![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
128 » let the lightning strike; let the flash of it shock you
[There are no thoughts. With one final searing tug he frees his hands from the ropes; he lunges for a spear, urgency guiding his arm, and heaves it point-first directly at the heart of the Electro Archon.
An action punishable by death, swift as the lightning's strike. But he is already dead, worse than dead, with the Vision gone and his last hope of fighting the Decree- flying in his direction as the Shogun parries the spear and so cannot strike her killing blow, and Aether's headed his way and Thoma opens his arms and shifts his stance and breathes out hard as soon as the traveler's shoulders make contact with his chest.
He's awake. Thoma can see his eyes fighting to open, a damn sight better than staring at his prone unconscious body just a second ago, and when the eyes of the soldiers toward them Thoma stops thinking again. His arms go around Aether and his feet start running and there is a cliff behind them, before them, sitting well above its counterpart on the opposite side.
Thoma leaps.
Air beneath his feet. The weight of Aether dragging his arm and shoulder, curtailing the arc of their jump. The terrible desperate comfort that even falling to the rocks below would be better than getting caught (again) by the Shogun.
Then his heels strike the grass and he bends into a sloppy roll, forcing him to release Aether with only the certainty that they're both on solid ground.
There isn't time to feel any pain over it. Any jump he can make will be a meaningless step for the Shogun or one swift order for her soldiers. Thoma staggers to his feet and bends immediately to pull Aether upward, grateful for whatever help Paimon tries to give him.]
Come on! [No time for fixing his voice. If it's harsh, pleading, encouraging, whatever, he hardly even hears it in himself. Aether doesn't seem to respond either. The traveler's eyes are barely open. Thoma's thoughts run even faster than his legs as he braces Aether's weight against him again so they can move. The teahouse. It's the only safe place. Can Aether hear him? He's alive, that's more than most can say after a direct strike, but he could be dying, Thoma's chest aches from catching the whole of him after throwing that spear, unbelievably reckless, could have gotten them all killed in the second it took for the Shogun to raise her eyes, he's out of breath too fast and they're taking the back way to the teahouse which isn't exactly paved in neatly laid stones-
Aether stumbles, nearly bringing them both down. Paimon's cry of surprise is somehow the most upsetting thing in Thoma's ears today; he plants his feet and shifts his hold on the traveler.]
It's not far. [Not quite a lie. Thoma stoops to adjust his grip; the place he usually keeps his Vision now feels weightless, empty. Unbalanced. But he can feel the Vision itself nearby, Aether has it, it isn't in the statue.] Just a little further, Aether, come on.
[He can't drag him along. He'll try anyway, a series of urgent tugs and quick steps until Aether gets his bearings again.]
An action punishable by death, swift as the lightning's strike. But he is already dead, worse than dead, with the Vision gone and his last hope of fighting the Decree- flying in his direction as the Shogun parries the spear and so cannot strike her killing blow, and Aether's headed his way and Thoma opens his arms and shifts his stance and breathes out hard as soon as the traveler's shoulders make contact with his chest.
He's awake. Thoma can see his eyes fighting to open, a damn sight better than staring at his prone unconscious body just a second ago, and when the eyes of the soldiers toward them Thoma stops thinking again. His arms go around Aether and his feet start running and there is a cliff behind them, before them, sitting well above its counterpart on the opposite side.
Thoma leaps.
Air beneath his feet. The weight of Aether dragging his arm and shoulder, curtailing the arc of their jump. The terrible desperate comfort that even falling to the rocks below would be better than getting caught (again) by the Shogun.
Then his heels strike the grass and he bends into a sloppy roll, forcing him to release Aether with only the certainty that they're both on solid ground.
There isn't time to feel any pain over it. Any jump he can make will be a meaningless step for the Shogun or one swift order for her soldiers. Thoma staggers to his feet and bends immediately to pull Aether upward, grateful for whatever help Paimon tries to give him.]
Come on! [No time for fixing his voice. If it's harsh, pleading, encouraging, whatever, he hardly even hears it in himself. Aether doesn't seem to respond either. The traveler's eyes are barely open. Thoma's thoughts run even faster than his legs as he braces Aether's weight against him again so they can move. The teahouse. It's the only safe place. Can Aether hear him? He's alive, that's more than most can say after a direct strike, but he could be dying, Thoma's chest aches from catching the whole of him after throwing that spear, unbelievably reckless, could have gotten them all killed in the second it took for the Shogun to raise her eyes, he's out of breath too fast and they're taking the back way to the teahouse which isn't exactly paved in neatly laid stones-
Aether stumbles, nearly bringing them both down. Paimon's cry of surprise is somehow the most upsetting thing in Thoma's ears today; he plants his feet and shifts his hold on the traveler.]
It's not far. [Not quite a lie. Thoma stoops to adjust his grip; the place he usually keeps his Vision now feels weightless, empty. Unbalanced. But he can feel the Vision itself nearby, Aether has it, it isn't in the statue.] Just a little further, Aether, come on.
[He can't drag him along. He'll try anyway, a series of urgent tugs and quick steps until Aether gets his bearings again.]
no subject
[Customary protests come over all else. Aether feels better in Thoma's arms, relaxed even, but what plagues him, what pains him, runs much deeper than anything the fixer can fix from the outside. It's not about being afraid of the Raiden Shogun — he had looked into her eyes and understood very perfectly that she meant to kill him — but it's about reckoning with the person that he has been, the person that he wants to be, and the person that he has to be. The hurt in his body is less than the hurt in his soul, though why he feels so awful, even he can't quite articulate.
He wonders what would happen if he begged Thoma not to leave him, and then decides that he isn't cruel enough to do that, either.]
It doesn't hurt that much. [That much is true.] I'm just glad you're alright.
[There's a forced steel in the tone of his voice. The traveler doesn't bother to hide that it's forced. He is trying to put himself together despite the way that Thoma is openly inviting him to fall apart against the warmth of his body. What he says and what he does are at odds with each other: despite the veneer of normalcy, Aether buries his face into the fabric of Thoma's shirt, and doesn't resurface. For the kind of man who has stood against dragons and ancient gods, he really is very small.]
I came after you because I wanted to. Couldn't bear the thought of... you...
[Switching tacks, he takes a deep breath and admits something to himself:]
I didn't do it for Inazuma. [He feels better to have said that. He feels horrible to have said that.] I did it for you. And now that I've done it for you... I have to do it for Inazuma.
[It sounds like determined heroism, but the truth is that he really didn't want to. He'd meant it when he said no. Not because he didn't understand that people were suffering under the Shogun's rule — but because he'd wanted to be selfish. He wanted people to understand that he was his own man with his own ambitions and he was not going to go around saving people who could not save themselves. An uncharitable school of thought would say that he has done enough. He doesn't really think he's done enough, but he'd wanted to rest, for a time. Wanted to shut his eyes against the cruel world and pretend he couldn't see.
And isn't it arrogant, he thinks, to say something like that. Isn't it cruel to say something like that. No had seemed like a reasonable boundary until he'd had to look at the heartache at the core of Inazuma and ask himself if he could walk away. On the one hand, with two nations already brought to peace, what's a third? On the other hand, what if his journey comes to an end for the sake of people he doesn't and will never belong to? What will he be able to say at the end of this tale?
He wanted to not care, for once. He wanted to steel his heart against the cruelty of this world. But he can't and he won't and maybe this is the selfsame trap that Lumine fell into, casting her lot with those so thoroughly rejected by this world that she herself chose to fall into a rebellion she has no hope of winning.
It hurts to consider his own cowardice and inaction, and so he can't say any of it out loud. He wants to rest and he's tired and he's falling apart and saying any of this out loud feels like an awful, terrible lie, and if he's being honest he wouldn't have done this for anyone but Thoma, and he can't say that because of the kind of person Thoma is, so he just — he has to —]
I have to...
no subject
Somehow, "I did it for you" is both better and worse.
But he grits his teeth, and he lets Aether talk. That's what he promised, even if not in so many words: that he would give the traveler time to say, or not say, whatever he needed to. They didn't have to talk about what happened. Not on Aether's end, anyway, and if Thoma felt himself giving under the pressure to say something he could always have gone to Taroumaru, the best secret keeper in the whole teahouse. It would've been fine.
It can still be fine.
Thoma takes a measured breath. Aether can feel it, surely, up against him as he is. One of them may very well (still?) be trembling. The likelihood that it's Thoma rises with his next, surer breath, but he forces his grasp looser, carefully moving his thumb up and down again just twice.]
Hey, you don't have to anything, right now. Maybe...maybe you will, later. I don't think I can argue with you about that.
[He finds himself talking around clenched teeth and tries to let that go, too.]
But I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have- well. [The sharp exhale has some ha in it, the breath that snuffs the candle too soon.] It isn't important now. Your only job is to rest and not push too hard.
[When he thinks about it like that, the weight balanced over Aether can just be his for a little while instead. Thoma isn't so arrogant as to think that he could do what Aether did, that he could make any more headway in trying to rescue Inazuma from itself. That would be a spectacular disaster. But he can think about what he can do right here. How to shift the heaviness off of the traveler, who must have already been so worn out when he ambled off the ship in Ritou. And now this.
At least he has some things to fall back on.]
How about this? I'll tell you a story.
[He knows so many. Inazuma legends, romances and suspense tales from Yae Publishing House, Mondstadt larger-than-life fish tales...]
That way all you have to do is listen and picture it. Or don't, if that's...too much.
no subject
[Aether swallows on a dry throat. He isn't nervous, per se, but there's an odd, thundering heartbeat in his ears that has nothing to do with adrenaline or the Raiden Shogun anymore. His heart won't stop racing, and he desperately wants it to stop. He tries to think of anything else, like how horribly empty the Plane of Euthymia was, and how he has to get up soon and finish what he's started, he has to he has to he has to. He has to. But Thoma is here, warm and gentle and assuring him that he doesn't, at least not right now, not this moment, and he can't find it in himself to argue back. Doesn't want to, anyway.
He's really so weak when he's not pretending to be strong.]
Okay. [A little sigh, trembling like a butterfly's wings, and just as delicate.] Tell me a story.
[The traveler rests his cheek heavily against Thoma's shoulder, breathing slow and strangely quiet, as if he's afraid to make too much noise. He can't stop thinking about how he shouldn't covet the solid warmth beneath him like this, but there are some treasures that even he can lay claim to, no matter how precious.]
Any story you want.
no subject
A thought comes to him and his face briefly lights up (not that Aether's looking).]
Aha! Okay. Once upon a time, there was an old man and and old woman living together at the foot of the mountains, near a stream.
[The story itself is...rather silly. The woman goes to the river to do her laundry and finds an oversized fruit, which later hatches like an egg, surprising the couple with a human baby inside. The baby grows into a strong boy - named for the fruit of his birth, which Thoma personally thinks is a delightfully Inazuman thing to do - who sets out on a journey to take out some demons. On the way he makes friends with several animal companions.
There are lots of reasons Thoma has been partial to this particular children's tale since he heard it, but the animal friends are the best one of all.
He's a decent storyteller. Not the best, definitely not the worst, and he makes sure to keep himself measured about it. Talk too fast and the traveler may not follow along; too slow and he may grow bored and go back to thinking of much worse things. Though he embellishes a little, and he does different voices for the old man, the old woman, the boy, each animal, he tries not to drag it all out too far.
It has a good ending, too. The boy returns to his family, having defeated the demons, with his friends at his side and some treasure for them all to share.
Periodically Thoma shifts just enough to check on Aether. If he's dozing, that's fine; if he falls asleep deeply enough, all the better. But if something's wrong, Thoma wants to know about it as soon as he can. The circumstances could hardly be worse, either, so the storytelling is giving him something else to dwell on.
He hasn't gotten around to mentioning that he, at least, is confined to the teahouse, and that there may be a frightening amount of telling stories to the walls in his immediate and indefinite future. Not thinking about it. Yet the thought passes through and his hand tightens momentarily in its hold on Aether and there's a gentle catch in his voice.]
no subject
It's not unlike his own life, save that he doesn't usually charm his animal companions into joining them by offering them dumplings. People usually want less tangible things from him, like victory in war, or death to their foes, or the safe return of their loved ones.]
...What's wrong?
[The traveler stirs once he feels Thoma falter. He's been awake for the most part, watching Thoma tell the story a look on his face that is wide and alert and captivated, but now that spellbound expression turns into one that speaks more of gentle concern.]
I liked it. It was a good story. [Not sure if that's what Thoma's worried about. Maybe he's just suddenly thought of what the Shogun might do if she finds the both of them here.] It's rare, I think... for these kinds of stories to end happily.
no subject
[Whether or not he's fully aware of just how much information he's let out in his words doesn't seem to matter. If he is, then it's intentional, and if he isn't, then he's confused from the trauma of the day and can't be blamed for what comes out of his mouth.
And he lets the nonexistent wind carry away the question of what might be wrong. For now. Aether seems to be doing just fine, and he's been awake for a while now. Focus on that.]
Hey, are you hungry? There's nobody else here - we closed for the day after everything happened. Most people probably aren't even out walking around.
[Briefly, between his words, are half-laughs that might be winces as well. Moments of pain that he wishes were humor instead.]
But I could make you something easy. I was thinking about it, right before you woke up. Rice porridge?
[This doesn't count as not staying, does it? Aether needs to eat. To help him get better. And Thoma can't go further than the kitchen.]
no subject
I am hungry. And rice porridge does sound delicious...
[Thoma's breath seems to be coming a little short. Aether frowns, reaches out without really thinking. Touches the rise and fall of Thoma's chest, like he can soothe the man's hurts.
(The weird thing is that it kind of works. Not with a glow, or the instant relief of a Vision. But it's — better, somehow? Maybe it's just a trick of Thoma's imagination.]
But... don't push yourself, okay? [A brief pause.] I... I could help you. If you want that.
[He does — as surreptitiously as he possibly can while he's pressed up against Thoma's body — try to test his limbs. He's a bit sore all over, but the Raiden Shogun's Electro energies haven't fried his nerves too badly — gritting his teeth through a bit of cooking shouldn't set him back too much, he figures. If he doesn't make a big deal of it, Thoma probably won't even have to know.]
no subject
It could be a lot of things. Aether's apparent improvement, the easy certainty of making rice porridge, the story somehow relieving him of the weight of the day's events, just enough time spent in quiet and in company that he has been performing for but isn't necessarily required to...because surely it couldn't just be because the traveler put one careful hand against his chest. That's absurd.
Yet he feels himself smile. A few more real, good breaths. Nothing like a forced laugh, though also no genuine one.]
I'd love the help. [He tries to make the refusal gentle, because he really would enjoy working in the kitchen with Aether, given the chance.] But you're not supposed to get up to anything strenuous. I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to get up at all.
[Though he'd considered, already, breaking that rule, so Aether could sit at a table to eat. As long as they couldn't be seen from outside, and they were careful...but it doesn't take much to remember what the traveler looked like when the Shogun spat him back out. Maybe that would still be too much.]
I'm not pushing myself. I could make rice porridge with my eyes closed!
[One of those things is definitely a lie. Thoma winks at Aether. He feels more like he can...handle things, now. Like the world isn't going to just crumble down on top of him if he steps on the wrong mat.]
no subject
Either way, for once, the traveler relents. His body relaxes in Thoma's loose hold, and if the housekeeper set him down, he'd sink back into the sheets.]
Okay... if you're sure. [He closes his eyes.] But you're injured, too. Don't push yourself.
[Thoma feels more like he can handle things. Aether feels more like he can let other people handle things. The Shogun's men aren't knocking at the door of the teahouse — and he's not in any particular active pain, but it still sort of hurts to lift his arms or put his weight on his legs. Bed rest, for now, and porridge later — yes, that sounds good, that's a tempting prospect.
Come to think of it, where's Paimon?
Aether only thinks about the fairy because he's suddenly thinking, with an internal laugh, that they ought to dunk her in the porridge, see how she flavors it.]
...Make enough for Paimon too. She'll be hungry. [A sigh.] She's always hungry.
no subject
Paimon, [as if they both just remembered. As if he's been waiting all afternoon for Aether to ask about his floating friend.] went with Miss Ayaka, for now. It, uh, wasn't easy to...keep her from. She was getting loud. Really worried about you, and it's not that easy to be worried and have nothing you can do about it.
[Thoma runs a hand through his hair, a vain attempt to keep it from falling into his eyes uselessly.]
They'll be back later tonight, probably with some more appetizing food. That was the only way we could convince her to go.
[Maybe they shouldn't have. But risking discovery by anyone loyal to the Shogun, with Aether in such a delicate state and Thoma a wanted criminal, was worse. So they'd cajoled Paimon into an errand to get delicious food for herself and her friend. For when he felt better.]
If you're up for it then, you're more than welcome to eat...anything. [He shrugs a little.] But I'd better get started on that porridge, huh? One steaming bowl of sustenance, coming up.
[He limps, a bit, on his way out the screen door. Whether he wishes he could hide that or not may be apparent on his face, but Aether will only see his back, shoulders straightened until he's well out of the room, and likely the rest of the time, too. He has a goal here. Make rice porridge. Get some nourishment into Aether. An impossibly small repayment for saving his Vision and his life, but they can work on that.
It's a while before Thoma returns, bearing the porridge and a wide wooden spoon. If Aether's asleep, he'll set it aside, but if he's awake:]
Do you want to eat in here, or try to get to a table? If you think you can handle it...then I won't tattle on breaking the rules a little.
no subject
Thoma's limping, he notes. He'd be limping too, if he were the one on his feet. It's a sobering reminder of how close they both came to death, but Aether doesn't have the luxury of lingering on that thought, nor does he particularly want to. As tempting as it is to stay in bed, Aether doesn't like the thought of holding a hot bowl in his palms over the soft futon covers, so he slides his legs out from beneath the warm sheets and attempts, somewhat shakily, to stand on his feet. ]
I can get to a table. Thank you, Thoma.
[ His limbs protest each movement, and there's an odd pain at the back of his jaw he can't quite attribute to anything the Raiden Shogun did to him, but he'll manage. He reminds himself he'll have to not show Paimon any signs of being tired, if she's been so worried. This brings on a separate thought: he casts his eyes over Thoma's hands and frowns. ]
Um... if it's not too bold for me to say this — [a dry swallow, a shallow sigh] — you don't have to... you don't have to be strong for me.
no subject
What a pair they will make, edging down the short hall of the teahouse to a room with a table in it. Thoma hurries to put the porridge down on the low table before genuinely helping Aether seat himself on the floor.
There isn't a corresponding meal for Thoma, but he conveniently doesn't feel like he'll ever be hungry again. He lowers himself to sit across from Aether, eschewing proper posture completely. Too achy. Hands resting atop the table, he lets out a held breath.]
It wasn't. Too bold, I mean. [How could anything be? 'Too bold' from the man who saved everything?] But I...
[Without anything to do? Thoma's hands are trembling. But they are alone in the teahouse and no one else is ever, ever going to get a window into this lapse, and Aether is on the border of stranger, friend, savior, and arbiter in the strangest way possible, and.]
I don't know if I can do it for me. [He looks much more vulnerable without the decorative headband or the sharp jacket, with his hair messily in his face, tired circles beginning under his eyes.] Even if I...have to. But I can do it for you.
[I can try to repay the debt. I can do whatever that might take. Because Aether is owed. The problems of someone else are always so much better to solve.]
no subject
But that's just the thing about wars. They have this tendency to kill young men.
Which is why this war needs to be stopped as soon as possible. Which is why the Raiden Shogun needs to be dissuaded of her actions, and Aether can't turn a blind eye to anything that is happening anymore.
The traveler's eyes lower and fall on Thoma's knuckles. He feels vaguely as though his bones have turned to steel. White iron, hot. Cooling, solidifying. It's like finding his resolve. It's like remembering a promise.
Gently, he reaches out and takes Thoma's hand.
(If he were asked about it afterward, he wouldn't be able to identify the impulse that drove him to do this.)
He lifts the man's knuckles to his lips. Those shaking fingers, that gently trembling wrist. They are alone in the teahouse and no one else is ever, ever going to get a glimpse of them like this, and Aether — stranger, friend, and fallen star — Aether kisses Thoma's hand, as delicately as a knight might caress the hand of a princess in those old Mondstadtian fairy tales. ]
Okay. I understand.
[ Always take things in stride. Always accept people for who they are and who they tell you that they want to be. ]
You can do it for me, then. And I... I'll do it for you.
no subject
Aether's earlier resignation echoes in Thoma's thoughts as the world move around him, dreamlike, and the traveler's lips press against his knuckles. Yet there is some comfort in the revision, in the reciprocating of strength. Someone will persevere for Aether's sake, too.
It's a strength of Thoma's, solving other people's problems. Sometimes that eliminates several future, Thoma-centric problems down the line. Rare is the day he has only himself to worry about. Rarer still, accumulating such dire consequences.
He looks at the worn and resolute set to Aether's jaw and remembers to breathe.]
I don't know...how much I'll be able to help you, from here. Once you leave.
[The prediction was more than a week, to that point. That was before Aether defied sense by being well enough to walk around.]
But I'll do anything. Anything I can.
[For Inazuma. For you.]
no subject
He shouldn't want. He is too far beyond the reach of a normal person to want.
Aether lowers his head. Strands of his golden hair tickle Thoma's wrists, but he doesn't dare look up. He just holds Thoma's hands in his, stroking along his knuckles with an unhurried thumb. ]
Your words are all I could ever ask.
[ His voice is very soft. Trembling, like a dandelion on the breeze. ]
But as long as you're here, I can fight for you.
no subject
Aether still has his hands, so Thoma lets out a helpless, breathless laugh. It could shatter him, if he let it.]
I'll be here. [Another exhale, this one much more uncertain, holding far less humor.] I'll...I can't leave the teahouse.
[Maybe that isn't what the traveler meant. (Maybe, somehow, he'll know that though Thoma lives as an Inazuman, there is a piece of his heart that belongs to freedom, has always rankled against the strictures of eternity. That confinement within these walls will kill the canary, inevitably.) Thoma's fingers curl, slightly, in Aether's grasp.]
♥
[ Somehow, he finds the heart to laugh. His fingers aren't jittering like they were when he first woke up, and he feels light enough in his chest, now, to laugh. He thinks it would feel right to kiss Thoma in the moment, but then he tells himself that he's only deluding himself into thinking that, and he relents. he gives up. He gives in.
Thoma's fingers have curled around his and he knows it, but Aether is the one who lets go. He pulls his fingers away, slow and gentle like the edges of a dream, and he thinks he can still feel the man's lingering warmth on his skin as his hands drop back to his sides. ]
Thank you, Thoma. I promise I'll make everything right.
[ He has his meal, and then he dresses himself, despite Thoma's protests, and then he is gone, like a spark of lightning in the dead of the night. ]