. You could at least humor me while you forsake me to a bedridden life.”
The Wanderer snorted. “And you say I’m the dramatic one.”
The Traveler managed to stay put for the next handful of days, but not without the Wanderer being continually called upon to bully him into doing so.
At one point, the starling had sighed and said very genuinely, “Paimon’s glad you’re here! She wouldn’t be able to wrangle the Traveler without you.”
Which.
Was a lot.
And then a few hours later, the Traveler had sighed into the press of the Wanderer’s hand on his forehead again.
That was.
Also a lot.
He found himself escaping to Lesser Lord Kusanali’s side each time, overwhelmed and confused.
And each time, she’d greet him with a smile just like they did.
There seemed to be no escape for him.
“What about now?” The Traveler asked.
The window was cracked open so the mid morning breeze could slink in like an alleyway cat - careful and assessing. The Traveler had been basking in it all morning, and the Wanderer had been forced to glare at the scenery instead of being dragged back toward the pleased smile on the other man’s face.
He’d had his eyes closed for so long, nearly a cat purring in the sunlight in his own right; head tilted back, neck and Adam’s apple exposed.
Foolish. Truly, did he have no survival skills left? Had they evaporated along with his health?
Even as he spoke, he had his head turned to welcome the breeze and eyes closed against the sun.
Foolish, foolish.
“You realize how absurd it is that I don’t even have to ask what you mean, because you’ve asked the same question so many times?”
The Traveler’s smile turned sharp and cheshire. “I wouldn’t have to ask it if you’d just answer.”
“Ridiculous,” the Wanderer muttered, and didn’t pursue the conversation any further.
The Traveler didn’t seem to mind.
He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. The library had just been so quiet. The papers in front of him had been just boring enough, the sun on his back comforting like a blanket.
One moment, he’s blinking slowly at the droning text and the next he’s gasping awake from a nightmare he could never hope to outrun; chest heaving.
He could still hear it - screaming, the crackle of fire, the begging for mercy. Cold eyes, apathetic and clinical.
His skin, poked and prodded and a scalpel - gleaming and sharp and -
“You’re okay,” someone was saying to him gently. There was a hand on his back and another smoothing back his sweat slick bangs in a touch so maternal that it made him want to hurl. “You’re okay. We’re safe here. Take all the time you need.”
There were tears in his eyes that he wouldn’t ever let fall, even with someone cooing so softly beside him.
How bitter and strange his life, that he’d find such comfort in someone who seemed so young. “Sorry,” he croaked; throat raw and clawing. How had he even made it here? On his knees in the familiar chamber, hunched over; fingers digging so tightly into the front of his shirt that it hurt?
“Shh. No apologizing, okay? We all get scared,” she told him with ease. She had that tone of voice again - the one that carried thousands of years of wisdom. The one that reminded him how foolish he was to believe she was anything but a god. “If we were not afraid, then are we truly alive?”
A hopeless, manic giggle escaped him. What a question. What a question. “If - if that’s true, then I’m more real than I thought,” he whispered.
When he finally managed to glance up at her, she had that smile already ready for him. “It’s a beautiful burden to bear, don’t you think?”
His chest was finally settling. He still felt gross with that sticky, lingering fear, but the ground beneath him was cool and the room around them was not too dark or too bright. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “It’s - a lot.”
“That’s okay,” she assured him.
Later, much later when he calmed down and brought himself to standing up and a careful distance away, he couldn’t quite look at her. “I apologize that you had to see that, Lesser Lord Kusanali.”
For the first time, the name felt strange escaping him.
She smiled, just as she always did and said, “Please. You may call me Nahida. I am honored that you would come here of all places. My door is always open to you.”
It was the same thing she’d told him time and time again. You may speak to me as an equal. I am here for you. And the strange, terrible, dangerous thing about it was that this time he believed her.
The moment that the Traveler was back to health, he was out the door like a bolt of lightning.
His companion had sent her wide eyed gaze toward the Wanderer, imploring, and he knew what she’d ask before she even opened her mouth. Sure enough, she said, “Would you pretty, pretty please make sure he doesn’t overdue it? Paimon agreed to help Nahida today, and Paimon doesn’t trust the Traveler not to do something stupid.”
The Wanderer sighed heavily. “He’s not a child.”
“No,” she agreed, “but Paimon thinks you’ve noticed it, too. He still doesn’t feel well. Nahida said it was like he’s got a cold, but in his heart. Because he’s sad. Sometimes, Paimon will talk and he won’t hear me.”
He’d be too busy staring at the sky, she did not say, because she did not need to. He had seen it first hand over the last little while.
Again, the Wanderer sighed. “Fine.”
Which is how he spent his day off trailing after the Traveler as he completed commission after commission in some sort of fervor. The pent up energy finally had an outlet, and that meant throwing himself into battles with a vicious grin and accepting requests for help from anyone that so much as glanced at him.
They were finally heading back into the city later that night by the time he settled down enough to take a leisurely pace back. The Wanderer was tired, but not exhausted. It was the gentle burn of a good battle that left his mind quiet for once.
“Do you have a favorite color yet?” The Traveler asked after quite some time of them sitting in companionable silence. They’d stopped to take a short break on the Traveler’s insistence, and the Wanderer hadn’t minded the gentle night’s blanket around them.
The Wanderer hesitated. He’d been… thinking about it more than he cared to admit. “Maybe.”
The Traveler lit up at that, more so than he had in a while. “Really? What is it? Will you tell me?”
“Ah, well,” the Wanderer stumbled for a reply in the face of his sheer excitement. “Seems only fair that you tell me your favorite color first.”
The Traveler blinked at him. “I already told you, though?”
The Wanderer frowned. “No, you haven’t.”
“I have. It’s your eyes.”
Reeling back away from him, the Wanderer hissed through warm cheeks, “I meant your real answer.”
“Vhenan,” he laughed, soft and warm and impossible. The rare sound of his new name made the flutter in his hollow chest roar even louder. “I’m being serious.”
“That’s a stupid answer. Choose a different one.”
“I won’t. It’s the truth. I’ve never seen a color like them before. They’re pretty. You’re - “
“Stop. Talking.” It was nearly a plea, if he had allowed the anger to be dwarfed by his fluster. Thankfully, he kept his white knuckled grip on frustration.
The Traveler didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, but still held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I was just answering truthfully. I told you mine, then. Now it’s your turn. You said you figured it out, maybe. What is it?”
The Wanderer huffed and looked away; arms crossed over his chest tightly. “Forget it.”
“What? Aw, come on, Vhen!” The Traveler whined. Honest to god pouted.
“Quit acting like a child.”
“Says you!”
“It’s not that important.”
“It is to me,” the Traveler grumbled; frown still deep as he kicked at the ground.
Confusion won out over everything, and had him asking genuinely, “why?”
Pout even more pronounced, the Traveler refused to look up at him. “Forget it,” he parroted.
The Wanderer scoffed. “No need for the tantrum.” The Traveler turned his face away. Something close to an emotion the Wanderer refused to name danced through his veins. Was he truly upset? “…Traveler.”
The Traveler grunted out a blunt, “what?”
The Wanderer tried to lean over to get a good look at his expression, but the Traveler turned his face away. “Oh, come on. You’re not going to pout now, are you? It’s just a color. You’re quite above all this.”
It certainly wasn’t what the Traveler wanted to hear. He stood, and brushed off his pants before barely casting a glance down at the Wanderer. “You’re right. I’m being childish. I guess I’m just tired. Long day. Week. Month. Anyway, I’ll leave you be. Goodnight, Hat Guy.”
Hat guy? The Wanderer couldn’t ignore both the mild panic and large amount of frustration that propelled him to scramble up to follow the Traveler. “Hat Guy? You’re going to call me that, of all things? Seriously?”
“That’s the name you want everyone to call you, isn't it?” The Traveler asked; gaze fixed stubbornly ahead even as the Wanderer began to match his stride. “You don’t like when I call you Vhenan around other people.”
“Not - “ the Wanderer huffed, annoyed. “There’s just - “
“But then again, you get huffy when I call you Hat Guy any other time either. So which one is it?”
“I. Well. Whichever, I suppose.”
The Traveler rolled his eyes. “It’s not whichever when you obviously have a preference. You’re allowed to have those, you know.”
Suddenly overwhelmed by everything, the Wanderer froze to ask, expression bewildered, “just what is with you lately?”
The Traveler stopped, too, back still to him. It took a long moment before he finally turned around, and when he did his expression was unreadable. “Have I been acting strange?”
“Yes! The colors and the letters and now my name? Why are you - why are you doing all of this?”
Still, the Traveler’s face remained carefully guarded. “I like to think we’re friends. You don’t have to answer that, I know you won’t want to. That’s fine. But that’s what friends do, right? Get to know each other?”
Baffled, the Wanderer croaked, “I tried to kill you.”
The Traveler shrugged. “So has most of this world. I’ve traveled to so many places. Seen so many things. Things I couldn’t dream of articulating.” He crossed his arms and glanced up toward the night sky; brows furrowed. When he finally looked back, it was with moonlight in his eyes. “Some of the most beautiful things I’ve seen have been the most dangerous. That doesn’t make the view any less worth it.”
It was a good thing that the Wanderer didn’t need to breathe, or he would have passed out by then. He felt like he had to remain as still as possible, or something would break. Something brittle, lingering in the cool night air. “I’d like a straight forward answer for once,” he managed.
“I thought that was pretty straight forward,” the Traveler replied. “Just… think about it, okay?”
The Wanderer hesitated. “Are you alright?”
The Traveler blinked. The Wanderer wasn’t sure if he should be offended that he looked surprised by the question. “I’m not injured.”
The Wanderer scowled. “That’s not what I asked.”
He sighed, long and heavy. “I’m tired. Very tired. My journey weighs on me. I don’t like to complain. I’m very lucky, for a lot of things. But sometimes, I just…”
“No one would fault you. If you stopped. And if they did, I’d be happy to strangle them for you,” the Wanderer replied easily.
The Traveler huffed out a soft breath, a not-quite smile on his lips. “See, that’s the sort of thing a friend would say, you know?”
“Would they? I haven’t had any to know.”
Something complicated flit across the Traveler’s face. “Yes. Depending on how fun they are, at least. Lucky for us, you’re the fun sort.”
There he went, complimenting him again. “Of course I am,” he retorted. “You won’t stop though, will you? All of the saving the world business. Being tossed across continents.”
The Traveler shook his head. “I won’t. Sometimes I fear this name they gave me has cursed me. The Traveler? I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. I don’t know how to, anymore. I think.”
The Wanderer couldn’t help but ask, “so that’s what this is about, then? Trying to anchor yourself somewhere, and I just happened to be the one you chose?”
Something close to irritation flashed across the Traveler’s face. “You know that’s not it. I told you. We’re friends.”
“I don’t hear about you doing this with anyone else.”
“What do you want me to say, Vhenan?” The Traveler asked with a huff; hands on his hips. “Do you want me to admit to some hidden motives that I don’t have to make you feel better? We’re friends. I want to know you better, so I asked you your favorite color. I missed you, so I wrote you letters. Your name is important to you, so I try to use what I think you prefer. It’s as simple as that.”
The Wanderer replied immediately, “nothing’s ever that simple.”
“It could be, if you let it. You’re not - I’m not trying to force you to be anything you don’t want to be. If you want me to stop, I will. I don’t want you uncomfortable. But if you’re reacting this way because you think I have something I want out of you, then you’re wrong.” When the Wanderer hesitated for a moment too long, the Traveler huffed again, and turned. “This is getting us nowhere. Believe me or not, that’s the truth. I don’t know if I can ever stop walking, but with you, I - for a moment, I just thought I had somewhere I can finally rest.”
He began to walk away again. The Wanderer was rooted to the spot; mind going a mile a minute. “Trav-“
The Traveler’s steps paused, but only for a moment. “Don’t call me that. Not you. Please.”
The Wanderer didn’t reply. The Traveler didn’t look back.