Chapter Text
It’s cold.
(The distant sound of voices is drowned out by the storm.)
Rain pelts the child relentlessly, harshly stinging their skin. The storm is bad enough that not even the cover of the trees can protect them from the downpour. The wind blows with such force that the rain falls almost horizontally, flying into their face and blinding them.
( “Who on Teyvat would be out here in this storm?!” )
They squeeze their eyes shut. The child doesn’t even try to open them again. It would be an exercise in futility. They pull their hood down over their eyes and curl into the tree trunk at their back. Against their will, their body trembles.
( “Shit, I think that’s a kid-” )
It’s cold. It’s so, so cold.
( “Oh Lord, what’s a kid doing out here alone?!” )
Maybe they really should have gone to-
Shifting grass, crunching under someone’s feet. There is a single set of footfalls.
The child brings a hand up to shield their single exposed eye. They blink away the water that falls into it as it opens. Their gaze falls upon a vivid, sopping wet mane of red hair.
Ah. They didn’t need to go after all. It seems that he has come to them, instead.
Bright crimson locks are plastered against the man’s face, accentuated with an equally red beard, and red eyebrows and vibrant vermillion eyes. There’s worry creased in the lines of his face. They’ve never seen anyone this red before.
“Hey, are you alright?”
The water is getting cold. Kaeya rubs their pruney fingers together, harsh wrinkles catching against each other. They grimace at the mildly unpleasant feeling.
It’s been long enough. They need to get out of the bath. All the warmth has been leeched from the water, so it doesn’t even feel nice anymore.
They know this in their head, but they remain still in the bathtub, staring blankly at the ripples in the water.
There’s a knock on the bathroom door. Kaeya startles. The water sloshes loudly around them.
“Hello? Are you alright in there?”
“I’m fine,” Kaeya calls back. “Sorry, I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Alright. There’s no rush,” says the voice they have tentatively identified as Adelinde’s.
Privately, Kaeya disagrees with her. They’ve already spent long enough hiding. It’s time to get out and face the music.
They stand up. The sloshing of the water is deafening in the otherwise silent room. They pull the plug on the drain and make quick work of scrubbing themself down. The water spirals down, down, down, draining from the tub. Kaeya runs the faucet at the head of the tub to rinse themself off.
They wring out their hair before stepping out of the bathtub at last. The towel they use to dry themself is soft and fluffy. The clothes laid out for them are comfortably loose and gentle on the skin.
Once they’re decent, they approach the bathroom door. Their hand rests on the handle. A deep breath.
Are you alright?
For a moment - one that stretches so long that it seems more than the handful of seconds it really is - the words hang in the space between them. The rain is loud, filling the silence.
To his question, the child nods. Objectively speaking, it is not a lie. They are uninjured. They are not distressed at being outside in the storm. Now that Crepus is here, they also have a guarantee of shelter for the night, so that isn’t a concern, either. They are fine.
A gentle smile graces the man’s face. He crouches down in front of them, bringing his eye level closer to their own. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”
They shrug. “Sitting,” they answer. “My papa told me to wait here. He said he would be back.”
(They ignore the way their heart clenches at the reminder of his departure.)
Crepus’ smile tightens, the corners of his lips twitching downward. “How long ago was that?”
“...A while. It was still bright out then.”
“And he hasn’t come back yet?”
“No.” The child notices their arm is getting tired shielding their eye from the rain, so they switch to the other hand.
The man isn’t smiling now, his face falling flat. That’s only for a few seconds, though, and he softens his expression again as he speaks. “Well, it’s pretty late now, and the storm is only getting worse - why don’t you come with me? We can try to find your papa in the morning.”
The child only hesitates for the barest moment. Then they nod.
“Okay.”
Crepus reaches a hand out.
They stare at it for a handful of seconds. The child can stand just fine on their own, but...
Their hand is so small in his own. Crepus, standing up, pulls them to their feet with ease.
It’s warm.
Kaeya stares at the ceiling of the guest room they’d been provided. The storm rages outside the closed window. Thunder booms in the distance. The howls of the wind are loud, even muffled by the walls of the mansion. The rain pounds against the glass, white noise to the ears.
It’s calming. They had always liked the sound of the rain, before. Thunder never scared them, and the sight of lightning was fascinating. But in Khaenri’ah, there is- there was no sky. No clouds, no rain, no thunder or lightning. It has been a lifetime since they last heard the sound of the rain.
They mean that very literally.
Before Kaeya and their father left Khaenri’ah, it was one death and a lifetime ago that they had last seen the sky. Until the destruction of their own nation, Kaeya Alberich had never seen the sky, had never felt the rain upon their skin - but they still had memories of the sky. They had memories of the winds that blew through the open air, of the dusks and dawns that graced the world above each and every day, of the clouds in the sky and the rains that fell down and wet the earth.
The sky was beautiful. Kaeya had never seen the sky before, but they had the memories of it, and they missed it so, so much.
And now they are here. In Mondstadt, where the winds are gentle and the skies are clear. They will remain here for years to come, able to enjoy the sky freely.
But at what cost?
Their nation is gone. It is dead, destroyed, decimated by the might of the gods. Kaeya can see the sky now, but only because Khaenri’ah is no more. And for as long as they walk under the skies, they also remain under the watch of the Heavenly Principles.
The child pulls the covers over their head and curls into the blankets. Their own breaths echo in their ears.
Celestia is watching. They are always, always watching. How much do they know? Can they see into Kaeya’s head? They must be able to. Visions are granted to acknowledge ambition, after all, and ambitions are an intangible, very personal thing.
Kaeya closes their eyes. They dream of glowing Visions, of fire and death, the Eyes of the Gods watching as their whole world burns to the ground.