Work Text:
“It’s heavy,” Xinyan complained, trying to hoist the weapon between the laboured breaths she was taking. She’s sitting on the deck of the Crux, in the gleaming sunlight as they are anchored by the stone forest, looking up to the sky whilst she attempts to control her breathing, as sweat rolls off her forehead, looking up to Beidou as she waits for Xinyan to get up, to try again.
She appreciates the lessons from Beidou, so that she can actually fend for herself when she boards the ship, when they go on adventures together whilst she sings, instead of standing idly by. Her vision feels larger, more poignant at that moment, as she stands at those crucial moments, where bouts of sea whip against the sides of the Crux, watching those that she’s laughed and sung with, sweating with determination in their eyes, set on living, on coming home, and Xinyan feels like she should be doing more.
So, an unofficial contract was brought about: Xinyan would sing, entertain the crew, and from time to time, Beidou would teach her how to wield a claymore. But…
Xinyan doesn’t love complaining, feels like considering Beidou could just leave her whacking her guitar at hillichurls like she had been when travelling outside of Liyue, so whilst she’s grateful, grateful for the hospitality and the friendship (although, that isn’t quite the words that encapsulate their relationship, sisters, maybe), Xinyan isn’t sure why Beidou insisted on the claymore, of all things. The heaviest weapon.
Archons it aches.
But Beidou watches for a second, calculating, but nothing unkind like she sees from those in Liyue harbour, for looking different, for being different, and is patient with her.
Beidou heartily laughs at the comment though, making Xinyan catch her breath “It will be, because you’re not used to the weight yet, give it time”, she stretches a hand towards her, and Xinyan takes it, hoisting herself back up to be eye level with Beidou, and then tries to push the subject.
“It’s heavier than my guitar, Beidou, and I can’t understand why I can’t use another weapon, like everyone else.” She glances to the claymore in her hand, a practice one, one of the steel ones, with none of the decoration, none of the scarring; She thinks to the Millelith, to her friends, even if Chongyun can do it, but she argues there are some extenuating circumstances with that one (he’s an exorcist, and a good singer, but mainly an exorcist), and they all use light things, spears and swords and bows, and she’d argue that they are so in tune with their elements that it is something deeply ingrained within them, something natural.
And Xinyan has always been an outsider, even with them. Taller, broader, and sometimes she feels so small. Like she’s back on Mt. Tianheng, looking back out at Liyue harbour, trying to find a place for rock and roll, for her, inside this corner of the world. Her asking for another weapon feels like running away from whatever Beidou sees in her, but she needs to know, know what it is for certain.
Beidou looks at her then, glances to the vision that sits to the side with her drum ‘it’s impractical Xinyan, what happens if you fall with it on?’ with something that she can’t quite grasp, clawing for the word, Beidou starts speaking:
“Because you’re stronger than them.”
Stronger? She doubts that. Her other friends carry their weapons with no effort, and Xinyan still can’t quite place the look in Beidou’s eye, but she’s good at reading people, has been reading people through music since she was small, and reads it as ambition, ambition at her, but Beidou can probably see the questioning look on her face, as she sighs slightly,
“There’s the physical weight” Beidou starts, flexing the grip of her claymore between her hands, the blade glinting in the sunlight, turning her look away from Xinyan for a brief moment,
“but there’s also the moral one, Xinyan, every time you pick up a weapon, you’re choosing to fight for something or for someone” Beidou pauses then, and turns to face Xinyan with a weighted gaze in her eye, as if she is purposely showing the consequences of battle with her hidden one, and Xinyan can feel the dryness in her throat as Beidou continues to explain-
“And I wonder what side you’ll be on Xinyan, you love and care so deeply for people so effortlessly, without even knowing every part of them. And it’s a difficult thing to do, to care so… carelessly” her face makes a motion that looks on the verge of tears… Beidou feels sorry for her? Or sorry that she can’t be so careless for love?
“But I know that whatever side you end up on, you will be doing it for what you see as the right reasons, nothing more, nothing less” she’s staring at Xinyan now, waiting for her next words, anticipating them, as if she wants Xinyan to confirm or deny her statement, refute her love for people. And that’s like asking her to live in the chasm, it’s an absence of light. It’s an absence of her ambition. She can’t.
Xinyan nods,“So why the claymore?”
Beidou smiles ruefully, “because you’d rather hurt yourself than hurt others, if you were concerned about what happened to your friends at the end of your blade, if they were at the end of your blade, you wouldn’t even pick it up. It’s not even a question for you.”
“And that’s what makes you stronger than them. They fight for something else. Destiny, justice” she pauses before chortling, “food” and Xinyan giggles too, because as much as she loves Xiangling, there is dramatic irony within the idea that she’s a chef and uses a spear.
“But you? You fight for love. And that is the strongest weapon of them all. And it will always triumph over the others. You fight to keep those you care about safe. Not destiny. Not justice. Just unadulterated love.” Xinyan considers the words, and understands the look now, of ambition, the claymore.
“Is that why you do it? To protect the ones you love?” Beidou looks caught of guard, like she hadn’t suspected Xinyan to have asked that, but the rueful smile is back on her face, and Xinyan can only wonder who put that on her face to begin with, that love is something so weary on Beidou’s face, and wants to ask, but can’t, maybe because she probably already knows the answer.
“In a way, I love Liyue harbour, I love the crux, the crew… others” the pause makes Xinyan think of the way that Beidou steals glances at Ningguang when people aren’t looking, and how Ningguang replies with certainty, maybe there is love with caution when it would be that public, but it’s interesting enough that she pockets it away to talk to Yu Jin with, to see if she can give it some more insight.
Beidou smiles unforgivably then, as if she was reading Xinyans mind, without hesitation, she says, “But mainly I love doing what’s right” and the universe seems to reply, content with the answer as the day brightens slightly, and Xinyan lets the moment still, as she mulls over Beidou’s answers.
“Aren’t they intertwining, justice and love?” Xinyan asks, and Beidou tilts her head slightly,
“Not always”, she replies, and Xinyan nods, accepting the answer. Maybe it should be, but maybe justice is sometimes corrupted by the idea of love, and how it poisons someone's intent, that person’s love.
“Can we try again?”
“Whenever you’re ready”
Xinyan summons the claymore again, and the weight is still there, but it’s lighter, and that makes her feel a little bit better, at least.