Chapter Text
[Prologue]
[Scaramouche]
Scaramouche didn’t think he was ready to let another human into his life again. Especially not this soon.
How could he after centuries of betrayal, grief, and pain? Trust isn’t a virtue that one can relearn overnight. It was going to take him a long time to assimilate into society the way that Buer and the Traveler had hoped he would. But, as Scaramouche has come to realize, things never work in his favor.
When his daughter, Ana, was born, he pitied her. The poor, small thing was born from a womb that should have never been able to conceive. Scaramouche had been dissected—ripped apart and put back together again—so many times that this compartment inside of his puppet body should not have been functional. It was a miracle, or rather, a tragedy, that she survived.
The whole ordeal was deplorable . Pathetic. Scaramouche couldn’t help but to laugh. Ana, poor Ana . How cruel fate was. She was the manifestation of feelings that were erased by the Irminsul tree. A love, if he could even call it love, forgotten. He could so clearly see the both of them in her features, too. Her hair was the same color as her father’s—a man who would never recognize her—and her eyes were just like his— just like the puppet that abandoned her father .
Scaramouche thought it wrong to hold her. He didn’t deserve it, especially after bringing her into this mess. Besides, how could someone like him even comfort a crying child? He could barely understand himself, let alone a newborn. But when he finally held Ana in his arms, something in him thawed. Soft, tiny hands latched onto his finger, and her crying gradually came to a stop. When she opened her eyes again, she didn’t flinch when she saw him, like how most people did. Instead, she looked at him like he was good, like he was someone trustworthy.
And then, Ana smiled. It was the most genuine smile he had seen in a long , long time.
Scaramouche experienced feelings he thought died with a version of himself from centuries ago. A small part of him now knew that he would stop at nothing to protect Ana. Even though he was still a little fucked up, still a little unstable, and he could never provide Ana with the family that she deserved, he wanted to share this new chapter of his life with her. This fragile, little human who loved him unconditionally.
At first, Scaramouche thought it was more parts greed than love that he wanted to keep her by his side. But as the years passed, and Ana grew, Scaramouche couldn’t see a life without her anymore. She gave him contentment that he could never imagine. She helped him learn to be a person again, and before he knew it, six years had gone by. But like most things in Scaramouche’s life, all good comes to an end. Hah . He should have seen it coming…
Nothing ever lasts. Not for him.
He was delusional to think otherwise.
-
Each step towards the Sanctuary of Surasthana is strenuous. As his legs quake, he knows that one thing is for sure, now: he is growing weak. But he puts on a strong front for Ana, who clasps onto his hand and nearly outpaces him when they finally reach the top. For such a small thing, she’s getting quite strong.
“Stay out here,” Scaramouche tells Ana, guiding her to stand by the pair of magnificent doors. “I need to talk to her on my own.”
“But I want to see Auntie Nahida, too!” Ana pouts and puts on her best puppy eyes.
Scaramouche raises a brow. Really? Who has been teaching his daughter these things? Certainly not him. Her eyes begin to water a little, and Scaramouche doesn’t want to admit that if not for the urgency of this visit, he might have caved, but he’ll face how soft he’s grown another time. “Nice try,” He smirks, ruffling Ana’s hair until she deflates, “It’ll only be a moment. Be patient.”
She groans, “Yes, Papa.”
The doors echo when he pushes them open, then closed. It’s been a while since he’s last been at the Sanctuary of Surasthana. In a way, it’s gotten cozier considering that it’s now a home rather than a prison. He can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes him thinking about how these sterile walls aren’t the only things that have changed since then. The person he was the last time he walked through these halls is both a stranger and someone reminiscent to him now.
“Oh?” A small voice suddenly echoes through the chamber, “I didn’t think that I would be seeing you again so soon.”
Scaramouche hums, walking closer to the tiny figure in the center of the room. “Six years is hardly a short amount of time.”
“For people like us, it is. But then again, if you have a mortal to keep track of the years, they do tend to feel longer, don’t they?” The cheer in Nahida’s voice falters, abruptly. She then turns away from her work to smile sadly at him, “Or maybe… there’s another reason you’re counting your years?”
Scaramouche decides not to answer. Really, he shouldn’t have expected less of the goddess of wisdom. She already understands why he’s here, he can tell by the way she looks at him, like she can see right through him. He has always hated that knowing, viridescent gaze of hers, but has reluctantly grown used to it. Nahida is , in fact, one of the few people he can trust in this world.
“In any case, it’s good to see you, Wanderer,” She gently changes the subject, “How has the outside world been?”
Scaramouche scoffs. “I didn’t come to speak pleasantries or to catch up with you, Buer.”
“Humor me a little?” She tries, looking at him like she cares. Because she does, a voice in the back of Scaramouche’s mind supplies, she does care whether he likes it or not . “Then tell me instead, how is Ana?”
There is a pang in Scaramouche’s chest, thinking about the little girl standing just outside, unaware of the request he is about to make. Although she probably doesn’t know it, Ana is his vibrant north-star leading him on his long and arduous healing journey. Thank Celestia she is everything he is not. Spirited and friendly, she helps him communicate with others, makes him seem more approachable, out in society. Hah. Maybe it’s for the best that she takes after that man more than himself.
But, alas, Scaramouche thinks better than to relay these feelings. So, he settles for, instead, “She is doing fine.”
Nahida observes him for a quiet moment, as if waiting for him to address the thoughts in his head. When he doesn’t, she finally speaks, “I’m glad to hear that. But… what about yourself?”
At this, Scaramouche huffs impatiently. If they were having this conversation six years ago, he would have already snapped. Useless blather, getting them nowhere. The extent of his carefully learned patience is about to reach its end, especially since Nahida already knows how he’s doing. Nahida already knows that—
“Hm, I see,” She schools her expression, watching him closely now. “You’re dying.”
It’s sobering to hear out loud.
The statement seems to ring in the silence of the sanctuary. He’s dying, he’s dying, he’s dying. How ironic it is. Just when he’s finally made peace—just when he finally has a purpose on this archon forsaken planet—Scaramouche is going to die. Of something so trivial and so human, too.
“It seems like I am,” He answers, voice carefully indifferent.
“You’re calm.”
“It’s my own fault. I dug this grave, and now I get to lay in it.”
Nahida looks stricken. “Wanderer…”
As if on cue, Scaramouche feels a sharp sting on the back of his neck. He manages to stop himself from falling forward, but he isn’t as lucky with the wince that escapes from his throat. It hurts . He’s felt pain worse than this in his lifetime many, many times before, but this hurts so much. His stomach feels like its aflame, and when he coughs into his hand, it draws away bloody. Fuck . He’s running out of time now. His immortal body has slowed down the process enough, but now time is catching up to him. He’s deteriorating from the inside out… all because of his stupid secondary gender.
It didn’t make any sense how this could happen to him. Scaramouche was a puppet, a machine, and a god at one point in his life. Though he was created an omega in the likeness of his late aunt, he had been altered so drastically from his original self, he was barely human, let alone omegan. He should have been resistant to things like bonding, especially since he hasn’t had a heat in centuries—specifically, since the first time he was dissected—no, mutilated —by The Doctor.
In Teyvat, bonds formed between mating bites are one of the strongest biological changes a human can go through, even more so when it comes to an omega and alpha pair. When an alpha dies, or is separated from their bonded omega for a period of time, the omega will grow ill and, eventually, pass away. Apparently, it’s the omega’s body’s natural grief response, of sorts. Even if they don’t mentally feel the loss, their biology does, and only the omega suffers for it.
The cards Scaramouche has been dealt in this lifetime are indeed quite unfortunate. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t regret his decision of being bonded. It is what it is , is his attitude. Besides, it was in an act of selfishness that he wanted the bond all those years ago. Though, a sick and twisted part of him can’t help but to find it comical. The only person who can help him now doesn’t have a reason to; he can’t remember him. And even if that person did remember, Scaramouche doubts he would want to help anyway. Not after what Scaramouche did.
The mating mark on the nape of his neck pulses a few more painful moments before subsiding. Unfortunately, Nahida catches his blood-stained hand before he can hide it. She gives him a look full of anguish that Scaramouche refuses to acknowledge, so he lowers his hat and gazes downward.
“I have a favor to ask,” Scaramouche states resolutely.
“I—” Nahida shakes her head, already knowing what he’s going to ask of her. “I can’t…”
But Scaramouche won’t take no for an answer. If the stars—or whatever bullshit is up there in the sky dictating his life—refuse to give him peace, then fine: he’ll take a hint. He’s done with ruining lives. He’s sick of playing the victim. He’s tired of being fucked over again and again. Who cares if he’s going to die? It’s what a person like him deserves. He just has to make sure that the human most precious to him is safe before he’s gone.
So, he sucks up his pride, stares directly at the archon that saved him, and begs her to help with his passing. “Please, Nahida.”
Although she doesn’t show it, there is a deep sorrow in her eyes. She waits—gives Scaramouche a moment to take it back—still at war with herself despite knowing full well Scaramouche would never lower himself to pleading under any normal circumstance. Seconds pass like hours before she sucks in a deep breath, hesitantly deciding, “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Scaramouche huffs a sigh of relief. “Than—”
“Do not thank me.” Nahida cuts him off. The sharpness of her voice is something he’s never heard before, and it pierces his eardrums. “This won’t be a favor, Wanderer, it’ll be an exchange. You must do something for me, and I will make sure your wish is fulfilled to my highest capabilities.”
Scaramouche is taken aback by receiving this proposal at first. It’s unlike Nahida to request something of a man on his last legs, but he resolves quickly. He doesn’t have much else to lose anyway. He still has a few weeks before the doctors have speculated his death, and at least by accepting, he’ll be able to rest in peace knowing that his Ana is safe. “You have a deal, as long as you promise to uphold my wish.”
Nahida nods. “Complete this task, and I will make sure to take care of Ana and—” The archon takes a pained inhale, “—and I promise to erase her memories of you when you die.”
[Chapter 1]
[Childe]
A three-week voyage is long enough to make any sane person a bit stir-crazy.
But, in Childe’s case, “stir-crazy” is unfortunately, already one of his normal character traits.
It’s an inexplicable, chronic thing that he just can’t seem to quell, and it’s been spreading through his body like a disease. He’s constantly in a state of restlessness, hands always itching for something to do—feeling like no matter how many steps he takes, he’s never fully at his desired destination. There’s always something missing, and regardless of what he does, nothing ever feels like it’s enough.
That “stir-crazy” feeling is only amplified being stuck on this huge hunk of metal in the middle of the ocean. So, instead, maybe he’s just going crazy. He can barely stand still anymore, let alone work.
Deep in one of the ship’s many holds, the sound of combat can be heard echoing all the way up onto the deck. This ruckus has been going on for hours at this point, and the poor Fatui recruit who was elected to be Childe’s sparring partner for the day is already growing tired. This fact is only proven when the recruit isn’t fast enough to dodge the harbinger’s next incoming strike, and it hits him square in the stomach.
It’s disappointing, really, since Childe has been pulling his punches this entire session.
The blow sends the recruit to his knees, yet again. It is a wholly unsatisfying victory. Even more so, since the fight wasn’t enough to appease that restless sensation he still feels. There isn’t enough adrenaline pumping through his veins, and he hasn’t even broken a sweat.
At the sight of the recruit curled up on the ground, Childe sighs in defeat. “We’re done for the day,” he announces, then uses his teeth to unwrap the bandages around his knuckles, leaving the recruit to patch himself up.
He wraps a towel around his neck and starts putting the sparring equipment away. Just as he’s about to get a drink of water, a Fatui officer enters the room. “Lord Eleventh,” she salutes, then genuflects, “I’ve come with a status report.”
“At ease,” he orders, “Proceed.”
“Yes, Lord Harbinger Tartaglia,” the officer rises, respectfully not meeting his gaze. “We’ve arrived at our destination on schedule; the ship is docking at Port Ormos harbor as we speak. The crew is now on standby and awaiting your command, sir.”
Oh, thank the archons , Childe almost shouts.
With the prospect of finally getting off this damn boat, he motions for the officer to follow as he quickly makes his way onto the deck. He figures they can talk while he makes his escape. “Any news on the payload?”
“Still on course to arrive in five days’ time, sir.”
“Perfect,” Childe grins. So, technically, his job here is done. Since he’s only really needed in— quote, unquote — ‘five days’ time,’ he has four days to do whatever he wants! First things first, though, he needs to find an exit. Fast. “In that case, I’m deferring my authority to the sergeant in command,” Childe notes distractedly. He spins around, where was that blasted exit again? Ah, right! Over there. “Report to him with any customs problems or dealings with the port master, if any should arise.”
“W-Wait, sir?” The officer hesitates, trying to keep up with Childe who is now gracefully weaving through the commotion on deck, “P-Please excuse my boldness, as I would never question your great expertise or leadership, but aren’t you under the command of her majesty to—”
“—to see that the payload arrives safely at Port Ormos, and escort it to Sumeru City?” Childe finishes for the officer, shooting her a knowing smirk from behind his shoulder. “I am, but none of my orders say that I must trouble myself with disembarkation affairs, too.”
The officer finally stops chasing him. “That’s… Well, I suppose that’s right.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but can only watch helplessly as Childe hops off the Fatui ship and onto the docks.
“See you in five days, then!” He shouts back.
And with that, Childe is lost to the sea of people.
-
Childe’s mission in Sumeru is simple. He is to receive a payload of 10 billion mora on the next Fatui cargo ship, help escort said payload to Sumeru City, and then oversee the opening of a new Northland Bank branch. Since he’s going to be working his ass off for the next year at this bank, he doesn’t feel one ounce of shame for ditching the envoy ship like he did.
Besides, Childe has never been to Sumeru before. He was supposed to go after his mission in Inazuma six years ago, but was called back to Snezhnaya on important business. So, it’s only natural he’s itching to explore a little, take in the sights of the land and whatnot. Whatever Port Ormos has to offer, Childe wants to try it all, so he sets off on his mini-vacation with excitement thrumming in his veins.
Time passes quickly after that. He’s only been in Sumeru for a few hours now, but Childe can say with confidence that Port Ormos is a magnificent city.
Though humid, the air is fragrant with exotic spices and foods that Childe has never heard of, but is most eager to try. Vendors with spreads of savory meat dishes and colorful fruits call out to him to sample their items, and everywhere he goes, the sound of upbeat music and people celebrating, talking, or making business exchanges in different languages, follows him around. The city is so vibrant and full of life. As Childe walks by stalls displaying stunning selections of craftsmanship—from elaborate carpets, to ornate vases, and fine jewelry—he can’t help but to feel awed.
Anthon, Tonia, and Teucer would love to hear of his travels here. He must send them gifts!
With that, Childe spends the next hour browsing through the many shops at the bazaar. It’s getting harder to shop for his siblings as they’ve gotten older, but thankfully, the merchants are quite eager to help him. Whether that be because they’re kind, or because Childe is a tall, foreign alpha in an extravagant uniform that screams wealth , he doesn’t know, but he’s thankful regardless.
It’s easy to find an encyclopedia on Sumeru wildlife for Anthon, and, after much debate, he purchases a nifty gadget that Teucer might have fun building. Emphasis on might. Oh, how Childe misses when Teucer wanted nothing but toys, but alas, his little brother has outgrown "baby things”—his words, not Childe’s. It’s difficult to keep up with his tastes. On the bright side, the seller had told him the gadget was popular amongst the elder children in Sumeru, so at least he’s got that going for him.
Somewhere along his escapade, Childe stumbles upon a shop with a wide selection of beautiful gowns. A saree, is what the merchant tells him they are called. She helps him choose a magnificent purple set that would look stunning on Tonia. He can’t wait to hear what she thinks about it.
“I must say, sir, you have an eye for choosing fine silk,” The merchant smiles as she wraps the gift for him, “Are these for your wife? She must be a lucky woman.”
Childe scratches the back of his head. Although he gets this question a lot, it’s still a bit awkward to deal with. Nevertheless, he answers, “Ah, no, they’re for my little sister. I’m not married.”
“Oh! Pardon me for assuming,” She gives him a look of surprise, “I just thought that since you’re such a strapping alpha I—ah, never mind .”
Childe forces a polite laugh in reply. He doesn’t really want to explain how he’s given up searching for a mate. Between his job and the fact that no one ever physically feels right to him—when he holds them, or even speaks with them. He’s resigned to the idea that there’s only enough love in his heart for his family and the thrill of combat.
The merchant finishes her wrapping, and Childe thanks her with a tip. When she gives him the gift and her hands linger on his for a bit too long, scent grows a bit sweeter, he chooses to ignore it.
“Come again!” The merchant calls out.
He doesn't think he will.
After that, Childe spends a bit more time shopping before he summons a Fatui recruit to take his gifts to the hotel. Once that is done and dealt with, he figures that now is a good time if any to have lunch. There’s so much he wants to try though, he doesn’t know where to start. Maybe he’ll go with a Sumeru classic, like a kebab or pita pocket, as an appetizer, and then see where that takes him. Yeah, that sounds good.
Just as he’s about to approach one of the stalls, he hears a strange sound coming from behind a shipping crate. It stops him in his tracks.
That’s odd, Childe thinks. He knows that shipping and trading exotic animals isn’t a foreign concept, but it doesn’t sound like any animal he’s heard before. He almost shrugs it off as a figment of his imagination before he hears it again, louder. This time, he knows, without question, what that sound is.
It’s the cry of a child.
The big brother in Childe’s heart breaks as he hurries to circle around the crate. There, he finds a little girl with her face in her hands, furiously wiping away her tears. She’s a small thing—probably no more than six or seven years old—and has a shade of red hair he’s only ever seen in the town he is from: Morepesok . It’s strange to see the hair color all the way out here, and it makes him inexplicably homesick, but Childe placates these thoughts with the fact that the world is vast, and Port Ormos is one of the largest trading cities in Teyvat. People from all over the place come here to sell their wares.
He crouches down to the little girl’s eye-level and softens his voice. “Hey there,” Childe coos, glancing around to see if there’s any adults searching for a missing child. He finds none. “Are you lost, young miss?”
The sobbing continues, but the little girl seems to hear him since she nods. Childe thinks she tries to formulate a response, too, but it comes out as choked up garble that he can’t understand. This isn’t good. As long as her crying doesn’t let up, they’re not getting anywhere any time soon. He needs to calm her down—and, thankfully, he knows just the way.
“My name is Childe,” He introduces himself, then positions himself into a genuflect, hand placed firmly over his heart, “And I am a knight who hails from the faraway kingdom of Snezhnaya, tasked with the mission of returning lost princesses to their castles.”
The girl sniffles, and her sobs begin to gradually subside. She still has yet to pull her face from her hands, so Childe continues on with his little act.
“It is an honor to be in your presence and serve you, fair lady,” he smiles, charmingly, “I have heard your cries, and have searched far and wide to come to your aid. Tell me, what might this princess’ name be?”
A wet bubble of laughter escapes from the little girl’s throat at this, and Childe has to hold in a sigh of endearment. It’s been a while since he’s done something like this for Tonia, so he’s just happy it’s working for him now.
Eventually, the girl calms down enough to clean herself up. Childe waits patiently as a knight while she wipes her face with her sleeve, then dusts off her little dress with a few pats. It’s when she finally meets his gaze, though, that Childe feels his heart stop beating.
Her eyes… He sucks in a tight breath, his ears beginning to ring. The world seems to slow to a pause, while a blurry, half-there memory feels like it tries to crawl out from the recesses of his mind and— Childe can’t shake the feeling that her eyes are so familiar somehow.
As he stares into pools of electric indigo, a torrent of emotions courses through his body all at once: sadness, confusion, warmth . It’s overwhelming, but he doesn’t understand why. All he is left with is a choked up feeling, so stunned to his core that he can’t move.
The little girl makes a sound of confusion that brings Childe back into the present. Ah, right. He needs to get a hold of himself for the situation at hand. Childe composes himself with a clear of his throat, and tries to ignore how his heart is now pounding in his ears.
“My apologies, Princess,” He bows again.
“Ana.”
Childe looks up at her, realizing a beat too late that she just gave him her name.
“My name is Ana.”
“Ah, yes, Princess Ana,” Childe nods, swiftly settling back into his role, “A fitting name for a most benevolent ruler.”
Ana giggles again. The sound puts a pleased smile on Childe’s face. She must trust him now because she steps away from the crate to take his hand. It’s so soft and small in his battle-scarred, callused one, Childe feels his heart melt. He squeezes her hand in reassurance. She is safe now.
“Would her royal highness care for a ride upon her noble steed?” Childe offers, swooping down for her.
Ana hesitates for a moment, before nodding eagerly. Her shrill cry of excitement makes Childe laugh as he hoists her up onto his shoulders. Her tiny hands grasp at his hair for balance as they walk back into the crowd. She giggles, “You’re so tall, Mr. Childe!”
“Why, of course! I am only this tall so that I can help little princesses find what they are looking for,” He reasons, “So, tell me, Princess Ana, who are we trying to find?”
“My papa.”
“I see,” Childe notes. “And where was the last place you saw your papa?”
Ana thinks quietly for a moment, but unfortunately, she only shrugs. “I don’t remember, but it wasn’t a long time ago when I was with him!”
“Then he must be close by,” Childe says. Hopes. He doesn’t know what he’d do to someone who abandoned their own child. Especially someone as precious as Ana. But he stays positive, “I’d imagine he’s looking for you?”
At this, Ana droops. “It’s all my fault…” Her voice wobbles, “Papa was telling me to follow him since there’s so many people, but I just wanted to see the kebabs. Now he’s going to be angry.”
“Angry? Not worried?”
“Mm… maybe both?” Ana decides. “But Papa gets a scary face when he’s angry, like this,” She bends over Childe’s head to show him an upside-down expression with puffed up cheeks and furrowed brows. It’s more adorable than anything, Childe can’t help but to chuckle fondly.
“Oh, how scary! Does that make him a mean papa?”
“No way!” She is quick to deny. “Papa is the nicest ever! He makes sure the both of us are happy, and whenever it rains, he lets me wear his big hat that he loves! Papa even sewed my favorite dress when it ripped yesterday, look!”
Childe glances at the piece of her patched skirt when she holds it out for him. “I see,” he says, trying to sound impressed, but his mind is elsewhere… ‘The both of us,’ she had said. Not three? Does that mean… “Is it only you and your papa, then?”
“Yup!” Ana smiles, “Just me and Papa! I never had another papa or mama, but all of my friends do.”
A pang of sadness fills Childe’s chest knowing full well what happens to separated mates. Ana is too young to understand secondary genders, or what happens to omegas, but from what it sounds like, it seems that her father is an alpha if he has been able to survive as long as Ana’s been alive. If he's an omega, though… no. He doesn't want to go down that train of thought.
Childe changes the subject by walking up to the kebab stand and purchasing a stick for each of them. “In any case, Princess Ana, I propose we halt our search for the time being. I am growing terribly hungry. Would her majesty be so generous as to join me for lunch?”
At the sight of the kebab, Ana gasps with delight. “Thank you, Mr. Childe, you’re the best!”
“My pleasure,” He replies. But before they can find a bench to sit down and enjoy their snack, a desperate voice sounds from behind them.
“Ana.”
Childe feels the girl in question jump excitedly, obviously recognizing that voice. "Papa!! It's my papa, Mr. Childe!"
And when Childe turns around to face this man, the same mind-numbing sensation he felt with Ana washes over him, but this time, the blurry, half-formed memory feels clearer now. His throat clogs up and his chest tightens inexplicably.
This sensation. It's like– it's like his heart remembers something his mind doesn't .
Thousands of thoughts rush through his head. The logical part of his brain is in chaos, trying to figure out things like: I've seen this man before, but I don't know where. How could a man I've never seen before be so familiar? While the monkey part of his brain makes the very unhelpful additions of Wow. Pretty.
And it's true.
The man before him is captivating.
He has electric-indigo eyes like Ana's, but there is a depth to them that hers is missing. As he’s pulled into that depth, the man gazes wide-eyed at Childe like he’s seen a ghost or something equally disturbing. But Childe can’t find himself to care because, oddly, he rather likes those eyes on him.
He’s quite upset when the man schools his expression, relaxes his shoulders, and tilts the incredibly wide brim of hat to hide his eyes. “Ana, get down from there. I have been looking everywhere for you,” he says, tone mad yet concerned.
Even the sound of his voice is enough to send shivers down Childe’s back. Oh, how he is most intrigued now. Something primal in him stirs.
“Hello, my name is Childe,” He is quick to introduce himself, reaching out for a handshake. He wants to know this man’s name, wants to feel how his hands feel in his own. But it seems that the man doesn't share similar sentiments.
“Hm,” is his only reply, not even glancing at Childe’s outstretched hand.
What this man doesn’t know is that Childe loves a challenge, so much that adrenaline starts pumping through his veins. He curls his hand and coolly places it at his side. “I found your daughter by the shipping crates over there. I was only doing as a good samaritan would, and helped her find her dad.”
The man makes a barely audible scoff, like he knows something. Or… is it that he thinks little of Childe? Hm…
He doesn’t get to figure it out, though, because Ana begins to wiggle on his shoulders until she’s let down. She scurries over to her papa and latches onto the hems of his haori– Huh. Inazuman wear. Duly noted.
“Papa! Papa!” Ana chants, then puts on a most sorrowful expression. “I’m sorry I walked away… but, it’s true! Mr. Childe found me and he helped me find you! He’s super nice and cheered me up and he even bought me this kebab!”
The man’s face is stern when he replies, “It’s still dangerous to walk away on your own, Ana. Even if you did find someone ‘nice,’ you shouldn’t talk to strangers– ” he emphasizes the word and shoots a glare at Childe, “ – so easily.”
What a sharp tongue for such a petite and beautiful man. Childe raises his hands in mock defense and smiles amusedly. “Ouch. Not even your name or a thank you?” He chuckles.
“Thank you,” The man answers without an ounce of gratitude. He impatiently takes Ana’s hand and tilts his hat. “And as for a name, I am nothing but a mere wanderer, so you can call me as such. We will be on our way, then, Mr. Childe.”
As the wanderer begins to walk away, Childe begins to panic.
No.
He’s not ready to let this man leave. Not without figuring out what is intriguing him so. He still has so many questions to ask, wants to know more about this familiar stranger, it’s nearly unbearable.
And for the first time in a long time, that stir-crazy feeling isn’t there anymore. It’s, instead, been replaced by a twisting in his stomach, screaming at him to call this man back to him. He won't let this man walk away so easily. He wants to see his reflection in those electric-indigo eyes, and he’ll stop at nothing to make it happen.
Thankfully, before Childe can do anything too brash, Ana comes to the rescue and tugs on her papa’s hand until he stops.
“Papa!! We can’t just leave!” She almost sounds like she’s scolding her own parent, now. It’s quite the scene. “The right thing to do is to give Mr. Childe a thank you present!”
The wanderer looks uncomfortable, now, glancing between Ana and Childe. “We’re busy,” He hisses desperately.
“No, we’re not!” Ana protests, “You said so yourself this morning!”
The wanderer mutters something about childish innocence and not teaching social cues biting him in the butt, but Ana doesn’t stop to listen. She’s on a roll.
“Auntie Nahida would be very sad that you didn’t give a big thank you to Mr. Childe when he did something nice! Pay kindness with kindness!” She puffs her chest haughtily and sticks her little pointer finger in the air like she’s quoting someone.
The man’s face scrunches into a grimace. Before he can say anything, Childe slides into the opening that Ana has made for him and picks up after her. He’ll have to treat her to something nice later
“That sounds like a splendid idea, Ana!” Childe claps his hands together with a smug grin. He strides over to them. “I saw a tavern near the docks when I first arrived. We can eat there. I’ll pay!”
The wanderer’s eyes are on the verge of irritation when he looks at Childe again. He knows he’s been cornered. Dimly, in the back of his mind, Childe thinks about how he wants to see what other expressions this man has.
“It’s not really a reward then, is it?” The wanderer grits out.
“Fair,” Childe shrugs, “But truthfully, yours and Ana’s company is a reward enough for me.”
For a moment, and only a moment, the wanderer looks flustered. It has disappeared off the wanderer’s face before Childe can even blink, but it awes Childe nonetheless.
"Please, Papa," Ana begs sweetly. The wanderer takes one look at her and the anger visibly dissipates from his body.
“Fine. One meal, and then we’ll be on our way,” he says, then spins around to head in the direction of the tavern.
While Ana cheers and takes Childe’s hand, he finds himself distracted, mind is still replaying the few seconds in which the wanderer turned away from him and marched off, his robes fluttering in the wind.
His scent. This man is an omega.
But… if what Ana says is true, and that she’s only had one parent for her entire life, then this omega should have been dead three years ago.
Childe can’t help the smile that stretches across his face.
What a curious man he’s found, indeed.