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161 » fell in love but i don't think i did it right
[ I'll show you the world, Aether had promised, and then — because he'd thought it was a little funny — promptly brought Wriothesley to Dragonspine.
Okay, to his credit, it really wasn't straight to Dragonspine. After showing the Fortress administrator his Serenitea Pot, and talking briefly about the different nations of Teyvat, the traveler had let it slip that it was within his capabilities to teleport around the world with a single thought. It means a lot about his trust in Wriothesley, in truth. Aether doesn't often share the full extent of his powers and abilities with others, but he figured this one would be harmless for the Duke to know.
Through brief sojourns from the Fortress, he'd meant to show Wriothesley the sights around Teyvat. They started with Mondstadt first, largely because it had been easier for Aether to keep his wits about him when they were retracing his own journey through the seven nations. They stopped briefly at the Angel's Share for drinks and merriment (Diluc wasn't in, but Venti was, and the bard played a little ditty for Aether's new friend, one that sort of strangely settled in the bones, comforting, like the scent of dandelions on the wind).
Then Aether took Wriothesley to Dragonspine.
It was partly because the man seemed game for a dangerous challenge, particularly after their little idyllic joint through the City of Freedom, and partly because Aether himself had wanted to bully him — not in a serious way, of course, but as a kind of playful revenge for Wriothesley's having jerked his chain more than once during his time in prison. The mountain was bitterly cold, but Aether figured a Cryo wielder would be used to it, and anyway, it had all been very nostalgic. It's been a long time since Aether last walked through the halls of Sal Vindagnyr, reading ancient testaments on the deeds and misdeeds of Imunlaukr and Eberhart.
The mountain itself had seemed friendly, after everything that happened there. Outrageously beautiful, too, with the snow glittering like diamonds under the sun. When the threatening clouds overhead finally blotted out the light and burst into a spectacular blizzard, though, the traveler took swift action — he hadn't really meant to put Wriothesley at risk.
Aether tucks them into a little hideaway on the side of the mountain, the selfsame one Albedo often uses as a camp; the alchemist hasn't been using it in recent weeks, so everything is coated with a thin layer of snow, but Aether's familiar enough with the most basic uses of his equipment that he knows how to turn on some of the contraptions to keep them both warm. ]
Ah, good, he's still got everything here. There's this guy I know named Albedo, and this is his camp, but it looks like he hasn't been here in a while. He won't mind if we borrow some of the things here. Let me just...
[ In the short time that Wriothesley spent with Lynette, she might have talked about her power-saving mode — Aether, for his part, seems to have a sort of survival efficiency mode. He's busily and briskly making his way through the camp, dusting off the snow to switch on some of Albedo's little lanterns and space heaters. He seems — it's a thought from a lifetime ago — he's a little bit reminiscent of a housewife, automatically and mechanically going through the motions to make them both comfortable, and without really asking his charge if he needs the comfort.
Maybe he's thinking of Wriothesley as Paimon? Aether reaches into his little pocket of stars and produces two blankets, a large one and a small one meant for Paimon — this large one he throws around Wriothesley's shoulders, and it's still big enough to drag across the ground, but the small one... ]
There. Let's just hang tight until it stops snowing.
[ ...There's no way the small blanket is going to be of any use to Aether, though, not unless he just plans to wrap it around his exposed stomach. ]
Okay, to his credit, it really wasn't straight to Dragonspine. After showing the Fortress administrator his Serenitea Pot, and talking briefly about the different nations of Teyvat, the traveler had let it slip that it was within his capabilities to teleport around the world with a single thought. It means a lot about his trust in Wriothesley, in truth. Aether doesn't often share the full extent of his powers and abilities with others, but he figured this one would be harmless for the Duke to know.
Through brief sojourns from the Fortress, he'd meant to show Wriothesley the sights around Teyvat. They started with Mondstadt first, largely because it had been easier for Aether to keep his wits about him when they were retracing his own journey through the seven nations. They stopped briefly at the Angel's Share for drinks and merriment (Diluc wasn't in, but Venti was, and the bard played a little ditty for Aether's new friend, one that sort of strangely settled in the bones, comforting, like the scent of dandelions on the wind).
Then Aether took Wriothesley to Dragonspine.
It was partly because the man seemed game for a dangerous challenge, particularly after their little idyllic joint through the City of Freedom, and partly because Aether himself had wanted to bully him — not in a serious way, of course, but as a kind of playful revenge for Wriothesley's having jerked his chain more than once during his time in prison. The mountain was bitterly cold, but Aether figured a Cryo wielder would be used to it, and anyway, it had all been very nostalgic. It's been a long time since Aether last walked through the halls of Sal Vindagnyr, reading ancient testaments on the deeds and misdeeds of Imunlaukr and Eberhart.
The mountain itself had seemed friendly, after everything that happened there. Outrageously beautiful, too, with the snow glittering like diamonds under the sun. When the threatening clouds overhead finally blotted out the light and burst into a spectacular blizzard, though, the traveler took swift action — he hadn't really meant to put Wriothesley at risk.
Aether tucks them into a little hideaway on the side of the mountain, the selfsame one Albedo often uses as a camp; the alchemist hasn't been using it in recent weeks, so everything is coated with a thin layer of snow, but Aether's familiar enough with the most basic uses of his equipment that he knows how to turn on some of the contraptions to keep them both warm. ]
Ah, good, he's still got everything here. There's this guy I know named Albedo, and this is his camp, but it looks like he hasn't been here in a while. He won't mind if we borrow some of the things here. Let me just...
[ In the short time that Wriothesley spent with Lynette, she might have talked about her power-saving mode — Aether, for his part, seems to have a sort of survival efficiency mode. He's busily and briskly making his way through the camp, dusting off the snow to switch on some of Albedo's little lanterns and space heaters. He seems — it's a thought from a lifetime ago — he's a little bit reminiscent of a housewife, automatically and mechanically going through the motions to make them both comfortable, and without really asking his charge if he needs the comfort.
Maybe he's thinking of Wriothesley as Paimon? Aether reaches into his little pocket of stars and produces two blankets, a large one and a small one meant for Paimon — this large one he throws around Wriothesley's shoulders, and it's still big enough to drag across the ground, but the small one... ]
There. Let's just hang tight until it stops snowing.
[ ...There's no way the small blanket is going to be of any use to Aether, though, not unless he just plans to wrap it around his exposed stomach. ]
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to be honest, Wriothesley never thought he'd ever travel – even when he was a little runt, he pictured himself having a happy, simple life. then the events of his life were stacked in front of him like a game of dominos: one falling into the next, cascading into a chaotic mess of tiles rounded corners that had once been carefully placed in front of him. he committed murder, he thought he would die, and then he was sentenced to serve his time in Meropide. if anyone were to ask him at the time, he would've said then that there was no seeing a future in front of him – no five years, no ten years – just the horizon disappearing into the fog.
but then here he was, traversing Mondstadt with a golden-haired traveler as his guide. when he thinks about it, it makes him want to laugh at that silly boy who wanted nothing but the comfort of family, and the lanky, dead-eyed little beast who became the King of Meropide. the thoughts dissolve quickly, because even when it does come to mind, he finds that he doesn't want to dwell on it.
Venti's song stays with them, as Wriothesley had listened in quiet reverie, and when the mood hits he whistles a few notes under his breath that follow the chilly wind down the mountainside. despite the freezing temperatures of Dragonspine, it reminds him of the jagged peaks and hidden caves of Elynas, even if he can't quite put his finger on why. they're passing beneath great ivory tree roots, and Wriothesley thinks that they resemble a cage of jagged ribs, but before he can comment on it, the storm hits.
it's cold in the pressured waters of Fontaine, but this is different. it stings at his skin like tiny needles when the wind touches him, finding every bare inch of skin that he didn't even know was exposed. he follows Aether with heavy boots through the snow. ]
Wow, you sure know this place well, huh? Sure you're not trying to show off?
[ it's a barb with no bite, a little sing-song lilt to his voice that he usually never cares to put into his words when he's joking. Aether's prowess for the elements is impressive, and he can't let it go without comment.
however, one of the things he's always admired about Aether is his way of defaulting to taking care of others – he can see it as the traveler moves, cleaning the snow and bringing what little warmth the cave can offer to life. while Aether makes the cave comfortable, Wriothesley finds an abandoned teapot, and after rinsing it with some snow, fills it with newly fallen snowflakes until it melts into water before he shoves it by one of the little heaters.
Aether's pulling blankets out of his pouch, and Wriothesley is pulling tea out of his coat. there are three teabags between his gloved fingers when he stops to observe Aether and his all-too-small-blanket. ]
I've got a feeling that may be too small on you. You don't share clothes with Paimon, do you?
[ he's gonna make tea. ]
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Especially when, er, he's being called out on some of his own. As if he didn't realize that he'd be out of a blanket (he didn't), Aether blinks and hefts the small blanket in his hand. Paimon may be about... slightly less than toddler-sized... but the blanket is only slightly bigger than a hand towel, really. It's just, he sort of — he hadn't been thinking.
Aether can't help but make an embarrassed little frown as he realizes he won't be able to do much with it, then throws it back into his constellation space. Touché. ]
it's fine. I'll just freeze.
[ Wriothesley's dry humor seems to be rubbing off on him. Aether rubs his hands together — they're a little numb after he dusted off all that snow, even with his gloves to protect him from direct contact — and goes to stand near the teapot's makeshift boiler. ]
...I'm kidding. Not to show off — [ a slight stress on the words suggests he's jabbing back at Wriothesley's play-bite ] — but I've climbed this whole mountain before, so I'll be okay.
[ He's got his tummy out and he's shivering. It's hard to pinpoint, because he's shoved his hands in his pockets now, but his shoulders are shaking. ]
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Wriothesley isn't immune to the cold, but being a Cryo Vision holder certainly makes him able to withstand it for longer. out of the corner of his eye he sizes-up Aether, head to foot, then as if he's already decided that he doesn't want to see that little icicle on Aether's bellybutton, he drops his heavy coat over his shoulders. it's still warm from his body heat, the noise of of so many chains jingling around him as he falls. ]
Come on, you'd be a snowman still muttering I'll be okay. [ he's emptying the teapot into two warm cups and sliding one over to Aether like they're in Fontaine's seediest sewer bar. the tea is ... well, it's bad, but it's hot. ] Then they'll send me to Mondstadt's jail for letting you freeze.
[ is there a Mondstadt jail? nevermind.
the wind outside is howling, and from the way the snow is blowing horizontally across the mouth of the cave, Wriothesley doubts it's going to calm down anytime soon.
he adjusts the blanket over his shoulders (he looks a little silly in his own eccentric brand of clothing, as the blanket doesn't really match his aesthetic), and starts striding around (sniffing maybe, like a dog finding a place to lie down) the cave. ]
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...This still seems like a tea addict's kind of problem...
Anyway, Aether's bellybutton remains, and will remain, icicle-free. The jangle of chains heralds Wriothesley's approach, but Aether sort of jumps, startled, when the heavy coat gets dropped around his shoulders. Maybe he just feels jostled by its weight; he touches it with wide, catlike surprise in his eyes, and then he sort of — scowls. He's pink in the cheeks, though, so it doesn't really come off as intimidating.
Granted, the traveler rarely comes off as intimidating. But maybe that's just because Wriothesley's never given him cause to pick up his blade. ]
Your jacket's too heavy. I'd rather have my blanket.
[ He's grumbling, but it's really just to grumble. Once the peeved, embarrassed look on his face passes, he sighs in a cloud of white breath and then looks at Wriothesley again. There's gratitude shining in his golden gaze, but best not to point it out — he'll get all huffy and flustered again.
Aether shuffles awkwardly, breathing on his hands as he draws the coat more closely around his shoulders to keep the warmth in. His eyes flick toward the man as he's sniffing around for a place to rest, and then they flick away. ]
...Thanks, Wriothesley.
[ He clears his throat, as if changing the subject. ]
Is that what I should do? Take you through all the jails in Teyvat? Somehow I have the feeling that the Fortress has to be the most wet.
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the jacket reaches the back of Aether's knees, the decorative chains clinking together when he moves – it doesn't look good on him at all, but there's something amusing about Aether swimming in the heavy layers of fur-lined leather. ]
I'll take the award for that. "Wettest stronghold in Teyvat," how about it? I'll hang it on a plaque in my office.
[ after a circle of the little cave, he finds a place to hunker down. he did have to scope the place out, of course: know the exits, the layout, and where the best sitting places were. the blanket is still over his shoulders, and he's got a weak cup of tea in his hand. Aether's here poking at him, and he can't say that he's not enjoying himself. while he usually likes the comfort of Meropide, he can't say that it isn't good to stretch his legs a bit.
(that little, lost boy will thank him.) ]
The snow's not letting up for a while. Here, I made your blanket warm.
[ there's a big man over here with a warm blanket, Aether. ]
What, still don't trust me? I might bite.
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He's aware of all of these things, but he still lingers at the perimeter of Wriothesley's space — thinking, and maybe too conscious, of that lost little boy from a lifetime ago. ]
That's like saying you crawled into my bed and made it warm... You just took away the best part of getting into bed!
[ He really doesn't mean to be so huffy around Wriothesley of all people, but something about the way the man is being smarmy in an understated way is riling Aether up to the point of his fur standing on end. (He doesn't have fur. But if he did.) In the end, though, the traveler relents, taking a seat beside Wriothesley, close enough that he can join the man under the blanket. ]
I'll bite first, you know. [ A threat with no teeth behind it. ] And chew you up.
[ He feels like a kitten threatening a husky, even as he takes a seat by Wriothesley's side and tries to tuck the blanket around him so that the warmth of their bodies doesn't leak out. With a soft sigh, Aether tucks his paws — er, limbs — into the blanket and settles.
he's quiet for a moment, and then he speaks again. ]
...I trust you. After everything. [ He closes his eyes. ] There's no need to act like I don't.
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there's a little fussing, and he can tell Aether is hesitating, but he gives in, eventually, and sinks next to him. there's a few adjustments to be made in the blanket, and he draws it over Aether's shoulders as he tucks his paws in and away from the cold. ]
I wouldn't blame you if you had some hesitation.
[ he wouldn't, at all, and there's no part of that which is untrue. it's part of his own perception of himself, and where becoming a criminal became a necessity.
perhaps he hides behind it, too. after all, if he's not trusted, he can't let anyone down. ]
King of the criminals only goes so far.
[ those that are exiled to Meropide are undesirables in a sense, no longer entertaining or valuable to society. some are there due to their own unfortunate circumstances, others due to their wickedness and lack of concern, sometimes it's both. it's something that stays with you.
he leans back against the wall, the blanket falling more slack so Aether can better adjust himself if necessary. ]
How are your hands?
[ Aether's not the only one that can change the subject. ]
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The Duke asks about his hands and he looks down at them as if wondering if he should show them. The Khaenri'ahn material of his gloves doesn't really insulate heat, in all honesty — a fine thing on hot summer days when he wants to keep his palms from sweating around the grip of his sword, but it means they're not really doing anything for him in the moment.
He takes the gloves off, showing Wriothesley his hands: his fingertips are pink, but not frostbitten. ]
They're fine. See?
[ He draws his hands back into the blanket-jacket combination, taking a moment to breathe on them and rub them together to keep them warm. ]
...I don't think of you as a criminal.
[ And it's as if, in an instant, he's put all that fussiness away. Because his pride is not as important as wanting to banish a thought like king of the criminals, and no matter what judgments Aether has rendered upon others in the past, he's never wanted to dispel someone simply for being undesirable. ]
Even if you think of yourself that way. That's not all you are.
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with a frown of distaste, he finishes it off anyway. ]
Being a criminal doesn't bother me. There are worse things to be. Besides, it's liberating in its own way.
[ he asks, with some hint of curiosity. ]
Since you've been arrested, that makes us both criminals, doesn't it? So, how does it feel?
[ though in some ways, being a criminal and doing a criminal thing are vastly different. Fontaine's system of law is questionable at best, harmful at worst. that isn't to say that some laws aren't there for certain reasons, but there are other laws so frivolous that it seems their own purpose is to put others on display for breaking them – it's normally not those with cushy lives who suffer.
but Aether is not from Fontaine. he's been to many places: Liyue, Inazuma, and Mondstadt, where they are currently. ]
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As things stand, the only thing he can do to make Wriothesley a bit warmer is sidle up closer to him. It's not something that Aether actively thinks about; it's just natural, that's all, when they're the only warm creatures within reach of each other. Belatedly, the traveler thinks, this would probably be more efficient for the both of them if he sat between Wriothesley's legs instead, but oh well. They're comfortable enough now. ]
Feel? [ The traveler tips his head to one side, contemplating the question. ] It doesn't feel that different.
I've been a criminal lots of times before this. This is just the first time I've let myself be convicted for a crime.
[ Let myself, the traveler says, as if he would have never been convicted if he'd had half a mind to run away. Well, in some ways, he's probably right. ]
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Let yourself, huh? Ah, you've got a rap sheet. You've got a look about you that would fool some people if they didn't know.
[ is this his roundabout way of calling Aether cute? probably. ]
What other laws have you broken?
[ then he looks amused, smiling. ]
Don't worry, I'll keep it to myself. Neuvilette will be none the wiser.
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The Duke kind-of-sort-of calls him cute, or at least innocent-looking, and Aether can't help but snort disdainfully at the idea. His youthful face has certainly come in handy a few times in the past, but it's still a bit amusing that anyone would look at him and find him... pure. ]
Let's see. [ He makes a show of counting off on his fingers. ] I stole something from the cathedral in Mondstadt... was suspected of killing Rex Lapis in Liyue, but that really wasn't me... I was a fugitive in Inazuma and wound up joining the revolution against the Raiden Shogun... Oh, I fought a lot of duels to the death in Inazuma too, but that's normal there.
[ ...but it becomes kind of weird when you learn that he wiped out a whole school of swordsmanship... ]
I think there were at least eight. [ A brief pause. ] No, nine — there was another man, he wasn't in his right mind... He'd been ritualistically sacrificing every member of his village. But sometimes I think he wouldn't have done it if the remains of a dead god in the area hadn't driven him insane. It was awful...
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Cruelty from madness, huh?
[ it has him thinking about other types of cruelties. when Aether shivers and comes closer, Wriothesley draws him in, until Aether's knee is draped over his thigh. the proximity doesn't seem to bother him, he likes Aether well enough to be this close to him. he also likes Aether well enough not to want him to be uncomfortable.
(also part of him recognizes that being this close is ... nice. Wriothesley isn't particularly touchy, but he realizes when he's suddenly closer to someone how nice it is to be close, almost as if part of him had forgotten.) ]
He would've kept doing it if you didn't stop him. Sometimes those types of crimes are easier to digest – at least if someone's not in their right mind, their actions have an excuse. For those that do it, somehow desensitized to the crime itself, well ...
[ those are the scary ones. ]
Luckily they come few and far between, huh?
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[ And that's a kind of admission in itself. The idea that Teyvat's rational, logical traveler — the man who had himself proposed, in unyielding terms, that he would be the Hydro Archon's prosecutor — still wishes there was something he could have done for a madman who had killed his entire village, beyond the reach of justice or mercy.
A lot of Inazuma was unjust like that. And it's not as though Ei needed to personally journey through her own land, solving the problems of her people; it's not as though Yae Miko could have been held personally accountable for the actions of one madman. But there were ways in which the people of Inazuma were neglected when Ei withdrew to her eternal meditation, like toys rotting at the bottom of a sick child's toybox. That's the kind of thing that Aether wishes there had been alternatives for.
Abruptly, Aether realizes his leg is sort of hanging off of Wriothesley's, so he moves it. Now he's in the man's lap, bracketed between his thick thighs. Aether settles, and finally feels warm. ]
The worst ones are the ones who want to do it. There aren't many cures for that.
[ Their conversation is so somber against the howling of the wind. Aether looks out at the snow and thinks about how they should talk about something else. Something more lighthearted.
What comes out of his mouth instead is this: ]
A lot of people died on this mountain too, you know. There was this really interesting murder case from a couple hundred years ago... I could never figure it out.
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Wow, a lawyer and a detective, huh? I guess you have to be a bit of both to step into the Opera Epiclese. [ there's a little smirk that crosses his expression as he rolls his head back to Aether. ] There are stories about this place, but once it reaches Fontaine, and then Meropide, the good parts are already lost in exaggeration.
[ but he can't help his own interest – it's like trying to pull him away from the history of the Fortress of Meropide, or how the past of Remuria intersects with Fontaine's future. this patch of snow among the vast greenery, crawling with bones, bodies and Fatui, was a contrast to the rest of Mondstadt. it was like an anomaly – something that shouldn't exist. ]
I haven't heard about the murder case, though. Figures, since it's from a hundred or so years ago.
[ since the storm isn't going anywhere. ]
So, indulge me.
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I pieced this together from some ancient journals I found on the mountain, so if you're interested in reading the original documents, I'd be more than happy to share them. But here's the chronological series of events:
On this mountain, during Mondstadt's aristocratic age about a thousand or so years ago, a small group of young men arrived on this mountain as an expedition team. Two of them, Eberhart and Ingbert, are noblemen — both sons of one Master Landrich, who isn't present during the expedition. Nick and Luther are their servants, and also most likely slaves, because Luther mentions that if the expedition fails, he'll be made to serve as a gladiator for the amusement of the noblemen, and that he'll probably die if he has to do that. Eberhart is an illegitimate son, by the way, but he still seems to have had the privileges of a nobleman — there's some talk of a favorite slave of his who died serving him in the ring.
[ He pauses briefly, mostly because he's sure that this setting might bring up some unfortunate parallels with Fontaine's current political situation, and he wants to make sure that Wriothesley is comfortable with all of this. The Pankration Ring is a far cry from literal bloodsands in a gladiator's colosseum, but still... ]
They're supposed to be making archaeological discoveries. They're young men trying to make a name for themselves, and also most likely trying to impress their father. But then, of course... people start dying. They trip traps... they get snowed in... soon, it's only the four of them: Nick, Luther, Ingbert, and Eberhart.
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Thought they had some kind of immunity, so they went up against the snowy peaks of this mountain, huh? People like that seem to think that nothing can hurt them, well, until it does.
[ reckoning back to his own past. ]
So, two servants, an illegitimate son and a legitimate one, I take it.
[ though he thinks the story is kind of funny given their circumstances. it's easy for him to get comfortable with this sort of thing, though, and when Aether snuggles up, Wriothesley rests an arm just around his waist to cover his bare stomach. it's still covered in the blanket, and in the jacket, but just in case there's a touch of freezing wind that makes it through.
there's some snow getting caught in his hair, and he'll occasionally tilt his head to the side to shake it out as he listens. ]
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After losing so many of their companions, Luther wants to turn back. But he's a servant who doesn't have the authority to make that kind of decision, and Eberhart encourages them all to keep going.
As they explore, a cave-in occurs... the tunnel collapses, cutting them off from Nick, who was carrying their food and supplies. [ His lips quirk a little bit as he adds: ] Because, of course, the nobleman wouldn't have done that themselves, right? Still, Luther thinks it's odd... he specifically warned Nick to check the structural integrity of the ruins before he went off anywhere on his own.
Eberhart isn't worried, though. He encourages them to keep going. And then, at the end of the road, when he's led them into the cellar of the ruins where they've been promised treasure...
[ Aether pauses, only briefly, to allow the howling gale from outside to finish its song outside their cave. ]
Eberhart draws his lance.
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Heh – I knew he sounded suspicious. As many as there are in the noble class with good intentions, there are as many spoiled in their perception of the world, and all the other people in it.
[ he tilts his head, curious. ]
What happened next? I have a feeling this story doesn't have a happy ending.
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Eberhart's objective throughout the expedition, as it turns out, has been to kill his brothers and assert himself as the head of his family. Not for the reasons you might expect. [ He doesn't linger on that, though — he moves on. ] It was he who facilitated the cave-ins and killed their servants. He who encouraged them to continue, even as they were losing their lives. He betrayed them all.
There's nothing Luther can do about this now. Ingbert has a Vision, and he thinks that that might save them — but even with the elements at his command, he's outmatched, because Eberhart's spear has the advantage of range.
Ingbert injures Eberhart badly, but Ingbert dies. Eberhart injures Luther badly, but Luther escapes. The manservant lives long enough to write his account of the events that occurred. Even regrets that he won't come back to a woman he knows — a sister? a lover? — named Priscilla. As for Eberhart...
"The records suggest there used to be a prison here. In which case, it actually suits me well," he writes. He says that Priscilla is in on his plan. She's to light a torch for him at a watchtower if the other nobles find out about his plan, and they do. She dies waiting for him. They kill her for her participation in the plot.
Eberhart never returns to Mondstadt. There's no record of whether or not he lived or died. If he saw Priscilla's signal. If he returned, only to be killed by his fellow aristocrats.
[ This is the end of Aether's tale, for now. He pauses, wrapping his hands around Wriothesley's larger palms. ]
So, given this information: What do you think Eberhart's goal was, and do you think he survived?
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there was something else here too that he caught the scent of, something worth investigating. ]
Going up against that many people, and one with a Vision ... Ah, death is something that crossed his mind. Then, there was the signal, so it couldn't have been purely succession.
[ his fingers loosen when Aether decides to tuck his hands in his palm, and close slightly around his for warmth. ]
That brother of his – Ingbert – he was the noble, wasn't he? He probably wasn't all that innocent, either.
[ Wriothesley tilts his head. ]
He must have wanted him dead enough to risk his own life, so it had to be worth it. Revenge, maybe. Or he wanted to destroy the family. I've seen a few of those.
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[ Aether laughs a little quietly as Wriothesley's larger mitts close around his delicate fingers. He wiggles like a pleased kitten, apparently quite content indeed to be on the receiving end of Wriothesley's care and concern. ]
Yeah. On the face value of the facts alone, a lot of people would take the stance that Eberhart was a cold-blooded murderer out to claim his family's power and wealth. I'm sure that would be the motive, but I don't know if it's all of it.
[ Cutely, despite the subject matter they're discussing, Aether lowers his lips until they're close to Wriothesley's fingers, and then he breathes on them to keep them warm. ]
They kept slaves and enslaved others... as the bastard son, he was in a strange position where he lacked the legitimacy of his brothers, but stood above their servants...
[ Growing more at ease despite the cold, Aether tips his head back and settles into Wriothesley's body, tension seeping out of his shoulders as he well and truly relaxes. ]
It had to be worth it. I think about that a lot. A situation in which killing your brother had to be worth it...
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People are far more complex than they're given credit. There are always those that want to separate themselves from the criminals, but in the end, we're all the same. Acknowledging that makes people nervous, because it means they're just one step away from someone in the Fortress.
[ Aether's smaller fingers weave through his, when the hah of warm air comes, it feels nice. he presses his thumb to Aether's lips when he's close enough, tracing to the corner. ]
You're a little cold right here ...
[ when the blond leans back, Wriothesley pulls the blanket a little tighter, easily drawing Aether closer. the traveler is smaller framed than him, and Wriothesley can use his own strength to his advantage. ]
It's my turn to warm you up.
[ all he has to do is close the gap between them, tucking himself a little lower before he can close his mouth over Aether's. it's warm, soft, not prying, but there's a sense of water pushing up against a dam.
he likes this talk of criminals and morality – this Eberhart and his bloody fratricide on the mountainside, but he likes Aether's company a little more. perhaps it's because the traveler showed a little vulnerability that Wriothesley can't help but find the small act of trust somewhat desirable. ]
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[ How nice. True crime and smooches. For a blissful moment, Aether allows himself to forget Eberhart, and the chill outside; he lets himself sink into the sweet indulgence of Wriothesley's large, warm body bundled around his own. The Duke's lips are always unexpectedly soft. A lot of things about his body are unexpectedly soft.
Aether turns his body fully, demanding more of the kiss. He's small and warm and wriggly against the cold air in the cage, but once he's reoriented himself to be snugly turned around in Wriothesley's lap, thighs over the Duke's thighs, he's as cozy as he was before.
He kisses Wriothesley again. ]
You really know how to be sensual... even in situations like this.
[ He wants more kisses; he claims Wriothesley's mouth again. For all that they're snowed into a cave, Aether seems pretty happy about it right now. He's easy to please with a few kisses and a bit of a snuggle. ]
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What else are we supposed to do to pass the time? You have another Dragonspine story for me?
[ he certain Aether may, but if he'll tell it instead of indulging in a few more kisses is another matter entirely.
before Aether gets another kiss, Wriothesley presses his head down right by his jawline and into neck to warm up his nose. appendages do have a tendency to get icy quickly, but once he's sure Aether is warm again, he indulges him with another soft kiss.
feeling playful, he half turns and presses another next to the corner of his eye, and then a bit lower on his cheek. the second is more of a nuzzle than a kiss, but is anyone going to argue? perhaps it's because Wriothesley seems to open up more when people aren't surrounding him, but the Duke is giving his lover a rare treat. ]
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[ The weather is still as biting as ever, but Aether's tone is low and heated in a way that will keep them both warm. All tales of Eberhart and Luther and Priscilla are forgotten for now.
He tips his head to the side, allowing Wriothesley to nuzzle and sniff and kiss as much as he'd like. The one downside to being holed up in this cave is that Aether smells more like the cold than he normally would — his usual scent of sweet grasses and flowers is faint on his skin, replaced by ozone and snow — but it's there, if Wriothesley tries for it. ]
But I think I want Dragonspine sex more than another story.
[ Aether huffs out a soft laugh, holding still so that Wriothesley can give him still more aggressive kisses. He's so like an eager puppy sometimes. Well, they don't actually have to have sex — Aether is well aware that not all men can maintain their arousal in this sort of cold — but what else are they going to do but kiss and snuggle as the snow pours down outside?
He leans in and catches Wriothesley's soft lips, holding his warmth in place, indulging. ]
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Oh yeah?
[ not when Aether is eagerly returning all of his kisses. (he's got to hand it to himself, he's pretty smooth sometimes, huh? he's going to have to remember that little flirting technique worked, it might come in handy again.) the last one lingers in wet warmth, Wriothesley not wanting to part because they'd feel the cold nip of the air around them. an arm slips under the covers, under the jacket around Aether's shoulders, and around his bare midriff. a warm hand slides over his skin, a finger along the hem of his pants, tracing his hips. ]
You know, that's true, can't say that someone would usually take a story over sex, even in this weather. I guess as a traveler you have to be prepared, huh?
[ as someone who doesn't come up from his hole much. ]
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[ As Wriothesley pats himself on the back for seducing Aether (silly puppy, he's got no idea how seductive he can really be when he wants it, hm? nor how susceptible the blond really is to being seduced), Aether is trying to figure out the most heat-efficient way to get them both off. At this point, the blankets are toasty and well-layered enough that the traveler has plenty of mobility, but he's used to being able to take Wriothesley's shirt off to play with his hefty chest when the need strikes him; today, here on this gods-forsaken mountain, he might have to settle for just wiggling him out of his pants instead.
At the monent, he's doing a damnably clever little thing where he's eagerly stroking Wriothesley's cock through his pants; he starts slow at first, teasing over the hem of his trousers, then rubbing along the Duke's big body, the way his sculpted abs melt into the chiseled planes of his hips. He feels slowly more and more aroused, too, as the man feels up his curves and touches wherever he pleases. ]
I like it when it's easy to get you ready, too...
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Aether touches him just right, even through the barrier of his pants, and he finds his breath catch in his throat and his head swim. there are a few times Aether has gotten to him that he found his legs unable to work after the encounter, even moreso than after a good workout. ]
Hah ... can't say I've ever had sex in a place like this, right here in the snow. Maybe someone will come up with a story about us some day.
[ a spicy story about one of the few times that the Duke came up from the Fortress to follow the traveler halfway across Teyvat. honestly, how could he deny it? he's had few experiences out in the world, and this is one for the ages.
with his fingers at Aether's chin he urges him in for a kiss again, the fog of their combined heat visible in the cold air when their lips part, breath mingling. his hands trace beneath his clothing, over his bare torso and up into his shirt, as if there were pockets of hidden warmth there for him to find. finally, he finds his way into his pants, loosening his belt and sliding eagerly within the confines to cup his erection in his hand. ]
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He feels a sudden urge to reward Wriothesley for this attention all the same, which is interrupted by Wriothesley abruptly welcoming him with a warm palm slipping into his pants to stroke his dick. Aether's breath stutters; for one rare moment, the Duke clearly has the upper hand. He urges Wriothesley in for one more kiss, full and hot and not too greedy, because he's always, always gentle and slow when it comes to his prison warden. He moves his fingers over Wriothesley's cock the way that Wriothesley moves his hand over his, pumpking and stroking and squeezing, but the difference in their sizes makes Aether shiver involuntarily when he finds himself suddenly conscious of it.
He should be the more mature one, the more experienced one, and yet, the way that those big palms feel cupping his cock — it's enough to make him jerk and buck into it — ]
Your hands feel so good...
[ It's breathed out, nearly worshipful, full of wonderment. He's glad he took Wriothesley out for this sort of thing; now, whenever he sees the snow, so impossible in rain-soaked, temperate Fontaine, he'll think of Aether. A selfish part of the traveler's heart longs to claim more of Wriothesley's firsts, more of his memories. ]
We'd make a pretty story together. The Duke and his fallen star, enjoying a night of romance on a snow-capped mountain...