one of two

by ghostacid

Summary:

When Razor’s wolf spirit is suddenly seemingly incompatible with his human body, his health takes a sharp nosedive for the worse.

He must leave the woods he’s known his whole life – the friends who have stood by him for years and the sweet scent of dandelions – in exchange for the vivid colours, warm winds and bustling life of Sumeru.

Even from the rubble of hardship however, flowers bloom, and family can be found within anyone, anywhere, for the wolf boy in search of himself.

Notes:

folks i just wanted to write a scene of 4ggravate and razor + collei playing dnd together... i lost the plot, evidently. i was like wait let me explain why he’s in sumeru and then, well.

shout out to autistic hyperfixations, wouldn't be here without their power

this is going to be razor-centric! i would say it occurs after the sumeru aq and, for some minor details, after cyno's 2nd sq. unfortunately i didn't do the weinlesefest w razor’s story so i watched some videos instead. you don't really need to know anything much about it tho, just that razor has pondered his identity before. if something doesn't make sense i'm sorry

im still working on my cyno playlist but here are my razor and haikaveh playlists!

update: cheers my cyno one is also done!

hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

He had done the unthinkable. He was changing, morphing into a monstrosity. His sense of self was growing distorted and twisted, slipping between his fingers like water through a net. It was happening all too quickly for him to hope to comprehend or control. He was becoming a beast. He almost – Oh, Lupical.

The gush of blood; the flash of lilac lightning; the surge of power that tore through his lean muscles; that instance of utter derailment; the anguished yell that ripped itself out of his dearest friend’s mouth, followed by a cracking plea of his name being called after him as he fled the scene in horror of himself.

The sound of his own thundering pulse in his ears deafened him to his sloppy footsteps thudding upon damp soil. His tattered boots slipped on small rocks and snagged on raised tree roots as he ran, putting distance between him and his friends, terrified of causing them any more harm – of seeing them look upon him with fear.

What was happening to him? What was he becoming? 

Tears seared his cheeks as they dribbled from his squinted eyes, his laboured breaths grew wet enough that they suffocated him, and as he made his way through the maze of trees he’d known his whole life with less dexterity than typical, his state only worsened. Thorn bushes scratched at his bare arms; his billowing cloak of silver hair lost clumps to being caught on branches that appeared to claw out at him; the wind chilled his skin that shimmered with beads of sweat as it pushed him back; electro continued to surge all too forcefully along every ligament in his limbs – burning and pulsating and twitching.

Something was wrong with him and he didn’t think it could be solved with the usual herbs and foul tasting pastes he’d be administered in times of sickness. It was different from when he’d have a flu and it was different from when one of his scrapes would get infected. Something was wrong inside of him. Something had been wrong for a while.

Lisa; her face flickered within his mind’s eye. He needed Teacher. She could help him – she always did; but what if he lost control around her too? In a blink his brain conjured an all too realistic image of Lisa splattered with deep crimson, clutching at a pouring wound in her neck and looking at him tearfully as gurgled sounds left her quivering lips. It branded itself to the back of his eyelids, forcing him to see it each time he shut them, and he let out a pained howl at the self-inflicted torture.

He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t risk it.

Razor’s feet carried him blindly, not following a coherent path nor considerate of where they were taking him. It was such a lack of awareness that had him ignoring the increasing ache in his muscles and the drying of his lungs; the weakness that was overwhelming him and that would subsequently have him be unable to stop himself from losing his footing and tumbling into what could be compared to a large burrow. He mewled and clutched at his already scarred left arm that had been sliced open on a sharp rock he’d crashed into during his fall, red oozing out at a languid pace from where his skin parted. His tears wouldn’t stop, yet flowed harsher and louder than before, not brought on by the pain that overrode any other feeling – both physical and emotional – but due to the sudden moment of respite allowing his mind to process what he’d done.

He, Bennett and Klee had been playing together as they often did; him digging holes, the little girl burying her secret special treasures in them, and Bennett maintaining a safe distance from it all, trying to upkeep a dwindling flame to roast some mushrooms and meat on.

It truly had been as any other day was when they met in the woods: carefree, running through open land and shouting in the wind, imagining shapes in clouds and laughing in merriment at the wacky creatures they’d pitch. Their bellies had rumbled after some hours and it was at that point that Bennett had begun cooking for them three. 

Razor was tranquil. Up until that moment, everything was perfect. Nothing was wrong with him. 

It was then, when he’d finished prepping another hole for Klee, that he caught a whiff of an enemy in the air, his nose tilting up and northward, to where his eyes instantly spotted a group of hilichurls steadily approaching from a thicket of trees in the woods surrounding their modest clearing.

“Enemies, coming,” He’d warned the others, standing alert, and Bennett heeded him with a disappointed sigh.

“Aw man, poor timing; our food’s almost ready.”

Razor would have been distracted by the enticing steak of meat in fact, had it not been for the sound of the hilichurls shouting what seemed like a charge at having noticed them and proceeding to sprint their way. The boy was quick to brandish his nicked claymore, calling upon his Vision just enough to feel the electro crackle along the surface of his skin and urge his wolf spirit to burst forth from his back, hovering over him with his own claws at the ready.

Then, it all unravelled, like a yarn ball that had had its tail pinched and was sent down a flight of stairs, spiralling undone. 

One moment he was fending off the attacking hilichurls, wolf spirit striking alongside him as the beings fell one by one, the next he blinked, and there came a burning hot sensation behind his eyes so intense that he was forced to drop his weapon with a loud thump and clutch at his face, groaning. 

“Razor? … –at’s wrong?! … Can … me? Razor!” 

Bennett’s frantic calls edged in and out of his mind as the pain coursed through his veins, an electric shock overwhelming him as his body trembled, his knees giving up under him and letting him crumple to the ground. Whimpers spilled out of him as his electro power increased steadily, rising and rising – and suddenly, something fractured.   

He wasn’t seeing, not clearly. He wasn’t himself. 

With an animalistic cry he struck out at Bennett who had been grasping at his shoulders, distraught, and slashed him across the chest with his wolf spirit.

Klee’s shrill scream of terror rang in the air. The boy before him let out a yell so shocked and agonised that it almost pulled Razor out of whatever state he was trapped in. Then Bennett was looking up at him from flattened grass splashed with red, weight resting on an elbow as his other arm crossed over the wound on his chest protectively, and his eyes – that always looked at Razor with affection – momentarily looked at him with unbridled fear.

The little girl was crying, clinging onto Bennett, plump cheeks a blotchy pink and mucus dripping from her nose that she couldn’t think to wipe.

And Razor had become a monster. Razor was a monster. He swore to protect his Lupical and yet he was the one who had caused them harm.

His fiery hot face pressed into the cool soil, his tears being eagerly drunk by it as he curled up in his newfound hole, a sanctuary away from the outside – a cage. He had to hide to keep everyone safe. He couldn’t be found. 

Razor’s limbs throbbed terribly. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the intense run or the surge of electro within him that his body couldn’t handle, but it was pointless to ponder the cause at such a time. He held himself unyieldingly, ignoring the increasing stench of iron and the sticky blood that dried on his skin and seeped into his garments. His eyes squeezed shut, his heart hammered relentlessly against the wall of his ribs, and he allowed himself to whine pathetically in the silence, like a pup stranded from its pack.

Come nightfall, he was taken into a restless sleep, feebly illuminated by the rays of moonshine that filtered into his burrow. 

 

***

 

He was jostled awake at sunrise, his crusted eyelids barely being able to part and withstand the light striking him as he was hoisted out of the ground and into a pair of strong arms, his cheek resting against a warm chest. His brain felt to be molasses sloshing about within his skull, his limbs were exceptionally heavy and, for a heart-numbing second, he almost believed to have returned to the moment Varka, the GrandMaster of the Knights of Favonius, had found him; young and wild and without human kin. He felt a brief, tentative sense of joy. He forced another blink and the illusion dissipated, giving way to a new vision, one of the red-haired man of fire who always smelled of wine and ash.

His breath caught in his throat. He had been discovered. 

His spike of anxiety must have been apparent as the man attempted to soften the barbed edges of his expression and console him with a quiet, firm tone.

“You’re alright, Razor,” He assured, voice deep, “I won’t hurt you.”

That was the problem, the wolf boy thought, it was this man, Diluc, who was in danger. Yet before he could think of the words needed to aptly convey his warning, Diluc held him more resolutely and looked back over his shoulder, strands of his red hair licking at the sides of his face like flames in the wind.

“Lisa, he’s safe.”

Razor froze, every joint in his body locking. Lisa was there? She could finally help him, fix him, make him alright again – but he was still dangerous. What if he hurt her, just like he did his best friend? 

He recalled the fear in Bennett’s leaf-green eyes and the mental depiction of Lisa bleeding from a wound he inflicted resurfaced once more. Panic momentarily reared its head and trampled whatever calm he had accrued.

No. Not again.

“I hurt you!” He abruptly tried to yell, but his throat was too dry to properly verbalise his words and they hardly left him in anything more than broken croaks.

He thrashed his body as forcefully as he could, wriggling in the secure grip of the man whose eyebrows drew taut in befuddlement, a shadow of concern cast upon his stoic features. 

“Razor! Thank Barbatos you’re alright! I was so worried, I –” 

Lisa gasped at the sight of the boy smeared with soil: crisp blood painted all over his tan, marred skin, blades of grass and knots complicating his silver mane of hair, a concocted look of trepidation and shame in his usually lively ruby eyes. Tears were quick to pool in her own but they never fell, her light steps stopping her before the pair so that she could get a better look at the agitated teen. 

Tenderly, her gloved hands cupped his cheeks and he blinked up at her, hesitant to move. She soothingly rubbed beneath the sore bags of his eyes with the pads of her thumbs, and a smile of relief stretched itself along her lips. The sun rose from behind her, its orange glow framing her form and illuminating her in a way that made her look otherworldly; the purple of her dress and wide-brimmed hat like that of the ripest wolfhook berries, and the swirls of her hair akin to the sweet chocolate he had tried in the city. Razor squinted against the sunlight to keep looking at her, anchored by her presence.

She let out a shuddered breath, steadying herself, and placed a kiss to the top of his head, not minding the muck in it. Razor let the sensation of safety temporarily enshroud him, as it always did when Lisa was around.

“My goodness, what a mess you’ve made of your fur, my little wolf cub.”

At that, the boy’s bottom lip quivered, guilt quietly nestling into where warmth and comfort had temporarily been.  

“Teacher,” He shakily uttered, the need to confess weighing on his heart, “Teacher. I, hurt Lupical. Razor, hurt –”

Lisa was quick to hush him, smile never fading, affection in her eyes never waning.

“I know, don’t worry,” She assured, petting him, “Bennett is fine, sweetheart. It wasn’t too bad of a wound.”

The news merely mitigated his concern, for his guilt was far too rampant to be suppressed.

“But, Teacher, I did bad.”

“Come now, we’ll talk about these things once you’re feeling better,” She raised her sights to the man who had remained silent throughout the entire interaction, a peculiar shade of melancholy in his eyes as he met her gaze, “I’m sorry to ask more of you Diluc, but do you think you could help bring him back to the city? His injuries require attention.”

Diluc merely nodded, his arms cradling the boy closer after having readjusted the latter’s position within them.

“Not an issue,” He finally spoke, and Razor chanced a glance up at him just at the moment that the man looked down over his sharp nose, “You won’t hurt me, alright? Relax.”

Razor did his best to do as instructed, eventually permitting himself to nuzzle his face into the man’s chest and clutch onto the lapels of his coat, shutting his eyes to the bright world and earning a gentle coo from his teacher, feeling her delicate hand pat his head adoringly.

For now, it was safe. There was no electro sparking beneath the top layer of his skin, there was no strength to his limbs, and Teacher was with him. 

For now, everyone was safe from him.

 

***

 

Consciousness would ebb and flow from his reach, taunting him with the knowledge of him being tucked into a bed beneath thin cotton sheets, under the pleasant cast of sunlight that dribbled in through shut curtains like spun threads of golden sugar and eased him into a state of tranquillity. He’d hear hushed conversations at his bedside, “Don’t fret, love. He’ll be fine, I’m sure,” and “Jean, I think I have to –” , then there would be the scent of food in the air, the pattering of footsteps on wooden floorboards, the chirp of birds at the window calling for a new day.

“You must be hungry.” 

It was the singing girl in white who brought him food that morning whilst Teacher, cross-legged in a chair at the foot of his current bed, pored over tomes he could only one day hope to be capable of reading and understanding a paragraph of. The arrival of the girl must have startled Teacher as she jumped in her seat, eyes – that had been honed in on the text – briefly rounding as they shot up to the then open door. A smile curved her mouth once the fright faded and she set the book aside, rising to her feet to aid the girl with one of the trays of food she bore.

“Goodness, I’m sorry for having you bring us both lunch; I was lost in research,” Her apology was sincere but her attention was glaringly elsewhere, her steps already directed back to Razor’s bed and setting his tray on the bedside table with a muted clink.

“Sit up, dear, you must eat and change your bandages,”

Razor wrinkled his nose at the thought of having to be cleaned again but made no verbal complaint as he made the effort to sit upright. 

“Good boy,” Lisa ruffled his yet-to-be-cleaned hair prior to peering over at Barbara who stood patiently at the entrance, awaiting the possibility to be of more assistance, “Would you please set my food on that chair over there and bring me a bowl of water and fresh bandages, sweetie?”

“Of course, Miss Lisa! One moment!”

The young nun hurried off to do as asked and Lisa got to work chopping the steaming hash browns and steak to small, easy bites. Razor watched her intently as she did so, eventually noting that something was amiss. Her gaze appeared distant, her movements uncoordinated and lacking their usual grace, and she’d look up at him at too short of intervals, almost as though afraid he would disappear.

“Teacher, is sick?” He asked after some minutes of tense silence, and Lisa stilled for a moment, doing nothing to ease the festering nervousness in Razor’s chest.

“I’m not,” She belatedly assured unconvincingly, “Don’t worry about me, I’m just a bit tired.”

Razor gave a stiff nod, not willing to press for more. Teacher didn’t smell of sickness, but she didn’t seem to be telling the truth either. 

“My little wolf,” Lisa then began, as casual as striking up a new conversation, prepared to defer to a separate topic, “Bennett has expressed the desire to see you.”

She positioned the plate of food on his lap with care and handed him a fork. Razor did not grab it. He stared, instead, transfixed.

“Can’t,” He said quietly, frowning, “I, hurt Bennett. Dangerous.”

Lisa’s head fell askew, a sombre smile tugging at her mouth.

“You’re not dangerous, Razor. Besides, Bennett said that he forgives you. He’s not upset. He’s worried about you.”

Razor met her look critically, trying to spot the telltale signs of a fib on her face. His head mirrored her own tilt, locks of hair streaking over his wary eyes.

“He forgives?” He tentatively asked, “Not afraid, of me?”

There followed another pause, Lisa shifting in her seat before she leaned in closer, bringing Razor’s bare fingers to wrap around the fork and pat his grip solid once done, humoured by his full-fisted hold of the utensil. 

“My dear, you are not some wild beast. You just –  Well,” She mulled over her words, sight flitting towards the window, pensive, while Razor waited with baited breath for her to continue, “you just had an accident. Which reminds me,” Lisa looked at him again, warm and fond and making Razor’s heart soar with short-lived elation, “are you okay with explaining to me exactly what happened? It will make helping you easier.”

Razor’s boyish features tensed seriously, his lips pursed. Teacher was right, she probably would be able to help him. If he told her everything, she wouldn’t be upset with him and she could fix what was wrong. He nodded to himself. The sooner he was fixed, the sooner he could serenely be around his human Lupical.

After a moment’s consideration – and a handful of seconds of thought, to string together his sentences as cohesively as he could – he started to explain what had transpired the day of the incident and the baffling events leading up to it: him losing complete control whilst hunting for his pack and shredding a boar to bits so brutally that it couldn't be transported back to their feeding area, and him calling upon his electro Vision during a battle with a mitachurl and being unable to feel its pull at all, forcing him to retreat from the fight. He told her of the instances in which he could feel the hollowness within from its lack of presence and when, inversely, it completely took over, clouded his mind and made him see in violence. 

The only occasions of interruption were when Barbara brought the requested items and extra medicine, and when Lisa made an inquiry for details or symptoms – every answer only seemed to deepen the frown on her face however, and Razor wasn’t sure why.

“I see,” She eventually murmured once he’d said his piece, a loftiness to her voice that implied her mind was occupied, “It is indeed strange that the wolf spirit, who has been with you for years, is seemingly being rejected by your body now.”

Razor’s back stiffened as he processed the statement.

“Rejected? Body, not want Lupical spirit?”

As if the alarm in his voice stirred her out of thought, she shook her head and hurriedly petted his.

“It’s only a theory, don’t think too much about it.”

Her words were meant to appease him, he knew this, and yet his hands were quaking uncontrollably, his pulse sky-rocketing and fragmented words creating a cacophony of noise within his skull.

His Lupical spirit who had protected him, aided him in countless battles, who accompanied him and kept him sane in times of extended solitude, was being refused by his body. Or, perhaps, was his Lupical spirit refusing him ? Maybe he wasn’t enough of a wolf? Maybe his Lupical spirit was disappointed in his human companion? Angry with him, even? Disgusted? But he wasn’t really a human, right? He couldn’t be. It was a matter he’d been pondering for a long while and he knew with near certainty that he wasn’t a normal human boy, despite the fact that he couldn’t really pinpoint the exact why’s and how’s. Regardless, he wasn’t truly a wolf either, was he?

He had no real place, no real identity. He was simply Razor.

That brought on far more complex questions to answer; who is Razor? Where does Razor belong?

“Teacher, what am I?”

Lisa was taken aback by the sudden inquiry and blinked a number of times before her surprise faltered to an empathetic gaze. Her hand reached out to gently pinch his left cheek.

“You are my dearest wolf cub,” Came her reply, soft and raw, a wetness to her eyes that had Razor’s own shimmering, “You are my son.”

Notes:

wowie so i hope that was a decent enough start!

this work will be prone to MUCH future editing as i'm writing as i go after chapter 3 but i hope the first readers won't mind too much!

please leave a kudos and any constructive criticsm/things you would like to see in the comments!

thanks for reading!

Chapter 2

Notes:

me writing half of this story while at work between projects and mentally yelling “let me write in peace!!” every time i think im done from something and someone asks me to design something else (they dont pay me enough, time theft is okay)

regardless, i hope you enjoy this chapter!

It was on a cloudless day – several sunrises having gone by since his talk with Teacher – that he was meeting with his human Lupical again; with Bennett. The anxiety of potentially putting his friends at risk a second time was near paralysing, yet Lisa reassuringly held his hand and sent plenty of easy smiles his way as they walked towards the Adventurers’ Guild in Mondstadt’s main street. She spoke about the birds they saw hopping along the cobbled alleys, quizzed Razor on basic topics she could connect to that which was around them, and the distractions helped, even if only a little.

The moment the two of them rounded the corner to the Guild, his name was gleefully called by a voice he could recognise over the roar of an overhead thunderstorm and through the muting echoes of an ocean’s abyss. A mop of tousled white hair bound towards him and within seconds it was pressed into a side of his face, a welcome scent of earth and fire and honey filling his lungs.

“Razor! I missed you! Gosh, are you okay?! Don’t ever run away like that again! Oops, sorry; pressed on your arm, didn’t I? How’s it healing, by the way? I heard you got a nasty gash.” 

It was the sort of onslaught of words Razor had come to expect from the young adventurer; however, his mind was sluggish to process what was said to him in such quick succession, experiencing a pendulum swing between apprehension and pure bliss at being with his Lupical again – at being embraced so closely by Bennett.

He wrapped his own arms around the other boy and made a sound of contentment akin to a purr, all previous nerves dissipating from within him as the familiar scent he inhaled when he burrowed his face into the crook of Bennett’s neck intensified, and he closed his eyes, at ease.

Bennett was okay. Bennett was happy to see him.

Razor felt like the world had been given a fresh coat of paint, every colour glimmering vibrantly around them in the warm haze of sunlight.

“Gently now, both of you,” Came Lisa’s soft words of reproach from somewhere to their side, and Bennett shyly chuckled, relinquishing his hold on Razor to step back, sheepishly rubbing at the base of his head.

“Sorry, Miss Lisa, but I truly am feeling as fit as a fiddle!”

“Bennett, really okay?” Razor asked for confirmation, analytical eyes scanning over Bennett’s form, sight sticking to where gauze was peeking out from under the latter’s waistcoat. Guilt nipped at his heart before he could stop it, but he did his utmost to quash it.

“Hrm? Why, of course!” There was no hesitation to Bennett’s affirmation, a detail that abated Razor’s shame, and then the adventurer was striking a confident pose, one hand on a jutted hip and the other proudly pointing a thumb his own way, “It would take a whole lot more than that to leave a guy like me incapacitated for longer than a day!”

Razor swelled with joy at that, vigorously bobbing his head in agreement before he pounced onto Bennett once more, momentarily knocking the air out of the other’s lungs, and they were embracing again. 

“Bennett, is strong, but I, am sorry.”

The boy hummed to show understanding, squeezing Razor in return.

“It’s okay, Razor. I’m okay.”

A handful of seconds passed and finally Razor pulled away, though not before giving a sweeping lick up Bennett’s cheek that near instantly flushed red. He beamed at the reaction and Bennett could practically envision a silvery bush of a tail swishing zealously behind him.

“The sheer and abundant lack of respect towards I, the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, your most amicable of companions, is abominable,” Stated a posh voice nearby, affronted, “Nay, there I say outrageous and distasteful! One was most concerned about one’s friends, and yet I am being set aside so cruelly!”

“Fischl’s upset you haven’t given her a lick too,” Bennett mischievously misinformed Razor, and the wolf boy naively blinked back at him before his gaze shifted to the girl – donning black and purple clothing – whose jaw had fallen slack, appalled at the statement. 

“I don’t – The all-powerful, yet ever gracious and benevolent Prinzessin, seeks not to be licked! Her heart merely craves the justice that waltzes with equity, as it always should when affection is being shared and she is left with a scant amount!”

But the information arrived too late to have any impact and Razor was taking the girl up into his arms, clutching onto her wriggling limbs as he gave her a cheerful, wet swipe on the cheek. In Fischl’s defence, she did her best to appear more disgusted than content to have her friend back, and her stifled giggles were barely heard.  

Razor grinned and set her free, glancing between his human Lupical like a puppy would after completing a trick successfully and awaiting a treat.

“Fischl, happy also?”

Her gloved hand wiped at the damp patch on her face in feigned disdain, but the smile on her lips was irrefutable. 

“Your most magnanimous Prinzessin is overcome with pure elation at being reunited with the both of you in fair health. May our paths keep forever intertwining on their journey throughout finite years.”

At that point in time, the world seemed cosy and safe, idyllic, with a delicate sun shining upon their skin and a gentle breeze ruffling their hair as they smiled between the three of them. A quiet hum interrupted the stillness after some seconds and they all looked to Lisa who had a somewhat guilty undertone to her smile.

“I must leave you kids now, I’m afraid. I have urgent matters to discuss with Jean,” Her eyes had bounced between the three prior to settling on Razor, ever attentive pupils already strained on her, “Just for today, I need you to not leave the city, alright? Fischl, I trust you can keep these two troublemakers under control.” 

There was a whine from the wolf boy and a desolate sigh from Bennett at the news of their lockdown; however, Fischl was quick to straighten her posture, assuming her role and responsibility as their leader. 

“Worry not, Miss Lisa. I, wielding wit and elegance, shall ensure that they heed your warnings and my words.”

“Thank you, dear,” The woman took a peek into the small satchel strapped over her shoulder, most likely checking on the papers and tattered book tucked inside, before patting Razor’s head in farewell, “Behave. We’ll meet for lunch at the Good Hunter, alright?”

“Yes, Miss Lisa,” Bennett and Fischl chimed together, Razor harrumphing with a nod. 

Standing in line and politely smiling, the adventurers stiffly watched as Lisa’s figure walked up along the street in the direction of the cathedral, and only once she’d disappeared did they all breathe out in relief. Excitement began to sizzle in Razor’s belly at the partial return of his freedom – being stuck in a room for almost a week was near hellish for his wild spirit – and it seemed that Bennett shared a similar sentiment. 

The boy covered in band-aids and bandages jumped ahead to stand across from his friends, one fist pumping the air with a sound of cheer.

“To the river!” 

Fischl scowled, punishingly jabbing him in the shoulder.

“Leaving the city is forbidden and tantamount to the betrayal of our elder’s wise suggestion.”

“Uh, to the gardens!” Bennett corrected, and upon Fischl’s nod of acquiescence he grabbed Razor’s uninjured arm’s hand in his own and took off in a sprightly run, “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

“Puh! Cheaters!”

Razor howled with breathless laughter as they ran free, sprinting past baffled adults and loitering shoppers, ignoring the growing ache behind his eyes and the sporadic twinges in his muscles, for he’d finally caught happiness in his hands and he would be bereft to let it escape him again.

 

***

 

“So, what do you make of the situation, then?” The Acting Grandmaster set her chin on her steepled fingers once Lisa had finished recounting the broad details of what Razor had told her, a wrinkle set between her well-trimmed eyebrows and concern in her ocean-hued irises.

The librarian sighed at the question, setting aside the notes she’d shown Jean on the desk and slumping into the chair adjacent to her, legs crossed and arms folded.

“That’s the issue; I’m not entirely sure. I’ve truly never heard of Vision bearers whose element fluctuates so strongly and involuntarily before this all happened, and even in the documented cases, none of them have the same circumstance of also having an elemental spirit imbued in them.” 

Her lashes fluttered as she temporarily closed her eyes to the world, breathed in the all too cherished scent of wood and paper and ink – that of dandelions and sweetness that rolled off of Jean. 

“The only theory I have is that something has changed, be it with Razor or the spirit itself, and this change has rendered the two of them incompatible. It’s as though the boy’s body can no longer handle elemental power. A solution could be to rid him of his Vision entirely, but that would mean… that would… I couldn’t.”

A firm, yet gentle hand set itself upon her shoulder and she peeled open her eyes once more. 

“If there’s any way I can be of help, do not hesitate to tell me,” Jean’s voice was quiet, earnest, and she looked over Lisa’s weary features, “You know I would do anything for you.”

Lisa couldn’t help but smile at such an honest display of care from the other and tilted her head to press her cheek atop the hand still holding her steady. 

“I know, darling, I do,” She assured, “but, right now, all I can think possible for me is to wait for a response from one of my Juniors in Sumeru and the Akademiya, in the hopes of some scholars knowing more than I.”

“I will send our fastest messenger and tell them to ride through the nights, once your letters are ready.”

Lisa angled her head down and pressed her lips to the cool skin of Jean’s knuckles, reverent.

“Thank you, Jean.”

The knight inhaled sharply, hesitating a mere millisecond prior to caressing her lover’s hair.

“We could also try to speak with the spirit of Lupus Boreas.”

With her words, the air grew weighted between them, consternation twisting Lisa's previously serene expression.

“It’s risky, I’m aware,” Jean began to explain, hand sliding down to cup Lisa’s cheek instead, “but it concerns one of his own and I believe he could shed some light where we cannot see with regards to our…  conundrum.”

A pause, enough to mull over the suggestion. Jean’s stare remained determined, her hold secure.

“Alright… Yes, alright. I’ll take him to Boreas.”

 

***

 

There was a glazed look to Razor’s eyes, a rosiness dusting his cheeks and a sheen of perspiration to his neck that was akin to the result of physical exertion Lisa knew him to not have done. He was smiling and scarfing down food with his friends, yet despite external appearances she could spot the way his features sporadically contorted in pain, the times he’d let his blinks grow slower as if to allow his eyes just those meagre instances of rest, the slight tremble to his hands when he’d raise food to his mouth.

Lisa knew something was amiss, her heart racing in her chest with bubbling nerves, but for the effort he was putting into hiding his state, for the contentment she knew he wasn’t feigning, she couldn’t bring herself to take him away just yet from his adventuring companions. 

Instead, she bit her tongue and kept her lips in a taut smile, hawk-like sight honed in on the boy’s every detail in case she couldn’t let the situation precipitate any further into concerning territory. Such occurred, unfortunately, relatively soon; too rapid of a degradation for Lisa’s panic to not spike tremendously.

The redness on Razor’s cheeks seemed to glow, sweat trickled down his skin in lazy trails, his eyelids appeared too heavy for him to lift effectively, and his body swayed subtly in its chair, like a buoy riding churning waves. 

“Hey, you okay?” It was Bennett who first asked over the bustle of the chatter around them, leaning closer to the other boy and peering up at him from below to see his friend’s face nearly tucked into his neck. “You’re not looking too great.”  

A meek sound was the sole response he received and Bennett’s brows furrowed as he turned to the only adult at their table, her bottom lip being worried between her teeth while her hands were already busy with packing her belongings and setting enough mora on the table to pay for all of their food and drink.

“Miss Lisa?”

She stood, chair awfully screeching against the wooden floorboards worn coarse by countless such actions, and began urging Razor to rise to his own feet. With legs as resilient as those of a newborn calf, they wobbled beneath his own weight and she alleviated most of it for him, holding onto him so tightly that her fingers could have possibly bruised patches of his skin.

“Miss Lisa, what’s wrong?” 

There was a notable alarm to Bennett’s question, laced with dread for a negative answer, but Lisa merely shook her head, words failing her at the moment, her tongue sitting like led in her dry mouth.

“No, it’s nothing. Don’t panic,” She forced out eventually, sparing a glance at both Fischl and Bennett as they stood, as if intending on following her, “Head home, kids. I need to take care of him. He – He must be tired. Do not worry yourselves.”

“But –”

“Head home.”

Eyes were peering their way in curiosity, voices a few decibels lower, but the space around them might as well have not existed in that moment as it faded completely from all their attention. Bennett’s pupils jumped between the woman’s tense features and Razor’s head that dangled laxly from his neck, eyes closed and lips parted in heavy breaths. One would even think he was sound asleep.

Bennett felt a sharp pain behind his eyes and a wetness soon coated them. He swallowed thickly. 

Seeing his best friend abruptly fall into such a state had his heart in his throat, guilt charring his every nerve. How hadn’t he realised sooner that Razor had gotten so bad? What was even happening?

He was about to hold his ground and demand he accompanied Razor through whatever was unfolding before him when Fischl spoke up, subsequently leaving him standing with his mouth agape.

“Understood, Miss Lisa. Please let us know if anything happens.”

Bennett remained slack-jawed, aghast.  

“She wouldn’t have to if she’d let us –”

“Don’t make things more difficult and just let her help him!”

Fischl had spun on him like a hissing viper, appearing frightful and angry until the tears in her eyes welled up too much to not spill, and the glare she bore was more evidently there to mask her own concern.

Bennett stood quiet, not knowing how to react. 

She sighed after a brief pause, roughly wiped her tears away and grabbed onto his nearest wrist.

“Please help our friend, Miss Lisa.”

It was a mixture of a plea and a desperate command, one that struck the woman sharply in the chest. A part of her, despite everything, was overjoyed that her wolf cub had found friends who cared for him so deeply. She held the boy closer.

“I will. Now, hurry off you two,” She offered a feeble smile, “All will be well soon.”

 

***

 

The situation did not improve. Much like a stone thrown over a cliff’s edge, Razor’s condition plummeted so gravely that by the time she had returned him to the care of the nuns, his entire body was quivering with a cold sweat, electro energy sparking at random touches on his skin and his eyes scarcely opening enough to see.  

His hair was matted to his face, his boyish features were warped in silent discomfort, his exposed, clammy hands clutched desperately onto Lisa’s purple dress, not allowing her to leave his bedside –  not that she would have, truthfully, but the nuns had less room to work efficiently. 

All around them the trained nuns bustled like a swarm of stirred bees, some calling for herbs, others for bowls of water, new towels, “We need to control his fever; bring any ice we have!” and through it all Lisa kept her gaze fixed on the boy she loved as her kin, mentally praying to whichever Archon could hear and was willing to help him to just do so. 

If only she hadn’t indulged him so much; if only she’d brought him back sooner – maybe his fever wouldn’t have gotten so out of control.

In the midst of her self-flagellation, Razor’s heavy trousers were exchanged for lighter, more breathable knee-length shorts, his feet were left bare and his sturdy sleeveless jacket was set aside, his Vision then clasped to his new bottoms instead. No one touched his poncho, nor did they dare touch the necklace of teeth around his neck, Lisa’s sharp glare being enough to ward off any fidgety hands approaching it. She knew they were only aiding the poor boy, but the idea of stripping him of something so important to him had her stomach churn and knot so terribly she had to swallow back bile. 

The door crashed open with a thud some hours later, and before Lisa even shifted to see who had arrived, arms flung themselves around her from behind and blond hair dribbled into her peripheral vision.

Her pulse steadied, even if only marginally. 

“Lisa,” Came Jean’s mellow voice beside her ear, breathing ragged, “I came as soon as I heard. What happened?”

A second – two – three. Lisa forced a shuddering inhale, her throat closed up with what felt like clodded cotton produced by guilt, which trying to force down only had her choking on it quicker. She latched onto the arms embracing her, finally lifting the hand that had, until then, uselessly held a damp cloth to Razor’s forehead.

“It’s my fault, Jean,” She murmured, trembling, and her lover gently squeezed her, “It’s my fault. I noticed him getting worse but I – I wanted him to enjoy some time with his friends. He – He looked so … happy with them, I thought – I didn’t think he would get so ill so quickly. I’ve never seen this before. Oh, Archons save him.”

With the final whisper she hid her face in her palm, doing her utmost to steady her breathing and quell her tears. Jean’s eyes wrinkled shut, jaw clenched and her heart aching acutely in her chest. She held onto Lisa, wordless, attempting to comfort the woman through tender touches and caresses, but ultimately allowed the other to recompose herself in peace.

The nuns were respectful enough to not ogle the scene, opting to scuttle about with their duties, as if the Acting Grandmaster and the city’s librarian were not sharing a private moment of affection and care in their presence. Their relationship was publicly shrouded in mystery, a looming question mark forming above any citizen’s head when witnessing them together; but it wasn't that the two had kept their status a secret, it was plainly that no one had dared to directly ask. 

Friends usually held hands and leaned into each other, right?

“But have you seen the way the Acting Grandmaster looks at Miss Lisa when she thinks she isn’t aware? They must be having some sort of… Well!”

“Certainly not! I heard that the Acting Grandmaster had relations with the Master of the winery.”

“That’s old news, Marissa! I’m telling you, she glows with love for Miss Lisa! Just last week she purchased a bouquet from Flora and the next day Miss Lisa had the same flower in her hair! Ah, if only I could be so fortunate.”

“Don’t ask too much of Lord Barbatos now…”

Whilst the gossip had fizzled out eventually, it had only served as amusement for Lisa who would brush out her hair in her partner’s office and recall with giggles what she’d heard in passing. Jean’s serious facade would crack on occasion, a laugh spilling out of her before she could completely muffle it in her fist and school her expression into one of feigned disapproval. 

Them being together was easy, and it made most things easy. The current situation was seemingly rather dire, however, and the storms they usually sailed through together paled in comparison to the one they were then weathering. 

“Miss Lisa, pardon the interruption,” Came the gravelly voice of a senior nun, just barely distinct amongst hushed words being shared between the others, “We’ve found some of Doctor Baizhu’s emergency medicines in storage. They should still do the job. Do we have permission to administer them?”

Lisa’s lashes flattered apart with the speed of a bird’s wings taking flight, a spark of hope burning in the hues of her eyes. 

“Of course, but leave at least three doses as spares. He might – A trip might be in order if things don’t improve.”

Jean straightened, detaching her front from Lisa’s back, still rubbing the pad of her right thumb on Lisa’s shoulder. 

“Understood.”

“Do you think the Akademiya might be of more help to him?” The question left Jean quietly once the nun took off, her eyes set on the boy that lay stock still, glistening and red, before sighing, “It would take at least three days on horseback to reach Sumeru.” 

It wasn’t an attempt to dissuade Lisa from following through with the possible decision, but rather a warning of sorts, a statement to make it known that it was a risky choice and not foolproof, especially with an ill passenger. Lisa hummed, a hand returning to Razor’s forehead cloth to re-soak it and turn it over. 

“That is why I asked to preserve some of Doctor Baizhu’s medicine,” She explained with a frail voice. She was quickly being worn down by the worry, tired eyes refusing to droop shut, “I have complete faith that his treatments will at least appease the boy’s fever.”

“Then shouldn’t we send him to Liyue instead?”

Lisa’s lips, chapped and bitten raw as they were, curled upwards into a grim smile, fondly brushing a knuckle across Razor’s cheek that nearly burned to the touch.

“I fear that unless we solve the core issue, no matter what medicines we give him, he’ll never be truly cured from what actually ails him.”

“I… understand.”

“Jean, once they now administer the fever medicine and it works, please come with us to visit Boreas.”

The Acting Grandmaster’s eyebrows arched, her hands releasing their hold on Lisa’s shoulders.

“You still wish to go?” She couldn’t help but inquire.

“It’s only right that he’s aware of the situation and, as you had pointed out, he might have some knowledge regarding the issue that we are not privy to.”

“I’ll fetch us a messenger horse.”

Notes:

im afraid that the story feels rushed but thats really bc i dont want/cant afford for this story to be extremely long and i really want to get to sumeru (who else is losing their minds while waiting for part 2 of cyno's story quest bc i truly am on the brink of insanity atp give me cyno lore and 4ggravate content NOW)

anyway thanks for reading :D please leave a kudos or your thoughts in the comments!

Chapter 3

Notes:

i feel myself (very) slowly and marginally growing less stiff with my writing, i hope im not being delusional. anyway, i finished chapter 4 much quicker than i thought i would so i decided to post this earlier since it’s a bit shorter than usual

hope you enjoy! thank you so much for reading :D

The night had passed in turmoil, hours sluggishly ticking by until Razor’s fever subsided enough for him to regain lucidity. His eyelids parted with great fatigue; his jaw was slack and his throat was dry from strained inhales, but when his head lolled to the side and he saw Lisa’s blurred form slouched in a chair abreast of him, a sense of calm washed over his foggy mind.

“Teacher,” His voice cracked on the one word, but the call was heard regardless, the woman instantly drawing nearer, “Teacher.”

Lisa hushed him, tenderly dabbing his face dry of sweat, and it was only once he felt the cool cloth leave his skin that he grew more aware of his surroundings. The room was quiet then, save for the footsteps and rummaging he could hear from downstairs, and the moon was still high in the shrouded night sky but the sun seemed to be soon joining. He had lost track of time, incapable of processing anything other than the there and then.

His eyes drifted back to Lisa as her left hand went to cup the nape of his neck, carefully lifting his head, while the other brought a glass of water to his lips.

“Here, drink some,” She encouraged, nudging the rim against his mouth, and he opened it enough to let the tepid, sweetened water coat his tongue and pour down his throat, some dregs spilling past the edges of his lips and dripping from his chin.

“How are you feeling?” Lisa asked once he was finished, setting the glass aside in exchange for the wet cloth, dipping it in a basin and wringing it prior to recommencing her dabbing, “Can you see clearly?”

Razor pondered the questions, focusing his sight on her. 

“Blurry,” He meekly stated, then paused, “Head, hurts. In my head, bomb.”

“I see… My sweet wolf cub, I’m sorry I can’t do more for you.”

The boy shook his head – something he instantly regretted as it made black blotches stain his vision and his temples throb – but he pushed through the sudden pain to speak, “Not Teacher’s fault. Razor, is better. I, will be okay. Need sleep, only.”

His words were tinged with a certainty that had Lisa smiling fondly. He was resolute, so sure that nothing could go wrong. Or, perhaps, he only sounded so for her sake.

She traced the jagged scar that streaked across the majority of his left cheek; a scar he claimed to have earned one night when his wolf Lupical was attacked, though the details grew smudged with time gone by. 

“I know it’s a lot to ask of you, and you can say no,” It was unlike her to be tentative so Razor studied her hesitantly from where his head had sunken into his pillow again, “but do you think you are able to go visit Boreas this morning? I don’t know how long your medicine will last so we will be quick, I promise.”

His heart did an odd motion in his chest at the suggestion, as though it had stopped beating and then started back up with extreme tenacity. 

“Razor, is weak,” He murmured, avoiding her gaze, “Shame, to Lupus Boreas. Embarrassing.”

“No… No. What are you saying, dear?” Lisa’s hand nudged the boy’s face her way and he briefly met her eyes before focusing on her braided hair instead, as he often did, “Don’t think so lowly of yourself. Everyone has moments when they need help. You’ve helped Boreas before too, haven’t you? Did you think he was weak?”

A moment to mull over the question, the wheels in his brain grinding tiredly, until he decided that Teacher was right. Yes, Lupus Boreas had been tricked into a trap a long while ago and had needed the assistance of the blond, visiting traveller to regain his footing, but Razor never doubted his Lupical leader’s innate strength and fortitude.

“Lupus Boreas, not weak.” 

Lisa gave him a small smile, then poked the tip of his nose.

“And neither are you, silly cub.” 

The boy’s pupils locked with hers, the bonfire red surrounding them appearing to glow just marginally brighter with a rekindled will.

“Please. Together, we go to Lupus Boreas.”

Humming, satisfied, Lisa stood, bent over to place a kiss on Razor’s forehead, and then made to leave after a final stroke to his hair. 

“I’ll go prepare everything. I’ll be sending a nun to stay with you until we leave,” She informed, tugging her silk cloak around her shoulders, “Make sure to tell her if you feel anything has changed, alright?”

Razor grunted as a sign of compliance and she gave a quick wave prior to slipping the door shut after herself. 

Silence lapped at his ears but did not ease the nervous tweaking of the muscle within his chest. He could only hope that Lupus Boreas would know what to do to resolve the state he was inexplicably in. He fidgeted with the tassels of his poncho for many minutes before sleep took him back into its unyielding embrace.

 

***

 

He was eventually stirred awake by his body being positioned onto the saddle of a horse, the weight of his torso being made to lean back into a soft chest and the scent of dandelions clouding his mind.

“You’re awake, dear?”

A groan fell from between his lips, his consciousness making him aware of the subtle aching in all his body, travelling along every fibre of tendon and ligament. Fingers pulled something closer around him – a simple, black, hooded cloak he noted, eventually – and he forced his eyes open to see two arms bracing his sides, holding the reins to the well-groomed brown horse they were seated on. If the scent wasn’t enough of a giveaway, Jean’s clean gloves bunching the sleeves of her uniform at their rim were further confirmation of her identity.

“Are you feeling alright?”

It was the Acting Grandmaster who spoke this time, her cautious voice drifting to him from overhead, and he gave a stiff nod.

“Same,” He replied, uneasy.

Razor shifted minutely in his place. His trembling hands drew his cloak tighter, both to shield himself from the brisk morning breeze and from having direct contact with the woman. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Jean, really, she smelled kind and Teacher loved her a lot, but Razor himself didn’t have a strong bond with her and being so physically close to someone he hadn’t considered to be emotionally equally so, unsettled him deeply. He briefly wished it was with Teacher that he would be riding but he dismissed the thought, knowing it would be rude to even ask.

He peered down from the horse to see that Lisa had an intent stare strained on him, studious and sharp. He blinked, and then she was smiling up at him.

“Let’s head off.”

The trimmed hooves of their steed clicked with a seemingly calculated elegance as they passed through the city gates, the stationed knights saluting them as their small group went. Sunlight had just begun to seep through the overhead clouds, grey and laden with water, threatening to soak the day in rain, and the wind quickly grew humid and dense. 

No words were shared as they travelled, minutes languidly going by whilst they approached the territory of Wolvendom. Something tickled at Razor’s skin upon being home again, seeing familiar trees and clearings, hearing the skittering of small animals nestled in their branches. Birds called and sang all around them, and he had to restrain himself from howling to his Lupical the announcement of his return.

Jean led them through winding paths and around hilichurl camps with practised ease, gaze attentive and alert, even if her muscles were lax. By the time they could see the circular arena in which Lupus Boreas dwelled, they had successfully evaded any possible encounters with enemies and Razor was quivering with a mixture of nerves and longing.

Wind picked up around them, leaves that were still too fresh to part from their trees were mercilessly torn from them and sent spiralling in a dance. The horse came to a stop, tapping its front hooves anxiously against the ground.

Jean sighed and set a gentle hand on Razor’s shoulder. He flinched away instinctively but she made no comment about it, instead looking to Lisa.

“Love, could you help him off?”

The boy did his best to not be completely limp, but his arms shook with the struggle of using Lisa’s shoulders as leverage to get down, and upon landing on his bare feet his thighs quaked at having to sustain his weight.

“Come on, dear,” Lisa gently encouraged, lips still curled upwards despite the sombre shade in her eyes, “You need only walk a little bit. Lean on me.”

He mustered any and all strength he had, wrinkled his brow with the effort, but refused to shut his eyes to the pain that steadily increased. It felt to burn at his every nerve ending, twinge angrily in his skull, sear the back of his eyes. His breathing near instantly grew laboured and perspiration formed on his skin.

Lisa’s grip on him was firm and Jean was merely one step behind, allowing the boy to enter the arena first. With both his feet planted on the worn stone slabs, they let a handful of seconds pass, anticipation sparking between them, but nothing changed. The birds still sang, the wind still blew, and the sun remained tucked away behind thickening clouds.

The two women shared a tense look, fear brewing in their hearts. One’s arrival in the arena was typically enough to have the Great Wolf show himself, prepared to duel, yet that day they were left to endure a blaring quiet.  

Razor’s eyes flitted around him, searching, panic setting him alight.

“Lupus Boreas?”

His feeble voice hitched on the name, raw and underlined with a plea, and while it fractured the shield of silence, it changed nothing else. Lisa’s stance became firm, her back straightening with determination.

“Lupus Boreas,” She called out with much more force, voice steady, “one of your Lupical members is here and in need of help; Razor, the boy who has lived with your Lupical for years. Please, show yourself and aid us.”

The wind turned harsh, the dance of leaves morphed into something more vicious and violent, akin to a herd of frightened animals running for safety.

“Boreas, please,” Tears had begun to pool at the base of Lisa’s eyes, pupils still searching, desperate to spot signs of the wolf, “He needs you. He needs you now more than ever... Help him!”

A ragged inhale, her eyebrows – so carefully shaped and maintained – drawing close enough to form deep crevices in the pale skin between them.

“Lupus Boreas, do you not care for your own? Are you not family?” 

“Lisa.”

“Are you not the protector of your Lupical? Are you not the one who took in this boy when he was just more than an infant? Is that as far as your role as leader goes? Is this the security and companionship promised to one of your own?”

“Lisa!” 

The woman’s sight snapped like a whip in the direction of her partner, but a moment had to pass before she could truly see her through the rage and hurt that rendered her vision murky. Jean seemed discouraged, pitying, and she closed her eyes before tipping her head down. 

“Enough, Lisa,” She dimly spoke, a tremor to her voice so usually unfaltering, “We won’t be seeing the Great Wolf today.”

Never before had silence felt to be such a formidable weapon, but brandished by one considered family, the wounds it inflicted were near fatal. The tears Lisa had successfully held back until then finally spilled over her cheeks, leaving cold and a sense of stinging in their wake. Momentarily, she was so engulfed by her own sorrow that she forgot about the boy in her arms, his body swaying with the wind.

“Lupus Boreas?”

It was such a feeble call that it was instantly carried off and scarcely heard, but it was there and it was broken. 

At the final lack of a response, the boy crumpled to his knees, and Lisa called his name as a sob forced itself out of his body. He shook and mewled, and rather than a stream of tears he was burdened by a cascade of them. The pain in his chest was indescribable and he scratched at it desperately, as if ripping out his heart would cure him of it.

“Razor, please! Don’t – Don’t hurt yourself!”

The supplication fell on deaf ears as the boy tore at himself, eyes screwed shut from the overwhelm of every sensation until it finally culminated in a howl so desperate and heart-wrenching that Jean had to look away.

His howl reverberated in the air, birds took flight, and it shattered whatever dam was in him as he howled repeatedly until his vocal chords grew tender.

Rain had begun to fall, as if the sky were crying with him, mourning his loss of safety and bonds. Why was he being abandoned? Why was he being left alone when he was at his most needy? Did he not deserve to be a part of the Lupical anymore? Will he never see his wolf friends again? Will he never receive Lupus Boreas’ guidance again?

Eventually, whatever force he had in him depleted and he fully collapsed into Lisa’s arms. She immediately pulled him into her lap and cradled him, swallowing her own cries as she held him impossibly close. Their tears found home in the rain that drenched them, and Razor was in the arms of someone who loved him, but why did he still feel so alone?

“We should leave,” Jean eventually spoke, crouching down before the two and setting a light palm on top of both of their heads, “A storm might be approaching.”

Notes:

it's short and not too good but i promise that chapter 4 is much longer and a little bit better (i think and hope)

regardless, thanks for tuning in

Chapter 4

Notes:

you guys have been far kinder to me than i deserve. i really am so happy that this story i started writing for myself is actually being enjoyed by others. thank you so much for your support!

Preparations were made to the chaos and cacophony of thunder strikes and the illuminated rips of lightning in the sky. Razor had eventually fainted from fatigue, his motionless body – raggedly breathing and soaked in chilling rain water – being carried back to Mondstadt with urgency.

Consciousness came and went as it pleased, allowing him to have the briefest of moments during which he could hear the bustling around him and perhaps even see dim light from between his lashes, before having everything fade into a soundless pool of black nothingness – a nightmarish void that drowned his thinking mind.

He could see himself drifting in a space, with no one around him and just as much to see. When he went to speak, it felt as though his lips had been sewn together, drawn taut, and when he went to howl it felt as though he had swallowed shards of glass that had lodged themselves into the delicate flesh of his throat. He didn’t want to cry, he couldn’t bear to do so anymore; fear was festering within him however, and much like a pot of water close to overboiling, it threatened to spill and scald all it could reach.

Pupils blown wide in the darkness, eyes subconsciously rounded as he tried to see as much as possible, his breath hitched. From within the void, a pulsating purple glow spread. He would have run towards it if he could have moved, but it was unnecessary to do so anyway as it gradually enveloped all of him like spilled watercolour on a sheet of paper, devouring everything until it became so blinding he was forced to shut his eyes.

“Freedom shall come,” A resounding voice murmured directly into his head, startling him, “Be strong.”

A wave of electro crackled along his skin, a shout tore itself out of him, his eyes snapped open wide and again – finally – he could see. 

“Razor!”

It was difficult to recalibrate his senses – his mind – to something other than the oblivion he’d been motionlessly trapped in for a period of time he couldn’t determine, but hands gripped his heaving shoulders, effectively grounding him. 

Lisa was hovering over him, eyes swollen from past crying and terror marring her smooth features. Guilt thrashed harshly in Razor’s chest. 

“Are you in pain? What – What happened?” She didn’t give him more than a second to respond before whipping around to pinpoint anyone in the room who could help, “He needs painkillers, now!”

“Yes, Miss!” A voice instantly replied, the sound of shoes skidding across the floor quickly following.

Razor squeezed his eyes shut, mentally combatting the engulfing mess and noise that surrounded him, all of which felt to be too much. A hand pressed itself to his forehead, another carded his knotted hair away from his face.

“Your fever hasn’t gone back up,” She mumbled, more so to herself, “Where does it hurt?” 

He grit his teeth.

“Not… hurt.” 

“Razor, be honest.”

It was possibly the first time Teacher had ever spoken so brashly to him, yet – rather than taking offence to the tone – it fed the growling beast that was guilt rampaging behind the walls of his chest. He was making her worry so terribly.

“Bad dream,” He explained, only then realising that he was still panting, fingers quivering, “Razor, is fine.”

It seemed as though Lisa would have said something else on the matter but the opportunity was snatched from her when the door opened and the Acting Grandmaster’s figure filled its frame. 

“The horse and messenger are set,” She announced with no preamble, “Whenever you are ready to leave, say the word.”

Razor felt reality begin to crumble around him as he processed what had just been plainly said, his heart freezing over with a sense of betrayal. His weary eyes, glimmering and hurt, flickered between the two women, of whom Lisa appeared the most fretful. 

“Teacher,” He croaked pathetically, having allowed seconds to tick by, “going away?”

Something shifted in Jean’s posture, her shoulders marginally sagging as a glum hue imbued her. Her head dropped, her lips parted in a sigh that couldn’t be heard, and only when Lisa remained silent did she shut the door and approach the bed with sure steps. 

Razor eyed her with uncertainty, shifting closer to the wall.

“We had no time to tell you,” Jean began, voice unwavering even if solemn, “Everything has devolved too rapidly,”

The boy’s breathing picked up in pace and he looked to Teacher, as if hoping she would deny what was being implied.

She did not. 

“You’re going on a trip to the nation of Sumeru.”

The fracture in Razor’s reality gave way to a full shattering, his heart lurching against his ribs, his mind spiralling into an abyss.

“There will be people who might – who can help you there,” Lisa finally intervened, as if she had to be the one to tell him, as if it would soften the fatal blow he had been emotionally dealt, “I have a friend who will take good care of you and it’s a very beautiful place. There are lots of trees and there’s grass as far as you can see. You’ll enjoy it. You can see it as going on a fun adventure.”

It was unclear as to whether Lisa was trying to convince the boy or herself, her words tripping over each other in a hurry, her head nodding as if agreeing self-affirmingly. She pressed on with the positives, that he would be taken care of and get to experience more of the world, even make new friends – but he didn't want new friends. He didn't want his life to change. He didn't want different land and he didn't want a different home. 

If him being alright came at the price of everything changing, he'd rather not be alright at all.

It was as though Lisa could see the rebuttal prepared to leave his parting lips as her hands had reached out to clasp onto his own, and only then did Razor come to the realisation that she too was shaking. 

She smelt of fear, stress and a suffocating desolation. 

“Please, my sweet wolf cub, please go,” She was on the verge of crying again, openly begging with the boy to listen, her fingers soothingly rubbing the tops of his palms, “I can’t do anything more for you here. Please.” 

Razor felt himself to be asphyxiated by an intense anguish; a side of him who hated change – who was petrified of leaving all he knew – warred with the side of him who cared too deeply about his Teacher to see her suffer for his sake. To leave his Lupical, to leave his woods, to leave behind the land he had always called his without knowing what to expect from an entirely unfamiliar place… The more he contemplated it the more he felt bile rise within him, anxiety clouding his every thought. 

His expression remained stoic, with a sole tear to show for the battles being fought within him. 

Lisa didn’t push for an answer. She waited and waited and, eventually, he spoke.

“I, will go,” He clamped his teeth together, as if to quash the agitation he felt between them, “Please, do not worry more.”

Resistance gave way to a choked cry and Lisa cupped his scarred cheek, lips scantily managing to curl into a smile.  

“I won’t. We’ll be fine.”

 

***

 

The boy had been roused from a fitful sleep that same afternoon, arms carefully shifting him up into a seated position and sweetened water being pressed to his lips. He ate a few cubes of boiled potato, picked at some bits of plain meat, and had his face rinsed and dabbed dry. He was then dressed in the black cloak again, hood left off and his knotted, unkempt hair cascading down to his lower back in a chaotic waterfall of mercury. 

The nuns had suggested washing it prior to the trip – it had not been cleaned since the original incident with Bennett and probably much before then, the strands having grown matt with dried soil and crisp leaves, some crusted blood from his arm injury still spotted in between strands – yet Lisa was adamant that he wouldn’t have been able to withstand a hair wash at the time and said that a wipe down of his body with some soap and fragrant herbs would have to do. Razor was infinitely grateful, for being touched was already more than he was comfortable with.

“He’s ready, Miss,” Announced the nun who had just completed her task of dressing him, standing with her hands clasped before her, awaiting instruction.

Lisa looked over from where she was tying up a small leather satchel with supplies for him and offered a grateful smile at the sight of the result.

“Wonderful, thank you.”

Bowing and taking her cue to leave, the nun stepped out of the room and allowed the two some privacy.

Razor had been moving robotically until that moment, not much thought or awareness spared to the world around him, but when Teacher approached with the bag she had packed for him and a paper scroll in her second hand, it abruptly dawned on him again how real the situation was.

He truly was leaving. He felt a wave of nausea crash over him. 

Lisa slowly sat herself on the edge of the bed, as if not to alarm him, setting the satchel aside to bring attention to the scroll she then held up.

“Alright. Listen carefully, cub,” She delicately lifted the chunk of hair that typically sat between his eyes from over his left one, bettering his vision and smiling when he nudged his nose into her palm, “This is a copy of the letter your rider will be handing over to the people who will help you. It has your basic information and explains what has been happening to you. It also has my information and location on it so, if anything at all happens, show it to someone. You won’t have to speak to anyone if you show them this.”

A small but appreciated gesture, Razor decided, as he nodded to show understanding. 

She smiled at him and securely tied a string around the small scroll, then proceeded to dress him with it, having it hang over his own necklace. 

“There, all done.”

She gave a stuttered sigh, looking at the scroll with an emotion Razor couldn’t define before she had wiped her face of it. 

“In this bag you will find food, water and the doctor’s strong medicine; the rider will give it to you once every day but tell him if you are feeling very bad and he will give it to you earlier, understood?”

Again, he nodded, doing his best to commit what he was being told to memory, despite the dull throbbing in his skull.

“Good. Well, that’s – that’s it really.”

Her posture slouched and then Razor could clearly see the dismay that swam up from her heart to well in her eyes. 

“Razor, come back strong. Teacher, must be strong, also.”

A shaky laugh fell from her lips and she caught him off-guard by pulling him into a secure embrace, latching onto him in a way that had him thinking she would never release him. Her hand patted the crown of his head – comfortingly, tenderly – and tears almost pooled in his eyes as a feeling he couldn’t describe surged in his chest. 

Maybe this was the love Bennett talked about receiving from his dads. 

Nervous and unsure, unaccustomed to such emotive moments, he brought up his scarred arms to hug her back, breathing in the scent of home that she carried. His brow furrowed as he desperately clung to it, knowing he wouldn’t have it to soothe him for a long time from that day on.

“I love you, Razor,” She whispered, holding him tighter, “We will all be waiting for you to return.”

 

***

 

After bidding his farewells to Bennett and Fischl who had run over as soon as they’d been made aware of his sudden departure, he took off on the messenger horse prepared for the voyage, limp body securely encased between the arms of the male rider assigned to the task of helping him reach Sumeru. 

He couldn’t bring himself to look back on the city as the distance between them grew, nor could he find the strength to watch Lisa and his friends break into tears once he’d gone through the city gates. He folded his arms closer to his chest, tucked his chin into his neck and caught a whiff of the scroll that smelled of Teacher. The emotional pain he had turned himself off from feeling reared its head and stomped on his heart, wetness then spilling over his cheeks in silence.

He couldn’t help but think that none of this would have happened if he were truly a wolf or a real, normal human. 

The rider remained mostly mute as they cut through the woods surrounding Mondstadt, passed Wolvendom without a second thought, and breached the tapestry of gold and stone that signalled their arrival in Liyue. Stars shone above them; a sense of serenity blanketed Razor who gazed up at them in a daze, telling himself that his friends – both human and wolf – were sleeping under the same sky as he.

They spent that night at an inn with a pretty view of all the mountains’ sharp peaks and the ocean that was the infinite blue above, and while he felt a mild excitement at witnessing such sights he’d never seen before, the ache in his chest numbed him to it and his fatigue pulled him into a deep sleep the moment they were supplied with their room. 

Come morning, the rider aided him in cleaning his face and handed him a damp cloth to freshen his body with. Razor, frankly, wasn’t much of a fan of cleaning up and did so much less attentively than Lisa or the nuns did, but he smelled nicer regardless and the rider was kind enough to offer words of praise at his effort. 

That second day, his health worsened and his dose for the third day had to be given sooner than foreseen. His skin glinted with perspiration, his breathing became laboured and his brain whirled within his cranium like a useless blob of jello. His limbs were overtaken by a shiver and his appetite had completely left him, but he forced himself to nibble on the rations the rider handed him and sip at the waterskin attached to his hip. 

During the night, they briefly sojourned by a small lake deemed safe by the rider, and the man spoke to him again to administer the medicine and share their meals, repeatedly checking his fever and asking for an update on his symptoms.

Razor was glad he wasn’t forced to speak more than necessary, but he did wish he had Bennett telling him all about his day and past adventures to listen to, or even Fischl, whose vocabulary mostly hailed from a thesaurus and thus left him more often than not baffled.

Loneliness began to drip into his heart, and while that usually brought his wolf spirit forth to appease him, that night he was left alone.

When their third day of travelling commenced, there was a dampness in the air and a slight breeze which, paired together, sent a chill down the boy’s spine. He huddled back into the chest of the rider, the man being generous as to not pull away and instead open up the front of his own cloak to have it swallow what it could of Razor’s shaking form.

He spent most of the time unconscious in the new found warmth – his need for it being so severe that it overrode his discomfort with physical contact and his mind being too tired to stave off sleep. It was when the wind picked up enough to rustle the hair under his hood that he awoke with bleary eyes. 

“We’ll be arriving tonight,” The rider informed him, though Razor wasn’t sure how he’d understood that the boy had awoken, “Sit tight.”

Obediently, Razor did as told, only mildly squirming on the saddle that had gifted him a new dull pain in his lower back. His sight grew unfocused as his mind drifted in thought. 

He envisioned Teacher and his friends back home, eating warm food and laughing together, and he recalled the safety provided by sleeping huddled up with his pack at night, tucked into their nest of fur as they sporadically groomed each other and spared him a lick or two. He thought of home and companionship and then the neigh of their horse shoved him out of the temporary peace he’d lost himself in.

“What in the –”

A bellowing creature, massive in size and weighted with bags and trinkets, had made a threatening noise at them from its drinking spot tucked in a thicket of looming trees, startling their steed. The animal – brown and long-haired, with feet so flat and wide that Razor was certain should his head end up under one of them he would not come out alive – yelled at them again, as if preparing to charge, and their horse rose up onto its hind legs, violently flinging off both passengers before leaving them behind at a speed unreachable.

The other creature thumped away in the opposite direction but Razor could hardly process what was happening as his body rolled atop rock and grass, his head eventually coming to knock against the trunk of a tree that brought him to a radge stop.

Every inch of his already sore body throbbed with pain; his vision swam before him so badly that he briefly retched, and he tried to adjust himself onto all fours in case something did come up. His eyes were screwed shut and saliva dribbled from his lips. The knock to his head was truly the last thing he needed at that moment but, alas, nothing could be done and the blooming pain showed no sign of receding.

Once he’d regained his bearings he looked up and around him, eyes narrowed as he struggled to focus his vision. The trees here were much taller than what he was used to, their foliage being enough to mottle the majority of the ground with shade, only leaving sharp rays of warm sunlight to shine through. The air carried scents unfamiliar, complex and earthy, but before he could get lost in taking in his new environment, a groan sounded from about three metres away.

His head snapped in the direction of the rider who had taken the brunt of their fall, blood pouring from his crooked nose and smearing his pale face. Razor’s pulse spiked.

Feet slipping on the ground and legs incapable of carrying himself from the weakness that hindered him and the shock of the fall, he clambered on his hands and knees to the man, coming to a stop to hover over his torso.

“Knight, okay?”

It was the first time he’d verbally spoken to him and it seemingly brought the man into awareness, enough to mumble a few words Razor could not make out. 

The boy glanced around, not knowing how to be of use and mind being too foggy to think clearly. Coming up with only one possible solution, he resolutely looked back to the man to see his eyes fluttering shut.

As unsteady as he was, Razor hoisted the man up to rest against a tree and brought the bag of food and water to his side. 

“Knight, stay here. I, bring help.”

Whatever the man had to say sounded like a disagreement to the command but Razor knew they didn’t have time to waste arguing and he was, ironically, the most able to travel at the moment.

“Patient,” He said sternly, and then hesitated before giving the man a few timid pats on the head, the way Lisa always did that made him feel better, “Be back, soon.”

And with not another word, he pressed his palms to his knees and forced himself to stand upright. His thighs shook and he stumbled forward, head spinning, but he was able to catch himself against the same tree and hold himself up.

He was panting then, electro suddenly rippling through his veins, but he willfully dismissed it. He clenched his jaw and righted himself further, bare feet shuffling upon the soft grass as he brimmed with conviction to succeed. 

No matter what, he wasn’t going to let anyone else get hurt because of him.

Notes:

very sorry for being a bit late btw i just remembered to post now while waiting for my psychiatric appointment and i haven't had the chance to check it over so apologies for any mistakes too

ANYWAY hes in sumeru yippee but hes not doing too well so uh not very yippee

please leave a kudos or your thoughts in the comments!

Chapter 5

Admittedly, Razor wasn’t sure which way he was going or where he even should have been heading; the land was too unfamiliar to map out and all sorts of smells overlapped and swirled around him with the whispering breeze. Plants were much bigger here, their leaves enough to cover his face, and mushrooms of varying shades of orange and red sprouted from every conceivable nook. The trees were often clustered together, as if huddling to purposely reduce vision, and there were sudden drops and boulders frequently enough to have him change the trajectory of his path every five or so minutes. 

He trudged along sluggishly, pausing when he felt his legs threaten to give way and allowing himself to lean against burly trunks when breathing became too arduous of a task. His elemental power was persistently sparking within him, apparently suddenly stirred by the shock of what had happened, yet Razor couldn't help but see it as a positive change. After all, it made him feel stronger and offered a sense of companionship with the possibility of him seeing his wolf spirit in such a time of need.

A species of bird he’d never encountered before watched over him at a distance with deep black eyes from over its hefty, curved beak. It remained perched on a low branch just some way to his left, the vivid blue of the feathers on its back glistening in the bit of sun that struck them and its chest, a daffodil yellow, was puffed up and recently preened. Razor allowed himself to stare in wonder upon spotting the animal, permitting himself to spend the moment of respite by indulging his curiosity. 

Once his breathing steadied and the quake in his legs diminished however, he pushed himself off from the tree and made to press onward with his goal. The bird instantly squawked at him in response, as though calling out for his attention.

He blinked. Was he imagining things? After a handful of seconds, he took another step forward and again the bird cried out, this time hopping on its branch, hastily flapping its wings. Razor froze in place when the bird proceeded to fly into the air, high and quick, before it swept back down in his direction and circled around him. His forearms created a shield for his head in case of an attack but the bird merely nipped at his poncho, tugging him leftward.

Befuddled, Razor mulled over what was occurring, steadily growing less apprehensive.

“Bird, here to help?” He asked, forgetting that they didn’t speak the same language. And yet, the bird seemed to give its affirmation as it urgently swirled around him before pinching the end of his poncho in its beak and urging him in the same direction once more. 

He supposed no harm could come from changing route and a feeble happiness lit within him at the thought of not being on his own.

“Thank you, friend.”

The bird squawked contentedly a final time prior to guiding him on, hopping from branch to branch and allowing the boy to catch his breath when needed.

After many minutes Razor’s ears twitched, picking up on sounds he hadn’t expected to come across in the middle of nowhere that they were: voices and laughter – people. He had never been so relieved to hear the noise of a rowdy group of people until then.

Picking up his pace as much as possible, he stumbled on, too eager to get help from those he could hear just ahead to notice that the bird had started to tug him back, pecking at his hair as if warning him to stop. 

He peered into a clearing from over a bush and heaved a heavy breath at seeing a group of five – two women and three men – chatting together. A pair were engrossed in a card game, splayed out on a large cloth on the ground, while the other three were commentating the game from beside a simmering pot of food. Their tents were miniscule, just enough to give shelter. Razor could tell they didn’t live there and probably moved around often from that fact and their evident lack of supplies; he hoped they would be capable of aiding the knight who was waiting for his return, at the very least.

Bracing himself, he set one foot forward and sharply snapped a twig beneath it. Every head whirled his way, one of the men quick to brandish a long, curved sword. 

“Anyone there?”

It didn’t sound threatening but the question was posed by someone who appeared ready to fight and Razor really wasn’t up for a battle. He took a few seconds to analyse the people better, noting their garments being unlike those he’d come across so far in Mondstadt and Liyue, with red accents across their otherwise beige and brown clothing, like some sort of mark of identification. He glanced at their weapons strewn on the ground, the muscle that shaped all of their forms. 

Trepidation swam in his stomach and doubts began sprouting in his head. Maybe this was a bad idea.

It was too late to back out by then as one of the women seemed to have spotted him, snatching up a crossbow from beside her feet and aiming it straight at his hidden form with a trained swiftness.

“I can see you!” She shouted, one eye squinted as she prepared to shoot, “Out, now!”

Razor’s heart thrummed in his chest but he appeared to have no other choice. He tripped his way through the bush and into the opening, suddenly feeling overly exposed and weak as all eyes scrutinised him. He was blatantly at a disadvantage. 

The group eyed his docile stance suspiciously, weapons at the ready, until the man with the sword took the initiative to press him, expression harsh.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

His voice was husky, brash, unlike anything Razor had encountered in conversation before, and his fear grew as the man towered over him, quite literally twice his size in height and weight, dark skin traced with scars, old and new, from years of combat.

He swallowed, attempting to think clearly and suppress the electro that was pushing more resolutely against the surface of his skin, seeking to break out of him. 

“Out with it!”

“Need, help,” He sputtered nervously, clenched fists trembling at his sides, “Knight, hurt.” 

It seemed that the group was somewhat taken aback by his words, exchanging quick looks between themselves that appeared to communicate much more than Razor could hope to pick up on. 

“Knight?” Spoke the man who glowered down at him, dubious, “What’re you talking about? What’s a kid like you doing in a place like this? Working undercover with those matra scum to tail us?”

Razor couldn’t help but tilt his head in confusion. He wasn’t sure on how to respond and the pain that clenched around every muscle now seized them up agonisingly, his features eventually wrinkling together in pain as a grunt spilled from between his lips. His right hand flew up to clutch at the sharp throbbing in his head, but it was a mistake – obviously. A sudden movement when at risk of a fight? Anyone would take it as an attack and so did the group before him, an arrow zipping just past the left side of his face.

He flung himself in the opposite direction, falling onto the grass and dirt, palms burning from the fresh scrapes, but he wasn’t given the chance to process the sting as the people encircled him, a second arrow pointed directly at his chest until one of the men grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him upright, enough that his bottom hovered some inches above the ground. 

A mewl tore out of him at the horrible sensation of his roots being pulled from his scalp, his hands feebly reaching up to attempt to free himself of the iron grip on his fur. With his eyes pressed tightly closed, tears studding his silver lashes, he felt the sharp cut from a blade being pressed to his neck before he saw it, and the cool steel contrasting with the heat of his own blood beginning to trickle down his skin had something shift within him.

Momentarily, he lost whatever focus he had dedicated to suppressing his surge of electro power and it was quick to claim control of him. There was a burst of lilac all around him, screams tearing through the tranquil air of the forest, and each time he blinked it was to see another felled body laying limply on the ground, oozing blood into the earth. 

His entire body shook; a concoction of fear, adrenaline and confusion sending him into a complete state of derailment. His bloodied claymore had been materialised into his death grip without his consent and the wolf spirit he had no recollection of summoning was floating over him – as it always would, but rather than welcoming its belated return, the very sight of it had him falling back and onto his side, scrambling away from it. His elbow bumped into something warm and soft and he tore his strained gaze from on his spirit to see that he’d dragged himself against one of the limp bodies of the people he’d fought, blood that was not his own staining his flesh. 

He yelped and scrambled onto his feet and ran. He ran through the searing heat that punished his every move, he ran through the thorns that shredded the inside of his lungs, he ran through the agony that felt to be crushing his skull.

He ran until he collapsed, body lifelessly tumbling on from his accumulated velocity until it stopped, leaving him fighting for air and balled up as tightly as his skeleton would permit. 

With his knees drawn to his chest, he waited for the pain to subside, counted in his head as Lisa had taught him to help regulate his breathing, and tried not to think about how petrified he was at what he had done – again.  

For the first time, he questioned the veracity of Teacher’s words. Maybe he really was a monster.

 

***

 

When his eyes peeled open, the sun was low in the sky, a mist of blue shrouding most details from his vision. He was too weak to move, he realised once he went to unfurl his body, so he let himself lay in the same spot for a while longer. The electro power that had overridden his natural self had fully dissipated, much to his relief, but the harm it had physically caused him – the harm it had caused to those people – would burden him for much more time to come. 

Temperature in the rainforest was a fickle thing, he came to notice when his body started to shiver; or, perhaps, it was his fever acting up again. Either way, he and the knight were only going to get worse if he didn’t just get up and find help. But how could he trust anyone in a place he’d never been, where all faces were new and no one knew him?

He wasn’t sure when he’d closed his eyes but the next time he opened them there was a figure in black crouched within arm’s reach before him. The boy startled, physically recoiling as much as he could. When did this person arrive? For how long had they been here? How did Razor not hear them approach?

“Are you responsible for the near fatalities of the Eremites and the knight?”

It was a male voice, stoic and rigid, but Razor only had to hear the word knight to have him shakily extend a hand towards the silhouette, fingers grabbing feebly at the thick material that hid the person’s form from view.

The man visibly stiffened for a moment, catching a whiff of the iron that coated Razor’s palms and clumped under his nails, and then shifted out of the natural light’s way, allowing it to douse the boy’s body and paint his image. 

“You’re injured,” He stated under his breath, and a warm hand instantly went to the boy’s glistening forehead, a sharp inhale soon following, “and you have a fever.”

A second passed and Razor remained unmoving, save for the slight nudge he gave to the palm still resting under the strands of his hair on his face. He relished in the gentle touch it had to offer, finding it to be reminiscent of Lisa’s own as his mind sought any sense of comfort to deal with the stress that engulfed him.

Not reacting to the movement, the man left one hand on the boy’s forehead and went to carefully tip his chin upwards with the other, revealing the hardened blood that drew a sloppy line across his neck. 

“What happened?”

The question was murmured, him clearly trying to piece the strange occurrences together, but Razor couldn’t wait much longer for him to say anything else, consciousness ebbing away from his mind’s shore. 

“Knight,” He forced out, “need help.”

A pause.

“He has been found and is receiving treatment,” The knuckle that had been holding his jaw up gradually eased away, “Do not worry, you shall also be helped.”

Razor’s sight grew hazy, his grip on the man’s cloak slipping. He didn’t want to haphazardly trust anyone, much less someone he couldn’t see, and even more so allow himself to fall into a complete state of helplessness in the presence of said stranger, but the exhaustion was far too great of an enemy to subdue and he soon found himself kneeling in surrender to it.

As his vision left him, he stole one last look at the man who could prove to be either his saviour or his end, and with a skip to his pulse, he took note of what appeared to be two elongated, sharp ears at the top of his head. He fought with every muscle to raise his right hand, bloodied and trembling as it was, wanting to feel for himself if this man truly had ears – ears like his wolf friends back home. 

How he wished he were at home.

“Lupical?”

The call was nothing more than a breathy escape of the word from the cage of his mouth as his eyes fell shut and his hand plummeted to the ground with a dull thud. He wasn’t able to hear the man’s response, nor did he feel the apprehensive fingers that carded his hair away from his face.

Once his breathing had settled and his lashes had met, the figure clad in black merely stared for a long moment, processing the scene. For the latter, it almost felt as though he were peering into a reflection of his past, the worn and battered body of the child beneath him bringing to mind when he’d been reduced to a similar state. His heart twinged and, perhaps foolishly, grew resolute about taking the boy where he knew it to be the safest.

Notes:

my boy razor “passing out” so often he might as well be dante in the divine comedy fr

this feels like a really badly written chapter im sorry there were so many ways i could have chosen to have nari or cyno come across razor but i ended up going with this. if you have any suggestions, please (kindly) share! i would be very happy to know your thoughts! thanks for reading! 

Chapter 6

The blanket of night swallowed most of the world around them in its darkness, the trees scantily allowing the cold, guiding blue of moonshine to illuminate the path he already knew by heart to Gandharva Ville. Conclusions drawn from his analysis of the information he’d gathered almost entirely marked the boy he found – and whose limp body he currently hauled on his back – as not dangerous, despite many questions remaining unanswered. 

He would have to wait until the boy awoke and was feeling better before he’d be able to interrogate him – something he didn’t think would be happening too soon given that the heat radiating from the smaller’s quivering form was worrying and that he appeared to be in great discomfort. The boy faintly smelled of blood, sweat and soil, a concoction which only brought more confusion to the murky surface of the situation.

With not a sound, the man’s somewhat clothed feet traced through the forest and across a shallow river, eventually bringing the two of them under the soft yellow glow of numerous lights hanging by huts and workstations, of which the safe haven settlement was composed. He continued to ponder the boy as he neared the hut he called home, uncharacteristically absent-minded until his knuckles rapped against the door and he could hear shuffling on the other side, a muffled grumble of, “I’m coming,” seeping through the cracks.

It had yet to fully leave its frame when the door showed Tighnari – in a plain white undershirt and loose navy trousers that pooled around his feet; his bedwear, he noted guiltily – heaving a weighted sigh and itching at the base of his right drooping fox ear, silky fur evidently ruffled.

“Really, Cyno, I don’t know why you insist on always making clandestine visits in the middle of the night rather than during the day, like any other – Who’s this?” 

Cyno blinked, as if unsure of how to answer the question.

“I don’t know,”

With an arched brow, Tighnari hummed, sight wafting over the dozing boy and taking mental note of attributes pertaining to his physical state. It would have been previously inconceivable for Cyno to bring to their home anyone he wasn’t completely certain he could trust, let alone a stranger, yet the boy – marked with grime and suspicious red stains on his skin – had been the first exception. He felt as though he could surmise some of the reason as to why, but he truly had no more time to waste theorising, it seemed.

“Can you help him?”

Tighnari shuffled aside and held the door open wide, mutedly gesturing to the other to step in.

It was surprisingly more of a struggle than anticipated to ease the boy’s vice-like grip from Cyno’s cloak – neither of the two men keen on waking him too soon or jostling him in case of unseen injuries – but they were eventually successful, having his limp form strewn on Tighnari’s own bed he’d hurriedly covered with an extra sheet moments prior.

Cyno released his shoulders from their stiffness with resounding clicks, rolling them sharply before cracking his neck and arching his back, pelvis jutting forward with a breath of relief parting from his lips. He then proceeded to fold his arms and stand at the foot of the bed, watching over the scene of his partner expertly checking over the boy’s body once he’d undone the knot that secured the filthied cloak around him.

Under the light of a lamp, the sight of the lifeless figure of the teen stirred something within Cyno, an uncomfortable rekindling of emotions long since repressed. The silver tufts of hair were long enough to pass the boy’s hips, but they were evidently unkempt; knotted, matted, filled with dried mud and bits of leaves, maroon crust that Cyno could only assume to be old blood. He had faded scars on his arms and more blood on his hands which had their palms cut up, much like his scraped knees and bare feet. His feet were especially battered, soil and shards of grass sticking to leaking slits in their soles, thin slashes all around his ankles and calves.

He had been running, clearly without concern for injury, but from who or what? Why barefoot? The state of his hair implied that he hadn’t bathed it in weeks at the very least, so was it possible he’d been lost in the forest that long? Or had he escaped from the group of Eremites the matra found in the vicinity? That wouldn’t explain the knight of Mondstadt however, unless the boy was from…

“Well, his fever is something we can control,” Came Tighnari’s pensive voice to tug him from his thoughts, “and despite having so much blood on him, other than the shallow cut on his neck and the surface injuries to his hands and feet, he’s physically healthy.”

He gave a low grunt and a sharp nod, but his eyes remained transfixed on the boy, thinking. 

Tighnari sighed again, standing from his crouched position to trudge over to his desk.

“How is it that you’re always the one to find…” 

The rest of his sentence was lost to the sound of his rummaging in boxes and drawers, pulling out cases of medicines and ointments, along with gauze and an incense burner. Cyno remained silent as the other set everything up in an orderly fashion before returning to the bedside.

“Hm? What’s this?”

It was then that he too took note of the worn out scroll tied around the boy’s neck, settled upon what appeared to be three large animal teeth threaded together by thin rope and worn as a crude accessory. He waited with baited breath as Tighnari carefully unfurled the paper once he’d slipped it loose and skimmed over the text, eyes marginally rounder by the time he reached the end.

“It seems that he’s a boy – Razor, if I’m not mistaken – from Mondstadt, in need of treatment. Serendipitously, one of the people he’s meant to meet in Sumeru is you.”

Cyno’s brow furrowed, a shade of bafflement setting over his otherwise blank features.

“How so?”

The Forest Watcher shuffled closer, tilting the paper in such a way that the both of them could read its contents. His index finger pointed to the smudged, yet elegantly written name in the bottom right corner.

“Says so right here. It’s also signed by a senior of yours: Lisa. See?”

Confusion was something Cyno seldom experienced in his current life; he knew what he had to do, he knew how to get answers, he knew what every aspect of his job would entail and what to expect from each mission. This control was something that brought him a sense of comfort – the clear path of what to expect from each day and the routine it subsequently created. That night though, confusion consumed him and the loss of his sure footing perturbed him.

His trishiraite eyes read over the letter once, twice, and then a hand went to cup his head, as though it could stop his mind from spinning itself into a state of dizziness. He focused his sight on the boy, ragged and tired, now aware of the fact that the latter had a spirit either with or within him, possibly a self-aware entity or not. The letter didn’t specify such intricacies, yet the concept was not too dissimilar from his own. What were the odds?

“It’s quite the coincidence how similar your circumstances are, at a first glance,” Tighnari murmured, as if verbalising Cyno’s own thoughts, “It seems that he’s in much more need of help than I initially concluded. If I asked you to send a letter back to your senior and have someone bring certain ingredients from the city, would you be willing and able?”

Cyno tore his gaze from Razor and gave his partner a resolute nod. 

“Whatever you need done, know I will always find a way to do it.”

It was the usual unwavering and constant promise that Tighnari was accustomed to hearing from his lover’s lips, but he couldn’t help the small smile that curved his mouth at the delivery of the statement. Cyno had yet to fully free himself of his on-duty General Mahamatra mindset, his devotion coming across ever more fervently and with a more serious tone rather than one of romance. 

Feeling overly fond, Tighnari took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss from the other’s chapped lips and revelled in the subtle bashfulness that settled over Cyno’s features as a result, his stern facade steadily chipping away.

“Thank you, my valiant jackal,” His fingers deftly rolled the scroll back up, attention readjusting to the most pressing matter at hand, “I’ll write up a list of what I would need and pen a letter to send back to Lisa so that she can rest assured regarding his safety. Is there anything you’d like to tell her?”

Cyno took a moment to consider his next words carefully, eyes flickering to Razor and sticking for a few extra seconds prior to meeting Tighnari’s gaze, seeing his lilypad-green irises glimmering with understanding. He cleared his throat. 

“I will guide him and protect him from all harm. That is all.”

“Noted, dear.”

 

***

 

Razor awoke to the dawn of a new day, on a bed that was far softer than the ground he’d previously slept on and in a room that had air laden with an herbal scent tinted by the aroma of flowers and fresh food. He squirmed on the low mattress, eyelids wrestling apart until they managed to let the first rays of light seep in between their cracks. There above him was an unfamiliar ceiling, a wood of a yellow hue in planks and arches; and there was a window in the wall to his right, a large droplet-shaped leaf sheltering him from the direct sunshine coming through it.

“Ah, you’re finally with us,”

The boy jumped, closed fists defensively tucking themselves under his chin and eyes widening in shock at the man he hadn’t noticed was sitting at a desk adjacent to where he lay. There were open journals with scribbled pages, stacked books with worn spines and a cup of used quills and stained pens taking up the majority of the desk’s surface area; but Razor didn’t have the mindpower to scrutinise any further, as the very sight of the stranger had pulled his heart into his throat. 

“I surmise you had a restful sleep, yes?” The man with tall animal ears on his head and a hefty bushy tail – well-groomed fur, a navy blue fading into a dark teal – pushed his seat away from the table with a creek and stood, unperturbed by Razor’s intense stare, “Do you remember your name? How’s your eyesight?”

The questions fell on deaf ears, Razor’s mind reeling. His initial fear dwindled ever-so slightly as he recalled that the figure who had found him in the forest the previous night – having promised to help him – also sported similarly shaped ears. He supposed that was how he ended up in this small house with a funny smell, but this man, even though he seemingly had the same ears as the one who rescued him, didn’t smell the same. This man smelt of the earth, pollen, herbs and somewhat humid, almost like mushrooms. Razor didn’t like mushrooms. 

He hadn’t been capable of fully discerning the scent of the unknown man with the cloak, but he knew with almost certainty that it wasn’t akin to that of the one steadily approaching and moving to touch him.

Razor jerked back as he became aware of their dwindling distance, head painfully bumping into the wooden wall, but he ignored the ache and instead bared his teeth, snarling defensively and growling low in his throat. It seemed that his reaction was unexpected as the man took a step back and reassuringly raised both his hands – clad in hefty blue gloves – beside his head.

“I won’t hurt you,” He stated with earnest, a somewhat sympathetic look to his eyes, “Are you still feeling anxious? One of the incense’s effects should be reducing stress.”

Razor realised that he was breathing audibly, fists so tense that his knuckles had paled to white, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak just yet. He could trust this stranger, couldn’t he? He showed no signs of being threatening and bore an aura of kindness, intelligence… like Teacher.

His lack of response had the man clicking his tongue and returning to his desk, picking up a scroll all too familiar. Razor’s hand felt around his chest in alarm only to confirm that the man indeed held the one he previously wore.

“I read the letter you carried – hope you don’t mind,” He lifted his desk chair so as to not make a ruckus and brought it over to Razor’s bedside, glad to see a lack of flinching on the latter’s behalf, “Coincidentally, my partner is the Junior your guardian, Lisa, wanted you to meet during your stay here.”

Perhaps Razor should have been less quick to drop his guard, but the mere mention of Teacher’s name had his eyes rounding in delight, a spark in them that hadn’t shown itself in the recent days he’d endured. He promptly sat up much too quickly, for his head span and throbbed in retaliation, forcing him to grab at it, hissing. 

“Careful now, everything in moderation.” 

The boy’s eyes peeled open to see that the man’s hand hovered at a safe distance above his head, as if he had only just managed to control his instinct to soothe him back into a reclined position.

Still clutching his head – off-handedly noting the fact that his palms were securely wrapped in gauze – he looked at the man through his lashes, apprehensive for merely a moment before speaking, voice hoarse.

“You, friend of Teacher?”

“Hm?” Tighnari’s head tilted in question until what the boy meant dawned on him, “Ah, no, not me personally. Like I said; my partner, Cyno, is her Junior. He was the one who found you and brought you back here to me last night. Quite fortuitous, I must say.”

Razor squinted, processing the information. So he was correct about this man not being the one to have helped him, but they are partners. Partners in the same sense as Lisa and Jean were? Razor could only assume so but regardless, it meant he was with a friend and not a foe. 

“Cy… Cee…”

“Cyno,” Tighnari was quick to supply, a gentle smile on his lips that had Razor ease the tension in his shoulders ever so marginally, “Oh, where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Tighnari. I’m a Forest Watcher here in Avidya and you are currently in Gandharva Ville, southeast of Sumeru City. Your name is Razor, correct?”

The boy harrumphed, nodding, despite half of what he was told being lost on him. Tighnari either spoke too fast and convolutedly for him to comprehend or his mind was still in too much of a hazy state to fully keep up with the conversation. The two of them looked at one another for a moment, Tighnari not commenting on how the boy’s eyes scrutinised his every feature prior to – albeit seemingly against his will – drifting up to the pair of ears on his head.

“You, wolf?”

Razor, who had brought his legs over the edge of the bed to let them dangle, peered closer to the man inquisitively, head askew as he studied the animal ears from various angles. With patience and understanding, Tighnari merely offered a polite smile and shook his head no, the sway of his large ears only enticing the boy more, his eyes honing in attentively on their movement.

Of course, back home Razor had met Diona and her father a number of times, but they were the only humans up until that point that he ever knew to have animal features, and even then, they had those of a cat. Could it be that Tighnari was the same, but with features of a wolf? Razor had never seen a wolf with his colour of fur but, then again, everything was uniquely coloured in this forest. His hopes were dashed however, when Tighnari verbalised the negation he had failed to notice. 

“No, I’m of the Valuka Shuna race,”

A pause, with Razor merely blinking back at him blankly, and then he hummed.

“A fox, to put it plainly.”

Razor leaned away from him, returning to being fully seated on the bed. For a moment, he seemed to consider something seriously, and then his bandaged hands were reaching towards his own matted hair and he began to fidget with it, pulling chunks upwards – as if wanting to shape them into ears, Tighnari realised.

“Not like Lupical?” The boy asked distractedly, catching Tighnari off-guard as he tried to understand the overlooked details of the situation.

“Well, I –”

“Master Tighnari?” A voice chirped from the open doorway, effectively bringing all attention to its owner who stood rather meekly behind the tied back leaves, “I’m sorry for the interruption, but there’s a Ranger outside who said he has an urgent delivery. Ah, hello!”

The Forest Watcher clicked his tongue, setting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up to stand with a barely suppressed smile.

“That was quicker than expected,” He commented more so to himself before looking at the young girl outside, “Thank you, Collei. Could I trouble you with watching over our guest until I get everything sorted? I won’t be long.”

The girl – green-haired, wide-eyed and radiant with a certain warmth – beamed at the request and gave a resolute nod, “You can count on me, Master!”

Razor noted that Tighnari gazed upon her with a certain fondness, akin to how Teacher smiled at him when he’d tell her about the happenings in his Lupical or what adventure he and his companions had gone on recently. The realisation dawned upon him a new intensity of loneliness and longing, his mind helplessly envisioning his friends back home. 

The sound of approaching footsteps drew him out of his reverie, effectively preventing him from drowning too deeply in it, and he stiffened as he watched the new stranger then stop to stand a short way off from him, smiling amicably. 

Her scent was similar to that of Tighnari; natural and gentle, though perhaps sweeter, with a lingering fragrance of flowers. Something about her exuded calm and safety, though Razor wasn’t too sure what. 

She wore mostly earthy browns with traces of grassy greens, a shawl of the latter shade sweeping around her petite shoulders and bronze jewellery adorning her neck, ears and left thigh. A headpiece was tucked into the short waves of her hair, three feathers peaking out of its side, and two long pieces of orange cloth draped down over her back. 

“Hi, it’s really nice to meet you,” She spoke up in a merry tone, voice reminding Razor of a tittering bird, “I’m Collei, a Forest Ranger under Master Tighnari’s guidance. What’s your name?”

Razor remained unmoving, eyes strained on her headpiece, momentarily struggling to meet her gaze or formulate words. It seemed that the silence this brought on had a negative connotation in the girl’s mind as her expression morphed into an apologetic one, her gloved hands flapping about as if to shoo off her attempt at conversation.

“Oh, sorry, I must be bothering you! You’re tired; you can rest until Master returns.”

After a handful of seconds, Razor shook his head, hair tickling at his eyes.

“Not bothered. Talking, is hard,” He tried to assure her, feeling a pinch of guilt in his chest, “My name, is Razor.”

His words were enough to have Collei smiling at him again, violet eyes twinkling, “Razor, huh? Well, if you’d like anything to eat I have some pita pockets on me right now. Are you hungry?”

He nodded, feeling drool begin to pool in his mouth at the mention of food. His eagerness must have been apparent as it brought a giggle out of the girl, one she muffled into her hand as if afraid of offending him.

“Great then, we can share!”

Notes:

forgot to announce it last week but i completed my cyno playlist! speaking of, absolutely insane story quest i love my guy and i love crewmeru with all my heart

i cant wait to write about collei and razors friendship! i hope this chapter was decent :D

Chapter 7

Adjusting to life in the rainforest walked the fine line between being bearable and near detrimental for the boy, proving his first week in the care of Forest Watchers and Rangers to be a somewhat stressful one. There were similarities to his life in the woods of Wolvendom, of course: the soothing embrace of nature and the sense of freedom that came with wide open spaces of green and sunlight everywhere one’s eyes flickered to, the sound of small animals scittering about in bushes, birds singing their conversations to each other, soil beneath his feet and cool wind tenderly stroking at his cheeks.

Yet the high humidity, at times, felt to be having his lungs swimming in water, the continuous roar of the waterfall tired him rapidly, the plants were all massive and vibrant and strange in comparison to what he knew, and the scents that surrounded him were unfamiliar. Despite the tranquillity of the rainforest, it seemed that the people around him always had plenty to do, from the early hours of the morning to late in the night, creating a steady bustle and chatter everywhere he went. It all felt to be intrinsically different and he had nearly nothing comforting to grapple onto.

Fortunately, Tighnari and Collei were quick to pick up on his preferred food being meat and not overly spicy or seasoned dishes, so the pita pockets were repeatedly filled with boar and his meals grew simpler – though always accompanied by diverse fruit and veg, Tighnari insisting that he would find something he’d like. Razor was grateful that merely taking a bite was enough to appease the man and was overjoyed to discover that some of the foods he was asked to try were, indeed, delicious.

For the fruits he liked the taste of but couldn’t handle their texture, Tighnari even went as far as mashing into different drinks for him, explaining that their health benefits remained unchanged. Truthfully, Razor wasn’t even sure what those benefits were, but they tasted good so he would nod his head in faux understanding as he’d eagerly peer around the man whilst he prepared the colourful drinks for him.

Overall Razor never complained and, truly, he had no right to. These strangers were treating him with care and understood when he was growing too overwhelmed with the forest to allow him some moments of peace.

Perhaps the hardest times of all were the nights. He longed to snuggle into the thick fur of his wolf Lupical, help them groom one other and bask in the moonlight together as they slept soundly, safe in their land.

The first night he spent it sitting just outside the door to the quaint hut he was given, adjacent to that of Collei; legs pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around his torso in a futile attempt of shielding himself from the brisk air, and howling up at the moon. A part of him hoped his Lupical could hear his calls – a foolish notion, he was aware, but loneliness was quick to consume him and push him to such senseless sentimental actions.

When he awoke on the second day, he found himself curled up outside and with Collei hovering awkwardly around him, a shade of concern in her eyes though she did not voice it. 

“Good morning, Razor,” She greeted cheerfully, stepping back to allow him to unfurl and get into a seated position, shoulders leaning against his hut’s door, “I’m about to head out to forage for some herbs and plants. Are you feeling alright enough to join me?”

A hefty yawn rippled through the boy and he stretched his arms upward, cracking his spine that had grown incredibly stiff from his choice of sleeping location. The sun was already high in the sky, he realised, its warmth kissing his skin and dancing between the eyelashes he held low over his eyes, squinting.

“Hunt, for plants?” He asked, as he roughly rubbed at his face and subsequently recoiled at the coarse gauze he felt against his skin. 

Noting his grimace Collei hummed, crouching down and taking a closer look at his bandaged palms.

“Yes, but Master Tighnari wants to check on you before we go anywhere; he’ll even change these for you,” She said, a soft smile on her lips as she jutted her chin in the direction of his hands, “We can’t have your cuts getting infected.”

Razor harrumphed and proceeded to stand, admittedly wobbling on his legs that felt to be incredibly heavy and disjointed from the rest of his body. Once he was on his own two feet he swayed slightly, his vision swimming, and Collei seemed to tense, moving to stand closer to him even if she did not reach out to touch him. 

“Are you feeling alright?”

There was worry in her voice then, her eyebrows drawn together and her irises sweeping over him critically, alert. 

“Let’s hurry to Master. If… Well, if you feel like you’re going to fall, hold onto my arm, okay?”

Her words were sincere yet apprehensive, as if she also was uncomfortable with physical contact – at least, at that time. Razor could understand such a sentiment and felt a sort of bond with her for it. 

He gave a feeble nod and she guided them along a rope bridge higher, up to where Tighnari’s hut was located on the horizontally curved – and unfathomably large trunk – of the tree that crossed the river. Her low-heeled boots clicked against the worn wooden planks and his bandaged feet pattered mutedly in contrast, his instinct having him somewhat shield himself behind her as they traversed. He could see a man with a group of dogs in the distance, crates and vases stacked in multiple areas, stands and carts dotting the flat plains of the trunk that seemed to be the main part of the settlement. He looked around in mild awe at the numerous huts that dangled in the air from their secure ties to the tree, all connected by ladders and bridges, planks of stairs that swirled around branches. 

His heart thumped at the prospect of it all being so new and unknown. 

They passed by some other Rangers, all of them smiling at the duo and sending merry greetings their way, to which Collei responded in kind. She was good with people, Razor decided by the time they reached their destination and the girl had deftly protected him from the chatting he clearly wasn’t keen on. She was good with people, she was smart and she was kind. He found himself hoping to be her friend soon. 

“Ah, there you two are. I was about to come and check if everything was alright.”

It was Tighnari’s voice that had him face ahead and away from a bird he spotted perched on the hut’s roof that looked to be the same kind that had guided him briefly through the forest, before he landed upon the group of humans he’d fought against. He shrunk in on himself at the memory of their blood pooling on the ground, head lowering in rising shame. 

He shouldn’t let his guard down, he was still a danger to others.

“How’s your fever? Any headaches, pains, dizziness?”

The fox man was talking to him again but he couldn’t bring himself to speak, let alone look at him, so he merely shook his head in denial, uncaring of the fact that his head did throb weakly and he had been dizzy since he stood up. 

“I see…” Tighnari murmured, unconvinced, tail swishing behind him in thought, “Well, come inside, Razor. Your bandages need to be changed and there are some things I’d like to talk about with you. Collei, why don’t you find another team member to forage with today?” 

There was a pause, and Razor’s ears twitched. He stole a glance at the girl who was as taken aback as he by the suggestion, evidently feeling torn between obeying or pressing for Razor to accompany her. Her violet eyes flicked to his own maroon red and, upon seeing something in them – perhaps pleading, perhaps forlorn – her expression turned serious.

“Actually, da– Master Tighnari, can I stay here for a while?”

Tighnari’s tail stilled momentarily, an eyebrow quirking in question as he tilted his head, sleek bob falling lopsidedly. 

“I suppose that’ll be fine,” He conceded eventually, smiling, “Come now, there’s much to do.”

Razor did his utmost to be on his best behaviour as he was led to a covered bed and made to sit, Collei taking a seat in the desk chair some ways off and Tighnari shuffling through the medical supplies he’d set out on the head of the mattress. His fever was checked, the result having Tighnari mildly frowning, and his face was dabbed clean while the cut on his neck was disinfected – something that stung and had the boy hissing, flinching back. 

“I’m sorry but we’ll need to do the same to your hands and feet,” Tighnari apologetically said, “Please try to hold still.”

Collei flinched each time he did so Razor steeled himself as much as he could to not give a reaction as some ointment was rubbed onto the cuts and scrapes of his unwrapped hands and feet. They seemed to be worse than the day before, a blistering red and yellow crust forming on some.

“It’s best if you avoid walking too much for the next few days,” Tighnari sighed at the sight of them, taking care to be extremely gentle once he unrolled the gauze and began to wind it around the boy’s soles, “You risk opening the cuts more and infecting them.”

Ah, infected cuts were something he was familiar with. Teacher would put a grassy smelling paste on them for a few days and he would heal fairly quickly. The cream Tighnari applied however, smelt differently and pricked at his sensitive flesh. He preferred Teacher’s method, he thought to himself. 

“Done,” Tighnari announced, satisfied, standing up and dusting off his gloves, “Now, I wanted to discuss the treatment I intend on giving you until I get word back from the Bimarstan.”

Razor gave a tense nod, eyes focused on watching his own wrapped up hands, his fingers clenching down into his palm and straightening back out. He really disliked the constricted feeling, but he felt as though Tighnari wouldn’t budge on him having to wear them so he didn’t dare ask.

“Your condition is quite the anomaly – I mean, it is hard to understand,” The Forest Watcher corrected himself, keeping in mind the boy’s apparently limited vocabulary, “Physically, you suffer from strong fevers and headaches, yes?”

Razor gave a quick nod again.

“Nothing else?”

He thought for a second longer.

“Body, hurts also. Very bad, sometimes.”

“Hm, those are not too grave – they are not a big problem to solve. The letter told us that you were given Doctor Baizhu’s strongest fever medicine, something I’m familiar with. I will have a similar medicine sent to us, but until then I will keep giving you what I have and some painkillers; they seem to be enough, for now.” 

Tighnari turned and walked to the desk, fetching a second chair from beside it and setting it between Collei and Razor – not giving his back to either once he sat – lips pursed as he mulled over what he wanted to say. The atmosphere in the room was quick to grow heavy with his change in demeanour and Collei leaned forward, closer to him, as if wanting to be sure of catching the rest of the discussion.

“The root of the issue appears to be your unstable elemental power and this wolf spirit that resides within you.”

Razor’s head dipped further. At times, it still felt wrong to put the blame on his spirit. It was probably because he wasn’t strong enough, or because he wasn’t enough of a wolf. Most likely – he was sure – the actual problem was just him himself.

“You seem to be having negative thoughts,” Tighnari spoke in a gentle voice, successfully urging the boy to look his way, “I know it’s scary and you are suffering because of it, but we will understand what’s wrong and we will help you. Believe me.”

An aspect of the words of assurance was so earnest and raw – encouraging – that Razor’s eyes briefly welled with unshed tears and he finally allowed his sight to settle properly on Tighnari’s face. 

Kind. This man was also kind, like Collei.

“We will research as much as we can and try to find a way to stabilise your elemental power. Until then, I must ask that you avoid calling upon your Vision or allow yourself to get too stressed or excited. I’ll prepare an incense for you to light before you sleep in your hut. It will not only help with any aches you have, but it will also calm your mind. I’ll show you how to use it. Will you remember to do it every night?”

Razor hummed, feeling a tint of determination paint his heart, and Tighnari smiled, serene.

“Great. Well then, for the next few days don’t go walking around, alright? And avoid getting your bandages wet.”

“Hunting, not allowed?” 

“Certainly not.”

The boy sagged, a slight pout being inevitable at the disappointment that stirred within his belly. He never hunted plants before, but he was looking forward to showing Collei his hunting prowess. After all, he was one of the best at procuring meat for his wolf Lupical, so plants couldn’t be much harder prey.

“It’ll only be for now, don’t get too down about it,” Collei attempted to console him, empathy clear on her features, “I can lend you some of my books to read or you can stay with some Rangers who need help tidying things!”

“That’s right,” Tighnari nodded, arms folded over, “You won’t be left alone. We’re all here for you. If you get bored or need anything, tell a Ranger to call for either of us and we’ll come as soon as we can.”

The day was therefore slow to pass. He wandered stealthily around the settlement, receding behind trees and tall enough crate stacks when Rangers drew close, or crouching into bushes for lack of a better option. He watched as everyone worked in a consistent flow, chatting amongst themselves and occasionally sharing a laugh. Seeing how humans interacted was always a fascinating thing; he could never seem to fully grasp it or replicate it himself.

True to her word, Collei had lent him a thin book, assuring him that it was simple enough to understand for beginners and that she had also used it when practising reading. Razor held it close to his chest, occasionally looking over its painted cover of a boar and a bird, seemingly friends; but he didn’t feel like braving the onerous task of reading that day, not with his mild headache and so much to see around him.

And so he waited for the sun to set and night to coddle him into a peaceful sleep, sharp eyes constantly looking out for either Tighnari or Collei’s return. The warm yellow lights of Gandharva Ville had been lit and the moon was high in the starry sky when – from his seat outside his doorway – he spotted Collei hurrying over to him, a bag swaying in her right hand and her shawl’s two drapes of orange cloth flapping behind her like wings.

“You’re still awake!” She gleefully greeted prior to dangling her stitched leather bag before him, “I’ve brought food. Would you like to have dinner together?”

Razor couldn’t recall the last time he had had dinner with another human. He looked at her, then the food she displayed, and finally to his hands. His heart skipped a beat. It felt as though he were making another friend. What a frightening yet exciting development.

“Eat, together, I like to do.”

They shuffled on the floorboards until they were seated opposite one another, Razor’s legs folded before him while Collei’s were bent to her side, one knee set atop the other and her left arm acting as a resting pillar for her upper-half. They didn’t talk much, what with Razor’s focus being honed in on the still warm meal he’d been brought and Collei not wanting to interrupt the peace of it all, but it didn’t turn the air awkward or stiff.

She’d smile at him from time to time, pass a comment about her day, and he would hum in return, content.

He would howl to the moon that same night, an hour or so after her departure and when sleep had evaded him for a while longer, but he would eventually drift off in bed with the sweet, earthy scent of the incense that quietly burned through the night, easing him into serenity.

Notes:

unrelated but it was my birthday and my sister got me a razor figure to paint and he's almost done! i didn't do a stellar job but i love it so much and im so happy to have something of the best boy in teyvat!!

anyway, mid chapter lmao but i started the next and soon some stuff will happen and ooh boy i cant wait to write cyno and razor interacting along with some other stuff. i hope it hasnt gotten too boring, im really just following where the vibes lead me (partially... i have quite the detailed outline prepared)

damn yapper 101 with this note huh ANYWAY thank you for reading!!

Chapter 8

Notes:

before you start this chapter i really just wanted to say a huge thank you. i hope i dont sound dramatic but the numbers this has reached is insane to me as i genuinely thought five other people would actually read it. above all that though, are the comments you guys have left me. even the simplest ones have made me smile and encouraged me to keep writing. i hope with my everything that i wont let you down with this story. i will do my absolute best to see this through to the end and make it a pleasant read. thank you so much for the support!

if you’d like to be mutuals on social media im on tumblr and twitter under the user gh0stbra1nz and i play on the eu servers of genshin (uid: 763253475) and hsr (uid: 717808204)

thanks again!

Collei had secrets of her own, Razor gradually concluded. There was something that on occasion tainted her merry soul with sadness, a grey that bled into the sunny yellow of her brilliant smile. It was a detail he spotted when she thought no one was looking, or when his headaches were acting up and Tighnari had to increase his dose for the day.

The two spent many hours together, thanks to Collei’s own efforts. She visited him on his third night to have dinner with him again, and on the fourth he sunk his teeth into grilled meat while she spoke to him of her favourite plants and how she preserved pretty flowers in a book’s pages. He didn’t really understand how it all worked, but she promised to show him eventually and he found himself looking forward to it.

Having someone to listen to, who smiled at him and didn’t expect him to speak, was a relief and it mildly assuaged his loneliness – even if it made him think of Bennett and Fischl back home; they would often go camping and adventuring together, his friends equally talkative whilst he was happy to listen.

On the fourth night Tighnari returned from the forest earlier than usual and, despite the tiredness in his eyes, he sent them a wave as he approached where they sat outside of Razor’s hut, the pair’s feet leisurely swaying over the ledge. 

“What a nice picnic you two are having,” He said in lieu of a hello, letting out a breathy laugh, “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course, dad! I mean, uh…”

Razor’s head fell askew, wide eyes blinking as he thought. So even Collei had a father.

“It’s quite alright, Collei, we’re not working right now,” Tighnari waved off her mild panic with a light huff, before mumbling after giving it a second thought, “Though even if we were, you know I wouldn’t mind you referring to me as such more often.”

“Right…” Collei’s cheeks had dusted a rosy pink and her free hand went to rub at the nape of her neck, her expression bashful, “Anyway, what do you say, Razor? Can he stay?”

The boy grunted with a nod, recommencing chewing the food he’d left sitting in his mouth while he’d been pondering. Tighnari and Collei were quick to fall into conversation with each other, sporadically directing a question Razor’s way in an attempt to make him feel included.

They clearly had a strong bond, he realised with a strange twinge in his chest. It made sense, then, the look of fondness he had seen Tighnari bear when speaking with Collei. The thought of his own father sprouted in his mind, yet all he could think of was Grandmaster Varka. Any image in the recesses of his memories containing his biological father had been lost, what remained being akin to a drawing that had had water spilled over it, defining lines all murky and disfigured. 

The both of them left eventually, once the food had swelled their bellies and their yawns became too frequent to dismiss. Again Razor cried out to the moon alone, tormented by what he’d lost and what he feared he was at risk of losing.

 

***

 

On the fifth day Razor opened up the book Collei had left with him. He nestled as closely as possible to a tree at a distance from the waterfall and drew his knees to his chest in its dappled shade. His pulse quickened as his eyes landed on the largely written words and coloured images in the corners of the pages. There were some scrawled annotations, mostly regarding pronunciation or definition, traces of the book’s true owner. 

He drew a deep breath. After yet another suspicious glance around to ascertain no one was nearby, he cleared his throat and licked his chapped lips. He could do this, he told himself. He read books with Lisa when they both had the chance and he had improved, slowly but surely; this would be no different.

“Thai– Their day bee–can l-like any otter. The soon– sun was shinn– sing– shining in the big blooweh – blue s-sky…”

Razor’s brows had knit themselves together so closely that the creases between them had become valleys in his skin. He didn’t recall struggling so much to read and yet it must have been longer than he thought since he’d last picked up a book. A not unknown concoction of humiliation and frustration seared itself into his heart, his grip on the pages strengthening. 

Teacher had assured him it took time to learn and people his age were only good at it already because they had started studying much before him, yet he couldn’t help but feel incredibly daft and ashamed.

No. Teacher always told him to be patient. He will keep practising and keep getting better. He’ll get so good at reading that when he returns to Mondstadt all his Lupical and Teacher will be impressed. 

He shook away any remnants of negativity from his mind and gave a sharp nod to himself, resolute and unwavering. He wasn’t going to give up, but he was first going to take a bite of the sweet and juicy zaytun peaches the fox man had given him as a snack. He’d pick up reading in a minute or so, he decided. Better to do something on a full stomach, after all.

With the languid passing of hours he progressed steadily through the novel. Regrettably, he was so intent on pronouncing words correctly that he scarcely processed exactly what the story was about, but he supposed he could always read the book again once he finished it completely, or even ask Collei to explain the bits he missed.

A number of times he had to change location due to Rangers or Watchers getting too close. His last hiding spot was as near as he could get to the top of the imposing tree in the centre, where he found a singular boulder that reached his knees on the widest branch, smoothened by time and apparently lonesome. He realised he’d made a mistake by climbing when his feet began to sting terribly, the bandages feeling dampened, but the damage was done and he could only hope that Tighnari wouldn’t notice the following day.

The overlooking view of Gandharva Ville in its entirety made the burning he endured worth it, however. From the seat he’d found he could even see in the distance the white stone and green tiling that differentiated Sumerian architecture from the rest, the swooping shapes of roofs and the occasional shimmer of gold – the whole city glimmered in the sunshine like a jewel yet to be discovered.

He had to force his gaze away from the sight, battle with his curiosity to keep his pupils tracing the ink on the open pages before him, but he’d peek at the city from time to time, and wonder. Perhaps Collei had been, maybe even Tighnari. He longed to ask questions about the mysterious place and if, possibly, the man who found him and brought him there was currently in that very city.

Once night rolled around and darkness had settled, Razor clambered back down the tree and waited for a while outside of his hut in the hopes of Collei joining him again for dinner. It had appeared to be a forming routine and so he expected it eagerly, yet the minutes went by fruitlessly, regardless of the fact that he remained still until his back began to ache from sitting on the ground. Eventually discouraged, he retreated into his hut in surrender and pulled closed the door behind himself. 

Perhaps she was on a mission of sorts? He didn’t know much of the roles the people were assigned in Gandharva Ville, but he assumed she must have been doing an important task and was fine. 

As he was getting used to doing, he struck a small flame and lit the incense burner that stood on his small bedside table, briefly watching as the smoke fluidly drifted into the air and dissipated, leaving its scent behind. He breathed deeply. The smell was one he was growing accustomed to and happily accepted, seeing as how it truly seemed to ease the near constant dull aches in his body and soothe his nerves. 

Abruptly, in the silence of the night, his ears picked up on a sound on the rope bridge and he spun around to the only point of entry, feet apart and firmly grounded, watching as a disfigured shadow cast itself upon his door of leaves some moments later.

“Razor? Are you asleep?”

Instantly, he fell at ease, shoulders drooping and a breath spilling past his parted lips. It was Collei, finally.

“No. Awake,” He replied, voice cracking from being overused that day. Approaching the door to open it, he saw the girl standing outside, fidgeting with her shawl and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Sorry for coming at this hour,” She apologised, a weariness to her smile he couldn’t miss, “We came across an injured cub. Oh, I brought you food, just in case.”

She handed him a bag he was late on taking, intensely distracted by her aura of exhaustion. 

Again, he noted that the deep-rooted sadness she sometimes bore was present. He could smell it rolling off of her in waves. Concern swirled within him, a slow brewing tempest.

He wanted to ask if something was wrong, but she was then looking behind him at the incense burner, her eyes rapidly taking on a distant glaze, as though what she saw was not the same as he did.

Razor watched as she took a quiet whiff of the air and her smile grew sombre. 

“It’s the same one he used to give me.”

The boy wasn’t sure if he was intended to have heard the comment. At the time, it appeared Collei’s mind had truly trailed off on its own path and she was thinking of something long gone – not fondly, he understood, but with dismay.

“Grass Girl, also sick?”

Her violet eyes sharpened then, just enough to look at him through the haze she was lost in, and she shook her head.

“Once,” She murmured, still smiling, “Not anymore. Never again.”

And then, as if she’d turned the page and began anew, her spirits were lifted and the curve of her lips became more genuine. It was somewhat of a relief to see, but he didn’t have time to relish it much as what she next said had him recoiling like a snail into its shell.

“By the way, I heard you spent a lot of time reading today! How did it go? Do you like the story? Amir told me you were doing very well.”

Razor’s face bloomed into the colour of valberries – vivid and intense – all the way to the tips of his ears and the start of his neck. He couldn’t believe someone had heard him reading; he had tried so hard to not get caught! He was so mortified he would have scampered off in a hurry to the nearest burrow he could find if he didn’t know it would have been seen as rude.

Instead, he dropped the bag and gripped at his hair with a grunt, tugging tufts of it over his ears, scarcely shielding the red in his cheeks from sight. Collei laughed heartily at his reaction, joyous and full. At least she was looking brighter, more sunshine than clouds.

“I, practised much and, I am not good. The story, is nice and I – but I, am confused. Razor, not smart. Your Lupical, not saying the truth. I did bad.”

Her laughter dimmed at his words, her expression empathetic.

“Hey, don’t say that. I used to struggle a lot too and now I can read the same things Master Tighnari does – almost! You mustn’t give up!” She held an encouraging fist up, words sincere and resolute, and Razor hummed, trying to quell the shyness and warmth in his chest at the support he was being given.

“I, will not give up,” He asserted after a moment, meeting her gaze and trying to smile back once he relinquished his grip on his hair, “I, will be like you. Get very good, at reading.”

Collei beamed at him, marginally flustered at being someone’s inspiration for reading, of all things.

“That’s the way to think! Oh, right!” She abruptly exclaimed, her fist clapping down into her open palm, “Master Tighnari told me to tell you that tomorrow he’d like to meet you early in the morning at the end of the river. He said you don’t need to bring anything and that he has it all prepared.”

The boy’s head fell askew, his red eyes catching the light of the room in them as they danced with thought.

“Meeting, with Forest Teacher?”

“Forest Teacher, huh? Well, that’s what he said. I’m not sure for what though, sorry,” Collei then smiled and indicated the bag of food still plopped unceremoniously onto the ground, “Try to eat before it gets too cold – if you’re hungry, that is. I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Razor.”

He waved after her and scooped the bag off the floor, opening it to take a deep sniff of the food. Ah, meat. He ate contentedly, no longer thinking of what the next day had to offer. He slept soundly once he had finished his meal and let out a howl of goodnight to the moon.

 

***

 

It was with a spike of anxiety that he discovered the meeting’s location with the fox man being by the river was of no coincidence. 

It was time to bathe. 

If it weren’t for the fact that Tighnari’s ears had twitched his way the moment he could make out the man’s figure in the distance, he would have sprinted at full speed in the opposite direction. But Tighnari was aware of him then, finishing rolling up a towel and setting a bar of soap on it – adjacent to a pile of fresh clothes – and turning to wave at him with a welcoming smile.

Razor briefly wished one of the vicious predatory creatures he’d been warned about being in the forest would attack him right that moment; yet he remained unharmed and his feet obediently – albeit dreadfully – lugged him to where the man awaited his arrival.

“Good morning, Razor,” Tighnari greeted, chipper, “How are you feeling? Any new or worsening symptoms?”

Razor merely shook his head, chin to his chest and eyes ruefully glued to the water rushing beside him and the peachy soap bar he’d have to use. Ever perceptive, Tighnari took note of what had his attention and parted his lips in a slight ‘Oh,’ at the realisation.

“Do you not like water?” He asked as non-judgmentally as he could, “Or is it something else?”

“Soap, strong smell. But, burns eyes, also.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that. This is a very mild one in scent, just enough to make someone smell clean. As for your eyes… Well, I could help you wash your hair once you wash your body. Would that be alright?”

He rolled the offer around in his mind for a moment before giving a timid nod, still apprehensive but unwilling to let the man down after all he’d done for him. 

“Good then. Just give me a call when you’re ready an–”

“Forest Teacher, stay.”

Tighnari apparently jammed in place, processing the request, prior to humming and offering an understanding smile.

“Whatever you prefer,” He said to the boy who couldn’t look away from the ground, “For now leave your bandages on, alright? Also, these clothes are for you to wear until I can wash your current ones.”

Razor disliked the idea of having to put on anything except what he already had, but he acquiesced regardless, knowing he had blood stains and dirt patches on his favourite poncho and that it could do with a cleaning.

The man sat on a nearby tree stump, one calf balanced on his opposite knee and back facing Razor who remained staring at the water in trepidation. 

“Let me know when you’re ready and wearing your trousers, okay?”

Tighnari’s words from a distance nudged him out of his near paralysed state and he harrumphed in response.

The water was cool as it embraced his ankles and sent a shiver along his back once he sat down in it, bare skin shifting upon the worn out pebbles that flickered like gems when struck by light.

His old clothes were left in a heap on the ground, necklace of teeth carefully set atop them, a safe way off from where the river lapped at the tall blades of grass. His hands clutched a small bucket of water nervously. He stared down into it for a second, then another, and once he’d mustered the courage, he tipped it over his head.

With his eyes tightly squeezed shut he instinctively blew out from his nose, huffing at the water that rushed down his face, and then he shook his head with vigour, chunks of hair noisily flapping about. It was too matted to be evidently wetted by the water but some clumps of blood and mud were eventually loosened as silver tendrils softened and floated around his waist on the river's rippling surface.

He rubbed himself down with water and soap, some old grazes stinging feebly and the dried mud smearing until it was fully cleaned off. His skin, tan from years of living in the wilderness and decorated with scars, seemed to regain its plush nature and he watched in mild intrigue as the current carried away the water he’d sullied with the dirt he’d garnered over his arduous trip and past week. 

Tighnari’s words had proven true – the soap had a delicate, fruity smell, not enough to have him wrinkling his nose but enough that when he held his forearm to his face for a test he gave a small nod of approval.

He did his best to wet his hair as much as possible but he feared that it would have to be combed like he used to have done by Lisa when he went a long time without a bath. He hated combing his fur – it hurt and the knots were a hassle to get rid of without tugging at his scalp.

Carefully he stood from the water, feet nearly slipping on the pebbles that shifted beneath him as he stepped onto the steadier ground of the riverbank. He shook his head again, spraying water in every direction, prior to tentatively pulling on new underwear and a fresh pair of plain brown shorts; deep pockets were on their sides and a green handkerchief was tied around one of the unused belt loops, to which he subsequently proceeded to attach his Vision.

The shorts were soft and not scratchy, but durable and loose around his thighs where they hovered just above his knees. He took turns lifting his legs in a march, getting a feel of how they moved with him until he determined that they were comfortable.

“Ready,” He finally announced, and Tighnari took a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm prior to standing and approaching him with a pleased smile.

“Great job,” He praised earnestly, “You even got started on your hair for me.”

Razor’s chest swelled with joy at his efforts being acknowledged and he found himself lifting his sight to meet the man’s gentle expression. 

“Sit by the river and lean back towards me so that you can stay as dry as possible while I soap your hair.”

Doing as told, Razor sat cross-legged whilst Tighnari kneeled behind him. Briefly, he wondered if the fox man had claws or pads on his hands like his wolf Lupical, but he never got the chance to see them bare as, before he could sneakily turn to take a look, the man spoke, distracting him.

“I’m going to touch your hair now, okay? Tell me if I hurt you or if it becomes too much.”

Razor was going to simply nod but instead replied with a verbalised, “Okay.”

Tighnari treated him delicately, fingers carefully massaging muck out of the boy’s matted hair and off from around his roots. It was so soothing that for a fleeting moment Razor shut his eyes and he was a young child again, Lisa tenderly washing his hair and telling him a story to keep him distracted in the meantime. 

The thought brought a pang of pain along with a caress of comfort. Fortunately, minutes had passed in silence and after slowly pouring water over his hair a third time, Tighnari spoke up.

“All good?”

The boy hummed distractedly and quiet was close to embracing them once more until a thought crept into his mind and itched to leave his lips.

“Forest Teacher,” He began in a somewhat hushed voice, as if the distant calls of birds and the stillness of the trees urged him to maintain the peace of the scene, “people like you, but wolf, not fox, exist?”

Tighnari considered the question carefully prior to answering, fingers deftly handling a knot in the boy’s hair all the while.

“I haven’t met any, personally,” He eventually settled on admitting, without disclosing he’d also never heard of such a race. 

“Man who saved me, like you?”

This time, Tighnari huffed a small laugh.

“No no, what you saw was part of his work uniform. He’s a human, just like you.”

Human. Just like me?

The silence stretched once again, something sour-tasting settling on Razor’s tongue. Sensing the shift in mood, Tighnari urged the conversation onward.

“What about your… Lupical, was it? The wolves in Mondstadt are your family?”

At the mention of his Lupical back home, Razor’s features smoothened and a glow sparked in his eyes, a need to proudly talk of his pack bubbling within him.

“Wolf Lupical, my family. We stay together, hunt together, clean together. Wolves, saved me, when I was little. Keep me safe. Much years passed. They, are very strong. Lupus Boreas, our leader. Also strong.”

His words trailed off towards the end, the hurt at the memory of Boreas abandoning him when he needed him most – ignoring his raw pleas for help – burning him like a hot iron brand to the heart.

“I can imagine you have a lot of love for each other,” Tighnari commented genuinely, the questions rolling in the back of his mind being quelled for the time being, “And these markings you have? Are they because of your wolf spirit?”

Razor looked at the neat pattern that was permanently painted on his skin, across his chest, stomach, shoulders and arms. He’d never thought much of it, but he supposed they were the mark of his companion. The notion eased his rising tension slightly.

“These drawings, I had, since wolf spirit became friend. Same time, I got Vision, because protecting Lupical from attack.”

“I see,” Tighnari murmured, mentally filing the information away to refer to in the future. 

With a final rinse to Razor’s hair, he pushed himself off of his knees and fully upright with a barely suppressed groan of discomfort – his poor joints ached terribly. He had lost track of time while cleaning the boy’s hair, both in listening to his story and in his focus of liberating him from some of the knots and tangles.

“Let’s leave your hair as it is for today,” He announced, grabbing a towel to pass it to Razor so he could dry off, “Are you still alright? I hope it wasn’t too overwhelming.”

Razor sloppily dried his hair for a quick moment before handing it back to the man and moving stand.

“It was okay, like with Teacher Lisa. Just tired, not very.”

Tighnari smiled fondly at the boy’s words, having received seemingly the highest of praise from him. Without thought, his hand reached out to Razor’s head and gently patted just above his forehead, where his choppy hair dangled and dripped over his eyes. 

“I’m glad,” And then, as if stunned by his own actions, his hand snapped back and apologies spilled from his lips, “I’m sorry, Razor. I completely forgot –”

Wordlessly, the boy reached out for Tighnari’s same hand, warm fingers wrapping around his cold and damp wrist, and guided his palm to nestle into his hair, knuckles sinking into dense and rolling waves of silver. 

Tighnari stood shell-shocked, watching as the boy nudged up into his touch with a small smile. 

“It is okay, sometimes,” He murmured, voice close to a purr, “Like it more, if with warning.”

“I…” Tighnari blinked, tail swishing happily behind him despite his face remaining bereft of clear emotion until a curve cracked the straight line of his lips, “I will give you a warning next time.”

Notes:

do i go into too much unnecessary stuff when writing?? im feeling like charles dickens but with none of the talent and all of the extra fluff

this chapter turned out to be exceedingly long, im sorry. one moment i was at 2.5k and i said well i can add this little bit and reach a neat 3k and then... it became 4k once i was done. if it’s too tedious of a read please let me know and i’ll cut some from the end and shift it to the next chapter.

thanks for reading!

Chapter 9

Notes:

warning for the fact that a boar is killed in this chapter. i dont go into too much detail but if it bothers you skip from “survival was impossible” to “the point of dizziness”

The reins that held back the inevitable began to give way the very next week, shattering the somewhat peace which had been fostered the way fine porcelain would when falling onto harsh, unforgiving stone. It was only a matter of time, he supposed, but he found that he’d been wishing for at least a few more days of relief, during which he could settle deeper into the new life he’d been living in the rainforest.

Razor had finally gotten the okay to go foraging with Collei from Tighnari, along with a pair of stiff, new leather sandals to wear on his feet. The girl had cheered with him at the announcement, turning to him with a wide smile and instantly beginning to give him tips and share her knowledge regarding the trail she’d be guiding them along. 

He could barely contain his excitement at being able to run around the forest and see more of it, feel the wind against his skin and watch the sun’s rays become mere flickers from beneath the trees’ protective canopy as he’d sprint amidst bushes and bound over felled trunks.

“Master Tighnari warned us not to stray too far!” Collei called after him, laughing at the sheer joy in his expression and the way he wove through the trees ahead before circling back.

“Do not worry, I follow scent,” He explained, chest snapping in and out with each heavy breath he took, having stopped to stand in front of her, “I, will never lose you, or village.”

Collei hummed, content to see the grin on the boy’s face and the glow in his ruby red eyes. It was an expression she had yet to witness from him at such levels of vitality and it felt to be an enormous relief, having him be so happy. She knew how difficult the current situation he was living through must have been for him and wanted to do all she could to lighten his burden.

“That’s really cool. My father, the one who brought you to us here, taught me how to travel using the stars,” She adjusted the strap of the bag of herbs on her right shoulder, then nudged her chin towards the bag he wore on his own back, leaves peeking out from its poorly fastened mouth, “Watch out, or you might spill some of what we gathered.”

He had harrumphed in response, still beaming at her, when a minuscule movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, his stance becoming rigid. Noticing the change in his demeanour Collei also fell silent, eyes beginning to glance around in search of what Razor had seen.

“What’s wrong?” She whispered, leaning closer to him so as to facilitate them hearing one another.

Razor swallowed and looked at her with glee, quickly assuaging her building nerves.

“There is boar,” He replied, equally hushed in tone, “I will hunt. Grass Girl, stay safe here.”

“Oh, but are you sure you’re alright enough? Don’t push yourself too hard.”

He gave a sturdy nod, then placed a hand on his chest, confident.

“Trust me.”

It took a few more seconds of pondering for Collei to weigh the pros and cons of the matter before ultimately deciding there would be little reason to say no. Not only was he seemingly adept at hunting, but she also had experience. It should be fine to bring back some fresh meat – they could even roast it on an open fire with Tighnari and the others.

“Alright,” She conceded, prior to slotting both straps of her bag on to secure it better, “but we do it together.”

The two shared a smile, excitement sparking between them like electricity, and then they both took off, Razor leading the way with his nose and Collei moving with the dexterity and stealth of a practised hunter. 

He could faintly see the scent of the animal with his eyes, curving and guiding them on through the trees, and the stronger it got the more he could feel the energy of electro thrumming within his heart, spiking with each beat. There was a crackle along his skin, a shiver that ran down his spine, and when the little boar – different from the ones in Mondstadt, this one with a green coat of moss and mushrooms growing within it on its back – came into view, his pupils instantly honed in on their prey.

“There,” Collei pointed out quietly, just as focused, from their hiding spots behind wide tree trunks.

Razor could already scarcely hear her however, his consciousness beginning to shift between his own and something – someone else’s.

“Razor?”

The pain his medicine suppressed abruptly crashed onto him tenfold, nearly blinding him, white and lilac flashing in his eyes, creating a sensation of his retinas being burned. For a moment he felt so overcome by the elemental power pulsing through him that his knees quivered weakly beneath his weight, threatening to fold under him. 

It would have been better had he collapsed. It would have been better if he’d succumbed to the anguish overriding his system. He wouldn’t have put another person in danger, he wouldn’t have had to be seen as a terrifying, bloodthirsty monster again. But before he could even finish his mental pleas for the sensation to go away, a part of him had called upon his claymore and his wolf spirit had burst forth from his back, glowing and stretching above him, snarling.

He charged the small creature, distantly registering the scream that followed.

It had no chance of escape. Survival was impossible. 

Razor howled as agony ripped through him the way he ripped into the animal, his weapon’s jagged edge staining with red smears and torn entrails, his spirit’s claws slashing unforgivingly alongside it.

“Razor! Calm down, Razor!”

There was sheer terror in his name being called – a raw fear of him. 

The cries of the animal had waned, its disfigured, mutilated body laying at his feet in its own growing ocean of blood, a putrid smell of iron filling the air, suffocating him to the point of dizziness. 

His claymore faded from his grip and his hands went to tear at his hair, chunks of it locking between his knuckles and being harshly pulled. He wasn’t certain what was happening around him, if his spirit was still with him, if he had managed to not cause more harm, but he did his best to wrestle his elemental power into submission, to go beyond the pain that exploded like bombs within his skull and that set his vertebrae alight with a blue flame. 

Enough. Enough. Not again.  

An apprehensive hand settled on his shoulder but he shoved it off so roughly he fell to his knees, just barely missing the gore he’d created on the ground. His heart thundered in his ears, his every muscle shivered and contracted, sweat glistened on his skin.

“Stay away. Stay away!”

He was begging for her to leave, to at least turn around, for her to not look at him when he became like this for she’d be scared of him, despise him, want to stay as far from him as possible from that point on. 

“I’m not leaving you, Razor!”

Tears forced their way past his silver lashes that adorned the tightly shut doors of eyes, finding their freedom in flowing down his cheeks, some trails mixing with the water that dripped from his nose and the saliva that spluttered past his lips with each wet sob.

“Hurts… Hurts…” 

He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes but he could hear Collei dropping down beside him, then she touched his forehead with a partially gloved palm before gasping.

“Cover your ears if you can, I need to call for help.”

The boy had barely had the time to register the warning and partially block his ears with his hands when a loud whistle was blown, shrilly splitting through the air around them. Once, twice, thrice, Collei blew the whistle in some sort of pattern until her message had been sent and she was stowing it away again in one of her travelling pouches.

“Razor, can you hear me?”

He could only manage a grunt, the pain having marginally subsided in mercy, despite a mounting pressure still tormenting his head. Gentle hands attempted to ease his grip on his hair and went to hold him by the shoulders, aiding him into a reclined position onto a soft lap. 

“You’ll be alright, help is on the way,” She spoke delicately, just enough to be heard over his desperate gasps for air, “Follow my breathing... Are you with me, Razor?”

He nodded and she sighed with relief, then set a palm upon his chest where his heart yearned to break out and applied a light amount of pressure.

“Steady,” She murmured, “The pain will pass.”

It was hard to fathom the tranquillity and benignity in her voice, the stability with which she held him firm, the mostly restrained shake to her hand each time she brushed it against his damp forehead to check his temperature.

He didn’t know how long they waited beside the gruesome scene of their prey amidst the returning calm of the rainforest, but he could soon hear heavy footfalls rapidly approaching and their names being called in a panic.

“Collei! Razor!”

Tighnari’s voice brought a beacon of hope to them both, his figure emerging first from the shadows of the trees that enclosed them, closely followed by another two Forest Watchers and Rangers. Razor hardly perceived the questions being posed to Collei who answered with no hesitation or tremor, but he could feel his body being shifted and jostled onto someone’s back.

Voices were muffled, words slipping in and out of clarity, but Razor kept his eyes closed, doing his best to swallow down his nausea each time he bounced with the rushed steps of the person who carried him.

“Razor, focus on your power.”

Tighnari’s voice had an undercurrent of alarm which was unnerving, for he seemed to be always dependable, always prepared for whatever came his way. Reliable, wise, quick on his feet and level-headed – such traits were similar to Lisa’s own, yet even she had eventually crumbled under his burden. He couldn’t help but bring destruction into the lives of those who entered his, it seemed.

“Razor, listen to me,” The man’s voice sliced through the cloth that had shrouded Razor’s mind in darkness, reverberating in his head. Only then did he realise it was on Tighnari’s back that he was being carried, and he felt a brewing guilt emerge amidst the pain that persevered, “Breathe steadily, envision your power as a separate entity and control it. Tame it.”

The boy merely had the strength to hum, eyes flickering open and closed enough to see the worry on Collei’s face who ran beside them and the trepidation mixed with concern woven into the expressions of the strangers who’d come to help.

By the time he’d been laid down on his bed his skin was sticky with a layer of sweat and his body felt to be aflame with the electro that kept stubbornly coursing through his veins, within the very layers of his skin. He writhed upon the mattress, letting out pathetic mewls as his necklace was lifted off, followed by his poncho and shoes. Hands held him down, fingers pried open his eyelids to check on his pupils, and the touches sent him into a state of overwhelm, his tears recommencing with weak hiccups. 

Upon arriving in Gandharva Ville chaos had surrounded them, every witness hurrying over to ask what had happened and how to be of use, but Tighnari dismissed half of the group and ordered the rest to bring medicines and towels, buckets of water and a concoction that could forcibly induce sleep if needed.

“Breathe,” It was Tighnari, Razor realised with helpless hope, wishing for the man to do anything to fix him, “It’s going to pass. I’m – I’m going to keep your Vision away from you, alright? Just for a bit. I promise, you will get it back.”

Razor didn’t know if his heart skipped beats out of the fear of parting with his element or the relief at the possibility of making all he was suffering stop. And yet, he instinctively shook his head.

“No… No…”

Light flashed through his closed eyelids, footsteps pattered on the floorboards around his bed, someone was crying quietly nearby and Tighnari apologised again as his fingers unclasped the electro Vision from the boy’s waist.

The change was instant. It felt as though an all-consuming black hole appeared within his chest, absorbed every spark of electro within him, caged it and subsequently disappeared into a void. He was left with a feeling of nothingness, a loss of purpose and desire, but so did the agony dim, even if it lingered and would do so for many hours to come.

“You don’t have to put yourself through this, Collei,” He heard Tighnari murmur to her, evidently worried, and Razor came to understand that it was her who was crying.

“I don’t want to leave him,” She garbled, sniffling, “I know what it’s like. I won’t leave him.”

Seconds passed slowly, her words heavy in the air, and then Tighnari sighed and Razor heard shuffling in the room.

“I just want you to take care of yourself,” He replied, defeated, then startling the boy by setting a cold rag upon his forehead, beneath the clumped locks of hair, “I will trust you know your limits.”

“Thank you, dad.”

The rag on his head shifted, patted at his cheeks, before it was lifted to be soaked in a bowl of water again. 

His breathing was still laboured, his cries had steadily decreased, and then a gloved palm was cupping the side of his face and a thumb was caressing at his skin. 

“Razor, how are you feeling?”

Empty. Soulless. A fragment of who he was, but the pain was passing.

“Okay,” Was all he said, forcing his eyes open to meet the expression of the man who loomed over him, clearly on high-alert and stressed, “Sorry. Did – I did bad.”

Tighnari shook his head earnestly, eyes fixed upon him as he went to speak, “You have nothing to apologise for. Focus on getting better, alright?”

 

***

 

The oncoming days trickled by like molasses, yet hardly as sweet. His fever was mostly under control and the aches that tormented him were not as severe. The Vision that encased within it a part of his being – his reason and his power – remained stowed away in Tighnari’s desk, the man assuring him he would have it returned in a few more days, once he was certain it would pose no threat to his immediate physical well-being.

Again, he found himself trapped in a room, the only sunlight he felt being that which poured in from his window and the sole breeze that which blew in feebly from his open door. 

Collei left when it was time for rest while Tighnari spent the nights in Razor’s hut, sleeping on a temporary padding on the floor. She read him a chapter of her favourite book each day before bed, while Tighnari sat at the small desk which had remained unused since Razor’s arrival, writing letters he’d have sent out come sunrise and flipping through tomes with his ears drawn taut. 

Some nights Razor slipped into a sleep so profound that he’d find consciousness hard to grasp come morning, other nights he would drift into dreams akin to the one he had had in Mondstadt; of him in a null space, lilac lighting and black shadows consuming all he could see, the inability to speak or howl, a lack of tears he would have shed otherwise, and that voice. 

It would try to console him at times, scarce in words and characteristically frightening, echoing within the space that seemingly had no boundaries, gruff and low. 

Be strong. Persevere. Accept. Be free. Be free.  

He didn’t know what to make of what he was told and each time he could finally feel his voice coming back to him in the dream, eager to ask questions, he’d awake with a start, shaking and panting in his bed.

Despite him steadily recovering from his relapse, and his Vision eventually being returned to him – even if apprehensively – he was kept under a close eye for a number of days and, regardless of the fact that he could leave his hut freely, he felt the restriction of invisible shackles around his ankles, tethering him. 

Tighnari’s caution around him had tripled. He had seemingly vowed to not let the boy do anything mildly strenuous, nor would he dare to touch him in any way – not even simply pat his head – instead only feeling his forehead to monitor his fever after a multitude of warnings. Razor could tell it didn’t spawn out of fear of him, which was as much of a consolation as applying a cooling balm onto a burn severe enough to expose raw flesh, but it was indeed of at least some easing to his mental state, he conceded.

Collei, on the other hand, did her best to pretend as though everything had returned to normal. She’d join him on brief walks along the river once he had permission to leave his hut, let him watch as she’d press flowers in her book to join her collection, and help him read from time to time, animatedly describing parts of the story he failed to comprehend.

He felt comforted and safe with the people who’d taken him in, though such pleasant emotions were marred by heaps of guilt and a longing for home. On the rare occasion he was able to have time alone, he’d sit upon his private stone, high in Gandharva Ville’s main tree, and think of the Lupical and woods he hadn’t seen in far longer than he was used to, the wolves who spent their days by his side, the scent of windwheel aster and the laughter of his friends. 

It was the mundane and the simple of his life prior to everything having turned bitter that he yearned for, no matter how welcomed and well cared for he was in the rainforest. Such feelings spurred a conflict within him however, as the thought of leaving Collei and Tighnari one day stained his heart with dread. 

But that time was a long way off – he couldn’t help but believe as he mulled over his complex emotions one morning – and there was a risk, no matter how small, of it never coming at all.

Notes:

well that was… a chapter. but trusted inside sources say that cyno is finally reappearing in the next one :D there are so many scenes im looking forward to writing i hope they’ll turn out fine lol

thanks for reading! please leave a kudos or a comment to lmk your thoughts!

Chapter 10

It was midway through his third week with the Forest Watchers and Rangers – he assumed, he wasn’t entirely certain of the time that went by – when he caught a whiff of something new in the humid morning air upon heading to Tighnari’s hut for his daily check-up. It had rained during the night so his sandals splashed in the shallow puddles that remained in the grooves and dips of the worn wooden planks, regrettably giving away his approach.

He heard a voice before quiet fell once he stopped outside the door, one that tickled at a part of his brain, its owner stowed away in the recesses rendered foggy by time. The tone, the scent – they both tugged at his memory, but while his eyebrows furrowed in thought and his feet remained firmly planted outside the door, it opened and he was torn out of his attempts at recollection by Tighnari’s weary smile.

“Good morning, Razor,” He greeted politely, his figure blocking the boy’s view of inside, “How are you feeling?”

Razor’s eyes, attentive, glided over the fox man’s appearance to assure he was alright – there was definitely someone else in the hut, he just had to determine if they were a threat or not. But Tighnari’s straight cut bob was as immaculate as ever; his outfit, consisting of a navy hoodie layered over a fitted top and draped across and around by colourful sashes, was perfectly in place; his mid-forearm gloves were spotless; the bright yellow flower on his right pectoral was vivid in colour; and his calf-length boots were scuffed from use but freshly cleaned. From what little peeked out between his shoes and short, wide trousers, and from between his left glove and his one short sleeve, his golden skin was free of injury. Even his bushy tail seemed to be just groomed. 

So he was safe, Razor decided, yet this didn’t sedate his curiosity completely. 

Tighnari’s head tilted minutely as the boy grew late on his reply, clearly distracted by attempting to peer over the man’s shoulders and beyond his figure.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, baffled by the strange behaviour, but Razor was quick to shake his head.

“I, am fine. Is Forest Teacher, also?” Tighnari didn’t seem to understand what he was referring to so he made to clarify, stepping closer in a conspiratory manner to quietly speak again, “There is someone new here. Safe?”

A light flickered on within Tighnari’s eyes once everything clicked together, an amused chuckle subsequently leaving him as he stepped aside. 

“I stood in the way out of habit, I’m sorry I made you worry,” He finally spoke, voice still lilted by mirth, “I’m safe. The person I’m with is actually the one you were meant to meet. He came especially to see you, if that’s alright.”

Razor stilled, his soles flattening upon the ground as he dropped from his tiptoes. His sight remained strained on the man who he’d come to trust, his pulse beginning to speed up as he processed what he was told. 

The person he was meant to meet? Someone came to see him specifically? 

His jaw tensed but Tighnari was still smiling at him, one hand now urging the boy to enter the hut. Steeling himself, Razor stepped in and the familiar scent was intense enough to unseal the door that stowed away the memory of where and when he’d smelt it before.

“It’s nice to see you on your feet and healthy.”

Razor startled, belatedly spotting the man who stood beside Tighnari’s desk and stepped towards him so silently that Razor doubted he’d have been aware of him had he not spoken.

It was the man who had saved him – the one who’d brought him to Gandharva Ville. 

“My name is Cyno,” He introduced himself flatly, yet his voice was softer than Razor recalled, almost as though he attempted to sound amicable and pose no threat, “I’m the Junior Lisa wanted you to meet, though fate had us cross paths in a more… roundabout manner.”

Despite the fact that Razor had longed to see this man again – to ask him questions, to thank him – it was difficult to shake his instinctive trepidation and distrust of unfamiliar people. He remained silent, their red eyes – Cyno’s being closer to the palette of a cloudy sky’s horizon aflame at dusk – scarcely met, even if the man’s gaze remained fixed on him. Razor’s own pupils were too intent on analysing his appearance to reciprocate directly.

They were about the same height, from what he could tell, but where he had untamed silver hair the man had silken, brilliant white waves of it, cascading to a stop just past his collarbones; and where he had tan skin marred with scars, the other had a dark brown complexion, his old injuries paler in shade and looking to be almost decorative. 

He stood in black shorts that wrapped snugly around his thighs and stopped at their middle with a gold rim; his calves and ankles were weighed down by coiled bands of the same gleaming metal; and his feet were bare, save for the thin dark cloth that scarcely covered their top and the sole’s arch. He had drapes of ornately patterned material around his waist and his torso – lean, carved with muscle not purposely built but earned through constant use – was bare. He had a hefty gold piece swooping around his collar, stopping at his sternum and the edges of his shoulders; a wide, black choker wrapped around his neck; and atop his head was a helmet of sorts – in a shape akin to that of a dog’s or wolf’s – with a protruding slender snout and tall ears, strips of black and warm orange material flowing from its side rims and back.

Razor had never seen anyone like him but the way he stood unperturbed by the boy’s critical stare, and the aura with which he looked upon him in return, was intimidating. Razor could not smell the scent of danger however, merely one of power. 

He crouched slightly, sniffed at the air a final time and carefully circled the man who remained stock still, arms nonchalantly folded across his chest in contrast to his piercing eyes that never detached themselves from him. Razor absent-mindedly noted Tighnari having shut the door to the hut and then leaning back against it, watching the scene before him with a twinkle of bemusement in his gaze. 

Eventually coming to a stop Razor stood before Cyno and glanced up at his animalistic ears again, intrigued. He knew Tighnari had told him he was merely a human, but he had to ask for himself, to confirm that what he saw was simply misleading.

“My name, is Razor,” He said, finger already indicating the man’s non-human appendages, “Are you a fox? Or wolf?”

The singular eye that wasn’t covered by swooping white tufts of hair mildly narrowed in confusion, the eyebrow above it rising. The man’s sight switched to Tighnari in silent question, in response to which the man hummed and pushed himself off of his resting place, properly joining the two at the centre of the hut.

“He’s curious about people who are both human and wolf – a mixed race of sorts, is my guess,” He explained with ease, lips curving upward when Razor nodded in confirmation.

Cyno took a moment to think before his attention returned to the boy, a tint of an apology on his mostly blank features.

“I’m human.”

Razor’s shoulders sagged, if only minimally, and his expression grew disillusioned.

“But, you have big ears, long white fur. Eyes, red, like me,” He pressed on, as if it would make the two men grasp his point of view and agree with his line of reasoning, “You, look like Lupical.”

“Ah,” Cyno’s lips parted in understanding and his hands reached to his head to lift off the finely crafted ornamental gear; a symbol of his position and duty in Sumeru, rendered senseless in the eyes of the boy before him. He gradually revealed his tousled hair and his frightfully animalistic-ears-less head, cracking his neck once it was relieved of the extra weight it carried.

Razor witnessed the reveal in an awe so genuine that Tighnari had to turn away to suppress a laugh into a closed fist.

“Your ears, not real,” The boy murmured in marvel, sight zipping around the empty space over the other’s hair in a confirmative search.

“It’s just my uniform, I’m sorry to say.”

Razor shook his head and the wonder in his expression dimmed.

“No need for sorry,” He assured, then indicated his own human-shaped skull, “No ears, also like me. And I want ears. The ears of wolf. All Lupical has. They are good, for hunting.”

There came a brief pause, a shift in emotion fleetingly crossing the boy’s contemplative face, his eyes having dropped to the ground.

“But I, am not real wolf. Not like Lupical at home. Then, I don’t have.”

Though unable to grasp the full breadth of the situation, the words were enough to expose an open wound that clearly stung the boy before him and it had expertly tugged at Cyno’s heartstrings. To the untrained eye he had made no change to his expression, yet Tighnari could see the way his features sweetened and he consciously smoothened the edges of his habitual authoritative posture. 

It still came as a shock when, after a moment’s thought, Cyno proceeded to carefully place his headpiece over the boy’s head and watch it sink onto his unkempt hair. Razor’s head shot up in surprise, making the gear drop forward and bump into the bridge of his nose with a dull thunk.

Far too astonished and cautiously excited, the boy merely grabbed at its snout with one hand – holding it higher to peer out from under its shape – and rubbed at the sting on his nose with the other, looking wide-eyed at Cyno who’s face muscles twitched in poor restraint at the sight.

“You, give me your hat ears?” He was incredulous and any other thought he had disappeared within his next few stupefied blinks. 

Not only had this man saved him, but he was even giving him something precious. 

Cyno cleared his throat, bashfully shuffling on his feet.

“Only for now,” He clarified, lest he lose an essential part of his General Mahamatra uniform to some kid, just because he looked mildly sad for a few moments, “You can have my ears for a while.”

The smile that stretched across Razor’s mouth was of a luminosity comparable to a dozen suns. His eyes glittered like carefully polished rubies and he let out a gleeful sounding yip.

“Thank you, a lot! I, am happy!” He spoke with a mixture of gratitude and delight, unable to let go of the headpiece’s front without it slipping down over his eyes but being content regardless.

He did two runs around Cyno – the flowing cream and pale orange tails from the gear flapping behind him – before he gasped and came to a sharp halt, “I must find Grass Girl; show Collei my new ears!”

He was already bounding towards the door and out of it when Tighnari called after him with  a tense, “Take it easy, Razor!”

The boy was halfway across the bridge the next time he opened his mouth and so the Forest Watcher had to resign his efforts, pushing his nerves regarding the younger getting too riled up down into a box. Tighnari shut the door and looked to Cyno who remained immobile, standing where he’d been for the past few minutes; though now fidgeting with his fingers in contemplation. The man smiled, endeared, and approached quietly until his partner looked up at him.

“You truly cave to any whim and desire of a kid when you see one.”

Cyno’s lashes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly settling upon a flower bud, comforted by the tender touch of Tighnari’s fingers in his hair, seemingly tidying up stray strands and mussed parts of it. He allowed himself to relax into his lover’s palm that went to cup his right cheek once done – if only for a few moments, before he forced his eyes open again and concern glinted within them.

“You don’t think I scared him, do you?”

The initial response about to part from Tighnari’s lips was cut short by a muffled shout from Razor outside going, “Grass Girl! Grass Girl, I have wolf ears!” followed by Collei’s much quieter, but equally excited reaction, “Wow, you’re a wolf, Razor! They look great on you!” and the man fondly snorted.

“Scared him? I think you just made his week, you silly dog,” A cheery howl travelled on the wind, successfully bringing a gentle lift to Cyno’s lips, something too enticing for Tighnari to not acknowledge with a light kiss to the tip of his nose, “I never thought I’d see you part with your headpiece so easily.”

In turn, Cyno hummed, reciprocating with a peck to the edge of Tighnari’s mouth.

“It means a lot to him, thank you.”

“It’s alright,” Cyno murmured, ears growing warm, “Have you learnt anything about him? How has he been?”

At the question, the Forest Watcher let out a sombre breath, with it blowing away the affectionate air between them and ushering into the room a tone of seriousness. He stepped back from his partner to take a seat at his desk and Cyno followed suit, pulling the second chair close to him, features already hardening in focus. 

“I have, indeed, learnt about some of his history, though it seems to me that key parts of it are missing,” Tighnari began, fingers clasped together on his lap and tail swaying pensively behind him, “He has no memory from before him being orphaned and being raised in the wild by the wolves of Mondstadt, which he refers to and views as his nuclear family. He says he got his Vision after having protected the pack from attackers and that the wolf spirit he possesses came to be part of him at the same time. Whether it inhabits his body as its own conscious entity, is a remaining fragment of a soul, or a manifestation of his own electro power, I haven’t been able to discern.”

Tighnari sighed and brought both his elbows up onto his desk, cradling his head between his forearms and then soothingly rubbing at the base of his own furry ears.

“Frankly, not even the boy appears to know. He did tell me however, that the markings on his chest and arms – you haven’t fully seen them yet, I believe, but they are a pale brown and have no meaning or pattern I could comprehend – formed on his skin along with the appearance of this spirit.”

Cyno remained silent all the while, taking in the information he was given. His sight fell upon the constant, lulling swish of his partner’s tail, but his mind drifted elsewhere. 

“Do you think he too is a vessel?” He voiced eventually, watching as Tighnari sat upright and rested a cheek onto his knuckles.

“I’m not sure, but whatever it is his body is suddenly rejecting it to the point of making him physically ill. Lisa assured me that in all the years since she began to take care of him he had never had issues with this spirit until recently and that this is a new development, which makes it all the more concerning,” Tighnari shifted in his seat, eyes carefully looking to monitor Cyno’s expression, “Just last week he had in incident. He fell so ill he was in a near state of delirium and running a fever so high he could scorch a mist flower.”

Cyno’s features, as predicted, warped in concern and Tighnari sighed, reaching out a hand to set it on the man’s bare knee, a wordless act of comfort.

“How did Collei take it?”

“She pushed through it, stubbornly,” Tighnari spoke, tone low, “I tried to have her distance herself a bit from the situation as I could see it was bringing up… memories for her, but those two have grown inexplicably close rather quickly. She refused to leave his side.”

The man nodded, the grip he had on his crossed arms growing tighter as he seemed to think more intensely, so Tighnari’s fingers began to caress his skin, attempting to keep him from drowning too deeply in his worry.

“What about on your end?” He inquired, head tilting to meet the man’s gaze that was cast on his lap, “The last time you wrote to me you said an investigation brought up nothing. How did speaking with the sages and the Bimarstan go?”

The questions did enough to have Cyno ground himself in the present, his eyes levelling with Tighnari’s and his arms unfolding to rest stiffly on his thighs, back straight and shoulders level; he couldn’t help but treat certain things as work, Tighnari thought sentimentally for a moment as Cyno looked ready to report his progress and findings.

“Most sages have claimed to be too busy at this time with reviewing student theses and applications to dedicate themselves to an odd case regarding an outsider, especially since this isn’t an official matra investigation,” Tighnari rolled his eyes, the news being expected but still frustrating, “However, some Amurta sages have shown interest in aiding us with our research and have promised to report any conclusions they might come to. In the meantime, the Bimarstan has no theoretical diagnosis they can give us but have offered to run tests on him if we do bring him to the hospital.”

Tighnari clasped his chin between his right hand’s hooked index and thumb, contemplating the offer as his ears twitched.

“I see… That might not be a bad idea, though I wonder how he’ll handle the city and being poked and prodded by strangers. He dislikes physical contact unless he’s familiar with the person.”

Cyno made a sound of understanding then leaned forward, posture returning to one of ease.

“What has Lisa told you?”

“Well, she’s infinitely grateful. She hopes we can help him overcome this, even if he never uses his Vision again.”

Time seemed to still, the chatter of the Forest Watchers and Rangers working outside grew stifled until it faded into nothing, and Cyno’s pulse stuttered. He’d heard news from the nation of Inazuma of what tended to happen to those who had their Vision permanently taken from them – the gradual loss and destruction of self, down to the very core of the person, until they are whittled away into a husk of who they truly are. It was like cutting off a fish’s fins and expecting it to swim. It was torture. How could Lisa even consider such a thing? 

Anger and confusion rapidly bubbled within his chest, questions and counterarguments tangled in his mind, but all that left him was a shaken, “What?”

Tighnari’s hand lifted off of his partner’s knee and instead he folded his arms, eyebrows furrowed.

“I understand how you feel, I had the same reaction, but we must keep in mind that she views him as a son, Cyno. She might not be thinking with full rationality, but I’m sure her prime goal is that of extending his life for as long as possible. From her point of view, the situation might be dire enough that she’s considering such a drastic choice as an option. We just have to make it so that it never comes to that.”

The risks they then understood to be running, the responsibility they both bore of this boy’s life and well-being, materialised and crushed them upon the facts having been put into words. Tighnari couldn’t meet Cyno’s distant stare, burdened by the guilt of having to be the one to inform him of Lisa’s decision, while the latter was close to distraught. 

Stripping the boy of his Vision, permanently altering his being, his sense of self – could he truly go through with that? Could Tighnari accept it?

The door swung open and thunked against the inner wall. Both men – who were unaccustomed to being caught off guard – sprung out of their chairs in response, Cyno materialising his staff within a matter of milliseconds. But it was not an ill-meaning intruder who had interrupted their conversation, it was the very person they’d been discussing the future of  –  as if he were some toy, some character in a novel, without the ability to choose a path of his own.

Razor had come bursting into the room with his hands cupped and piled with small, purple-hued berries, a couple rolling off and bouncing onto the ground, narrowly missing being crushed under his sandals.

“Forest Teacher, new berries!” He announced proudly, hurriedly making his way over to Tighnari who was schooling his expression into one of calm and welcome, “Like wolfhook of home. Safe to eat?”

Tighnari’s tail gave a sharp swipe in the air upon the question, him then leaning closer to get a better look at the fruit.

“Ah, let me –”

“Master! I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep up with him,” It was Collei who next appeared, pink-cheeked and breathless at the door frame, a trace of a smile still on her lips, one that only grew upon seeing Cyno in the hut.

“It’s alright, Collei. Don’t push yourself too hard,” Tighnari absently replied, taking a tiny berry between the pads of his fingers and giving it a sniff, “Razor; yes, these are safe to eat, but you might find them to be bitter. Try only one at –”

Again, the end of his sentence remained unsaid and his warning was not heeded as the wolf boy plopped a number of the fruit into his mouth and bit into them, their juice squirting across his tongue. It was alright for a moment and he squinted his eyes as he contemplated their taste – then it changed. It became so tart and potent in flavour that the entirety of his face wrinkled and shrivelled up like a dried prune. 

He spat them back out in a panic, the lumpy mush falling into his palm as he shook his head and tried to swallow down the lingering taste, Cyno’s helmet swivelling dangerously with his vigorous movements.

“Bad. Very bad,” He complained in a disappointed whine, “Tongue, feeling weird.”

Lifting his right wrist to his mouth, he began to lick at his skin in the hopes of ridding himself of the berries’ flavour, to which Tighnari quickly grabbed his forearm and pulled it back down, stopping him from continuing.

“Hey now, what did I say about putting your hands to your mouth and eyes after running around outside?”

Razor’s eyebrows were still wrinkled from the taste that refused to leave his tongue, but he gave up trying to lick it away, instead looking slightly abashed at the light scolding.

“Bad, I could get sick… But I, am very strong. Never get sick.”

Tighnari merely quirked a brow, eyes wordlessly yet so loudly saying, ‘Really now?’ and Razor’s head dipped, face dyed a shade pinker.

“These days, just a bit. But Razor, is fine.”

With a sigh, Tighnari dropped his reprimanding stare and warmed his tone.

“Yes, you’re very strong and you will be fine, but I’m sure the dirt on your hands doesn’t taste great either.” 

The boy grunted in agreement and Tighnari slowly tipped the headpiece higher so as to have a better look at him.

“If you go wash your hands I’ll make you whatever fruit drink you want, alright?”

A smile instantly brightened Razor’s face and he nodded happily.

“Alright. Thank you, Forest Teacher!”

And again the boy was scurrying out of the hut, most likely heading towards the river to rinse off his hands and rid himself of the foul tasting berries growing warmer in his palms. Tighnari let out a heavy breath, a dull ache throbbing within his skull due to having jumped from the gravity of the previous conversation to Razor’s joyful appearance. He was distracted from his ailment when he saw Collei taking a seat on his bed and Cyno settling down beside her, the two falling into an easy conversation with one another as they typically would when the General would be away for a while and they’d catch up on lost time.

Collei would ask about his missions, how their friends who she viewed as uncles were doing in the city, and if he’d read any new books during his free time; while he’d ask her about how her daily tasks were going, if she was sleeping well, if she’d tried out the Genius Invokation card deck he’d made for her a while ago and how she was spending her days with Razor.

Tighnari didn’t offer much to the conversation, allowing the two their time together and merely contentedly watching them from where he sat at his desk, peering over the top of a book he flicked through from time to time.

Seeing the two people he loved most being safe and happy was idyllic, but the gnawing on his heart as the fickle situation with Razor’s condition weighed on his mind was hard to dismiss. Truly, he and Cyno could only do everything in their power to be of help and hope it was enough. 

When Razor returned – hands dripping wet and his entire person radiating a glow of happiness – Tighnari got around to making the promised drink for him and the boy patiently watched as the former’s hands expertly mashed and squeezed various fruits together into a jug prior to pouring some in a cup.

Razor was too good and innocent to be afflicted by such pain, Tighnari thought to himself as the boy beamed at him in gratitude. He hoped, with every fibre of his being, that what they could do to help him would be enough.

Notes:

the next chapter has one of the scenes i've been looking forward to writing, even if it is small. in the meantime, i hope this chapter was a good one! i want to write about cyno and razor bonding so badly you would not believe it lmao

oh also! unrelated but if anyone is interested i recently did the 2.2 hsr quest and got so obsessed with sunday i made him a playlist in like a day lol if you'd like to give it a listen here's the link! it's tragic and dramatic i fr synced up so hard with birdie it's crazy i was surfing his same brain waves nobody got him like i got him /j

anyway thanks for reading! please leave a kudos or share your thoughts freely in the comments!

Chapter 11

Notes:

this chapter wasnt supposed to be this long im so sorry

also ive revised the first 5 chapters and wanted to tell you all thank you for continuing to read this story bc my goodness did my writing suck balls even worse back then. this is only the first review of the chapters tho, once the entire work is done it will be fully reread again to make sure most things make sense/the writing isn’t awful lmao but yeah i'm embarrassed to say the least sorry about the super rough start

The same night that Cyno arrived in Gandharva Ville he announced that he’d be working from outside of the city and that he had delegated some of his duties to his most trusted subordinates. It was relatively shocking to Tighnari at first, until he came to understand that whilst Cyno would indeed be spending more time within the rainforest village, he’d still be making frequent trips to and from the city for work. 

“So you didn’t really shirk your load off onto your matra,” Tighnari mumbled into the man’s bare shoulder as they lay in their shared bed once the kids had gone to sleep in their huts, his arms coiled around Cyno’s slow rising and sinking stomach, groomed tail tickling at his dark skin.

Cyno gave a muffled sound, tucking himself deeper into the embrace of his lover, his back pressed entirely to Tighnari’s front; the delicate glow of the singular lamp burning across the room painted their figures with its warm hues.

“You know I can’t take advantage of my position to give myself countless days off, my treasure,” His voice was thick with sleep and his eyes remained shut, despite his fingers clasping themselves over Tighnari’s, as if wanting to secure them in place, “You’re not upset, are you?”

Tighnari huffed out a breath from his nose, a shiver being sent down Cyno’s spine at the fleeting breeze, goosebumps trailing the surface of his neck and arms, and then the Forest Watcher nuzzled his face into the crook of the General’s shoulder, his smile pressing into the man’s warm flesh.

“As long as we can spend nights together like this, I’m satisfied.”

Come morning Razor had appeared at Tighnari’s door for his check-up, eyes flitting about the room; he was somewhat jittery, as he wasn’t accustomed to having an on-looker – in this case Cyno – during this part of his routine.

Once his glee regarding the temporary helmet gift had dimmed, Razor’s apprehension around the General returned, even if rather mildly. He wasn’t scared of him, nor was he avoiding the man. It was more that he wasn’t sure how to behave around him. Cyno seemed to be sharing the same burden however, as his every attempt at interaction was either cut short by himself or rapidly fizzled into nothingness.

It was with the help of Collei’s easy-going chatter and Tighnari’s mediation that the cogs between the four of them began to turn smoothly. Neither Cyno nor Razor were the talkative type but soon the wolf boy began to ask the former for stories regarding his job, and why he wore animal ears, and if he had fought in wars since he held the title of a General.

Dinner quickly developed into a group activity, during which the four reunited at the end of the day and would talk about various topics. Sometimes Razor would get lost in listening to their words, Cyno and Tighnari occasionally discussing work matters or referring to terms and concepts he didn’t know of, but regardless, it felt… different. Not the scary kind of different – where you don’t really know what to expect and everything is new, each step you take being on uncertain ground – but a nice one. Mostly. 

As Razor would look at the three people around him, eating and talking and sharing laughter, something would squirm between his ribs, wriggle into his chest and nip at his heart. It reminded him of the people he loved in Mondstadt, of Lisa who treated him with care and his friends who were there when he needed them, but it also brought to mind that which he didn’t really know to have lacked. Or, at least, that which he had convinced himself he didn’t lack.

A sense of family. 

Was this what it meant to have a real human Lupical? To have parents and a sibling, to have unshakable constants in your life that would love you and support you, raise you from birth and with whom you’d form unbreakable bonds? Are these the types of simple experiences humans with human families had? Making time out of your day to eat a meal together just because you want to be together, talking about anything and everything because you know the person you’re talking to will care about it, no matter the subject matter, purely because it is you who is talking? To know that, no matter where you are in the world, no matter who you grow to be and what path you choose to tread in your life, you will always have a place where you belong?

Razor watched as Cyno pecked Tighnari’s cheek while the latter was discussing the patrol schedule with Collei, effectively earning himself a playful glare and a nip to his ear, and he watched as Collei laughed merrily at their interaction, jokingly shielding her eyes with her hands.

The happiness Razor had felt mixed with a strange, slow-burning emotion, one he couldn’t properly label. He was there, with them, and he temporarily felt to be a part of their family, but he knew that he wasn’t, that these scenes were brief for him and unattainable, that he was more of an onlooker than a participant, someone on the outside peering in. Such wasn’t truly a new sentiment, he had felt a divide between himself and the rest of the world for as long as he could remember. It was always the wolves and him; the humans and him. He was never a part of the collective, not genuinely.

Besides, it was too late for him to have proper human parents. It was too late for him to have siblings. It was too late for him to enjoy growing up in a home and not alone in the wild, constantly struggling to survive and adapting to the lifestyle of wolves, without the time or opportunity to look deeper into himself and understand who he was and where he belonged.

Lisa who had loved him as a mother was enough, he believed this wholeheartedly, but he found himself selfishly craving to have had a childhood like this, to have gotten to live with his human family, even if it possibly meant him having less freedom in the wild. 

Razor focused on the plate of food before him and realised that it was blurred and quivering. 

Ah, there were tears in his eyes he hadn’t blinked away.

 

***

 

It was a pattern of sorts at that point; after a brief period of peace would follow some days of unrest. 

Within a week of Cyno’s stay at the settlement Razor had awoken feverish, mind swishing about within his skull like a buoy on a stormy ocean’s surface. Alarm was quick to spread amongst the forest dwellers – most likely due to what had occurred the time prior when he was ill – a few going as far as suggesting those adept at healing stay by the boy’s side and their more burly members guard the door, lest he were to go on a sort of rampage again. 

Tighnari did not take kindly to their hushed words, yet he couldn’t find any basis to reject it that wasn’t purely moralistic or emotionally driven. Razor was a potential risk; keeping healers around for his well-being and fighters closeby to protect other residents made sense logically, but treating the boy as a caged beast squeezed the Forest Watcher’s heart painfully.

In the end his arguments were too weak to even voice and he curtly acquiesced, stationing two of their hunters outside Razor’s hut and keeping one of their doctors on stand-by in the vicinity, claiming that he didn’t want the boy to feel crowded in his private space.

It was the least he could do, he believed, to spare Razor from being surrounded by fearful strangers that would stare at him from a corner in the hut, monitoring him as a volatile risk rather than as a patient in need.

“Collei, could you fetch me the incense powder from my desk’s drawer?” He asked the girl who’d been sitting silently by an unconscious Razor’s bed, a distant look in her eyes, “It should be somewhere on top.”

She let out a hum of understanding and wordlessly made to stand, chair whinging at her departure. Her steps were slow and her expression was bleak, but Tighnari waited until she was out of the hut to let out a sigh.

“Was it this bad last time?”

Cyno spoke quietly, sight strained on the boy whose skin shimmered with a constant release of perspiration and whose lips trembled around mewls and whines of agony. Tighnari didn’t look at him, instead focusing on dabbing Razor’s body down with a damp cloth, ears ramrod straight in concentration and tension.

“His fever was worse – though he seems to be in more pain now, considering the incense and painkillers aren’t working as efficiently at suppressing it,” He shook his head, stilling his movements momentarily as Razor briefly writhed upon the mattress, “It must be more intense. I need to up his dosage.”

“We have to do something,” Cyno murmured, most likely thinking aloud, stepping closer to the mattress before he crouched down, becoming eye-level with the boy whose panting had increased in speed again.  

Tighnari glanced at him, saw the frown etched into his forehead, the way his hand trembled as he delicately traced along Razor’s brow and carded his strands of silver hair back and off of his forehead. Tighnari had never experienced a frustration and sense of helplessness so intense before that moment, his fist gripping the cloth tightly enough that it dripped steadily onto the floorboards.

Collei was being worn out by a past she wanted to leave behind, Cyno was being forced to recall memories he’d long trapped away in his mind, and Tighnari could do nothing to help either of them because he was incapable of helping Razor in the first place. Teeth clamped together and eyes burning with a resolute flame, he closed the distance between himself and his partner and tipped the man’s face up towards him with his free hand, urging their gazes to lock together – to ground Cyno before he spiralled.

Cyno never divulged much about his childhood, of the years he spent being experimented on, tested and brutally trained; of all the times his young, feeble body would cave into bouts of terrible sickness, too tired from bearing a fragment of a god within it. He never spoke of what happened within the walls of the Temple of Silence, mostly because his brain had sealed the information away as a kind mercy, yet some emotions prevailed, lugging behind them hazy scenes, a perpetual torment he had confessed during private conversations he might never be permanently free of.

Tighnari could not stand to see him drowning, unable to even senselessly splash and fight against the pull of the water and instead passively allowing it to steadily fill his lungs, stealing his breath.

He changed his hand’s placement to instead cup the side of Cyno’s face, keeping him from looking at the boy.

“Razor will be fine,” He whispered, certain, leaving no room for doubt, “We will get through this together, as we always have. He is not alone. He will not be abandoned. Just as Collei wasn’t and just as you aren’t. We will figure this out, as a family.”

 

***

 

It fortunately didn’t take more than a day for Razor to reclaim his awareness, drowsy eyes looking around himself to see that both Cyno and Tighnari had slept sharing the thin padding on the floor that the Forest Watcher had previously used.

The pain that afflicted him had greatly subsided, save for the two distinct spots in his skull and the end of his spine, but he had grown familiar with them since the start of this whole ordeal so he did his best to pay them no mind. With a suppressed grunt he forced himself into a seated position, instinctively grabbing at his forehead as his sight swirled before him for a few moments.

There was absolute silence in Gandharva Ville despite the fact that the sun seemed to be already settling into the sky and it struck Razor as odd, almost unnerving. Was everyone taking a break that day? He turned as quietly as possible to look out his window and at the world outside. Yellow sunshine filtered between wide leaves, flickered upon the river’s everflowing surface below, and a feeble breeze brought bushes and plants to waltz in harmony. There was a perfect stillness to it, a tranquillity that abated his own inner turmoil. 

Razor looked at the two men soundly sleeping on their makeshift bed, checking to see if he’d accidentally shown light on them by pulling back the leaf that covered his window, and being relieved to note that he hadn’t. They were still embracing; arms wrapped around one another, foreheads pressed together and noses almost brushing, features wiped clean of the burdens they faced when awake. 

He couldn’t take the oasis that was sleep away from them, but he had a desperate need to go outside. The air in the hut felt to be stifling and heavy on his heart, and there was a craving so intense and primal within him to feel the wind on his skin and see the blue of the sky above that he worried he might grow too tense if he didn’t alleviate his desire. And so, with an iron will, he mutedly slung his feet over the edge of his bed and had them land with a dull thump on the floorboards. He waited for signs of movement from the two men with bated breath until seconds passed and none came. Next was the highest of obstacles to leap over: standing and walking.

The inability to control his body as well as he’d liked – the way he had to lean against walls to not topple over or crumple like a pathetic ragdoll to his knees – was something he could never see himself getting used to. It was humiliating, irritating, upsetting, because he knew he could do such basic things and more, yet his body refused to cooperate. 

He bit his bottom lip between his teeth to keep his sounds of struggle and pain trapped inside him as he made his way at a snail’s pace to the door, eventually pulling it open enough to slip out from the gap and stand in the brisk, morning air of the forest. 

Razor allowed himself to shut his eyes for a moment, to bask in the breeze caressing his fur and the dappled sunlight warming his skin; to enjoy the damp scent of soil and herbs and cooking food that filtered into his nose and imbued itself into his lungs. 

It was not meant to last, he was brutally forced to understand.

“Razor! What are you doing outside?” It was Collei who had spotted him upon exiting her own hut, violet eyes widening in surprise, but instead of the smile he expected to see grace her face her expression warped into one of concern, “Are you doing better? Where’s –”

She was running up to greet him but it seemed her calls had been enough to jostle the two inside Razor’s hut awake, a chaotic shuffling abruptly occurring behind him until the door fully ripped open.

“Razor!” Tighnari’s voice was scratchy from sleep and his fur was a tousled mess – a sight Razor never thought he’d see – but he didn’t get the chance to fully process what was happening before he was grabbed by the elbows and urgently ushered into the hut, guided towards his bed and forcibly seated, “You mustn’t get up and go out alone. What if you fainted and injured yourself?”

Tighnari continued to chastise him as Collei timidly entered the hut and Cyno stood a ways off, arms folded and features stitched with worry. Seeing everyone around him and how anxious they all felt made the guilt in his belly stir.

“S-Sorry,” He meekly voiced, sight kept on his lap where his fingers picked at each other’s nails, “Very sorry. Needed outside wind, and sun.”

The Forest Watcher was quick to pause his check-up on the boy to absently pat at his head in comfort, too freshly awoken and riled up to think clearly. 

“Yes, I understand,” Was all he said before turning to Collei, “Were there no guards at the door?”

The girl shook her head, eyes flicking between her Master and Razor.

“I think they went to get breakfast.”

The conversation continued on but Razor found himself unable to follow along. Why would they have guards outside of where he slept? Because they thought he was dangerous? They must think he’s a monster. He might as well be. How could he blame them after what he’d done to that boar, to those Eremites, to his best friend?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of the bed dipping beside him and a warmth coming along with it. 

Cyno had sat down and was watching him with an empathetic gaze, shuffling somewhat nervously in his spot.

Razor realised the man only had parts of his uniform on: the black shoulder sleeves that were held together by a thin strap that crossed his pectorals and shoulder blades, his simple shorts, and that thick band around his neck. He briefly wondered if it was uncomfortable when he saw Cyno’s Adam’s apple bob behind the cloth with a thick swallow.

“How are you feeling?”

The man’s words were tentative but laden with sincere concern, something that had Razor duck his head in shame.

“I, am fine,” He spoke quietly, doing his best to ignore everyone’s eyes honed in on him, “Only a bit sleepy. And thirsty.”

There passed a pregnant pause, long enough to spur Razor into sneaking a look at the General abreast of him, only to find his dusk irises partially hooded by drooping eyelids and his sharp pupils to be intently watching his chest. Razor almost had the urge to check if something was on his poncho, but before he could even avert his gaze Cyno’s eyes had locked onto his own and he found himself incapable of looking away.

“Be honest. It’s alright to say what’s wrong.”

Cyno’s words were benign, not reprimanding, and they seemed to possess a magical undercurrent that coaxed Razor into honesty.

“My head, it hurts. My back, my muscles also. And…” The following words died on Razor’s lips because, even if he wanted to be honest, he couldn’t bring himself to confess to the slow brewing sadness within him.

Despite that, Cyno appeared to have understood and offered a kind smile.

“May I?” He asked, lifting one hand and hovering it over the boy’s head, awaiting permission to touch him.

Without the glittering, cold metal plating of his armour, the panels on his forearms’ gloves, the chest piece, the bands around his ankles – Cyno’s whole being had become so much more mellow. Razor couldn’t find it in him to indicate a denial in any way, not when he felt as though he were tearing at the seams for any source of comfort. So he gave a minute nod and Cyno complied, tenderly setting his fingers into the boy’s bird’s nest of hair and rubbing at his head.

It stirred Razor’s heart within his ribcage, had him lean into the warm touch and shut his eyes, relishing the feeling. There was silence again – never awkward or uncomfortable, merely pensive – as Collei remained standing near the bed and Tighnari went about rummaging for something within a previously tucked away chest.

“For the next few days, stay inside,” Razor’s eyes peeled open, spotting the way Cyno’s fist was clenched in his lap as though it hurt to ask such a thing of the boy, “Please.”

And Razor could do nothing but agree to comply. He couldn’t bear to make things harder on these people who took him in and treated him so affectionately. It was equivalent to a nightmare, the idea of being shut in such a small area with no real sunshine or wind on his skin, but he would endure it. 

His sight lifted and Collei offered him a smile, as if to say, ‘ I’m with you. We’ll be together,’ and Razor found peace in knowing that he indeed had a friend by his side.

Collei, in fact, proved to be his saving grace for the majority of the following week. She had asked Tighnari to have half her patrol and foraging shifts split amongst the other Forest Watchers and Rangers, Tighnari himself offering to take over a number of them so as to allow Collei to keep Razor company more often. 

Despite the fact that the wolf boy felt to be doing much better – with his aches hardly noticeable and his fever no longer present – he was not yet allowed out of the hut. Amir, one of the Forest Rangers, would visit him a couple of times, occasionally staying to chat with Collei or to ask Razor about the book they were reading together. Razor’s replies were far from lengthy, but Amir seemed satisfied enough and would leave not long after, as if not wanting to tire the former out. 

Razor had decided that Amir was also kind.

“You should have seen him when one of our dogs gave birth here,” Collei giggled once he had left for the day, “He transformed into such a mother hen because of those puppies, he never even let them out of his sight.”

Razor made a noise of understanding, tucking his legs in to sit with them folded on his bed where Collei joined him, keeping her own feet and metal-heeled shoes off of the mattress and grazing the floor.

“I also, take care of baby wolves, in Lupical at home,” He said, eyes entranced by the nature he longed for just outside his window. 

“Oh? That’s so sweet! Are they hard to deal with?”

Taking a second to ponder, Razor shrugged and looked to the girl who watched him, eager to know more.

“They like to play, a lot. Very excited, messy eaters,” He paused, memories of young wolves joyfully nipping at his jacket’s belts and slobbering all over his fur as they amateurly tried to groom him filled his mind and a tint of longing made its way onto his face, “I miss my Lupical. I miss running. I miss the wind, also when it bites hard. I miss outside, and being strong. Being sick and weak, it makes me sad.”

He wasn’t sure why he voiced so much of his inner thoughts but talking with Collei felt incredibly easy. Maybe it was because he was getting accustomed to verbalising what was in his head, or maybe he was spending so much more time constantly around humans that he was adopting their habit of using words frequently, even if he still didn’t really like to, most times.

Collei’s demeanour changed upon hearing what he had to say, her face turning away and her feet beginning to sway.

“I can understand how you feel. I… I lived many years of my life like this, sheltered – trapped – inside,” She took a stuttered inhale; her eyebrows drew together as though a horrible thought infested her mind, “It’s hard, I know. Your world becomes full of people telling you you can’t do this and you can’t do that; your own body tells you that you can’t and when you try anyway, when you give it your everything regardless, and you fail – as expected but as you hoped you wouldn’t – it hurts even more.”

Razor remained silent as her head tipped forward and her green curls curtained her face out of his sight. A lone teardrop splashed onto her thigh.

“Everything that used to be easy for you, and that is still so easy for others, starts to feel like you’re climbing up a really steep hill. You keep being able to do less and less, and the people around you seem to lose faith in your capacity to do things you used to be capable of doing before, and you know it’s from a place of concern but it makes you feel so helpless and fragile and useless.”

Her final syllables were spat with disdain, traces of an anger since grown cold resurfacing. Her thin fingers gripped at the sheets they sat on, her knuckles paling at the force. And then, just as Razor had witnessed before, she reeled in all the emotion that bled out of her and tapered it, until what was left was the wetness in her eyes and a faded hue of sorrow in their violet.

She quickly wiped at her face with the base of her palm and finally turned to him again, straining a smile she evidently hoped to be serene.

“I’m sorry, I talked a lot,” She shifted her body to angle it in Razor’s direction, steadily meeting his look of worry, “What I really wanted to say is that I understand how you’re feeling right now and I am always here if you need anything at all. My dads can be a bit overprotective but it’s because they care about you, okay? And, well, I got better when I thought I was close to dying, so I’m sure you’ll also be healthy soon! Don’t lose hope!”

Razor wanted to ask if she was alright, wanted to tell her she could cry in front of him and he would never think she was weak, but instead he stared at her, drank in the radiance of her warmth and allowed himself to be swallowed by it.

“Thank you, Collei,” His lips curled up into a smile, his heart bounding with gratitude for her presence and words, “You, are a strong person. Kind, also. Bright, like the sun. Your words, mean a lot. Thank you, for being my friend.”

Notes:

i was keen on writing about razor’s sense of isolation from the world and of no belonging, and the scene with collei discussing her experience with disability, but i didnt consider how heavy this chapter in specific would be for me to write lol

im sorry if it didnt turn out too great, the next chapter will be happier and i’ll hopefully struggle less with it hahah

thank you for reading!

Chapter 12

Notes:

the cyno bonding chapter pt 1 is finally here lfg 

Many moons felt to have risen and sunken into the hills by the time that, one morning, upon seeing Tighnari and asking his daily, “Today, I can go out?” the response was finally a yes.

Razor had stilled upon processing the break in routine, not having fully anticipated being given the go ahead and feeling strangely at a loss then that he could actually freely leave. What was he even to do outside? He could bask in the sunlight, he could watch pretty butterflies, he could look for bloomed flowers to donate to Collei’s collection. He could do almost anything he wanted.

“Just make sure to not stray too far, alright? Stay in the area,” Tighnari’s warning words followed him out of the hut until Razor waved back at the man, who watched him with a subtle smile, before he shut the latter’s door closed.

For a number of seconds Razor merely stood at the edge of the hut’s narrow terrace, eyes tracing the moving figures of all the residents and researchers below, rising to follow the swirl of wind that shuffled hanging branches and leaves, and squinting up at the warmth and radiance of the sun in a near cloudless blue sky. His hair – unbrushed and growing long enough to tickle at the bare skin on the back of his knees – whisked around him, and he deeply breathed in the humid air carrying scents of nature.

Collei was on patrol duty that day, if he recalled her schedule correctly; even if she weren’t, Razor felt as though a walk alone would have been preferable at the time. Decided, he began to make his way down the wooden bridge, its edges enforced and entwined by curling wood and looped with moss-covered vines. Some Rangers greeted him warily, others with sincere relief at his healthy emergence, and while he couldn’t bring himself to verbally reply to any of them, they didn’t seem to mind. 

He hoped he hadn’t frightened them or worried them too much.

“Oh, Razor! Over here!”

The boy’s head lifted at the sound of the call, immediately setting his sights on Amir surrounded by a pack of dogs in the distance ahead of him, and he picked up his speed into a light jog until he reached him. He did his best to not mind the uncommon soreness of his tendons and the ache in his muscles that retaliated at the effort, a remnant effect of his days unwell.

“Good morning! You’re looking as fresh as a zaytun peach!”

Razor harrumphed, nodding with a smile tugging at his lips.

“Morning.”

Meanwhile, the dogs drew nearer to him, sniffing and encircling him until one gave a satisfied yip and began to nudge at his legs, mouth falling open and tail happily wagging. 

“You got their approval quickly, huh?” Amir commented jovially, hands on his hips, “That’s Sag biting at your shorts, by the way.”

“The leader?” 

Amir gave a mild look of surprise at Razor’s ironically sure-sounding question, but ended up huffing a laugh in response.

“I guess you would be the one to know these things. Yes, he’s their leader, so to speak.”

Razor nodded and blinked down at the excitable dogs vying for his attention, and he felt his hands itch to touch their fur and cuddle them. They brought to mind the wolf pups he’d help care for each coming of spring, when the chill’s bite had weakened to licks and the grass was alive and high.

“You can pet them if you want,” Amir spoke up, having taken note of the poorly masked longing in the boy’s eyes, “They seem to like you already.”

Crouching down onto one knee, Razor’s hands began their cycle of rubbing behind each dog’s ears, scratching under their chins and behind the edges of their jaws. They made continuous sounds of satisfaction and their tails only swished faster, some urging others out of the way to receive more affection. Razor giggled as a tongue lapped at the side of his face and teeth tugged at his poncho, and Amir merely watched the scene for a minute or so prior to talking again.

“Got any plans for the day?” He inquired, since having sat on a tree stump a short ways off, and Razor shook his head no, for truly he hadn’t prepared beyond going on a walk around the area.

Amir hummed and leaned forward, resting his chin onto his knuckles and his elbow digging into the meat of his thigh, “You know, I believe General Cyno is training in the village this morning; you can go watch him if you’d like. It’s really incredible to see that man’s fighting skills. Oh, but don’t tell him I said that. Or that I sent you.”

With his head askew and a damp snout nudging against his cheek, Razor looked up at the man, pondering his suggestion. Watching the General Lupical fight sounded enticing, he couldn’t deny it. The man possessed an aura of power and strength, despite the fact that he was no taller than Razor himself. 

The boy gave a grunt of agreement.

“Okay. Don’t tell him, why?”

At the question, Amir gave a bashful laugh, a hand reaching to pinch at the lobe of his left ear while his eyes flitted about, “No reason. Just because.”

He was lying, Razor understood, but he elected to let the man be and moved to stand upright. His knees gave a sharp throb at straightening themselves out and his balance briefly failed him, his weight almost toppling forward before he caught himself. Amir had been too late to react but he’d gone to stand adjacent to the boy regardless, smiling.

“I’ll walk you to where he is,” He said kindly, gaze intently going over Razor’s person as though he were checking for something, “We have to go the opposite direction you were heading, though.”

Razor gave another nod and Amir led the way both along the soil paths and in conversation, upholding a chat about anything that crossed his mind entirely on his own. Razor would give indication that he was listening: bobbing his head just so, humming, grunting, and it seemed to be enough for the Forest Ranger who would go on as though having received a lengthy verbal response.

Nobody spoke to them as they walked the high path along the river, passing the odd adventurer or researcher and someone dressed in the same fashion as those people Razor had come across a long while ago upon his first arrival in Sumeru, paired with the type of bellowing creature that had been the one to frighten his and the knight’s horse. He went by the last two with great caution, eyes trained on the animal that appeared to be at ease, shifting its weight on its large feet as it laxly and sloppily chewed on vegetation.

Eventually, Razor’s ears picked up on the sound of thuds and thumps, the sharp shake of leaves and dull knocks against wood. 

“We’re almost there,” Amir informed him, leaning closer and keeping his voice low, “He’ll enjoy having you around.”

Something about the casual statement had Razor’s heartbeat quicken with a mix of nerves and excitement, and it only spiked upon Cyno’s figure coming into view within a clearing. 

His body seemed to be weightless, limitless, as he bounded off tree trunks and branches, zipped through the air like a taut arrow being released from an archer’s bow; Razor was entranced by the sort of dance that occurred before him. Cyno’s white locks swirled with him, the tails of his headpiece and the drapes from his waist flapped behind him like the wings of a scarab taking flight. His brandished staff’s gold glistened in his secure, yet not tense, grasp as he leaped from a tree and brought the weapon down with a sweeping swing against another. His movements and force were so controlled that he halted the collision just as metal met bark, causing merely mild splinters.

Silence blanketed the entirety of the area as disturbed shrubs and foliage nestled back into untouched serenity – the man holding his final pose, abruptly still.

Cyno’s bare chest rose and fell with each measured, sharp breath, and his skin appeared to be studded with jewels as sunlight struck beads of sweat that trailed along its surface. He donned his full gear that day, the snout of his headpiece casting deep shadows over his face until he sharply turned in the onlookers direction, red iris somehow glowing beneath the dark rim.

Razor’s heart jolted. 

In that brief moment, Cyno was frightening. The expression on his face and the focus in his visible eye were akin to those of a predator, locked into the scent of its prey and hunting it down. While dangerous however, he somehow gave the impression of being as calm as the surface of an unperturbed pond.

With a swift movement Cyno straightened his back and flipped his staff within his grip before tossing it to his side, effectively dissipating it.

“Good morning,” He greeted, features having grown so serene that Razor could scarcely see traces of the ferocity he bore when training, “Is something the matter?” The General directed the question to Amir, having detached his warm gaze from the boy’s face to inquisitively meet that of the taller Forest Ranger.

For his part Amir appeared antsy, a redness dusting his ears and creeping along his neck. Razor watched him curiously as he rubbed at his elbow, made quiet, unintelligible sounds prior to eventually speaking, words tumbling atop one another as if in a rush to escape the cavern of his mouth.

“Well, uh, General Cyno, you see we, uh…” The leather soles of Amir’s shoes ground small stones and grass beneath them as they shifted, awkwardly bridging the gap between his sentences, “We didn’t want to disturb you, but Razor over here would like some company and I, well… I need to take the dogs on a run. So I, uh, brought him to you.”

“I see,” Cyno’s pupil trailed down Amir’s face, his throat that bobbed with a skittish swallow, and settled on his chest, watching it. Again, Razor couldn’t see what the other man was seeing, but the General seemed satisfied with the answer he’d been given and fixed the Ranger with a deadpan look, “Is there really nothing wrong?”

“No, not at all!” The man hurried to dissolve the General’s doubt, “Everything is going smoothly this morning.”

Another pause, and then Cyno nodded. His shoulders slouched marginally as an apologetic smile painted his lips, his attention returning to the boy who was entirely enraptured in witnessing their conversation unfold, having his own questions to ponder the answers to.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t skip my training,” Cyno informed him, voice quiet, “It would set off my day. I won’t be long, but you could stay here. Would you mind waiting?”

Razor was quick to shake his head, eyes alight with eagerness.

“You train, I watch.”

Cyno reciprocated the smile, an undercurrent of something affectionate shining through it, and the boy’s chest felt warm. 

Amir cleared his throat, let out a short chuckle and turned to Razor, beaming.

“I’ll leave you both to it then. Have a good one!”

He waved as he scampered off like a timid mouse, eyes flicking back to glance at Cyno until he realised the man was already watching him, causing him to falter in his steps and gingerly face ahead once more. Sighing, Cyno then appeared pensive for a moment before he refocused his sights on the wolf boy beside him.

“He’s always like that around me, don’t mind it too much,” He told the younger somewhat dejectedly, “Did you wake up feeling alright? Did you have Tighnari check you over?”

Razor wanted to assure the man that while he couldn’t comprehend Amir’s behaviour either, he didn’t smell any fear coming from him, so Cyno shouldn’t feel bad about it; but such a comment was pushed aside. Instead, he nodded.

“Forest Teacher, he told me I can go outside. I, am fine. My muscles, they are hurting a bit. Not bad.”

Nodding in understanding, Cyno moved to hover his hand over Razor’s head until the boy indicated he’d be alright with contact, and only then did he sink his fingers into the silver mane. Razor’s eyes wrinkled shut as he pressed into the touch that gently ruffled his fur, indulging in the pleasant feeling of being petted. 

“Alright, if it gets any worse speak up,” Cyno’s hand lifted off – much to Razor’s dismay who attempted to follow the palm as it left him, causing the former’s lips to twitch with a repressed grin, “There’s a spot in the shade over there, along with my waterskin and some fruit. You can have anything you want while you wait.”

As instructed Razor plopped down onto a cushioning patch of fresh grass – damp from residual morning dew and cool on his bare skin – that was just around the border of the clearing in which Cyno remained standing, eyelids drawn closed as he recalibrated into training mode. Razor waited, breathing as quiet as he could keep it, and when Cyno finally began to move again he instinctively leaned closer, fascinated by what felt to be a performance of skill and force.

The hour flew by so quickly that Razor was somewhat disappointed when Cyno put his weapon away and rolled his wrists, proceeding to then lift off his headpiece and shake his hair free. The boy had been attempting to engrain the General’s every move and stance into his mind – analyse how he put his practised agility to use by evading imaginary dodges and striking down invisible foes. A part of Razor wondered what he looked like against real, living criminals and longed to see the man in action.

“Did I leave you waiting too long?”

Cyno’s question startled the boy out of his thoughts and he belatedly moved to stand, only then realising the numbness in his calves and feet.

“No, it was fun,” He earnestly replied, ruby eyes round and sparkling, “General Lupical, so strong, so fast. Must be very good at hunting.”

A snort of bemusement slipped out of the older man, despite his deadpan expression, “You could say that.”

From that day on Razor would wake up earlier so as to be freed from Tighnari’s check-up sooner and be able to tag along with Cyno to what had become the designated training location. He’d sit for the entire two hours of the practise session, eyes transfixed on the brutal show being put on in such an picturesque part of the rainforest. He would nibble at dried fruits, sip at the drink Tighnari would have prepared for him, and occasionally envision himself fighting alongside Cyno, maybe with a spear of his own rather than a greatsword.

“Do you not get bored?” The General asked one morning while they walked side by side, a slight furrow to his brow.

Razor was quick to shake his head, bringing Cyno’s line of sight onto him. 

“General Lupical, show of strength. It is fun. I want to be like you.”

Akin to a horizon at the end of a day, warm hues of red settled on Cyno’s ears and cheeks, and he cleared his throat, doing his best to blink away the emotion in his eyes and repress the joy in his chest.

“If you’re feeling well enough, I can train you for a bit,” He offered nonchalantly, “Though we must be careful and we can’t use our elemental power.”

Razor’s steps slowed to a stop until Cyno took note and looked back at the boy inquisitively. They blinked at each other, allowing seconds to go by.

“General Lupical, teach me?” 

The question sounded tentative, as if afraid the answer would turn negative and he’d have his spirit crushed. 

“Yes,” Cyno’s eyelids shuttered over his vision a couple of times, “If you’re up to it.”

With the push of a breeze there came a sudden shift, and glee began to radiate off of Razor so visibly that Cyno could practically see a mercury coloured tail behind the boy wagging at the speed of light.

“I want to learn!” Razor exclaimed, urgently catching up to Cyno who had resumed walking, “Thank you, General Lupical.”

The man peered at him from the corner of his eye, smiling, “It’s no problem. Just be a good student.”

And Razor gave it his utmost. Cyno would run through simple attacks and Razor would mimic them. Cyno would show offensive and defensive techniques and Razor would attempt to do the same. While not being harsh and constantly checking in on the boy’s state, Cyno did not let any mistakes slip and would be quick to correct Razor’s stance and hold, explaining why it would be best to do such things the way he instructed.

The sun was unforgiving and the humidity in the air made the heat all the more stifling, seeping into their very bones and boiling their marrow. 

“Let’s run through what you’ve learned a final time and stop for the day,” Cyno announced after he’d thumped the base of his staff onto the soil, watching as the boy set down his own claymore.

They ran through the movements like a sort of choreography, Razor’s eyes constantly flitting between the tree in front of him and Cyno to his side, attempting to replicate the man’s movements to perfection. And yet he could tell that he was nowhere close to being as fast or precise as the other, that Cyno was slowing down his attacks so as to allow him to catch up. A brewing feeling of dissatisfaction made itself known in Razor’s belly and his eyebrows drew together until they’d completed the routine.

He dissipated his greatsword and let out a sigh, watching as Cyno liberated his head of the weight of his helmet and shut his eyes, intaking enough air to swell his chest before expelling it. The man then looked to the boy abreast of him and Razor was made to realise that how he was feeling must have been written all over his face, for Cyno’s expression took on a shade of concern.

“What’s the matter?”

Razor’s head dipped, suddenly abashed at his thoughts and how weak they made him sound. 

“I, am not fast like General Lupical,” He timidly spoke, eyes cast firmly to the ground, “Slow and, not strong.”

The man took some moments to think, mulling over his response.

“Today was only your first day. With practice and time, everyone can better themselves,” Cyno took a step closer to him and gently tipped his chin up with a knuckle, bringing their eyes to meet, “We also have different roles – both equally important. I need to be able to attack quickly, strike criminals down to prevent them from causing any more harm or evading judgement. My light weapon is made for that. You hold a heavy, resilient greatsword, perfect for the defence of your Lupical. You’re not lesser than me, just different. You must give yourself time to grow in strength.”

Razor let the words sink into his mind and bottled them up in his heart. Cyno spoke with honesty and certainty, a fact that eased the boy’s worries and self-doubt, but something about the scene struck a chord within the depths of his memories. Being guided into brandishing his weapon properly, being appeased when he felt inferiority fester inside of him, being consoled and encouraged. It brought before his eyes a recollection of Grandmaster Varka first teaching him to fight, how to materialise a claymore and how to build up the force and energy required for wielding it.

Nostalgia tended to strike silently and fatally, and Razor scarcely managed to dodge its attack.

Cyno was watching him, as if he could read every thought that ran before the boy’s distracted eyes.

“Thank you, Lupical.”

Smiling, the man nodded and gave a pat to the boy’s head, successfully completely distracting him from his negative state of mind.

“Let’s freshen up by the river and return to Tighnari’s.”

After they’d wet their faces and arms, they dripped their way along the wooden bridge and up to the hut where the Forest Watcher resided. It was empty for the time – it being before noon – so the two settled on the two cushions on the floor after Cyno offered to read a book together. Despite his initial apprehension Razor eventually took pride when he realised his reading had improved, and whilst being relentless during combat training, Cyno was much more tranquil when it came to reading.

By the time Tighnari returned – a sack on his back and a sealed letter under his left arm – the two were deep in the story, Cyno having taken up the task of occasionally reading aloud when they weren’t reading in silence.

“Hello you two,” Tighnari greeted with a content smile, setting down the sack with a huff, “Did you start a new book together?”

Razor nodded, having exhausted his desire to speak for the next while, and Tighnari’s eyes grew fonder.

“Well, that’s great then,” He said, setting the letter on his desk before taking a seat at it, a small blade to open the paper's seal already between the orange pads of his gloves, “Don’t let me disturb you.”

The two carried on to flip through the book in silence, the sound of Tighnari’s pen scratching its response to the message he’d received being the primary background noise to their quiet breaths.

Taking a break to stretch, the man freed his hands and reached his arms to the arched ceiling before moving to meticulously brush the fur of his ears upwards, briefly grooming them prior to adjusting their position. Razor’s eyes abandoned the sentence they were on to watch the action with intrigue, despite him having seen the Forest Watcher performing such an act countless times.

“It’s cute when he does it, right?” 

It was Cyno’s comment that snapped Razor out of his focus, bringing him to look at the man beside him who was staring at his partner with affection. Tighnari gave a disapproving sigh, unbothered enough to not return his gaze.

“I can hear you, you sap.”

Chapter 13

Notes:

bonding with cyno (and the family) pt 2 cheers this ended up being a long one strap in folks

Razor wasn’t entirely sure of what had happened, nor of what had changed, but despite everything he found himself to be in higher spirits. Due to Collei having fully taken up her duties again – and therefore not being there to constantly keep him company – he passed more of his days by Cyno’s side until whatever apprehension around the man stubbornly persisted had fully faded and was instead replaced by yet another strong bond’s roots. 

The General would disappear for work at times but he never missed his training sessions with Razor, and even if he’d return from who knows where with new bruises or slits, he’d sit with the boy and read, or merely join him while he reviewed documents. Somewhere along the way it felt as though the wall that kept Razor out of their nuclear warmth was being gradually dismantled, chipped at with every smile directed at him and every pet to his hair.

When he looked upon the dinner table one night – at Collei who was checking over her deck of game cards, Tighnari who was sneaking a look at her choices and Cyno who was setting out his own bag of dice – a tentative feeling of belonging teased his heart and he didn’t have the strength to suppress or doubt it. His desire – his longing to believe it was real and tangible, was too formidable to overcome.

It was a new addition, them playing Genius Invokation TCG together. Whilst Razor had heard of it in Mondstadt and had tried participating in a round once or twice, he wasn’t all too familiar with the rules or how to properly strategise his attacks. Upon discovering this Cyno had taken it upon himself to tutor him in the art of table-top battle and had delved into many lengthy explanations and conversations regarding the topic since. It was, in fact, the deck Cyno had personally crafted for him that Razor then held in his grasp, red eyes watching attentively as the former went over his own.

“Must you really play over dinner?” Tighnari grumbled half-heartedly, by then having begun to eat despite everyone else being engrossed in the soon-to-commence game’s preparations, “Cyno, please; the food will go cold.”

“An a-stew observation. I will do my best to meat your demands.”

“Dad,” Collei whined, head lolling back in faux agony as the puns she could never get used to hit her ears, “that was awful.”

“I concur,” Tighnari piled on, features a level of deadpan Razor had previously believed impossible for humans to achieve, “You’re going to teach the poor boy your bad habits.”

Cyno huffed, a smile he could hardly hide cracking across his mouth – the telltale sign of him having thought of a joke he deemed hilarious.

“What could I teach him that is ba-a-a-ad ? I’m not a sheep.”

A pause, as though he expected a bout of laughter. Regrettably, his audience remained dead silent. A sumpter beast groaned in the far distance.

“Get it? It’s funny because the way I said bad sounds like when a sheep bleats.”

Tighnari looked beyond the man at his side and at Razor instead, who sat at the head of their small table, blinking wide and attempting to piece the conversation together in a sensical way.

“Razor, Cyno may say foolish things such as that every so often but please, don’t copy him,” The Forest Watcher nearly begged, ignoring the indignant grunt that left his partner’s lips that then pursed together, sulking.

It had taken some adjusting to – understanding when the two of them were actually upset with each other or just playing their own game – but Razor had come to learn that they were simply never angry. Perhaps, at most, irritated. He looked between the couple and nodded, hair flopping over his eyes enough to blind him until Cyno’s hand reached out and parted it for him again out of a newly formed habit. He really needed to trim his fur, he was loath to admit.

“I, am confused. What Forest Teacher means, I am not sure. But…” He mulled over how to put into words his earnestness, a mild frown on his brow before he set a hand to his chest and resolutely met Tighnari’s gaze, “I, will always do my best. I, will not say foolish things.” 

There followed a brief quiet and Tighnari’s head dropped into his gloved hand seconds later, eyes screwed shut and hair serving as a drawn curtain once it shielded his face. His tail kicked into a rhythmic swishing behind him and it was Cyno to first speak up, face unchanged but eyes somehow glittering with an emotion unnamed.

“He’s adorable.”

At the comment Razor felt his face instantly flush a red so flamboyant it could have served as a distress signal for miles away, and he scrambled to cover it with tufts of his fur, tugging chunks of it across his cheeks and ears and nuzzling into the safe, protective nest they provided.

“He’s just like a puppy sometimes, right?” Collei giggled, piling on to the affectionate teasing, and Razor’s head only dipped further, heartbeat thundering in his ears and the heels of his feet bouncing on the floor. 

Tighnari seemingly gathered himself, having lifted his head and combed his hair back with his fingers upon clearing his throat.

“Come on, leave him be. He’s as red as a pyro fungus because of you two.”

The conversation did return – much to Razor’s relief – to the game at hand, and the night flew by with each die roll and excited victory screech. He lost count of the matches they played; he lost count of how much he’d laughed. There was an unbridled joy bubbling within him so strongly, so distinctly, that the thought of it leaving him brought his eyes to well with tears. He was happy – truly, genuinely happy. He didn’t know if it was presumptuous or if he was mistaken, but he felt to have finally slotted into the puzzle of this family in which he previously believed there was no free space for him. He felt, even if partially, to belong to them and he selfishly, ashamedly, allowed himself to think of himself as one of them – for those precious hours at least.

When sleep took him and he dozed off in his chair, Collei quietly bid her farewells and stumbled the way back to her own hut. Cyno set out to clear up their dishes and his game set, putting his expertise of stealth to maximum use with the dice that would have otherwise clinked together in their drawstring pouch. 

Tighnari stood with a stretch, swallowing down a pleased groan and giving a quick groom to his ears prior to turning his attention to the boy sleeping soundly upon the table, cheek squished to the pale wood and lashes occasionally fluttering. 

“He laughed a lot today,” He noted in a hushed tone to Cyno, who had returned from stowing away his deck case, “He’s looking a bit better, don’t you think?”

Cyno hummed, eyes settling on Razor’s slumped frame. A taint of concern thwarted the gentle smile that danced on his lips and Tighnari sighed, understanding the cause.

“We should ask him about going to the Bimarstan with us soon,” He reached a hand out to Cyno, warm fingers – bare after having been freed from their thick gloves – coiling around his narrow wrist, as if to offer support. He met the man’s eyes unwaveringly when he glanced at him, “Tomorrow?”

The General’s jaw visibly tensed, his sight momentarily flickered to the ground, and then he nodded once, resolute as always.

“Tomorrow.”

Tighnari leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to the other’s cheek, smiling against his skin when he felt the man grab at his waist, embracing him and holding him impossibly close. A ghost of a chuckle escaped him and he cupped the nape of Cyno’s neck as the latter burrowed his face into the crook of his left shoulder.

“You’re tired too, huh?” He almost cooed, stroking through thick white strands of hair, “Let’s get the kid to bed.” 

Cyno nodded into him and slowly, with much reluctance, pulled away. His eyes were laden with sleep, a glint of worry still present within them, but comfort and affection shown brighter than both. 

With utmost care Cyno urged the boy’s limbs into his arms, hoisting him up against his chest and cradling him there until he could set him down on Tighnari’s bed, careful to not tug at his long hair or jostle him too sharply. Razor let out a sound akin to a content pup, turning on his side and drawing his knees to his stomach. Cyno couldn’t help but smile down at him and tuck some of his hair away from his face with a feather-light touch. 

When he went to take a step back however, the boy’s eyelids just barely pulled apart and his pupils honed in on the General caught unaware. The latter didn’t dare move or breathe, uncertain whether Razor was truly awake or just dipping briefly into consciousness. He got his answer when tentative fingers reached out to him and subtly pinched at one of the purple cloth tendrils that hung from his hips. The scene of him first discovering the boy – bloodied and sullied with soil, on the verge of a long sleep and wrought by exhaustion and fright – appeared in his mind, but the fingers that held onto him now were free of dirt and cuts, healed from past wounds.

“Stay, Lupical. Please.”

The boy’s eyes were cast low, timid, but his grip didn’t weaken and there was an underlying plea to his measly request. Cyno stilled, unsure of what was expected of him and how he should react. Much like the boy himself, he wasn’t overly accustomed to physical contact. At least not to the kind that wasn’t shared in combat. Was he supposed to sit by the boy and guard him? Was he meant to hold his hand as he slept? Was he to sleep on the floor beside the bed? 

He was torn from his thoughts by a gentle shove to his lower back – courtesy of Tighnari – having him stumble forward and close the little distance between himself and the mattress, his knees bumping into its side.

“He wants you to cuddle with him, you silly dog.”

Oh, right. Yes, Cyno supposed it made sense, given all he knew of Razor’s sleeping habits with his wolf Lupical back in Mondstadt, but what it implied was enough to have him choke on air. Razor, for all he’d been through, trusted him. Razor, for all his qualms about strangers and distaste for contact, wanted Cyno to stay with him when he was at his most vulnerable to keep him safe. It made him physically nauseous, but with a strange mix of giddiness and relief.

Wordlessly, he crawled over the boy and lay down on the side of the wall. His limbs remained locked stiff, his sight transfixed on the ceiling, and his breathing curt and shallow. He was too hesitant to move, afraid of doing something that would cross Razor’s boundaries or have him change his mind about him; but once seconds passed and his eyes had begun to dry out from having been staring without a flicker of a blink, Razor shuffled around beside him and eased his head onto the man’s quick-rising chest. 

If possible, Cyno’s muscles tensed further, but the boy appeared only to sink deeper into tranquillity as he burrowed up into the man and curled around him, clinging to him like a pup to its parent. A drowsy sound of contentment left Razor once he settled comfortably in position.

Cyno allowed the situation to steep in his mind, absently accepting the kiss to his forehead Tighnari gave him before the man uttered a whispered goodnight and stepped out of the hut, leaving the two alone. The General drew the conclusion that his partner must have gone to sleep on his padding at Razor’s, but little else thought was spared to such a topic unrelated to the boy then fully asleep on him. 

It was beyond his range of normalcy. It was outside the realm of behaviour he was used to and had planned ways of handling. It was uncommon for Cyno to not feel feared by others, and he found himself embarrassingly blocked on how to elaborate this unexpected deviancy.

The fact that his mere presence struck terror into the hearts of evil-doers and, like a flash of lightning, had their faces turn pale upon his arrival, was somewhat of a deterrent for criminals. It served its purpose. Yet, walking through the streets of Sumeru to see ordinary civilians whispering about him, peeking at him, doing what they could to avoid crossing his path – that made his chest ache, at times. He knew to be of no threat to them, he had even tried to be more amicable and outgoing, but despite his efforts even his matra would only tensely laugh at his jokes and promptly return to being as rigid as planks of wood around him. 

There was the question of his origins that cast doubt over his person, he was aware. People wondered how an orphan with no known history, scooped out from the desert and dropped into the Akademiya, could have possibly been given the highest ranking title of authority in Sumeru – below only the Grand Sage and the Dendro Archon herself – without someone pulling strings behind the scenes. People theorised and pondered and imagined, some more violently and vividly than others. There would be rumours circulating after a big bust, with hushed voices gossiping about the blood they’d allegedly seen the General smeared in; a fleeing criminal he’d been meant to capture and bring back having mysteriously disappeared instead; how he could scale walls with his speed and was always lurking the shadows at night, watching, in search of misdemeanours. 

They were all embellished falsehoods, of course, but he was not one to argue with what was already considered fact by the general population when the target subject was himself. He simply got used to it, grew thicker skin for it. After all, he was never the cheerful, peppy type and even during his academic years other students would be wary of him for his unchanging expression, stoic tone and social ineptitude. That was, until he’d befriended Tighnari, which allowed him a gateway into the experience of being loved and accepted as he was. 

He blinked and peered down at the boy who was blissfully unaware of the mental voyage he had pushed Cyno along. How much time had passed, Cyno couldn’t tell, but he carefully set an arm around Razor and reciprocated the hug he was being given. 

It was a novel occurrence, certainly, but he saw himself in the boy. He saw a kid in search of purpose and meaning and belonging, alone in a world where few understood or cared. He saw himself, without family or history yet starving so desperately for both, and he fastened his grip on the boy, as though wanting to reassure him. He held him as he wished he had been held in his childhood years of lonesomeness, when affection was a rarity and kindness a scarce gift. He wanted Razor to have all he didn’t. Perhaps it was late, for the boy wasn’t a child anymore and had already grown in solitude, but it was all he could do to appease the old pain in his heart.

 

***

 

With the rise of the sun the next day, Razor rubbed open his eyes to find himself trapped in a shielding embrace from Cyno, the man’s chin rested atop his head and his hands clasped around him. Razor attempted to blink the sleep from his eyes, slowly processing that which was the scene: the warmth of a body against his own, the heartbeat mumbling in his ear, the scent of body oils and spices and… safety that rolled off of Cyno in undulating waves. 

He would have nestled deeper into the depths of sleep if he could, but the day had begun and Tighnari must have –

“Good morning, Razor,” It was the very same Forest Watcher who spoke lowly, apparently having been seated at his desk dealing with correspondence for a while, ”Did you sleep well? If you want him to let you go just pat at his shoulder; he’ll turn over.”

Only sparing a second thought Razor did as instructed and was, as promised, relinquished from his cage of limbs; Cyno having given a quiet groan prior to proceeding to sleep, arms splayed out at his sides. 

Upon the lack of warmth and touch Razor understood the severity of his longing for his Lupical and intensely regretted having given up the facsimile return of it for the sake of doing his check-up and getting on with his day of no plans. Perhaps there would be other opportunities, he consoled himself mournfully. 

Once he’d sat up from the bed, head mildly spinning and the aches in his back and skull ever present, he ran over his routine with Tighnari until the man supplied him with painkillers and told him he was free to do as he pleased with the rest of his time. Unwilling to possibly disrupt the General who rested and his partner who worked in silence, Razor took his leave and stepped out into the waking Gandharva Ville, breathing deeply before a nerve-tingling yawn had him stretch to his fullest and shake its tail from his mouth as it left him.

He spotted Collei heading out on her duties and waved at her when she noticed him from below, calling back at him with a mention of them spending time together in the late afternoon. He mentally took note of the promise and set a countdown in his head, eager to be with his friend again. 

His loss of what to do didn’t last long as he decided to fetch his current read from his hut and get some extra practice in before Cyno awoke for training. He hurried over to where he stayed, finding Tighnari’s padding neatly rolled up again in a corner of the room and his bed – that he’d left dishevelled – neatly arranged. Snatching his book up from the top of his unused desk, along with a waterskin and a rosy zaytun peach from the small basket of fruit set on it, he headed out to one of his most preferred and private spots in the village: the sitting boulder at the top of the main tree. 

Keeping in mind his limits he climbed his way up the ladders and bridges to the highest branch at a languid pace, making sure to pause at dizzy spells and keep his breathing even, inhaling from his nose and pausing before exhaling from his mouth – a trick he’d learned from Cyno’s combat training that he realised he could apply even when not fighting.

Finally, he breached the penultimate layer of the tree’s foliage and was graced with an extensive view of the village, rainforest and the distant canvas that was the baby blue sky, splattered and twirled with puffs of brilliant clouds. The wind blew with increased fervour up high, making his poncho flap against his belly and his hair dance like silver smoke around his frame. 

He allowed himself to drink in the sight for a few extra moments, merely standing and admiring, wondering what else could be found in the distant land he could only see. Upon having his fill he took a seat on the low stone and set the book open on his lap, flipping through the pages to find an illustration that looked familiar, in the hopes of recalling where he’d left off at. Regrettably, even once he landed on the paragraph he’d last read the wind refused to let him carry on peacefully, distracting him every few seconds by blowing up corners of the pages he firmly held down. After the tenth time he’d lost track of his line he let out a disgruntled huff and shut the book, upset. He was hoping to at least make some progress, but it seemed not meant to be. 

Razor couldn’t say it was an entirely negative thing however, for not having anything else to do meant he could merely sit in relative silence and gaze out at the world from his perch. He caught sight of the glimmering city he’d since heard stories about from Cyno and Tighnari, and he did his best to envision the large school they said they both attended there, apparently full of countless books and studious scholars. He realised he would stick out like a sore thumb in such a place with a strange wringing in his stomach. If the people there are so smart, they must be able to spot those who aren’t with ease and goodness knew he was far from intelligent.

He shook his head – attempting to rid himself of the negativity tugging at his mind – and instead returned to imagining what the city was like: its colours, its smells, its sounds. He thought of Tighnari and Cyno as students, how they spent their time and what life was like for them in that period of their lives. Would he have been able to handle a similar childhood, he pondered. At his current age he would no longer have the chance to experience going to a proper school, making friends with his peers, learning about the world and beginning to comprehend the vastness of all that existed within it together with them.

“It’s funny that you also found this place.”

Razor nearly slipped from his seat with his startled jump, his book tumbling to the wood at his feet and only barely avoiding the fall from the treacherous height to down below. Cyno made an equal noise of surprise, apologising as he bent over and fetched the book for the boy to hand it to him.

“I’m sorry for the fright,” He repeated guiltily, “I assumed you’d heard me coming.”

The boy only hummed, checking over the book he temporarily owned for grievous damage and sighing with relief when he saw none. 

“May I join you for a while?”

His tone was somewhat apprehensive – a concerning trait, so Razor eyed him analytically once he nodded his affirmative and the man sat himself on the branch abreast of him, one knee bent in and the other pulled upright towards his chest. Razor waited until he spoke again, watched as the General’s gaze flickered over things they spotted from afar before returning to focus on him.

“What had you thinking so deeply?”

The boy’s eyes cast themselves upon the book in his lap, trailed over its leather cover and the letters etched into its front. 

“The green city. The big school. Studying.”

There came a quiet moment, Cyno processing the underlying meaning to what was probably more complex yet summarised so succinctly. 

“Would you like to study?”

Razor shrugged, fingers moving to pick at one of the tassels that hung from his poncho’s slanted rim, face devoid of distinct emotion. Cyno studied the boy’s demeanour, the way his eyes appeared to be stormy with thoughts encased behind them.

“You know, I was surprised to find out you hide over here,” The man began, facing ahead and resting his forearm on his raised knee prior to laying his right cheek upon it, line of sight focused on the view beyond the boy but keeping him in his peripheral, “I also sit on that same stone to be alone, to think. It’s all still and pretty up here, isn’t it?”

Razor offered a nod, whatever tenseness his body had accrued already beginning to fade.

“There’s a place similar to this in the city, up in a very high tree – much like this one. I used to go up there alone at first and think about my life, mourn what I had lost,” Razor stole a quick glance at the General beside him and the man merely smiled back, “You’re wondering what it would have been like to have lived amongst people? To have gone to school and had a common, human life?”

The boy stilled, his pulse skipping a couple of beats and his eyes rounding in poorly masked astonishment. Was he so easy to read? His cheeks bloomed a bashful pink at the thought.

Cyno chuckled, endeared, a hand reaching up to stroke the boy’s head. 

“I only know because I used to wonder the same thing,” He started to explain, his own expression taking on a shade of worn out sorrow, draped over by the cloth of time, “I lost many years of my youth to pain and isolation, both due to circumstances out of my control and in part at the fault of my own inability to adapt to the spot reserved for me in this society.”

“There are countless experiences that are typically lived through by most children: having friends and creating memories together, playing, growing alongside others who care and understand, being able to view life through a lens of colour and freedom rather than one smeared by ancient pasts and duties. I will never have the chance to experience them now,” His solemn voice grew feeble, at risk of cracking on his words, yet his lips were dimly smiling.

“I used to dream up those scenarios at times; when the loneliness grew to be too much, when I had no real place to belong and no one to relate to. To grieve what could have been – to convince yourself that your life would have definitely been easier and better if even one factor of it had been different… It’s a slippery slope to stand on; one I used to slide down frequently in the past, and less so now.”

Cyno’s eyes pinned themselves on the boy who found himself incapable of looking away, absorbed in what was being told to him in such a fragile tone from a man that possessed an impenetrable aura of power and resilience. 

“The past cannot be changed, Razor, and the future is unknown. You must take a step back and look at what has been painted on the sewn cloth of your life and understand its innate value and meaning. You have suffered, you are suffering, but you are not alone. You have your wolf Lupical; you have your friends; you have Lisa who loves you; you have us. I believe these to be good things – things that you wouldn’t necessarily have if your life had gone down another path. Think of it not as having missed out on experiences, rather simply having had different ones. Do you understand what I mean?”

Razor mulled over the conversation, rolling the words within his skull and picking them apart.

If he indeed had never been an orphan lost in the woods he wouldn’t have been saved by his Lupical, he wouldn’t have had Lupus Boreas. Maybe he wouldn’t have been in Mondstadt and he wouldn’t have met Grandmaster Varka, Fischl, Klee, Bennett and Lisa. All these people that he kept close to his heart, he might have never even met at all. 

The mere notion brought on a sensation akin to a stab between his ribs and he frowned.

Having let time pass Cyno sighed and sat upright, then reached for his headpiece and carefully lifted it off. Razor watched as the man turned it towards himself and stared at the symmetrical gold symbol in its black centre with a sombre, pensive look.

“I understand needing a place to belong. I understand feeling as though wherever you are in the world is not your place and whoever you are with does not understand you. I understand being different from those you should be the same as and those you wished you were a part of,” He set the helmet down beside him and returned his attention to the boy who was seemingly hanging on his every word.

“But, in truth, there is no one specific place where we belong on Teyvat. Rather, we belong to all of it. There is a space for each one of us in this universe, we must simply find it within ourselves first. Find your purpose, what you enjoy and want from your life. Understand who you are, accept who you are, and you will find that you were always meant to be. With time, you will come across those who love you and see you, and you will understand that even if some elements are different, you share your humanity – you share this existence – and you will extend your place of belonging outside of yourself.”

It was ineffable; the overwhelm of emotion in Razor’s chest almost felt to be pushing at his lungs and heart, wanting to burst free. He had admittedly lost some parts of the conversation due to convoluted phrasing and yet something still struck him so profoundly that he felt to have shattered. 

What was he experiencing? A sense of comfort? Companionship? Kinship? It felt as though his isolation and innermost desires had been exposed like a goreish wound, but rather than feeling shame or vulnerability at its display, he felt empathy at seeing that such a wound was not solely his own to bear. The man who was watching him attentively – features bland as though he had not even spoken – shared his fears and pain. 

Heat trickled down the roundness of his face, followed the shallow ridges of the old scar that cut the entirety of his left cheek, and dripped from his chin onto the necklace of teeth he never parted with.

Cyno rapidly blinked, as if startled by the sudden display of emotion.

“Did I offend you?”

But his question went unanswered – at least verbally – for the boy dropped to his knees, unminding of the book, and wrapped his arms around the astounded man. Cyno didn’t know how to respond; he didn’t know what to say or do to make things better. He never had anyone console him as a child so he simply learned to never cry. Now, as an adult, it was something he had yet to unlearn, and witnessing such a raw portrayal of emotion from someone other than himself was no easier to navigate. 

Apprehensively and tenderly he wrapped his arms around the boy and embraced him, tightening his hold when he felt the younger press into him. Razor didn’t sob, nor did he continue to shed tears for long, but Cyno let him stay in that position for as much as he needed, occasionally stroking his hair and patting his back.

“Lupical…” Razor’s voice cracked on the word and he partially peeled himself away from the man enough for them to be face-to-face – then, he smiled; big, wet and genuine, “Lupical, thank you.”

The pair sat in silence for a long while after that, merely watching from their safe spot the world carry on without their intervention. Razor had much to think about, his head beginning to ache from all the thoughts that perturbed him, but there was a happiness in his heart that would burn ceaselessly. 

At a certain point, when the sun was high and the voices below were louder, the same species of bird Razor often saw around made its presence known from one of the finer branches it was sat upon. Its vibrant beak shone in the sun, the blue feathers on its wings flapped as it cawed at them, and its eyes – dark, beady and small – somehow seemed all knowing, content.

“Razor, there is one thing I’d like to ask, if that’s alright.”

Cyno’s voice pulled the boy’s attention from the bird that felt uncannily familiar, and he nodded at the man to continue. 

“Tighnari and I were wondering if you’d be willing to come with us to the city, to visit the hospital and have some doctors check on you,” He sighed, as if tormented by guilt for their lack of other options, “They will have to touch you but we will remain at your side and answer any questions in your place, if you wish. If it becomes too much, we can even leave.”

Razor considered what the request meant, tried to rationalise what he would be agreeing to and what he would be risking if he declined. It wouldn’t be too awful if the General and Forest Watcher were with him, he assured himself – it wasn’t too bad when he had experienced something similar in Mondstadt and Lisa was with him. This could even be his chance to witness with his own eyes the city in all its novelty, even if the unknown was disconcerting. 

He gave a nod and harrumphed, a smile stretching across his lips. 

“I, will go,” He steadfastly agreed, “With Forest Teacher, and you, I, am safe.”

Notes:

just when i thought my mental health was finally beginning to improve it started to very rapidly decline again these past few weeks, plummeting lower than it has in a while. writing has brought me some solace, even if it’s a struggle. i appreciate all the kindness ive been shown and im incredibly happy to see how well-loved razor is. im sorry if my writing has taken a hit or takes one in the future, i’ll do my best to not let the quality drop too much. no matter what, i will finish this story. thanks for everything

Chapter 14

Notes:

somewhat of a filler/transitory chapter but we’re in sumeru city which means we’re steadily approaching the near-end of the story. If theres anything at all you would like to know or see before its conclusion, feel free to comment and i might add it!

Days passed by quicker than Razor could process – most likely due to his nerves regarding his rapidly approaching trip – but by the time the morning prior to the set departure date rolled around his emotions had somewhat locked into a state of nullity, as if neatly corked into a glass bottle that allowed one to see its contents but not taste them.

He had bathed first thing in the river and Tighnari had tried to brush a number of tangles out of his upward-swooping locks of silver, so long and dense that they were akin to a winter cape on his back. It was his suggestion to tie it together, if only to keep it somewhat tamed, and it was Collei’s eager voice that proclaimed they should twist it into a plait. 

Razor wasn’t sure what a plait was at first but upon Collei’s nimble fingers creating a fine one in her own short hair as demonstration, he came to understand it was the same technique Teacher occasionally used for her own lengthy brown locks. He quickly nodded at the realisation, happy to have something in common with her.

The four of them therefore remained huddled at the riverside, Razor folding his legs in and doing his best to stay as immobile as possible whilst Collei worked on his fur behind him. It felt strange – not necessarily uncomfortable – to have someone repeatedly touching his fur, but he mentally berated himself after every wriggle away, reminding himself they were the hands of Collei that he felt, whom he knew and trusted. 

When he began to fidget with his poncho’s tassels – head flicking around in search of an entertaining subject or his neck straining to have a look at what Tighnari and Cyno were quietly doing just a metre or two away – Collei made a sound of bemusement and let what was woven together of his hair rest heavily against his spine.

“Would you like me to teach you how to make a plait?” She offered, leaning past one of his sides so that he could see her smile, “I can ask Cyno if he’s willing to let you practise on him.”

Razor’s eyes marginally rounded in reaction, the idea of being tasked with styling the General’s hair being intriguing whilst also somehow daunting. What if he did a terrible job? What if he couldn’t get the hang of it at all? So as to not leave Collei without a reply however, he gave a gingerly nod, eyes averted to the damp blades of grass that poked out from under his thighs. Collei beamed at the go-ahead and whipped her sights in the direction of the two men who were conversing in hushed voices.

“Cyno, can Razor learn how to plait hair using yours? I’ll be guiding him along the way.”

The General spared a scant number of seconds to think the question over prior to nodding and shuffling closer, setting himself down in front of the boy so that the trio formed a train of sorts. 

“Go ahead, make me look pretty,” His tone was impassive, but there was a certain twinkle to his eyes that Razor could see amplified in Tighnari’s own that watched over the development with interest.

Truthfully he was trepidant to start, teeth gnashing together as his eyes honed in on the white waves that starkly contrasted against the brown back facing him, but he braved past the initial hesitation and reached out with uncertain hands. By following Collei’s instructions, after some minutes he had gotten the base of the much shorter plait looking decent and sturdy enough to retain its form. The feel of Cyno’s hair between his fingertips was intrinsically different from his own, for while his was fine and relatively straight, Cyno’s was thick and spiralled into loose curls, akin to the flurry of water at the bottom of a cascading fall. 

He and Collei worked in tandem with each other and concluded their projects together; him having leaned back to examine his handiwork after the girl reached forward and securely tied the plait’s end.

“To keep it from unravelling,” She supplied as an explanation, and then she went to stand, hands on her hips and head tipped downwards at the two who in turn blinked up in wait.

“Am I done?” Cyno asked, a hand reaching back to try to get a feel of his hair. He had indeed fixed it into a ponytail before, for convenience and comfort, but to have it properly styled was a foreign concept. 

“Yup!” Collei smiled and giggled, then set her head askew, “You both look great, but I feel like you need a little something…” At that her eyes skimmed the area around them until they spotted one of the many patches of wild flowers, a dawn yellow and freshly bloomed, waving at her from amidst the high grass. “Aha!” She exclaimed and excitedly jogged over, plucking a number of the plants from the ground prior to rejoining the group, dropping to her knees between them, “This will be the finishing touch!”

She got to work plucking off extra leaves and snapping the stems that were too lengthy for their current purpose, then began to adorn Razor’s hair with the flowers, seemingly calculating with utmost seriousness the distance between and the placement of each. Seeing as how Collei was focusing on him, Razor decided to decorate Cyno’s plait in return and very carefully slotted a number of them in between the overlapping locks of his hair. The vibrancy of the petals against the brilliant white base was akin to flowers sprouting from the pale nothingness of snow – delicate and beautiful and resilient. 

“You two are a sight for sore eyes,” Tighnari commented with a grin from where he was seated, leaning back against his hands, a look of absolute serenity and contentment on his face.

Cyno’s ears tinged a deep red but Razor merely grinned and replied with an ecstatic, “Thank you, Forest Teacher!”

Running around with a plait was very different to running around with his fur unbound and wild, Razor came to understand. It didn’t flap in the breeze and it didn’t become weightless with speed, rather it concentrated all its mass into one spot and bounced against his spine with each step. At least it wasn’t in the way and looked pretty in his reflection dancing upon the river water’s surface, he conceded, while the flowers gave off a delicate scent that was pleasing.

Some Rangers and Watchers had stopped and lingered at a distance to witness the familial scene unabashedly playing out in the open, others mildly gawked at the fearsome General tugging his short, sloppy plait accented by small flowers over his shoulder and gently smiling at it. None, of course, dared to pass comments or loiter for more than what was already suspicious. 

When the hour for the trio to set out on their long walk to the city struck Razor affixed his leather satchel on both shoulders and clutched at its straps, nerves beginning to prickle at the realisation that they were leaving Gandharva Ville for the first time in a long while.

Prior to the trip Collei had been convinced to stay behind after having been assured that the three would only be gone for a few days. She had spoken up against it at first, as expected, resolutely struggling to persuade them to let her tag along, unwilling to let Razor go through such an event alone, but she eventually acquiesced and the graze from her resignation was expertly balmed by Tighnari’s promising words.

“We’ll invite Kaveh and Alhaitham to come over for our monthly game night next weekend. We’ve missed a couple, right?”

Collei had pondered the trade off for a moment, her excitement at the mention of the two men – who had slotted themselves into her life as doting uncles – being difficult to squash. She sighed at her definitive surrender.

“Alright,” She mumbled, lightly kicking at the ground with the heel of her open-toed boot, a rare display of petulance, “Please tell them I miss them.”

The boy didn’t pack much in his bag, merely a book, his waterskin, painkillers and a box of fruit peeled and diced by Tighnari some hours before. Both the latter and Cyno himself also bore very few personal belongings as they had informed him they would be temporarily residing at Cyno’s house, already equipped with whatever they could need and accessorised by items Tighnari had left behind on previous trips. 

Leaving the village was intimidating and Razor couldn’t fully grasp why he was so apprehensive to do so when anxiety almost engulfed him once they began trailing up a hill’s worn path leading out of the settlement. It was a sensation comparable to when he’d left Mondstadt – a feeling of parting with somewhere he knew and felt safe in, a feeling of leaving home without a destination you can envision in your mind’s eye; a fledgling of a bird about to take flight from its dearest nest.

The small group walked past Amir who was busy feeding the dogs he looked after – up until he spotted Cyno’s floral hairstyle that is, exposed as the General opted to carry his headpiece under his arm for the time being. He choked on his called out goodbye and flushed a fluorescent crimson, fumbling with the food he clutched in his arms and urgently giving them his back as politely as he could. Cyno’s features twisted in a despondent frown, enough that Tighnari reached towards him and tucked a loose lock of hair behind his ears as a comforting gesture. 

Razor was hardly capable of paying the two men much mind while they voyaged through the rainforest’s trees and vegetation; his pupils bound amongst the looming branches and his ears pricked up at each crackle of a twig around them, but his thoughts were drifting down far different rapids. 

The couple that strode alongside him had evidently walked this path frequently as they wove their way onward with experienced ease whilst he humbly followed, attempting to win his battle against the rampaging nerves in his belly. 

It happened then, seemingly out of nowhere. 

They broke out of the verdant maze and into open air, where the afternoon sun was blazing high in the blue sky. The warm breeze pushed at their stilled frames and brought the bangs that rested atop his forehead to tickle at his lashes, his poncho flapping up. Just before them was an all encapsulating vista of the emerald and white city, with its domed and sharp architectural characteristics and the most grand tree at its centre. He gazed up at the capital with a swirling sense of awe and fright, for it was imposing and majestic and so very different from the town he knew at home. 

Seeing the city from a closer perspective rather than from his protective and distant perch in the tree of Gandharva Ville, he came to feel incredibly small in comparison. Doubt began to breach his mind; fingers fiddled with his necklace.

He was led along a dirt path to a bridge that was seemingly made of the entire half of a felled tree, worn concave by years of passage across it and bolstered by the aid of thick, weaving branches and vines that laced its sides and underbelly until reaching both ends, where it blended into stone. A waterfall to his left fed a river that ran beneath the bridge – one Razor tentatively stole a glance down at – and there came the city gates ahead; high-arched, bricked and guarded by an armed soldier. 

The warm soil beneath their feet morphed into silver stone, intricately set into the ground and being eaten at its sides by moss that slowly spread, swallowing what was human to create a unity between the man-made creation and nature itself. There were curving trees that reached for insurmountable heights and bright orange flowers that stood much taller than himself, each petal a flame large enough to engulf his face. They had walked past scattered quaint homes and people, a couple of children jumping and playing, but nothing could have prepared Razor for the change in atmosphere that was to come.

Even before they went through the gates, the concoction of scents and the cacophony of voices struck Razor’s senses like a thunderstorm on a sweltering August night. There was the smell of countless spices in the air, a vast diversity of food being cooked, leather heated in the sun and open bottles of natural oils. There was the sound of merchants calling out offers and bartering with citizens, some of whom were enthralled in their own personal conversations. It was overwhelming, asphyxiating, but it was also riveting enough that he found himself wishing he were capable of fully enjoying it. 

Some people eyed the boy cautiously, unbothered to mask their obvious curiosity, while guards narrowed their sights on him until they eased upon seeing the General Mahamatra at his side. As if sensing his discomfort, Cyno gave the younger a light nudge with his elbow to attract his attention before speaking.

“Are you alright?”

Razor could only nod, a meek smile trying to stretch itself across his lips. Regardless, Cyno understood and subtly offered his hand to hold, features blank and unchanging. The boy flinched at an abrupt call from a merchant and had no more time to consider whether to take the man’s hand or not, instead latching onto it in alarm. Cyno didn’t seem to even perceive the deathly grip that certainly squeezed his bones and hindered the circulation to his fingers; rather, he hummed and smiled at him comfortingly, and the three carried on walking. 

If before it was only Razor who had involuntarily pulled upon himself scrutinising eyes, it was the addition of the General – hair done into a plait akin to the foreign boy’s own and adorned with dainty flowers, holding his hand and walking alongside the Forest Watcher Tighnari – that brought on flummoxed stares and bubbling whispers. 

Razor could feel himself shrink at the comments he’d catch on the wind, shoulders hunching and drawing forward under the weight of the dozens of eyes that pinned him and picked apart every detail that composed his being. When he glanced at the men beside him however, neither appeared affected. They hardly seemed to have even noticed at all. 

Tighnari’s tail was swaying peacefully behind him, ears still and gaze firmly pointed ahead. Cyno’s hold on his hand remained serene and secure, features naturally deadpan and steps self-assured. Razor, impressed, decided to do his best imitation of them, straightening his posture and focusing forward, attempting to block out all the noise and chaos that swarmed them.

There was much to see amongst the numerous market stalls and display stands: foods he’d never tasted, refined pottery pieces, intricate jewellery, shawls and vibrant tapestries. Once he’d accustomed himself – if only a little – to the new environment, he started to stop and gaze upon all that was on sale, ruby eyes sparkling with wonder as they drank in what was being offered. The spices in the air did unfortunately bring on a bout of sneezing, and upon Tighnari’s suggestion they made their way quicker along the bustling street, breaking out of the flow when reaching the top of a ramp. 

“Shall we stop at Lambad’s for a quick lunch?” Tighnari spoke, no longer having to raise his voice to be clearly heard, “None of us has eaten and I could do with some food.”

The response was a unanimous one of agreement and the three went up a small number of steps into a large tavern nearby, its terrace decked with tables and a server welcoming them as they went past. Inside the establishment was warm and dim, almost like a soothing burrow, with its floors entirely covered in ornate carpets, lamps offering yellow-toned lighting and the smell of meat cooking in the air. It seemed they had missed the rush hour as the patrons weren’t too many, allowing the tavern to be in relative peace and offer a welcome break from the hustle and bustle outside.

“Mahamatra Cyno, Tighnari! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It was the gruff, boisterous voice of a man that greeted them, and Razor’s eyes honed in on the direction from which it came, spotting a wooden counter to their right from behind which a burly man was waving them over. 

“Handling business,” Was all Cyno gave in response once their group stood before who Razor assumed to be the one in charge. 

The man gave a hearty laugh, his muscled chest heaving with each jostling inhale, unperturbed by the curt reply. 

“Would have expected nothing else from you,” His eyes then seemingly noticed Razor who had partially tucked himself in Tighnari’s shadow and a grin cracked his lips wider, “Got yourselves another kid, eh? How many is it now – two?”

Tighnari chuckled, mildly at a loss of how to respond, prior to offering a noncommittal shrug.

“He’s staying with us for the time being, yes,” He turned to the boy beside him and smiled encouragingly, “What would you like to eat?” 

Razor didn’t have to think much of it, for the aroma of meat and the sound of it pleasantly sizzling over heat was enough to have him nearly salivating. 

“Meat. Please.”

With a decisive nod, Tighnari returned his attention to the owner whose arms were crossed, awaiting their orders. 

“Alright then. One serving of scented meatballs, a fish roll for me and a Sabz meat stew for Cyno, if possible.”

“Coming right up! Take a seat anywhere you’d like, business is quiet right now.”

And with the man hastily beginning to prepare their meals, Tighnari lead them to one of the corner booths to the left, somewhat isolated and private enough that any evident tension in Razor’s features dissipated the instant he sunk into his seat.

For a brief moment the words of the tavern owner resurfaced and lingered in his mind. Did he assume Razor was a part of Cyno and Tighnari’s family? His phrasing felt to imply that the pair had taken him in as a son, as though he were Collei’s brother. The notion brought an odd, pleasant feeling to swirl within his stomach and a giddiness tickled at his heart. Had he truly found a human family of his own? He pondered over the criteria he believed to be essential for a group of people to be considered as such: loving and supporting one another, having strong bonds and sharing meals, making sure to have time to spend together, being able to fully be yourself and feel safe and understood in each other’s presence, knowing that no matter what, regardless of how far away you are, you have a place you belong in their hearts.

His eyes rounded, his pulse spiked. 

It dawned on him then that he indeed had found a human family, one that was allowing him the chance to experience all he had missed as an orphaned child in the wilderness and that, perhaps, he could have a second one awaiting him in Mondstadt too.

Notes:

you dont want to know the amount of times i actually walked the route from gandharva ville to sumeru city and how i analytically read through dozens of voicelines regarding food preferences/dislikes for all three characters, looked at the menu at lambad’s and then tried to decide who would prefer what. maybe i take this shit too seriously lmao

Chapter 15

Notes:

important message! especially if youre in the eu, please give water and shelter to any stray animal you see. they need all the help they can get right now. the extreme heat is massacring them. please do what you can, even if you don't think it's much. you could save a life

Sickness and impending death had a scent Razor didn’t think effable, yet they were potent, nauseating and steeped his mind with desolation. They were attributes that his nose could pick up even the faintest traces of so upon nearing the Bimarstan – of which the stench caused by decades of illness and despair had permeated its very walls – he almost audibly gagged. 

Was this what he smelled like to others? Hopeless and dreadful? 

There were some of the less severely burdened patients outside on beds and chairs, resting under forest-green canopies and beside ever-burning incense. He eyed a child that complained about receiving an injection, a man who audibly wallowed in self-pity, and a doctor who stood before the main door, half-moon frame glasses sitting neatly on his nose. 

Said man regarded the approaching three from above their lenses, eyebrows arching once recognition struck him.

“Ah, General Mahamatra, Master Tighnari, is this the patient you informed me of?”

He donned navy robes and a dark teal cover over his shoulders, gold lines drawing patterns around their borders and across his chest. Set into his hair were the fine gold leaves Razor had seen other people dressed in similar fashion wear, and just above his lips – that were pulled into a practised, polite smile – was a well-groomed moustache. He met them midway through their approach, already peeking at the boy who had lingered further behind the two men.

“Yes, this is him,” The Forest Watcher replied, also taking a cursory glance at the younger, “Is now a good time or are you too preoccupied?”

The doctor, Zakariya, dismissed the suggestion with a flippant wave of the hand. 

“Nonsense, not at all. Please, after me.”

He gestured for the group to follow him into the building, offering a smile to the boy as he held the door open for him and allowed him to pass through. Razor wasn’t certain he could trust this man as his kindness was tainted by farce, but at the very least he didn’t actively perceive danger from him.

Razor’s wary eyes wandered along the halls they passed and the shut rooms they went by, hearing groans or whispered voices seeping out from behind the closed doors. The light within was mellow, solely enough to have the walls illuminated so as to avoid one crashing into them, and the sporadic sounds of rummaging or whines had goosebumps spread across the surface of his skin. It was eerie for there was otherwise complete and utter silence within the hospital, only a scant number of staff crossing their path. 

“Into this room, if you please,” Zakariya finally said, opening a carved wooden door and ushering them inside. 

The first thing to strike Razor was the assault on his nose from the intense scent of medicine and chemicals. The room smelt overly sterile, of nothing natural or human. It was cold and lifeless, despite the pristine white bedsheets on the cot and the vibrant green potted-plants that offered colour in the bleakness of the setting. 

“Having been informed of the circumstances in advance I will be the only one examining you today,” The doctor informed in a stoic tone with a quick look at the General, prior to indicating the cot, “Please, have a seat.”

Perhaps it was inevitable to have his heartbeat thundering in his ears and his hands quivering, but Razor did try his best to suppress whatever was obvious – to fix a stare on a spot of the brick walls and detach himself from the man’s hands as they prodded his face, chest and the markings on his body; such was an ability that sometimes came in handy when situations were unavoidable and he would have to wait through what overwhelmed him until he could go free. He would let himself sink into a void in which sound would be muffled and his physical form was not his own. He would breathe and blink, but be otherwise as conscious as a fatally trampled animal.

By the time he returned to the present he was still seated on the thin mattress, his poncho being held up to render the pattern on his chest entirely visible whilst the doctor discussed matters with his two guardians, both attentive and grave-looking. The scene felt to be tense, serious, as Zakariya’s eyes subsequently narrowed in befuddlement when they skimmed over his designed skin again. 

With a resigned sigh the man let the poncho flop back down and adjusted his glasses to be higher on the bridge of his nose. 

“Regrettably, whatever conclusion I can currently draw doesn’t have a sound base nor can it be fully medically explained,” Tighnari’s ear twitched, Cyno’s eyes remained pinned on the doctor with unbridled intensity, “I will consult other professionals and share with them all the information I have; however, answers might not be quick to arrive or absolutely concrete. There is room for error or misdiagnosis. I hope you can understand. This… This is truly a bewildering case.”

Zakariya’s sight left the pad of paper he had taken notes on to meet Razor’s unblinking gaze, but rather than pulling his lips into that same neat smile he merely returned the blank stare, thoughts evidently swirling behind his irises.

“We understand,” Tighnari eventually spoke, standing from his chair with a long-suffering sigh, “Come Razor, let’s head off.”

Robotically, Razor did as told, rising onto his two feet and only then realising how unsteady he had become. He kept his head tipped low as he went to stand by Tighnari’s side, the man offering him a sympathetic smile and a gentle pat to the head that the boy partially registered. 

“Send word to me or my matra should you have any revelation,” Cyno ordered, his voice authoritative, a clear cut distinction from his off-duty mode, “Thank you for your time.”

The walk back to Cyno’s house was a slow and drudging one, having to cross the entirety of the city while all their minds whirred with thoughts none voiced. Despite it, Razor was merely relieved to be out of the hospital’s oppressive atmosphere.

Cyno had taken hold of his hand again, regardless of the thinning of the crowd. It felt comforting, reassuring, and protective. Razor could smell the concern that was festering in both of the men at his side and he felt it feed into his own, stitching itself into his guilt for being the cause of their predicament. Was he going to keep struggling as he was forever? Would he never see his wolf spirit again or be able to use his Vision without endangering everything and everyone around him?

Upon stepping into Cyno’s house these thoughts temporarily diluted until they were drowned out by a sense of curiosity. 

It wasn’t a particularly spacious or lavish residence, merely a moderately-sized house just by the southeast entrance to the city, but it had a railed terrace and a breathtaking view of Yazadaha Pool where ships docked and upon which’s surface floated large lily pads, a lush green and accompanied by their delicate, white flowers. Just beyond the water was the extensive silhouette of the rainforest, crowned by the rosy sun tucking itself behind the tops of trees and hills.

The foyer of the home itself was undecorated, the living room simple and well-maintained: a cushioned, mahogany coloured sofa, a low coffee table, some shelves with neatly placed vases and knick-knacks. Overall, it didn’t appear much lived in judging by the blatantly scarcely used state of the kitchen, open wall cabinets devoid of any fresh produce and instead stocked with pre-made packs of rations, nuts, dates and the like. 

Beyond those rooms came signs of a soon to be change. 

Whilst the decor remained mostly the same, rather than shelves barely filled with meagre decorations, those in the short hall leading to Cyno’s room were fully packed with card deck cases, seemingly all handmade and intricately designed, with specific themes and motifs. A professionally drawn poster hung framed over a shelf in the middle of the hall wall just opposite Cyno’s bedroom door. It must have been valuable in some way for it was given a position of prestige and even had the artist’s name – a fluid, swirling sort of signature with the initial letter K being larger than the rest – just to the bottom left of the posing character. 

“Pretty cool, right?” 

Razor jolted at the sound of Cyno’s voice breaking his engrossed state and snapped his head around to look at the man abreast of him who stood with a proud look on his face, arms folded across his chest as he too admired the art. 

“She’s one of my favourite characters in the Invokation novel series,” He supplied, then angling his right forearm upward, his index finger stretching out, “Of course, I’m talking about the original version, in which we meet the main protagonists of the past and not the newly released version in which we follow the story of the later generations. If you look closely at her design you can see elements that have ties to her origins – of which there is a big reveal a good deal into the series; even though – if one were to read the novels attentively – a trail of clues pertaining to her history was present from the beginning. Typically only the most avid of readers take note of such details, but they are easier to spot in retrospect. If you look at that symbol on her belt…”

Razor nodded along as Cyno indicated various bits and shapes on the poster, assimilating the information as well as he could despite it not all entirely making sense to him. 

“These cases down here, instead,” Cyno switched his attention to the row of deck cases, all methodically aligned by colour and surgically clean, “were commissioned by me from renowned artists. This one, for example, was done by an artist of Mondstadt, Albedo. Do you know him?”

Whilst the name struck familiar a blur of a pale face and ash blond hair was all that came to mind, so Razor merely set his head askew and watched with intrigue as Cyno took hold of the specific case and held it closer to the boy for him to appraise.

“Fair enough, I heard he’s a bit reclusive. Anyway, while the other cases had a certain concept in mind I specifically asked the artists to portray, when it came to commissioning Albedo I –”

“Cyno, dear, we should be heading to bed.”

Tighnari had just emerged from the bathroom dressed in a white short-sleeved top and shorts, gently dabbing his face dry with a towel. He walked softly over to them, the cushioned pads under his toes and the front of his feet leaving a trail of wet marks akin to pawprints as he did so. He needed to only take a glance at what they were looking at to understand the topic of discussion and a smile tugged at his lips. 

“You’re giving him a tour of your cases, aren’t you?”

His tail – its navy blue fur that blended into a sharp, viridescent point – was still sodden and dripping, flicking behind him in amusement. Cyno looked at the patch of water rapidly forming on the floor.

“You’re making a puddle,” He informed, not scoldingly but merely as an observation, “Try not to slip. But yes, I somehow ended up showing them to him. I explained the story behind Kaveh’s piece as well.”

Tighnari hummed, wrapping his tail up in the damp towel he held prior to replying.

“Well, I’m sure you’re enjoying yourselves but we really should sleep soon,” He met Razor’s gaze and smiled, “Speaking of Kaveh, we’re planning on meeting up with Collei’s uncles tomorrow, if you’re willing to join us. They’re nice. What do you say?”

A meeting with Collei’s uncles? Razor let the idea sink into his mind for a moment, considering it. He had heard some stories regarding the two: that they were both renowned within Sumeru and highly intelligent, yet were reduced to quibbling children when not busy being romantic with one another. Collei always spoke highly of them, said that the food at their house was never not delicious and that one of the two would make her drawings of anything she wanted or gift her jewellery, while the other gave her notes and texts to practise studying with. Razor supposed it couldn’t go terribly. 

Upon reaching a conclusion, he harrumphed and gave a nod.

“Perfect, all the more reason to sleep now.”

Cyno sighed, somewhat deflated, but agreed nonetheless.

“Alright, I guess I’ll tell you more tomorrow. Let me grab my things and you two can have my room to yourselves.”

He had already turned and begun to do as he’d said when Tighnari’s hand hurriedly grabbed at his shoulder and pressed down, successfully bringing the man to a staggering halt.

“What do you mean?” The Forest Watcher asked, an eyebrow quirked, “Where will you be sleeping?”

Cyno blinked, wide-eyed and wondering if he had somehow misstepped. Belatedly, he replied.

“On the sofa?”

With that, Tighnari’s brow furrowed and his tall ears dipped forward, the line of his lips pressing itself straight.

“Don’t be silly, just sleep with us. I’ll take an outside spot; you both won’t crush my tail or anything of the sort that way.”

Cyno seemingly had a refusal ready to topple from his tongue but Tighnari’s look morphing into a steady glare was quick to make him swallow it back down and surrender. 

“Razor, I hope you don’t mind sharing a bed with us.”

Truthfully, Razor did not – at all. On the contrary, he adored the feeling of being pressed between two sources of body heat so much that tears pricked at his eyes and his heart soared with elation. It was as if he were huddling with his wolf Lupical again with Tighnari’s fluffy tail tickling at his calves and Cyno’s hand petting his hair, as if attempting to coax him to sleep. Razor instinctively burrowed deeper into the latter’s chest, inhaling the scent he carried that simply categorised itself as a safe haven within his mind. It felt to have been an eternity since he’d last nestled into a pile with his Lupical. 

That night, Razor believed to have had one of the most favourite and treasured rests in his life. As such, with the dawn of a new day – once the warm, golden sunlight cast itself upon his face and stirred him awake – he yearned to be able to shut his eyes and carry on with his tranquil slumber. 

Alas, it was too late and sleep stubbornly evaded him. To worsen matters, he was acutely aware of the fact that Cyno was no longer in bed and that a sound of running water was coming from within the house. There sprouted a pathetic twinge in his heart at the lack of the man’s presence, but it was almost instantly assuaged by Tighnari making himself known with a quiet murmur of a sound. 

Razor allowed himself to look on as the Forest Watcher haphazardly groomed the fur on his ears in his sleep prior to letting his arms plummet back down onto the bed with a dull thud. The boy momentarily pondered what it was like to live with animalistic appendages. Did they get in the way often? Did it hurt to put pressure on them even if on a pillow? Did they truly require more care or was Tighnari simply finicky about them?

His thoughts drifted down such a stream until he finally tore his sights away from the man and properly took in his surroundings for the first time. 

The night before they had entered the room with scarce lighting and, without much delay, had strewn themselves upon the bed, eagerly settling in for sleep. Razor then realised what he had missed by them doing so, for in the increasing daylight he could see that walking into Cyno’s room must have been like walking into a cavern of wonders.

The barest item within those four walls was the very bed he lay upon, whilst the rest of the furniture and display pieces were adorned with miniature figures, elaborate dice pouches, countless rows of leather bound books and framed Genius Invokation cards resting upright like works of art. The walls were plastered with a variety of character and scenery posters, clippings and tiny shelves brimming with trinkets. In a corner of the room – right beside a stack of documents and files belonging to work – was a plush toy of a rotund, green and cream coloured fungus creature, large enough that Razor would probably struggle to embrace it within his arms. 

Despite the fullness of the space, everything was meticulously orchestrated to be in order and well-balanced.

“Good morning, Razor.”

Tighnari’s voice was groggy and creaky, but it was enough to gently nudge the environment from silence to sound and Razor turned his body to face him, a smile illuminating his features. 

“Good morning, Forest Teacher.”

The man gave a sleepy chuckle and patted the boy’s head, prior to unfurling onto his back and stretching out his limbs with a whine until his ears and tail quivered and he groaned with the relief that followed. Razor went next, imitating the action and giving a grunt as his spine clicked into place.

It was time to get ready, he supposed when Tighnari stood to prepare for their meeting. 

It was unfortunate but – while giving a wipe to his face with a cloth before the bathroom mirror – he came to discover that the flowers in his plait had been either lost along the trip or squashed in his sleep, while the hair itself had become too messy to keep another day. Dolefully, he let Tighnari unwind his twisted fur and give it a good brushing. 

Cyno had bid him good morning with a ruffle to his hair – much to Tighnari’s annoyance – and pressed a lingering kiss on the cheek to his partner, then announcing that he had bought fresh fruit for them which he had diced and plated for their breakfast. 

They ate in relative quiet, short exchanges being carried out during which they expertly evaded the topic of work. Instead, they discussed what to bring back for Collei from the city, where they should have lunch later that day and what they should take Razor to see whilst he was in the capital. The boy contentedly hummed his responses whilst munching on a saccharine piece of a zaytun peach, watching with a flame in his chest as Tighnari affectionately let Cyno recite the start to one of his jokes prior to cutting him off with a tender peck on the lips. 

He wished that every morning could be as that one was. He wished he could always wake up in the arms of his Lupical and share in the love their company radiated and extended to embrace him. He wished, childishly, he could live on in that morning forever.

Notes:

i had calculated fitting the meeting with kaveh and haitham in this chapter but alas if theres one thing im good at it’s yapping and one of the many things im bad at is math. apologies folks. truly every time i think about the fact that i initially thought this fic would be 5 chapters max i lose my mind. my word doc has reached 60k. what happened

Chapter 16

Notes:

kavetham have arrived everyone run for your lives /j
this turned out a bit long but i hope it’s enjoyable and not too tedious!

It was unyieldingly nerve-racking meeting new people; Razor was sure he’d never truly adjust to doing so. How should he behave? What should he say? What would possibly irk these strangers and what would please them? 

If Kaveh and Alhaitham were a part of the Lupical – of the family that Cyno, Tighnari and Collei were in, he simply had to be on his best behaviour and make a good impression. This however, was hard to achieve when he didn't know what was expected of him or what was agreeable. Such was the core issue with encountering other humans; until he had adapted to reading their body language and expressions, cataloguing them and what caused them, only to eventually understand what they were feeling, he would be left in an ocean of ignorance regarding such matters.

The trio had walked through the lively market place on Treasures Street again, going past Lambad’s Tavern, beyond what Razor recognised as an Adventurers’ Guild base, and kept walking steadily deeper into the heart of the city, up swooping ramps and between stalls and buildings.

Razor was fascinated by how nature apparently seeped and wove itself into the structure of Sumeru. All paths were bracketed by lush shrubs and flowers, trees and robust branches loomed overhead and offered dappled shade from the sun, moss dressed the rims of the white stones they treaded; rather than feeling like a central hub of a large nation, it felt to be a loving blend between man and wildlife.

They soon came to a stop before a house – the location of it intriguing Razor for it was pressed to the unfathomably immense trunk of the city’s main tree – and Cyno rapped his knuckles against the door. Amidst the silence of awaiting a reply, a bird cawed from the edge of the arched roof and Razor briefly looked at it before the door swung open. 

“Hello? Oh my!” 

Standing in the doorway was a man much taller than the boy himself, eyes a vivid flame encircled by lengthy lashes and kohl-rimmed edges. His hair was long and sunshine yellow, up-sweeping, with pieces held back by pins and a thin plait on a side. Razor was astonished; he didn’t think he’d previously ever seen someone glow the way this man did. Dressed in white, red and black, with gold and blue accents and a pretty feather in his hair, the freckles on his tan cheeks rose as he offered a beaming smile, stepping aside as if to immediately let them in.

“The last people I expected to see today,” He spoke almost melodically, following his words with a bashful chuckle, “I’m sorry for the state the house is in. I would have tidied up had I known.”

Razor’s eyes skimmed the interior of the place: numerous tapestries, wall decor, books and accessories, all clearly placed with thought and reason. He didn’t understand much about making places look nice, but the home appeared to be in good condition despite the man’s words.

“As if, Kaveh. It’s only us,” Tighnari said, attempting to dissipate any of the man’s concerns while the group slipped off their shoes and set them tidily by the other two pairs already in the foyer.

“I did send him a message of warning through the matra, though,” Cyno piped up, seemingly humoured by stoking the fire ever so slightly.

At that, Kaveh let out a theatric, agonised groan, his head falling into his palm and the hefty geometric earrings he wore dangling wildly from their studs.

“Of course he didn’t think to tell me. I swear, that man just…” He recomposed himself fairly quickly Razor was happy to see, given how neither Cyno or Tighnari expressed much worry for his despair, and then returned to smiling at them, directing his attention to the boy.

“Are you the Razor I’ve heard about?”

Razor gave a nod, attempting to replicate the curvature of the man’s glossed lips on his own, and Kaveh appeared delighted by his answer.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Kaveh, a long-time friend of these two.”

He had automatically outstretched his hand, as if wanting to take hold of Razor’s and exchange that shake adults sometimes did when meeting, but seemingly reconsidered and urgently brought it back to his side with an awkward laugh before the boy could even react.

“Right, yes,” Kaveh cleared his throat and moved to shut the front door, “Well, can I get you anything to drink or eat? Please, take a seat in the living room.”

“I’ll have a glass of water, if that’s not too much to ask,” Cyno spoke as they were ushered towards the central space, where three wide sofas were upon a palatial carpet and around a table decorated by a bowl of fruit, accompanied by an uncorked bottle of wine. 

“Not too much at all,” Kaveh replied, already heading to where Razor presumed the kitchen was located, “You two? Nothing?”

Razor shook his head and Tighnari verbalised his own turn down of the offer, the small group then taking their seats on one sofa once their host assured them he’d alert Alhaitham of their arrival. 

Interestingly enough the rapid drumming of his heartbeat had marginally slowed upon greeting Kaveh – perhaps because he was so forthcoming and welcoming, and it all felt to be genuine. Razor took this chance to truly drink in the details of the ornately designed home, sniffing at the mix of fragrant scents and roasted coffee beans that overlapped with the smell of old tomes and ink. 

A set of footsteps drew nearer, followed by a second, and Razor sat straighter in his seat. 

“His royal highness has arrived,” Kaveh announced with a lilting tone upon reemerging, and Razor’s eyes rounded at the astonishing reveal. Did this mean that the man he was next to meet was a royal like Fischl? Humans care a lot for their titles and roles, don’t they? So why had no one mentioned it sooner? 

Alhaitham finally made his entrance and Razor’s joints locked in tension. 

He was scantily taller than Kaveh himself but his shoulders were broader, his chest visibly toned and his arms shaped by muscle. His garments were mostly black, save for the half cape with a large teal collar and the draping materials he wore around his waist of the same colour. Razor could assume the mid-calf length boots by the door, with edges of gold and – unlike those most likely belonging to Kaveh being simple, white flats – their tips going up into sharp metal points, were his.

Razor’s eyes skimmed the man’s face just as the latter’s own were already honed in on his. He too had silver hair, short and in wispy tufts. Amidst the waves the boy could spot circular contraptions over his ears and the tail of a blue wire connected to them that was lost over his shoulder. The man’s stare wasn’t necessarily cold but it was calculating, and Razor felt as though he were being scrutinised and reduced to the most minute of details under his intense focus – by those rust-coloured pupils floating in a cerulean pond. 

The man’s attention lingered longer on the boy until he finally looked to the others abreast of him and offered a nod of acknowledgement. He strode over to the sofa opposite their own and sat with a quiet sigh, prior to bouncing his sights between them three. 

“My name is Alhaitham.”

His voice was deep, flat, and his stare had Razor frozen still. With the crack in the silence Kaveh huffed as he took a spot on the cushion next to the man, mumbling something that sounded like a complaint under his breath while folding one leg under the other that planted itself on the ground.

Razor’s pulse had picked up again; he couldn’t completely comprehend why. Perhaps it was the intensity with which he was being watched, picked apart, analysed. He became overly conscious of the way he sat, breathed, blinked, dressed, smelled. This man wasn’t animus towards him, but Razor couldn’t let himself be at ease.

“My… My name, is Razor.”

He had fumbled his words at the start. Embarrassing. Would they think he’s stupid?

“Ah, I should make you aware that whilst he’s improving his speaking he’s not very eloquent just yet,” Tighnari interjected before proper conversation could begin, “Be patient when asking him questions and try to keep your vocabulary simple.”

That felt to be the nail in the coffin. Razor wished the sofa could turn into a man-eating beast and swallow him whole, solely so that he could hide away in shame. His face burned a luminous red and he tucked his chin into his chest, fingers then gripping the material of his shorts. 

“I understand.” 

Razor swallowed tightly, the heat in his face refusing to subside.

“Much like Collei used to be. It’s perfectly logical for kids with their background.”

The flurry in the boy’s mind drew to a slow halt as he processed the words. That’s right; it’s not his fault, is it? Collei had told him such, had even assured him he was improving quickly and that she had also struggled initially. Was Alhaitham trying to put him at ease?

He dared to lift his sight from his knees and glance at the man’s face. Of course, Alhaitham was already watching him, but whilst his expression remained impassive Razor got the sense that it wasn’t as frightening anymore. 

“Well then, I’ll begin asking questions.”

A warm hand gently took hold of his in a subtle way, as though to not bring him any discomfort, and Razor returned Cyno’s affectionate grip prior to giving a nod of his head.

He was asked some of the questions Tighnari had already posed to him, paired with many that had him digging deep into the recesses of his memory: How did he acquire his wolf spirit? When did the events that brought it on transpire? Had it always presented itself as a wolf? Can others see it? Do they communicate? When did the disruption in his elemental power occur? Was he aware of what brought it on? What was the pain like? What did he feel when he lost control? 

Razor did what he could to answer cohesively and clearly, but speaking was never easy and doing so under pressure with a stranger – whilst also having to ponder things that baffled him or brought on sadness – made it all the more difficult. He grew flustered each time he couldn’t find the right words and sometimes it felt as though he had to forcibly tear them out of his throat, as if he were losing the ability to speak at all.

Tighnari would fill in the blanks every now and again, while Cyno mutedly offered support and Kaveh would react as a quiet member of an audience, dejection contorting his features the more Razor divulged all he could. 

Once Alhaitham had exhausted his list of inquiries he looked to the silent General at the boy’s side.

“Do you notice similarities between your situation and his own?”

A heavy stillness settled upon the room, Tighnari’s ears flicking as he too looked to his partner who shifted almost imperceptibly in his seat.

“I have never lost control over my fragment, if that’s what concerns you the most, nor have I ever witnessed the spirit of Hermanubis as an entity outside of myself. It sometimes imparts emotions or words into my mind, but not in a distinct voice and more so when I was young,” Cyno sighed, his brow furrowing, “All I can compare is the fact that I too – when I had first been implanted with the fragment – would experience extreme fatigue and illness for extended periods of time.”

The world seemed to grind to a stop, information blending into Razor’s mind, before it jerked back into spinning at full speed.

“General Lupical… You have wolf spirit, also?”

He didn’t feel betrayed, rather baffled and astonished. It was difficult to fathom that all this time Cyno had a spirit just as he did. Then, all sorts of questions came forth. When did he get his spirit? Why didn’t he have markings of it on his body? Did he have a wolf Lupical of his own that he never mentioned? Why didn’t he mention them, if that were the case? 

Whilst it gave life to new matters to ponder, Cyno being revealed to also have a spirit felt to explain more, as if it were the final block needed to build the home that made up the man’s being. Maybe it had played a role in him having been able to empathise so closely with Razor’s situation.

Cyno shook his head in response to the boy’s inquiry, face deadpan.

“No, I have two fragments of a soul belonging to a god in me.”

The boy blinked and blinked again. Cyno had pieces of a god in him? How? Why? Did he control it or was it akin to when Razor lost himself and his wolf spirit took over?

The General gave a feeble smile and playfully poked at the deepening crease between the boy’s eyebrows.

“Don’t overthink it,” He murmured, the upturn of his lips becoming more genuine when Razor’s rounded eyes peered at him in wonderment, “I will tell you all about it, one day.”

Razor harrumphed in acceptance and let out a quiet giggle as Cyno’s hand affectionately gave his hair a ruffle before petting it neat again. From somewhere to the side the both of them heard a muffled coo and they returned their focus to the others in the room with them.

“You two are the sweetest,” Kaveh drawled, a sappy smile on his face as he leaned forward and set his chin into his palm, “You remind me of a father and son. Don’t they look that way, Haithoomi?”

It was the first time since the beginning of their meeting that Razor witnessed Alhaitham’s expression change, even if it was to only slightly smirk somewhat smugly.

“I agree. It is a rarity to see you so blatantly doting and saccharine to anyone other than Tighnari or Collei, Cyno,” His smirk remained affixed yet his eyes turned analytical again prior to continuing, as if wanting to mentally note their reactions, “Are we to expect some good familial news soon? Possibly regarding an expansion?”

Razor’s head fell askew in bafflement and he looked to the men he was sandwiched between in hopes of an explanation. Tighnari merely smiled whilst Cyno’s ears took on the palette of a sky at dusk.

“Come on, don’t put them on the spot,” Kaveh mercifully spoke, nudging Alhaitham with his elbow only to then let his open hand rest on the latter’s thigh.

The man beside him sighed in resignation, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back into the sofa. His stare remained strained on the trio regardless, but he did move to change the topic.

“Returning to more pressing matters; I can look into some texts that mention vessels, spirit inhabitations and the like, but I won’t reach a conclusive answer overnight – not without testing various theories and cross-referencing facts.”

It was Tighnari to next sigh, shoulders drooping at the – understandably, but still disappointingly –  expected answer to essentially wait and see by yet another person.

“Makes sense,” His voice was weary and his sight lingered on the boy to his right, “We appreciate the help.”

As if sensing the desolate turn the meeting was taking, Kaveh righted himself in his seat and gave a clap of his hands, easily gathering all focus on him within an instant.

“Right!” He exclaimed, a bright grin spreading across his face, “Have you shown him around at all?”

Tighnari’s ears flicked and he clasped his chin between his hooked index finger and thumb as he contemplated, “Just Lambad’s and Treasures Street for now, I suppose. I doubt the Bimarstan counts as sight-seeing.”

Kaveh’s expression took on a shade of surprise, his mouth forming a small circle as he made waving gestures with his hands.

“Ah, that simply won’t do. How about this; I need to go buy some groceries anyway, what if I bring him along? Yes! I must also buy Collei a gift for you to bring back to her in my place. I could take him to the Grand Bazaar, in that case. If I’m not mistaken, there are dance performances by the troupe of Zubayr Theatre at this hour. That would be a wonderful experience! To witness a form of art rooted in a nation’s culture – I could think of nothing better!”

Excitement had built up in his voice, his irises glittering with a spark, and Razor found himself smiling as the man rose from the sofa and began to adjust his clothing to leave the house, pacing as he did so. 

“Sounds like you already have it all figured out,” Cyno chuckled then looked at Razor, “What do you say? Are you okay with it? There will be a bit of a crowd, but I’ll be coming along with you.”

Razor took a moment to consider the situation. Kaveh was right, he would like to see more of the city that was so unique and fantastical. He’d also want to partake in finding a gift for Collei. A crowd… He could handle a crowd if Cyno were there to keep him grounded.

“If he as well is sensitive to sound, I can lend him a spare headset of mine,” Alhaitham spoke, cutting through the boy’s reasoning and locking his stare on him, “They make noise around you less loud.”

Something could do that? Was that why this man wore them? Truly, the worst factor of crowds was the blaringly confusing overlap of voices and movement, closely followed by the visual overwhelm, amongst other factors. If he could at the very least resolve the audio issue, that would be near miraculous.

He gave a series of nods, hair flapping on his forehead with his zeal and a smile on his face.

“Thank you,” He managed to say, and Alhaitham merely dipped his head.

Meanwhile, Kaveh’s feet had glued themselves in place on the recently waxed and polished floorboards, his mouth mildly agape as he gawked at Alhaitham as though he’d just sprouted a flower from amidst his hair.

“You’re offering him one of your sets?”

Alhaitham turned to the blond with a drawn out breath, eyelids drooped flat, “Why not? I’m not using both right now and I understand the struggle of living with a constant source of noise.”

The slight hang to Kaveh’s jaw became a full drop of it, his cheeks dusting pink when he then snapped his teeth shut and ground them in irritation.

“You –!” He seemingly cut himself off, as though he were going to say something awful and changed his mind last minute, “Don’t go picking fights in front of guests or I’ll – I won’t cook – no! I won’t kiss you for the entirety of next week!”

A pregnant pause, Razor’s sight flashed between the couple with unease, questioning if this was the sort of behaviour he was warned about by Collei.

With a huff, Kaveh pivoted on his heels and stormed off, grumbling over his shoulder, “I’ll go fetch the spare set for him.”

Alhaitham watched him go for only a moment, face impassive but a sense of panic quietly simmering off of him. Abruptly, he stood and hurriedly walked after the other, a faint tinge of urgency to his movements. Razor could hear his voice speak, “I’m sorry for the comment. It was unnecessary,” and Kaveh replying with a haughty, “Ha! I will forgive you once you –” until he was cut off by Alhaitham planting a swift kiss on his cheek from behind. 

“Hey! You sneaky…” 

The couple rounded a corner and disappeared from sight, taking their conversation somewhere Razor could no longer bear witness to it. What a bewildering duo. Razor didn’t think he could hope to comprehend them anytime soon.

It was Tighnari’s breathy laugh that urged him out of his thinking session, a pleasant sound that was tailed by Cyno’s own amused chuckles. 

“I do feel as though they carry on like this merely for the fun of it, at this point,” The Forest Watcher commented, moving to rise from the sofa with a stretch.

Cyno hummed.

“Oh, definitely,” He then directed his attention to the boy, “They’re interesting, aren’t they?”

“Hrm, confusing. But, they are nice, also.”

Once Razor had the contraption cupping his head and Alhaitham explained to him how to strengthen or lessen its capabilities – it was so comfortable and secure that Razor felt as though he had gentle hands shielding his ears – Tighnari announced that he’d be meeting with local herb suppliers and botanists whilst Alhaitham himself refused to tag along on the brief expedition to the bazaar. 

As the original planner of the trip, it was Kaveh who led the way along the swirling ramps down and towards an arching tunnel that burrowed into the trunk of the city’s tree. Razor's sight flew around in awe as they walked deeper into the tunnel warmly illuminated by lights, until they pushed open a wide door and a whole new world burst to life before his very eyes.

It was a place of enchantment and magic; an immense and high ceilinged cave within the tree’s heart. There were stalls of food and tapestries, pottery and jewellery, toys and mechanical creations. There were huddled crowds of people surrounding carpets upon which women danced, movements rhythmic and flowing as they twirled and posed to music Razor couldn’t pick up on. He was grateful for Alhaitham’s gift, for the overall gathering of people was so dense it rivalled Treasures Street at its busiest of hours. 

Cyno stood close to him as they walked through the stalls, guiding him with a sure hold of his hand, whilst Kaveh greeted and chatted with almost every vendor they passed or purchased food from. Razor’s heart thundered in his chest, his eyes zipped around tensely as he did his best to avoid brushing against or bumping into bodies. 

“Do you think Collei would like a new book for her pressed flowers?” Kaveh asked once his grocery shopping was complete, leaning closer to Cyno in order to be heard, “Or maybe we should get her a bag. Is she still using that tattered one?”

“Hm, a bag might be more welcome,” Cyno’s gaze floated about in search until they landed on a vendor with apparel and purses visibly on display, “Let’s check over there.”

They spent a good ten minutes perusing all the bags and pouches available until Cyno picked up a crossbody satchel woven of sturdy material, stitched with the design of a bloomed lotus on its front flap and with a leaf-shaped clasp to seal it.

“This one is cute, isn’t it?” He said, showing it to the other two for their opinion. 

Razor gave a nod and Kaveh studied it closely prior to giving a satisfactory snap of his fingers.

“That’s the one!”

While Razor watched as the adults bickered over who was going to let the other pay, the flow of people seemed to change direction. By the time they stepped away from the stall and reached the end of the main passage of the market – one of Cyno’s arms weighted by a bag of Kaveh’s groceries, and Kaveh carrying the newly purchased satchel in his arms – what looked to be the soul of the bazaar came finally into clear view.

There was a curved stage high up, well lit and bustling with people arranging props and fixtures. Stairs swept down from both sides of it and, on the floor, they embraced a small fountain with a base composed of four conjoined circles which nestled in a tiny pond, surrounded by flowers and bushes. The crowd had begun to condense below the stage, heads tilting up as if awaiting something.

“Ah, the performance is about to start! Let’s quickly move to the front,” Kaveh suggested with glee, already slinking through the tightly packed bodies, “You simply must watch at least one dance, Razor!”

The boy fixed his eyes on the stage, around the back of which musicians were settling into position and performers had begun to stand at the sides. The trio had managed to find a spot at the front of the audience, Kaveh ushering Razor to stand before him so that he had the clearest line of sight, and just then music began to fill the air.

Dancers breezed onto the platform, the appearance of a young lady with shimmering, golden brown skin and hair a flamboyant, glossy red swaying behind her as she took position at the centre, bringing the crowd to emit the loudest of cheers. Razor found himself seeping into the performance, astounded by the way the main dancer radiated such raw and pure joy as she spun with vigour and gradually slowed down, moving through gestures with a grace and fluidity as though the air around her itself were fragile. 

The music was accented by percussion, linked together by string instruments and backed by voices singing. It was an indescribable feeling, one that sent a shiver down Razor’s spine. The effect the entire performance had on him was otherworldly, and when the dancers took their final bow he found himself dizzy and eager to witness more.

“Absolutely spectacular, weren’t they?” Kaveh spoke up, voice carrying the same elation and unbridled energy Razor was brimming with.

The blond was grinning down at him, eyes glistening with the radiance of a sun, and Razor bobbed his head, clutching at his heart.

“I feel strange,” He mulled over his words, certain nothing in his mental thesaurus could capture what he was going through, “My chest, my head. Right now, it is like running. Running fast in the forest. Free, and happy. I like it, a lot.”

“Such is the meaning of art; self-expression, liberation, the purest essence of humanity! No soul cannot be moved by it!”

Notes:

the next chapter is kind of an exciting one! not everything is revealed/explained but the main plot points begin to unravel :D yippee

re: kaveh calling alhaitham 'haithoomi' it is a way of saying a name of a dear one affectionately, like saying 'my alhaitham'. if you're interested there's a tiktok of a man named haitham explaining this here: https://x.com/pinkbinask/status/1823085593204563996

in the meantime, i hope this was a pleasant read. please feel free to leave a kudos or comment or absolutely anything bc without your encouragement so far i really dont think this story would have grown to be this fleshed out! thank you!

Chapter 17

Notes:

despite the fact that i stopped before i wanted to, scene inclusion wise, this turned out to be an exceedingly lengthy chapter again. im sorry. if any of you think it’s too much i’ll go ahead and split it up! other than that, i hope it’s an alright read

Kaveh’s joyous rambling overrode any other possibility of speaking as he went off on tangents regarding the history of the theatre, the meaning behind the dance they witnessed and the architectural design of the Grand Bazaar, which led to a broad discussion on all of Sumeru’s construction characteristics. Razor listened attentively, earnest to learn more and infected by the passion with which the man lectured as they walked.

It was with a sense of disappointment, in fact, that he noticed they’d returned to the couple’s home, Kaveh’s current sentence altering to end with an, “Oh, we’ve arrived!”

The man fumbled with the satchel he carried and dug into his pockets with his second hand, until he victoriously fished out a house key with a lion-looking ornament dangling off of its ring. 

“Haithoomi, I’m home!” He announced once he’d unlocked the door, struggling to maintain his balance as he unclasped the small latches that connected the tops of his flats to the metal ends of his trouser legs, then toeing off his shoes the rest of the way. 

Razor followed suit, slipping off his sandals and neatly setting them beside one another by the shoe pile at the entrance. 

“Welcome back, you three.”

It was Tighnari’s voice to greet them, the man moving to stand from where he was seated opposite Alhaitham on one of the lounge sofas. 

“Ah, you’ve also returned,” Kaveh smiled, setting the newly purchased satchel down on a low table, “That’s perfect. Will you guys be staying for lunch? I can cook something for all of us if so.”

From his spot on the sofa Alhaitham briefly allowed conversation to flow, holding an open book in one hand with his forearm set upon his knee, the same calf folded and set atop the thigh of his other leg. For whatever reason Razor had an inkling that the man hadn’t been truly reading, a deduction that was given bases when the latter snapped the book shut without even sparing a singular glance at the pages before sharply standing to stride towards the group.

“I suggest you visit Lord Kusanali.”

Kaveh’s words died on his lips, Tighnari’s eyes rounded and his tail flicked anxiously.

“Regarding Razor, you mean?” The latter asked to confirm, voice apprehensive, “Should we really bother a god over a personal matter such as this?”

Alhaitham’s sharp eyes landed on Cyno’s own suspicious ones – reciprocating the same stare that would have criminals twitch, without so much as a blink.

“Things are tranquil at the moment, she wouldn’t mind.”

Tighnari looked between his partner and friend who were seemingly having some silent battle of sorts, the General’s gaze so intense even the Forest Watcher himself felt his muscles stiffen. 

“Well, I suppose we could try to set up a meeting with her tomorrow…”

Without a second’s hesitation, “Go today. Why waste any more time? His condition hasn’t worsened recently, but it certainly hasn’t improved and won’t on its own.”

Within a millisecond Cyno was on Alhaitham like a shark having caught whiff of the slightest traces of blood in water.

“Is there something you know?”

It was rare for his voice to become as jagged and cold as it did when interrogating criminals if he was speaking with his companions, and yet he felt urgency and protectiveness simmering within his chest – he heard alarm bells sound off in his head. If Alhaitham knew something he didn’t, he had to discover what.

Unperturbed, Alhaitham’s face remained unchanging, his pulse regular and his form lax. It was as though they were discussing dull work matters.

“There simply isn’t anyone better to ask than the goddess of wisdom,” Was all Cyno got in reply, but the words had been deliberately chosen with calculation, for it was a generic fact within itself but it wasn’t a true answer to the General’s question.

Before Cyno could speak again, Tighnari gave the final nod that settled the discussion.

“Alright then, we’ll go after eating.”

With Cyno’s mood having become frigid and his speaking terse, Razor was asked by Kaveh to accompany him in the kitchen while lunch was being prepared. The man was kind and patient, even telling the boy that if he was willing to help all he needed to do was wash his hands and he would be guided the rest of the way.

That afternoon Razor learnt how to properly hold a cutting knife, how to dice vegetables and how to boil grains. Kaveh had tried to have him follow along the process of making a sauce too, but regrettably it was rather complex and the man himself didn’t really measure ingredients, instead saying imprecise things like, “Put some of this, however much feels right,” and “This has a strong taste so add with care.” It later occurred to Razor that, most likely, the majority of the spices and herbs being used wouldn’t be readily available in Mondstadt anyway, so it would have ultimately proven to be a victory in vain.

As foreshadowed by Collei’s comments, the final meal turned out to be delicious and innovative and Kaveh made sure to give his compliments and recognition to the boy who had aided him in setting the plates on the large table everyone had gathered around. 

Conversation carried on steadily, mostly by the power of Kaveh’s forced optimism – Razor had come to notice that no matter if the man smelled stressed or upset, a smile would be plastered on his face – and Tighnari’s interest in whatever drama had recently unfolded in the blond’s life. Fortunately, that which had brought Cyno to be nervously stern had waned enough for him to join in on the lighthearted discussions, to the point that he cracked a few of his own jokes whenever a witty one crossed his mind.

“Ah, speaking of; Collei wanted me to inform you that she misses you both,” Tighnari said after taking a swig of fruit juice, tongue swiping around his lips to lap up stray dribbles.

Kaveh made a crooning sound, face contorted by a pout and a kicked-puppy look in his eyes.

“We do too,” He nodded, flopping his chin onto his closed knuckles, “It’s a shame our last few gatherings had to be postponed but we’re both available for any date you give us. Right, Haitham?”

The man made a noncommittal sound, “Most likely.”

Kaveh huffed and rolled his eyes in faux irritation.

“He means yes.”

“Well, how about next weekend then?”

“Works for me,” Cyno stated after having swallowed a mouthful of his food, “Gives me time to prepare for our next campaign.”

Kaveh’s eyebrows arched, a look of happiness spreading on his features.

“Of course, how could I forget about the fact we’ll be setting off on a new adventure! We’ll definitely be there then!”

Once the plates had been thoroughly cleaned and a sense of satisfying fullness made itself at home in their bellies, the trio of guests made to take their leave. They tugged on their shoes, Cyno securely slotted his headgear on, and just as Razor went to take off the earpieces he was lent and return them, Alhaitham held up a hand, effectively stopping him mid-way.

“Keep them for as long as you’re in the city.”

Razor nodded in gratitude and hooked them around his neck as Kaveh opened the front door whilst still conversing with Tighnari. 

“Please do update us on what happens,” The blond asked, evident concern on his gentle features as they stepped out onto the wooden porch of the home. His gaze fell upon the boy and he smiled, an act of encouragement yet stitched with sympathy, “Stay strong, alright? Everything will resolve itself.”

The group set off with no other words shared, each member ensnared within their own minds buzzing with thoughts and fears. The ramps became increasingly steep the more they climbed, Razor’s body being forcibly reminded of how feeble and unused it had been for so long when his breath turned raspy and his muscles twinged with growing aches. Discreetly, Cyno would slow his charge to a stop to allow him time to rest, feigning interest in the widespread scenery of the city below.

They were high in the sky by the time they reached the top of the final ramp that coiled around the large tree, extending into a wide circular terrace with a floral design in its centre tiles. The light breeze petted the moisture formed on Razor’s face dry and lifted strands of his mercury fur, bringing them to dance around him as he peered over the stone balustrade and into the green, vivid tapestry that extended well into the horizon. He could see the rainforest to his right, and he wondered how Collei was doing; meanwhile, on his left appeared to be a forest of obscenely huge fungi – white and a luminescent blue, glowing brightly even in the strong cast of sunshine – and he wondered if the entire place reeked of mushrooms. He certainly hoped not, because it seemed to otherwise be an interesting place to visit.

The men accompanying him allowed him to take in the sights for as long as he wished, merely standing beside him and joining in on the quiet admiration. 

In truth, even when Razor had had his fill of the view his feet refused to lift off the ground. He was apprehensive to enter the Akademiya brimming with highly-educated people, and he was trepidant to meet with a true god. With the suggestion of their visit having come out of nowhere and him not having had time to mentally bolster himself for the moment, his nerves were subsequently strung tight. Was he worth all this effort? He couldn’t find himself capable of settling on an answer with certainty, but he knew he had to take steps forward to find out.

He turned and faced the brilliant building that had been standing behind him between pairs of tall, dew drop-shaped pillars and beyond a short path that went into a handful of low steps leading up to its entrance, through which robed scholars leisurely came and left. The Akademiya almost looked to be a bloomed, upside down flower, its roof curved and layered like petals, a saturated royal blue above stark white walls. Within that white were stained glass windows, mostly cool-toned and detailed, rimmed with black, and Razor’s eyes remained entranced by the way light struck them, each fragment not dissimilar to a jewel.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” Tighnari softly spoke, as though understanding the boy needed encouragement to move. He carefully set a hand on his shoulder and gave it a little rub, smiling when guileless eyes lifted to meet with his, “It will be alright. We’ll be with you all the way.”

“I’ve got one,” Cyno was heard whispering before clearing his throat and crossing his arms over his chest, his partner already sighing at what he knew would come next, “I have a question for you both; What did the nervous crow do?” A pause for anticipation, “It proceeded with caw- tion.”

A moment of silence; Razor’s brow furrowed as he attempted to decipher the joke.

“Yes. Very lovely, dear,” Tighnari sardonically replied, shaking his head just enough to have his bob swish, as if purposely accenting his disdain.

At the lack of a positive reception Cyno faked a grimace. 

“Tough crowd, but he would have laughed had he understood it. Wouldn’t you have?”

Suddenly feeling as though he were caught in the midst of something, Razor mildly seized up prior to giving a subtle nod. 

“Aha! See?” The General cried in victory, then fully focusing on the boy, “Let me explain it to you. The sound of…”

Without much more thought the three of them began to approach the Akademiya. Cyno went on thoroughly explaining his humour, temporarily distracting Razor’s mind from concentrating entirely on his anxiety regarding the place and its people. Once inside however, Cyno’s voice felt to drift out of the boy’s hearing, for there came an overwhelming sensation that swarmed his entire being. Perhaps it was due to the fact that the Akademiya possessed an aura of sanctity – otherworldliness. It was brightly lit and a pristine white, with high ceilings and pointed arches. Nothing could be heard but the sound of hushed whispers and elegant slippers against the shimmering tiles. Right at the entrance was a large fountain that was akin to an open lotus blossom, inset within a black marble circle on the floor and beneath a large, flower-shaped chandelier of blue, yellow and cream.

Their steps slowed and Cyno’s words dissolved into nothing, his eyes electing to watch fondly as the boy abreast of him looked around in wonder. He tried to recall how he had felt the first time he entered the Akademiya and saw it in all its imposing majesty; how small it reminded him of being, how isolated and afraid he was within an unfamiliar environment, how out of place he so evidently was as an orphan from the desert – in his mind and those of others – playing dress up as an elite, city-born student. His heart twinged. He hoped Razor wasn’t experiencing much of anything like the latter sentiments.

They pushed on, mutedly tapping their way through a large entryway and along a raised path that crossed over a rotund common hall. Razor’s head tipped upwards and his lips parted in awe. Above him was a tiered dome of stained glass higher than that of the cathedral in Mondstadt. Light filtered through the painted windows, carrying with it their colour that made the space appear to be a freshly painted canvas, blending the hues of a midday sky with those of a snow-swept terrain.

“Just beyond these doors is the House of Daena,” Tighnari informed in a quiet voice, tail swaying low behind him, “I can’t tell you how many hours Cyno and I spent researching here as students.”

Pushing open the hefty doors they entered into the most spacious and architecturally intriguing area yet. Much like the stamen of a flower there was a central pillar that reached out in arches to the walls, extending up into the unfathomably high dome that towered overhead. Between the arches cascaded smaller chandeliers – always in the form of flowers – a soft, yellow shade and shining warmly upon the numerous tables and scholars below. Within nooks in the walls were countless books on shelves, reaching so much above the ground that Razor could see ladders accompanying each section.

The boy’s eyes danced around in enchantment, flickering from each occupied desk to every carved detail in the walls. He flinched when a scholar approached, instinctively scuttling behind Cyno, but the stranger hardly even spared them a look, solely bowing his head at the General on his way past. Razor’s ears had dyed red and his sight had set itself resolutely on the ground, but nobody made any sort of comment regarding the minor incident. Instead, Tighnari seemingly fell into a brief vocalised pondering. 

“Would you like to go through some of the books? Or maybe walk around?”

Razor was almost certain that even attempting to read any of the texts found in the Akademiya would be a futile endeavour – a humiliating one at that – so he shook his head and kept his sight strained on his creased leather sandals. Logically he knew that most of the students weren’t paying them any mind, every person seemingly too focused on their own business, and yet he felt so intensely watched that he longed to hide.

Tighnari let out a breath, something Razor couldn’t discern to be due to frustration or pity but that made him recoil into himself even further nonetheless. He was visiting such a spectacular place, he should be excited, but fear was stubbornly building within his chest, pulling his muscles taut and urging his heart into a rising sprint. He did not belong there.

“Another time, then,” Cyno said, attempting to ease the tension he must have perceived, “Why don’t we go up to the Grand Sage’s office now? We can see how to go about meeting Lord Kusanali.”

“Yes, exactly,” Tighnari was quick to agree, “We should get a move on.”

They walked further along one of the four paths leading to the central pillar; at which point Razor understood that it wasn’t simply such, as it had doors and a platform that, when being stood on, gave a subtle jolt and began to rise.

Caught off-guard, Razor grabbed onto Cyno in alarm, fingers digging into the man’s skin as he pressed up against the latter and frantically looked around for signs of danger. Were they flying? Were they going to fall? How was the stone lifting itself and them without any rope or cables? If anything were to happen, how would he keep the two he cared for safe? A whimper he couldn’t swallow down slipped from between his lips and he would have flushed in abashment had he not been utterly consumed by trepidation.

“Razor? What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” It was Tighnari’s words he first heard, the Forest Watcher’s alert eyes running along his body in search of any signs of injury or physical ailment, but Razor could only shake his head and clutch on tighter to Cyno, his cheek pressing into the latter’s shoulder.

“He must have never taken an elevator before,” The man murmured, as if afraid to startle the boy, and then his hand was carding through locks of grey, petting the crown of the head dropped low, “It’s alright, it’s safe. Just another few seconds and we can step off.”

Razor felt his panic marginally dwindle at the words of comfort, knowing that Cyno was not one to lie. If he said they were safe, then it must be true. Despite this however, the mechanics of what was carrying them baffled the boy and not being able to comprehend them left an uneasy feeling stirring strong within his stomach.

The elevator lifted them for what seemed to be an eternity beyond an ineffable number of rows of arches and chandeliers, and then a cold blue light began to rain down upon their forms, spilling across every hill and valley in their faces and striking his ruby red eyes that peered up in curiosity at what awaited them above. He squinted until it came into view; an immense contraption reminiscent of a living, beating heart was levitating and rotating in the air, cradled within glowing rings of vines. The elevator came to a gentle stop and tenderly he was guided off of the platform, but his sight remained glued on the element that was the sole spectacle in the dimly lit room. The heart was akin to a globe, a shimmering blue like a starry night sky, as though it encapsulated the entirety of the universe within its boundless form. 

“Are you alright now?”

Razor quickly looked to the man beside him, face patient and concerned, and realised his iron grip had yet to loosen. His hands snapped away in guilt, revealing the dents they had left in Cyno’s flesh. 

“Sorry… I am sorry. Did I hurt? Your arm…”

Cyno made a sound as though it hadn’t even crossed his mind and he peeked at his arm only to shrug off what he saw.

“Didn’t feel a thing,” He assured, smiling kindly, “I’m sorry we didn’t warn you about the elevator. Were you very scared?”

Feeling rather sheepish and wanting to somehow reclaim a fraction of his pride, Razor wagged his head no with fervour.

“I am alright. I was, surprised. Not scared.”

Cyno’s smile returned and he couldn’t help but affectionately ruffle the boy’s hair, enjoying the way Razor’s mouth curved up in contentment at the action. 

“Brave boy.”

As an onlooker Tighnari hummed, prior to straining his sight to scan the shadows for anyone’s presence within the Grand Sage’s vast office.

“It seems as though no one is stationed here,” He commented off-handedly, confusion twisting his face, “I would have assumed there would be at least a matra or two.”

Cyno joined in on the visual search and Razor took the opportunity to also look around, noticing the raised platform that rimmed the room in the walls of which were more nooks adorned by bound tomes. There was a lengthy desk at the centre of the platform, upon an opulent carpet and behind which was an even grander, more pompous throne. The room was indwelled with deep shadows and misty blues, limiting what could be seen from a distance, but he realised that the sunken area in which they stood was bracketed by curved stairways up and that, indeed, they were all alone. The General must have reached the same conclusion as he crossed his arms and his expression turned grave. 

“There should be,” He confirmed, suspicious, “I shall have to check the roster later on to see who is shirking their duties.”

Tighnari’s ears flicked sharply in a specific direction, and a sweet giggle chimed through the air.

“There’s no need, General Mahamatra. Be at ease.”

The three of them spun around to see a child – not much older than Klee, Razor could perceive – in a white dress and short bottoms, the former layered and fanning out at the end, accented by grass-green and gold. A short cape weightlessly floated behind her – a conglomerate of draping materials – and set upon her white head of hair tied into a side ponytail and of which tip faded to green, were black and verdant ornamental leaves, acting as a crown of sorts.

“Lord Kusanali.”

It was Cyno to speak first, having recomposed himself the quickest.

The little girl smiled an amicable smile, her curled locks bouncing lightly as she walked towards them. Her tiny, bare feet came to a stop a scarce distance away, her emerald eyes – stellar, vibrant, all-knowing – trailed across all three of them until they settled on the General once more.

Razor had been near certain they had been the only three people within the room a scant few seconds ago, and yet she appeared without so much as alerting any of them by sound, sight or scent. It must have been some godly ability, he assumed, and reaching such a conclusion reminded him in whose presence he was in.

This girl – young and innocent in appearance and voice, a girl who he could envision running through fields, chasing butterflies and scraping her knees – was a god. It was difficult to let the notion seep as a fact into his mind, but her clover-shaped irises bore a certain sense of wisdom he knew no true child could possess.

“You’re looking for me?”

It was posed as a question, regardless of the fact that she knew the answer, and Tighnari made to present their situation.

“Lord Kusanali, we hope to not be of a disturbance to you but you are correct; we’ve come here to seek your aid in personal matters.”

The girl inquisitively pressed an index to her chin, her head askew. 

“Personal matters?” Her eyes shifted onto Razor and he blinked back in return, uncertain of how to carry himself. She smiled at him, “It’s regarding you, is it not? You have stabilised, somewhat, but I take it the others have not yet understood what is occurring within you if you are here for my help.”

Razor stilled, his eyes holding her gaze as a feeling of familiarity washed ashore on the sands of his consciousness. 

Meanwhile, Tighnari’s boots squeaked against the ground as he changed his stance, forehead creasing.

“Pardon?”

The god did not look his way; rather, she smiled brighter at the boy and giggled.

“Have you recognised me? We have met before,” She paused, as if a realisation dawned upon her right then, “Ah, perhaps my change in form has made this harder. I apologise.”

She padded over to Razor who did his utmost to not step back, and peered up at him as she spread her arms and made a gentle flapping motion once or twice, beaming.

“I have been your friend since you arrived in Sumeru, but you know me as a bird with a heavy beak and coloured feathers,” She hummed, letting her hands land gracefully at her sides, “Or, at least, that was how you referred to me when I tried to guide you through the forest that day. I have been watching over you whenever I could since then.”

The boy’s mind whirred with shock, attempting to unwrap the box of information he’d been given and comparing it with what he already knew; a bird tugging on his poncho when he was lost amidst the trees, a bird watching him from its perch on a hut in Gandharva Ville, a bird in the background of his shared memory with Cyno up high in the settlement’s tree. Numerous scenes flashed before his eyes, and then he anxiously began to think of how many more occasions he was unaware that a god had witnessed.

His cheeks flooded red and his heart rate spiked. He tucked his chin into his neck and fidgeted with the handkerchief fastened to his shorts. 

Bemused but taking pity, the child clasped her hands behind her back and took performative steps in retreat, offering him space.

“There is no need to be wary of me,” She soothed over his apprehension, “I have seen you in your times of struggle and your times of joy. I would not judge you for your way of being. Razor, please continue to see me as a friend.”

At that he lifted his head, the slopes of his cheeks still hot, but his discomfort was gradually replaced by a cushion of relief being pierced through by a shard of guilt. How lucky he was to have another companion he was already fond of, but how rude of him to have not recognised her smell.

“Bird friend, I am sorry I did not… see you. You, are different.”

She shook her head, as if to say his apology was unnecessary, prior to returning her attention to the adults who were blatantly struggling to process the new revelations. 

“I realise this must come as a shock to you both; however, I am already familiar with the happenings regarding him and am relieved you’ve brought him here and are allowing me to intervene. It should make things less… difficult.”

“Lord Kusanali,” Cyno’s jaw was visibly tensed – having no sure footing or sturdy bases of knowledge was evidently keeping the General on tenterhooks, his eyes honed in focus, “Please, expound on what you mean by all this. Do you know what is affecting his elemental control?”

The girl nodded, the upturn on her lips finally fading as her childish face took on a more sombre hue. 

“I do. It’s a complicated affair. You all did your best, but it is understandable that you didn’t reach the core of the matter yet,” She looked at Razor and fixed him with a pensive stare. He abruptly became acutely aware of a building throb within his skull and a chilling shiver that repeatedly cascaded down his spine, but he remained unmoving, “You went to the Bimarstan just yesterday, didn’t you? However, they won’t find anything wrong by looking at your diagnostic results because, essentially, nothing is wrong with you, Razor. You are simply in the final stages of your metamorphosis.”

Tighnari’s tail – up until then swishing to a steady rhythm, functioning as though it were a grounding metronome – came to a stop.

“What do you mean, if I may ask?”

The girl seemed to take a handful of seconds to think about her next words, as though selecting with care what to reveal and what to not, how to simplify what might be a contorted knot of information in a way that it maintained its integrity.

Beads of perspiration began to stud Razor’s skin, trailing along his shoulder blades. The pressure in his head continued to mount as if it were a paper bag being blown into, close to bursting. The entire column of his vertebrae ached terribly; dampness collected on his upper lip as his mouth fell ajar and his breathing grew more ragged. 

“You are aware that you are not a common human. You have felt this in your heart. Often, what we feel inside can be confusing or hard to decipher, but it is rare that it is wrong,” Her round eyes tinged with concern as she watched the boy attempt to mask his increasing pain, “What you were wishing to know and were so heavily burdened by the lack of, was within you all along, Razor. You were hiding it from yourself and now, the part you subconsciously buried throughout your life, is trying desperately to show itself. You must let it. You must accept it.”

She made to approach him, her arms extended. Razor eyed her through his blurry vision and it was then that Cyno went to stand impossibly close to him, almost shieldingly, wanting to protect him from any possible harm. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, tone rigid but undoubtedly laced with a frantic urgency as it gave an audible crack, “Is it happening again, Razor? What are you feeling?”

Razor felt his tongue to be lead in the cavern of his mouth, his mind far too murky to fish words out from and arrange them in a sensical way. Terror was starting to rise within him, for whilst he had grown accustomed to bouts of agony since the whole issue began, something felt different and worse this time. 

“None of you must panic,” The god’s mellow voice stated, underscored by resolution, “I will help you, Razor. Take my hands. Trust me, my friend.”

Tighnari set a soothing palm on Cyno’s back and Razor, unable to think of anything other than agreement, lifted his trembling hands in submission and allowed them to be cupped by the chubby, smaller ones of the god. Briefly, it felt as though he were holding Klee’s tiny hands again, perhaps while guiding her through a stream, and a warmth rooted itself in his heart.

The child smiled up at him and secured her hold, her brown skin – that Razor vaguely noticed was patterned by intricate, sunset red designs – seemingly meshed into his paler, tan complexion with a feeble glow.

“The truth behind your internal disruption is that you are not fully human,” She began to speak again, voice quiet, “You are a rare descendant of an ancient, persecuted race. You are a Lupus Entia. Your people developed the ability to hide their most obvious traits as a means for survival. It is this very ability that you have unwittingly abused, and now your body needs to be given its freedom. Let it have it.”

Anguish stabbed the boy’s skull; heat like a flame burned at the backs of his eyes; his spine tingled before it sparked with fresh pain and a howl was torn out of him at the abrupt tenfold of suffering, his knees almost buckling beneath him as a result.

“Razor!”

“I will subdue his pain as much as I can,” The god assured the two guardians who were struggling to not intervene with the situation, but Razor could hardly hear what else was being said.

His ears were ringing with a terribly shrill sound, backed by the thundering drum of his strained heart. Eyes wrinkled shut, he did what he could to steady his breathing but his cranium felt to be breaking apart, his eye sockets felt to be melting, and every inch of his back – his body, was coursing with searing electro energy. He had never had to endure a torture such as this, during which every muscle, ligament, vein and bone that composed his physical being was being shredded apart and put together again, only for the cycle to repeat.

“Let me help you.”

The child’s voice reverberated within his head and he instantly yielded to her command. The next moment a balming cool spread from the hands that held him all along his skin, carefully ebbing away his agony and leaving in its wake a sense of serenity. When it had spread to the tips of his feet and engulfed his head, he was made to wade through the feeling of laying on a forest floor beneath the loving kiss of the sun, amidst the wolf pups bounding in play and the elders grooming themselves and one another. 

For those instances, he was happy. The pain dulled to being bearable, the fire that licked at him waned.

“Accept who you are, Razor,” Her grip strengthened, offering fortitude, “You are safe. You can be free.”

A sharp uptick in his torment followed as he felt the skin on his scalp and lower back rip apart. He heard the crack of bones and the splatter of blood land on the floor before he felt it pour down the sides of his face and legs, hot and viscous and stinking of iron. It caught on his lips, dripped from his chin, and he faintly heard shouts of indiscernible reaction, perhaps mixed in with his own. He realised he had fallen to his knees when a striking ache rippled from his joints that had crashed against the unforgiving tiles, and a second pair of hands was on him, supporting his shoulders.

Another final wave of anguish crashed over him and his teeth felt sore in their roots, the soles of his feet burned, but the pain behind his eyes dimmed.

A dozen footsteps had run onto the scene behind him, the General yelling, “Stand down! Bring any medic you can find, now!” to whoever had arrived, but Razor was too wrought by his internal battle of being tranquil within a forest with his Lupical, and being lost amidst an oceanic void of pain, to truly care.

And then, in that same gruff, baritone voice that seemed to echo within the depths of his mind, he heard the phrase that had been said to him during a multitude of his nights.

Be strong. Persevere. Accept. Be free. Be free. 

He hadn’t understood all that was told to him; he wasn’t sure who he was – he would accept himself regardless. He would give free reign to his body. He would allow it to be as it was meant to be. 

The wolven ears drenched in his own blood twitched upon his head, the lengthy tail extending from the end of his back spattered crimson about as it flicked, and when he finally opened his eyes he saw the world for the first time.

Notes:

i’ll explain razor’s lore/race etc along the way dw but cheers this scene had been partially scripted since chapter 4 lmao we made it folks

Chapter 18

Notes:

a bit of a transitory chapter, explaining more things bit by bit, something that will admittedly keep happening as i dont want to dump all information in one go but i also want to try make sure everything is clear lol

The world through new eyes was paler; sharper; disorienting; overwhelming; blinding. It was akin to wearing magnifying lenses that were tinted in washed out hues of yellows, blues and varying shades of grey, scantily allowing accents of impure white and near-brown. Sounds with wolven ears were all the louder and more distinct, scents were asphyxiating and overlapping, and sleeping with a tail was proving to be troublesome. Adjusting to walking on the paw pads he then had under the tops of his feet and toes was also a wobbly affair, and the claws that protruded from over his nails had accidentally sliced into his own skin or that of others a number of times already.

There was a notably great benefit to having longer, sharper canines though: being able to tear into meat with ease, even if they were still sensitive and protested his tenacity.

Recognising himself in his reflection was… unnerving. He could see his face, his person, and yet there were all these differences from the way he recalled himself that not only affected his appearance but also his way of living. Was he truly still himself? Was he still Razor? To know he had wolven traits was a joyous discovery, it was what he had dreamed of for so long and it explained what he had felt within; and yet, then that he visibly had them, he worried others would look at him as though he were an entirely different person. Perhaps they would look at him with fear. Would Lisa still love him? Would Bennett and Fischl accept him? Would Klee see his animalistic teeth and claws and cower away from him?

Such concerns hounded him since he had been hurriedly transported to the Bimarstan from the Akademiya six days ago, where doctors and scholars alike were befuddled by his case and eager to study him – something Tighnari had slammed the doors shut to, of course, before Cyno would need to threaten them using his title of sovereignty.

It was understandable to a certain extent – the scholars’ curiosity, that it is. From what Razor had gathered the race he was a descendent of, the Lupus Entia, was virtually extinct and long forgotten, buried beneath centuries of erased history and lost to muggled retellings of battles and political fallouts. It was no wonder that people who sought knowledge above all else would be ecstatic about what appeared to be a riveting discovery.

Despite the perspective-changing news, the notion of his race brought to mind instead his parents over anything else; whether they knew what they were, if they didn’t but realised something was wrong with him and hence abandoned him. Was that the reason he was left to his own devices as a child? Or, rather, did something take them from him against their will? He might never know, but he ached and yearned to understand what transpired the day he was left at the mercy of the forest, to simply feel his mother’s hand in his fur and to see his father smile down at him with pride.

It was Tighnari’s ungloved fingers stroking the tops of his wolven ears – urging a happy purr out of the boy’s throat and easing his eyelids into a low, serene droop – that returned him to the present time. The bandages around his ears and tail had been changed and disinfected regularly, his feet pads and teeth searched for evident anomalies, his eyes – a scorching red and with pupils that tore at the edges, creating a form of a firework within the iris – routinely tested for the quality of their vision. 

Kaveh and Alhaitham visited every other afternoon throughout those six days, bringing along tasty snacks and a book to keep the boy entertained during his period of bedrest. He was even given a sketchbook and drawing tools in case he wanted to express himself or needed to speak in a way that wasn’t limited to words; at least, that was what the architect had said. Since then, with a somewhat fisted grip on his pencil Razor had scribbled some images comparable to wolves and houses, huts in trees and varyingly coloured stick figures which Kaveh made sure to praise and admire upon each viewing. 

It was with immense shame that the boy handed over the earpieces to Alhaitham the first time the couple visited, knowing he did his best to help Tighnari clean the blood off of them but that they still retained some persistent stains in their grooves. The man had scoffed when taking them into his hold, eyeing them with little interest all the while.

“Your gift, precious. I made it dirty,” Razor’s voice was quiet when he apologised; it was scantily more than a whisper and his head was hung low. Speaking with protruding fangs had him temporarily develop a slight lisp, a factor that had him blush profusely in the presence of the man that seemed to know anything and everything, his intelligence the forefront of his personality, “I am sorry. Very sorry. I ruined your gift.”

Alhaitham hummed and seemed to consider his response.

“I’m not upset,” He replied in his usual tone, casual and unworried, “You didn’t do it on purpose and it was an unavoidable casualty. Besides, I hardly ever use this pair so, really, it doesn’t impact me at all.”

It was then that Cyno pushed himself off from the wall he was leaning against and made to join the small gathering around the boy’s bed, arms folded across his chest and thoughts evidently brewing within his skull.

“Alhaitham.”

The scribe looked down to him with nonchalance, an eyebrow merely quirked, but Kaveh – who was seated right by Razor’s side and with the drawing book the boy had been gradually filling up splayed open on his lap – tensed, afraid the two might quibble. It was for naught, for the General’s lips had vaguely upturned and a sigh, as if he were breathing out all his grievances, left him.

“Thank you for sending us to Lord Kusanali that day. Had it not been for you – had it not been for her…” Cyno looked at the boy who sat still, wolf ears twitching as they listened attentively, “His suffering would have been more arduous and drawn out. I need to learn to trust in you more often, as you have yet to steer us wrong.”

Alhaitham made a soft sound, his face taking on an expression almost content.

“I was simply doing my scholarly duty,” He said, half-dismissively, “I had a theory and, if correct, I needed to enact counter-measures.”

“That reminds me, actually,” It was Tighnari to speak next, chin pinched by his index finger and thumb as he stood between Cyno and Alhaitham at the foot of the singular bed, “What conclusion had you reached and how? We had sought the aid of numerous sages and scholars, not to mention the Bimarstan, but they all fell short. What did you find that was so different?”

The tallest of them took a moment to reply, his rust-tinted pupils straining on the wolf boy who also watched him, all ingenuous eyes and intrigue. A fleeting sense of affection stirred in his chest, which he hurriedly quashed prior to opening his mouth again.

“I must have taken the less common path of reasoning. Rather than focusing on the physical issues he was having – headaches, fevers, muscle pain; all quite generic and therefore allowing for endless possibilities – I focused on the elemental imbalance and its connection to the markings on his body.”

He paused, only to see that everyone had yet to be satisfied with his response, so he sighed and carried on. 

“They are of a unique design, infrequently seen but distinct. They clearly hail from a tribe or specific culture, but which? Noting his connection with wolves and the most obvious factor of him having a spirit of said animal that accompanies him, it must have been a culture closely tied to that species. As you can logically deduce, such are scant in number, so it wasn’t hard to recall having come across the mention of a previously thought dead race; that of the Lupus Entia. They were known to earn similar designs upon reaching a certain age and, whilst usually acquired through rituals or consentual spirit bonds, they would frequently have a soul companion or, in Razor’s terms, a wolf spirit.”

He gave a final, long-suffering sigh before completing his monologue, somewhat surprised to find that all focus had still been strained on him and his words.

“My theory had been that he had some sort of connection to this race and something within had gone awry due to the soul companion, but I must confess I didn’t foresee him having wolven appendages by the end of the meeting as no texts I had perused through years ago regarding this topic ever mentioned the voluntary hiding of them being possible. I hope that that was a comprehensive enough explanation of my thought process.”

There was a stifling silence for a handful of seconds – people blinking, processing, thinking – and then Kaveh, whose jaw had partially fallen, snapped it shut and shook his head.

“Amazing,” He murmured, sincere and impressed, “Amazing! Why didn’t I think of that? It sounds so obvious when you explain it that way!”

Alhaitham’s lips formed a pleased smile, eyes cast upon the blond who had flopped closed the sketchbook and set it aside in favour of mulling over his partner’s line of reason.

“You forget I am from the Haravatat Darshan. I am prone to searching for the meaning of things rather than their cause.”

“As expected of you, Scribe Alhaitham. Your work was predominantly without fault.”

Razor startled in his bed, his wolven ears instinctively – and painfully – stiffening upright at the abrupt appearance of a new, but welcome voice.

“Lord Kusanali,” Tighnari greeted, and Kaveh fumbled to stand and tidy his trousers, fidgeting discreetly with the red clips in his hair to ascertain they were neatly in place.

“Thank you for the praise,” Alhaitham responded, seemingly unsurprised by the goddess’ sudden arrival.

“We also owe you our gratitude for everything you’ve done to help Razor,” Tighnari added, dipping his head in thanks, but the little girl merely giggled and waved away his earnest words, smile bright and emerald eyes luminous.

“No need, Tighnari. Helping one another is what friends do. Right, Razor?” She padded over to the boy’s cot, steps silent and so delicate that she appeared to be gliding. She stood on her toes to have a good look at him, “How are you? You look lovely.”

Razor wasn’t sure his appearance was currently one to behold by the societal standards he had learnt with time – not with his ears partially wrapped in bloody gauze, his canines awkwardly over his bottom lip and his fur most certainly dishevelled – but he grinned broadly and nodded his head, appreciative of the kind words.

“I, am fine. The pain, the hurting in my head, it went away,” He lifted his clawed hands, showed how stable they were, “My electro, it is normal again. I can feel it, in my body.”

And it was true – for the first time in what felt to be years his skull no longer throbbed, his limbs no longer burned, and nor did his heart strangely compress with an indescribable emotion. Certainly, he was administered painkillers to help with the raw tears in his scalp and back’s flesh, the soreness caused by the additions to his dental structure, hands and feet, but he could no longer sense that underlying threat of agony, that low brewing promise of pain. The electro that flowed within him was steady and he felt a complete connection with his Vision once more.

“I’m happy to hear it,” The god smiled, moving to lift herself onto the chair Kaveh had previously occupied, “May I touch them?” She asked, indicating with her eyes the wolven ears upon the boy’s head. 

Razor hesitated, not overly fond of the idea but perceiving that he was emotionally close with her enough to allow it, even if he mostly knew her as a bird. He braced his torso’s weight on his left arm and bent sideways towards her, lowering his head in offering. Tenderly, tiny fingers rubbed at the curve of his ears, above the rims of gauze, circling the soft, silver fur that went into brilliant white tips. The boy made a low sound of happiness in his throat and nudged into her touch, his tail having freed itself from behind him and tentatively swaying. 

Again, the god let out a melodic laugh, akin to wind chimes in a summer breeze, and she concluded her ministrations with a final pat to his head.

“I realise you discovering your origins doesn’t answer all of your questions,” She spoke once he was upright and looking back at her with sleepy eyes, “The road of self-discovery is a long one, but if you keep what Cyno had told you that day in the tree of Gandharva Ville safely in your heart and alive in your mind, you will find your way.”

Razor’s sight temporarily flickered to the General whose ears – exposed by the lack of his headpiece – darkened with a flush of deep red, and Tighnari smirked at the man with a fond look in his eyes.

“I only think that you shouldn’t spend your life trying to define who you are by a strict set of words,” The girl carried on, attracting all attention once more, “People are far too complex and ever-changing to fit under the same titles and into the same boxes for all of their lives. However, I understand the need to reach an answer, to have something to rely on. What you can know with certainty is that you are a wolf and you are a boy. You are both of these things and this doesn’t mean you don’t belong with either group, it simply means you can belong to both of them. You have two homes, two Lupicals, two parts of you that are one. You don’t need to choose one side or the other. Choose yourself, all of yourself, and be free.”

Razor nodded, ardent even if a tad perplexed, but it was enough. 

“There is much for you to still learn, things that you must come to understand on your own and things that are not my place to tell you,” Her voice lilted with underlying suggestion and Razor’s heart skipped a beat, the name of someone he had scarcely dared to think about as of late, crossing his mind and consequently falling from his lips. 

“Lupus Boreas…”

The young goddess nodded, the swirl of her ponytail bobbing as she did so.

“Indeed. I’m sure he has been waiting anxiously for your return – to finally be able to explain to you anything you still seek to understand, to see that you are alright and that your pain has allowed you to blossom into who you are now,” She slowly reached out and set her small, warm palm atop his own resting on the white sheets, as if fortifying his courage.

“Return home and speak with him if you want answers to your questions. I believe he won’t withhold anything from you at this time,” She paused and smiled, “You’ve grown, Razor, and you’ve changed. You have begun to embrace your entire self, which is the bravest thing anyone can do. The time to understand is now. Return to Mondstadt, but know that Sumeru will always be your second home, if you wish it to be.”

Heat pooled at the rims of the boy’s eyes, dribbled along his cheeks and splashed onto his thighs. Joy, untainted and sparking, was alight in his chest, and it was as though a dam had burst within him, a crowd of emotions tumbling over one another as they spilled forth in a rush through the tears in his eyes and the sobs that wracked his bony frame. He allowed himself to be cradled into a chest, to listen to its steady heartbeats and cry. 

 

***

 

Something had been weighing on Cyno since the day Lord Kusanali had visited Razor at the Bimarstan; this much was evident not simply from the concern with which Tighnari would look at him, but by the divergence from the behavioural patterns Razor had grown accustomed to.

The days trickled on with Cyno disappearing for a few hours and returning looking bereft of energy and worn thin; but he always made the effort to smile at Razor with a sincere warmth and to gently pet his head, despite the splitting calluses on the insides of his paler palms and the poorly patched up injuries that littered his lithe body. Razor knew the man was losing sleep. He was always awake during the night whenever the boy shifted into brief consciousness, guarding the door or watching out the window like a trained dog, tense, but the boy couldn’t fathom why.

Tighnari had explained his partner’s state away with work-related stress, worry and frustration etched into his features he tried to school into something reassuring, yet Razor couldn’t help but fear that the issue had something to do with him. 

During the hours of sunlight, after moons had risen and fallen, he practised walking barefoot within his room, Tighnari holding him by the hand and repeatedly telling him that it was a matter of simply getting used to it. Having cushioned pads under his feet wasn’t uncomfortable per se but it felt odd, as though he could perceive every tremor in the ground but not the fine layer of dirt or crumbs on it. 

Eventually even his ears and tail were freed from their bandages and Tighnari took it upon himself to guide him in the art of self-grooming. When Razor had bashfully admitted to crushing his own tail while sleeping, the Forest Watcher clicked his tongue, as if berating himself for not having considered the boy encountering such a predicament sooner.

“My suggestion is that you sleep with it tucked between your legs and towards your chest,” He explained, guiding the younger into the right position upon his narrow bed to be certain he was being understood, “Not only is it safe and comfortable, but kits – or, in your case, pups – tend to find it soothing.”

Admittedly, it was pleasant. Razor grabbed his tail tightly enough that the white fur at its end tickled at his chin, and he made a sound of contentment, nuzzling into the warmth it offered. Tighnari chuckled under his breath at the sight and pinched the flame of the main burning candle that cast light in the darkness of the late hours, seeping the majority of the room in the moon’s glow. 

“Sleep well, Razor. We have quite the trip back to Gandharva Ville tomorrow morning.”

Razor hummed, smiling excitedly at the thought of showing Collei his new features since his fears of her being scared by them were assuaged by Tighnari’s logic that she wasn’t scared of the man who had similar attributes himself. 

He had yet to completely fall asleep when there came a silent thud of the hospital room’s door closing and a set of footsteps approaching the corner where he knew Tighnari to be sitting. Cyno must have finally returned, he thought with a knot in his stomach. He hoped the man would sleep properly that night.

“How is he?” As expected it was Cyno’s voice – toned down to a practised whisper – that cut the silence before it could drag on any further. 

A sigh, most likely from Tighnari, and Razor forced his heavy eyelids to part and peer at the blurred reflection in the window’s clear glass panel opposite him, cast by the small candle the former had been reading the book he had since closed by.

“He’s perfectly ready for tomorrow,” The Forest Watcher replied, tone curt before he pegged the bridge of his nose and let his shoulders sag.

Razor held his breath.

“Cyno, dear, would you please tell me what’s troubling you? Why are you drowning yourself in work? Why are you taking on petty crimes? Why are you –” He lowered his voice that had marginally risen, “What are you avoiding?”

The man – so stoic and rigid, up until that moment standing as an unmovable pillar – instantly crumpled to his knees at his partner’s feet like a tattered cloth, his left cheek resting on Tighnari’s right knee and his battered palm desperately cupping the other.

“Cyno…”

Tighnari’s voice was laced with urgency, stitched with compassion, and his hands went to amorously card through the man’s white locks in the hopes they could convey his care.

“My heart, my treasure, I’m going to confess to something selfish.”

The Forest Watcher gave a meagre shake of the head, his hand going to hold the one on his knee.

“Tell me.”

Razor could see the apprehension in Cyno’s form – the stiffness of his limbs, the distorted reflection of his troubled amber eye being strained on the ground upon which he knelt.

“I want him to stay with us.”

His heart tremored. He intook a sharp breath before he could stop himself. Had Tighnari heard him do so? Was he aware Razor was awake and listening, or was he too invested in the discussion to notice? Regardless, the significance of Cyno’s words had sent Razor’s mind swirling at a speed that allowed few cohesive thoughts to form.

Tighnari made a small sound of understanding, his hand never stopping its light strokes through Cyno’s hair.

“He’s not a stray puppy, dear. He has friends and a life back in Mondstadt. We can’t ask him to abandon all he knows for us.”

Cyno seemed to give a flinch. He might have had more to say on the matter, but ultimately uttered much less.

“But – Well. We could be his family here,” He swallowed, lifted his head and rested his chin on the material of Tighnari’s trouser leg. He blinked up at the man with near-pleading eyes, sunset coloured gems that gleamed between fine petals of white, “A family, just as we are with Collei.”

The hand in his hair slid to hold his cheek, thumb caressing the puffed area of his lower-lids, sore from a lack of rest.

“He will leave one day, no matter what.”

“And when the time comes I will not stand in his way, but he will always be family. We could… We could always take care of him.”

There were no words shared for a while; Razor’s jaw clenched, his bottom lip was jutted and raised beneath his canines, lest he let slip any other sound. And then Tighnari hummed, leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Cyno’s head.

“He reminds you of yourself, doesn’t he?”

“My heart, you understand me better than the muscle that throbs in my chest.”

Tighnari stifled a chuckle, nosing his partner’s hair prior to allowing their lips to meet in a chaste kiss.

“Is your exhaustion making you into a poet, my valiant jackal, or are you quoting one of your books again?” He didn’t wait for a reply, instead he pulled away and leaned back in his chair, “We can ask him if he wants to be a part of our family once we speak with Collei about it. For now, come and rest. The night is only so long.”

Chapter 19

Notes:

i really struggled to write this, im sorry that it’s janky and bland. between two jobs, working on an art commission, my mental health and me getting easily drained, i couldn’t fall into the flow of writing. i'll try fix it up eventually. im really sorry. thank you for all the comments the last update got btw. knowing you guys are actually keen on reading the ending keeps me motivated. im grateful!

Unsurprisingly, sleep evaded all of Razor’s attempts at embracing it. No matter how persistently he shut his eyes, counted to ten or tried to recall the storybook Collei had lent him – and that he had already read a number of times – his mind refused to let him fall into a state of ease. He was bubbling, effervescent, with a strange cocktail of happiness and anxiety. 

Cyno and Tighnari wanted him to be a part of their family. He would have fathers and a sibling, along with a home to go back to and so many more memories to create and reminisce on in the future. Tighnari was not wrong to consider that Razor would want to return to Mondstadt though, for his spirit seemed to crave nothing else then to see his friends and his Lupical – to feel the sweet dandelion breeze on his skin and taste the juice of a valberry on his tongue again.

It was an almost suffocating sense of inner conflict that overwhelmed him by the time he felt sunlight spill in through the window’s clear glass and bathe his form. He unfurled from the ball he’d tightly pulled himself into, stretched his tail out with a shake and extended his limbs to their limits, then yipped his own yawn short as he groggily sat up in his cot. He looked out the window – at the outskirts of the city that had awoken much before himself – prior to turning to the two men who never left his side, wrapped around one another on a single chair, Cyno cradled against his partner’s chest and soundly resting, finally. 

They eventually shared breakfast together – after the General had peeled open his eyes to blink up at the Forest Watcher who was gently shaking him alert – and they subsequently set about making themselves look presentable ahead of Zakariya’s visit, who checked Razor over to give his last approval for the boy’s departure from the hospital. The doctor had been diffident for a while after having learned the story that explained why Razor had suffered for so long for previously unknown reasons, seeing as how he had not suspected anything close to the truth when writing his diagnosis, but it was an effect that was short-lived and was never brought up amongst the adults.

Rather than talking about Zakariya, Cyno and Tighnari were conversing about informal, unrelated matters. It was blatant in the way the General smiled and spoke – in the way he carried himself and the laxness of his limbs – that the talk he had had with his partner the night before had relieved him of his internal turmoil. Realising that however, brought to the forefront of Razor’s mind the prospect of them taking him in as a family member. He couldn’t help but to peek at them with all the stealth he could manage, excited and pensive, wondering when – and perhaps if – they would broach the topic with him.

When it came to the opinion those he cared about had regarding himself or how they perceived him, Razor was hardly fussed, for they had assured him repeatedly that their views and feelings for him remained unchanged. When it came to strangers though, it was a starkly opposite case.

Stepping out into the city’s hot sun and onto its stone paths before the inquisitive eyes and thoughts of others he did not know, he ironically felt to be a lamb trapped amongst wolves. It wasn’t a truly innovative situation he found himself in, for even in the city of Mondstadt many of the people would look at him with scorn or distrust, maintain their distance and mutter between themselves about how strange he was. Seeing as how somewhat the same was then occurring in Sumeru, principally heightened by his animalistic appendages being tied to those of a predator, the seed of fear inside of him that held the thought that he wouldn’t be welcomed back home was watered into a sprout. 

It was a possibility that the guards at the city gates would turn him away, that the whispers of him being odd would morph into shouts of threat for him to stay out of Mondstadt’s walls – and whilst he never loved being in the busy streets or chatter-filled establishments, the city held Lisa and his friends. If he could no longer visit them, he would almost consider his transformation to be tantamount to a curse. 

His discomfort must have been blaring for Cyno had taken hold of his hand and gripped it strongly, as had become customary for him to do when he noted the boy needed support. 

“Keep your head high, Razor,” He spoke lowly, guiding them along a path through the city, Tighnari keeping pace abreast of him, “There’s nothing wrong with you, they’re just surprised by your new look.”

The man paused, a barely suppressed smile spreading across his mouth before he went to speak again, “They used to look at Tighnari like this too, until they got used to witnessing his unparalleled beauty.”

Tighnari’s scoff was instant, followed by a roll of his eyes and his elbow giving a playful jab to Cyno’s side, the latter feigning a pained groan

“You’re such a fool, Cyno,” The Forest Watcher mumbled, his tall ears drawing low, giving an indication of the shyness he otherwise expertly hid, “I mean that in all seriousness.”

 

***

 

“Dads! Razor! You’re finally back!”

The trio had merely set foot into Gandharva Ville mid-morning when Collei, who must have been preparing for patrol duty, spotted them on her way out of the settlement. She sprinted towards them at such a speed that she roughly collided with Tighnari’s chest, and proceeded to wrap her arms as well as she could around an astounded Cyno and Razor, pulling them all into a close group hug and knocking the wind out of their lungs.

“I was so – I was so worried!” She carried on, suddenly breathless as Tighnari felt tears trickle down his neck and the start of her oncoming hiccups against his torso, “You said you’d be gone for a few days; it’s been almost two weeks! I wanted to come but I couldn’t abandon my post here, not after you trusted me with it – but I was so scared I could hardly sleep!”

For a handful of seconds none of them spoke – not when the girl broke into stuttered cries and clung to them with a tangible desperation. It was Tighnari to first return her embrace, reciprocating the affection and care she held them with. Cyno followed suit, a comforting hand rubbing at her back, while Razor nuzzled into the free side of her neck and wrapped an arm around her, happy to be inundated by her familiar scent once more. 

Her barely restrained tears were soon enough to pinch at his heart and bring a wetness to his own eyes, a sense of guilt swirling furiously within his belly. His ears flopped limply in shame, a whimper of a sound leaving him as he shut his eyes and held on to her tighter. 

Returning to someone who misses you and worries for you, being able to share emotions and hug them dearly – this must also be a part of what it means to be family. 

“We’re sorry, Collei, truly,” Tighnari mumbled quietly into her hair, “Something came up and we couldn’t leave any sooner.”

Razor’s ears twitched at the unclear explanation and it was possibly their thick fur tickling at Collei’s face that alerted her of there being a change she had yet to pay mind to. 

She sniffled as she gradually detached herself from the group, bashfully wiped at her damp cheeks with the base of her palms and knuckles, and then lifted her sight and allowed it to settle on the boy to the right of her.

A pregnant pause followed and she gasped, jaw going slack and violet eyes fully rounding in awe. Razor’s heart jolted.

“Oh my… Razor? What? Huh?”

Words left her mouth haphazardly, nonsensically, and her blinks remained slow. Razor shifted his weight, his fingers going to fiddle with the handkerchief tied to his shorts’ unused belt loops.

“Grass Girl – Collei, are you scared?”

Within a few seconds she was shaking herself out of her stupor and frantically waving her hands, as she usually did when wanting to refute a notion completely.

“Of you? Never!” She exclaimed, and then her focus very evidently trailed over his jutted teeth, his brilliant eyes, his wagging tail and wolf ears that apparently had a mind of their own. The boy waited patiently as she drank in all that was new, his tail picking up in speed as her lips began to curl into a bewildered smile, “Your ears are so cute. They make you look even fluffier than before. Can I touch them?”

Razor beamed at the compliment and vigorously nodded his head, his canines being struck by sunlight. Collei wasted only a breath before apprehensively raising a hand until it settled into the waves of his mercury locks and proceeded to inch her fingers up into the soft fur of his ears. Her thumb rubbed circles into the base of the right one’s curve, tugging a sound of contentment out of the boy who leaned into her touch, and she watched intently, still processing what she was seeing. With her hand continuously administering pets she turned to Cyno, to Tighnari, and back to Razor who had let his eyes flutter closed happily, as though fully relaxed by her acceptance.

“They’re super soft,” She commented sincerely, even if absent-mindedly, and the boy parted his eyelids just enough to meet her gaze, “You look really cool but… How? I – I don’t understand.”

The Forest Watcher gave a drawn out sigh, tired yet relieved, knowing the conversation ahead would be an extensive one. Placing a hand on both of their shoulders he gave them a pat each and urged them on into the settlement. 

“It’s a long story,” He supplied as he started walking ahead, “Let’s discuss it over a light meal. His toe pads must be sore by now.”

“You have toe pads?!”

Fortunately, despite the obviously befuddled and curious looks they received from fellow Forest Watchers and Rangers alike, none of them made any mention of the wolf boy’s new appendages. They merely called out their greetings and phrases of welcoming the trio’s return, waving from their work stations or from their spots of rest. It was, after all, an anomaly for the devout Forest Watcher to leave Gandharva Ville for an extended period of time, but it came as a huge relief to Razor to see that their perception of himself hadn’t glaringly changed.

Once they’d settled inside Tighnari’s hut Collei was utterly enraptured by the retelling of the events she had missed, the former busying his hands with preparing food and the others gathering around the table they had shared many dinners on. The girl rocked on the edge of her seat with each chunk of information supplied and occasionally took a few moments to think, pondering what it must have felt like and what it all meant. Cyno had made sure to give her the entire backstory to what they had learned to be the origins of Razor’s race, something that had the girl still and admire her friend for a drawn out moment. 

“This is all so much to take in. It’s incredible,” She commented once Cyno had finished speaking and Tighnari began to set bowls of the food he’d cooked on the table they sat at. Smiling, she looked over Razor once more, seeing the shy pink blooming across his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” She said quietly, her head askew as she spoke, “I should have come along. You must have gone through a lot of pain.”

Razor grunted and shook his head, keeping his sight on the steam that wafted up from the plate before him. The image of the food was distorted; the hue of a summer sky with chunks and traces of a daisy yellow. It still smelled delicious regardless, which was enough to not let his stomach be put off by the novel colours he was seeing everything in.

“No need for you to say sorry,” He assured, momentarily meeting her gaze, “Thinking about this village, thinking about Lupical, it gave me strength.”

She hummed and dipped her head low, oddly emotional at the admittance, prior to ridding her face of all sympathetic sadness and instead excitedly dragging her seat closer to his own.

“So!” She cheerily began, grinning as she set her chin on steepled fingers, “Are you happy? Did you get along with my uncles? Oh, how was it like to meet Lord Kusanali? What did she tell you? Is she still a bird watching over us?”

“One at a time,” Tighnari airily scolded with a slight smile, taking his seat beside Cyno across from the kids, “You two have plenty of chances to gossip; eat now. Ah yes, that’s right. Collei, Kaveh and Alhaitham should be visiting this Saturday for a game night.”

“Yes! I can’t wait!” The girl cheered, clenching her fists to her chest, subtly giving Razor his space as she scooted a few inches away.

Cyno let out a somewhat distraught, heaved breath at the reminder, poking at his rice with a despondent frown, “I’m nowhere close to done with planning our new campaign.”

The girl paused, as if considering whether to speak or not before ultimately settling on leaning forward almost conspiratorially.

“How about a one-shot? I have one that I plotted as practice,” Her confidence wavered for a moment, her shoulders mildly slouching, “I mean, I’m not sure if it’s any good but…”

“We’ll use it,” Cyno was quick to agree, pride shimmering in his eyes as he looked upon the girl who instantly sat straight at his words, “Consider it your Game Master debut.”

Collei’s lips parted in surprise, excitement radiating off of her with a formidable glow.

“Seriously?”

“Of course,” The man affirmed without a moment’s hesitation, folding his arms at his chest, “If I were joking, you would have found it funny.”

Tighnari rolled his eyes and Collei chirped a sound of glee, hopping around in her seat to look to a Razor who was almost entirely focused on chewing the food in his mouth.

“This is going to be so cool, Razor!” She gave a happy clap of her hands and he arched a brow, not too sure what their conversation had been about but gripped by her zeal, “It will be your first game night with us so I can guide you through the whole process!”

A game with everyone? Would it be like them playing those card battles? Even if not, the idea sounded like fun so he replicated Collei’s eagerness and paused his swallow to instead bob his head, cheeks puffed and rounded with food. 

“Hm, I must remember to write a letter to Lisa and inform her about everything that’s happened these past few days, come to think of it.” 

Tighnari’s words had been mumbled – the sentence more so a mental note that had fled from his mouth without having been intended to be heard by others – but the moment it was, all smiles dimmed on the lips they’d been fixed on, washed away by the reality of matters. 

Their time together was finite, and – much like the remaining clumps of sand in the top part of a flipped hourglass, the majority of it already settled at its bottom – it would soon run out.

Cyno occupied himself with eating his rice but Collei’s whole demeanour had perceptibly shifted, her body stiff and the glint in her irises faded. Whatever curve remained on her lips then took on a sombre tone. 

“I guess you’ll be going back to Mondstadt soon then, now that you’re all better.”

Razor didn’t know how to respond, not when her sadness bled into his own and clawed its way out of his heart and up his throat, choking him. 

He nodded and she feigned a brighter smile, turning away.

 

***

 

The following couple of days were the most joyous Razor had lived in a long while.

Since his complete recovery he was able to enjoy Gandharva Ville to its fullest. He sprinted through the warm rain with Amir and his dogs – the man a bit slower than the rest but laughing all the same – he splashed in puddles with Collei and then spent hours foraging and picking flowers with her, joining her in pressing them into a thin new journal they had started together.

He could finally run endlessly through the diverse trees and plants of the rainforest, fill his chest with the earthy scents and howl in pure ecstasy at the freedom of coursing through nature with a friend at his side. He had another training session with Cyno in their same clearing and Tighnari took him along on patrol to teach him certain techniques and uses of plants along the way. Identifying said flora by sight alone was a tricky skill to learn, primarily since his eyesight was currently almost entirely limited to yellows and blues, but his nose had become sharp enough to pick up on even the most minute of differences in their scents so it wasn’t impossible.

The novelty of his changed appearance had rapidly worn off amongst the other forest dwellers, who instead integrated him enthusiastically upon understanding his elemental power issues had been resolved, thriving off the genuine joy he expressed for every mundane aspect of life. 

When his wolf spirit eventually made its reappearance – this time without the warning of danger or pain but instead with a gentle upturn to its mouth as it hovered over him – Razor’s heart swelled. His sprint slowed until his sandaled feet crushed to a final stop in the soil, his breathing heavy from having run so far so quickly amidst the winding trees due to practising evasive movements with Cyno one late morning. He could hear the General’s staff plant itself firmly into the ground, the man stopping a meagre distance away from him upon having seen what brought the boy to a halt.

“I missed you,” Razor spoke between choppy inhales to his wolf spirit, his soul companion that had served as a friend for so many years, “I missed you.”

The glowing entity – an electro purple and merely half-bodied – set a large hand upon Razor’s head and mussed his fur in an act of affection the latter had craved from said spirit for months. The boy’s head dipped at the weight of the touch, his eyes flickered closed with brief serenity, and when they parted once more his spirit was waving its goodbye, its translucent form dissipating until the next time it would show itself.

The sense of abandonment and loneliness that would usually well up within him when his spirit would leave him all that time ago, did not reemerge, for now Razor knew that the disappearance of his spirit didn’t mean he was suddenly alone again.

A hand – human, warm, loving – softly petted his fur and adjusted the strands that brushed against his face. He hummed and nudged his nose into the wrist of Cyno’s arm, the man smiling at him in return. 

Indeed, he was no longer alone.

Chapter 20

When Saturday rolled around, the ability to pretend Razor wouldn’t be leaving Gandharva Ville the very next day was waning, the mood amongst their group sporadically turning sombre when silence would stretch mid-conversation. 

It was, for this reason, a blessing that at least for that day and late into that night there would be Collei’s uncles visiting. With the both of them around Razor was certain there would be enough chatter to keep everyone’s mind off of more depressing matters. Tighnari had enlisted the help of his partner in the kitchen – Cyno doing what he could despite being out of his depth when it came to cooking – and Collei spent time adjusting her story for their short table-top game adventure that evening, chewing on her lip as she reviewed the details of it. 

Razor, meanwhile, elected to spend some time in solitude.

He passed hours in the forest despite the occasional drizzles, wordlessly helping out any Forest Ranger who asked him to carry materials or fetch sacks and the like. He enjoyed being of service to others but, in truth, he had been going about in search of what to take back to Mondstadt with him. Tighnari had given him a bag in which he could pack his things in preparation for his trip, but upon receiving it the boy sat and stared at its empty, creasing frame with thought, for he had no idea what to actually fill it with. 

What would be enough to give him a sense of his home here while he was away?

The city couple had arrived before he could reach a conclusion, all happy greetings and boisterous chatter as Collei was gifted the leather bag Razor had witnessed Cyno and Kaveh selecting together at the Grand Bazaar, and subsequently quickly fell into conversation with her said uncle. Hot food was shared over a constant flow of voices and laughter, disturbed only by playful squabbling and the rare seconds of quiet during which they concentrated on eating.

With the moon high in the sky and their lamps burning warmly, the table was cleared and a map of sorts was splayed out where dishes once were – dice, cards, notepads and pencils scattered around it. Collei proceeded to eagerly announce the start of their game and her role as the Master of it, to which all clapped and clinked glasses of fruit juice and wine. 

Having taken his seat beside the girl, Razor did his best to follow along as she animatedly began her story and the adults introduced their characters with words he was unfamiliar with; Alhaitham claimed to be a human wizard, Cyno a warlock tiefling, Kaveh an elf bard and Tighnari a human druid. Razor was a bit baffled as to why they all got to pretend to be different people except for Collei, but she explained that it was her job to tell the story and for the characters to bring it to life.

He watched in riveted silence as the game progressed well into the heart of the night, with Kaveh theatrically yelling in despair at each unlucky die roll before sinking into strategic debates with the others.

He watched and listened and nodded along, until he took a moment to look at the faces of everyone around him – to listen to their words and to see how they interacted with one another so freely, and a realisation dawned upon him.

Despite him not actively participating, despite him being new to such situations, he did not feel to be an outsider looking in. No, he realised he had become one of the people he’d see that would be sitting at a table surrounded by dear ones, just as he had craved for years. He was no longer the shivering boy tiptoeing to gaze longingly through a hazy glass window of a house in Springvale, at a family merrily chatting inside their kitchen over a plentiful meal, illuminated by a soft light whilst he glistened under cold moonshine that struck his rain-drenched form. He realised that the seat at a table in a homely kitchen, with parents and a sibling and friends, the seat his heart had wept for throughout his childhood years, was now his own. No matter how different he was, it was his own.

In the apparent stillness of the night – for a forest was never truly asleep – the visiting couple bid everyone their farewells, lingering and postponing their departure with conversation, evidently reluctant to leave. The blond architect smiled down at the wolf boy who merely blinked up, awaiting words of goodbye, and the former sighed, shaking his head as if deciding against saying what he initially wanted to say. 

Instead, he set a hand on Razor’s shoulder and affectionately rubbed it, an odd mix between strong and restrained. 

“Don’t be a stranger. Please, do come to Sumeru again soon,” He spoke sincerely, allowing the boy a chance to nod before continuing, “I’ll be sure to cook you a nice meal when you return so eat a lot, stay strong and take care of yourself. Promise?”

Razor harrumphed.

“I promise.”

With a sombre smile Kaveh released his hold and stepped back, lightly hugging the rest prior to approaching where Alhaitham stood at the open door, ready to leave.

“Until next time, Razor,” The taller of the two spoke, giving a mild dip of his head, “Take care.”

And with those final words the men walked off along the curving wooden bridge, their figures retreating into temporary shadows or glowing within brief licks of light from burning lamps, until they fully disappeared amongst the densely grown trees. 

There had been a sudden thick silence in the hut then, one that seemingly all of them were hesitant to break. It was Razor’s last night of rest within his hut and his last night of rest within Gandharva Ville itself. 

“Well, it’s best we also turn in for the night,” Tighnari eventually said as nonchalantly as he could manage, and what fortunate timing it had been, for Razor’s eyes had begun to prickle with salty tears he simply couldn’t suppress nor understand. After all, he finally knew more about who he was and all physical pain had left him; he had found a family and had another waiting for him at the home he was returning to. 

All was perfect, and yet he nearly wished to rip his heart from his chest if it meant it would stop aching so terribly.

 

***

 

There was the caw of birds and the distant, bellowing grunts of sumpter beasts below, lapping up water from the river and biting into the fresh fruit they were being fed by their carer. There was still a delicate sun, the humid smell of a rain that had since ended, and the briskness of a wind that came with early mornings. 

His eyes – weary and puffed from hours of sleeping after some time of welling with a baffling sadness – were already partially open and staring out of the window from the crack the leaf-covering didn’t block, when Collei’s knuckles softly rapped on the hut’s door.

“Razor? Are you awake?” Her own voice was groggy with sleep, underlined by an emotion Razor couldn’t place.

He grunted and shuffled in his bed, rolled over and dropped his feet to the cool floor with a thud as he sat up.

“I am awake,” He finally replied, pushing his arms to their limits above his head and arching his spine to produce satisfying cracks. There was a creak of movement outside his door and he shook his head in lieu of tidying his ruffled fur, “You can come in.”

At that, Collei pushed open the door and stood with a large smile across her face as soon as they met eyes, hands gripping the shoulder straps of a fully stuffed bag she wore on her back. Razor’s head tilted in silent question but she only took cheerful strides into his room.

“Good morning! How are you feeling? Ready to leave?” She looked around as if trying to spot something specific, “Did you pack your things?”

Right, Razor thought, he had to pack. Technically he had, but he pointed at his half-empty backpack tucked under the desk with brewing embarrassment. Within it were merely the essentials: food, filled waterskins, his old hooded coat he hadn’t worn in so long, and a towel for washing up. He had nothing else.

When Collei caught sight of its hunched body, she frowned.

“Is that everything you need?” She asked, trying to keep any judgement out of her tone, “Nothing else?”

Razor shook his head, keeping his sight fixed on his knees that had acquired fresh bruises and scrapes since his recovery had allowed him to take on running in the wild again. This is why trousers are convenient, they keep your skin safe.

“Food. Water. Things to stay clean,” He listed quietly, “I have them.”

“Okay…” Collei belatedly let her hands fall from the straps they clutched at and she extended them to him, open palms inviting him to hold on, “Want to go see what our dads are doing?”

Our?

His expression must have been one of bewilderment as the girl giggled and wagged her hands in front of him, urging him to take them into his own. He blinked widely, sight flickering between her broad smile and her nimble hands, calluses around the pads of her fingers that did the most strenuous work. 

He set his palms atop hers for the first time since they met and, before he could process the heat travelling between them, she fastened her grip and lugged him upright. His steps stumbled as he lost his balance and a giggle morphed into tinkling laughter as he took a moment to steady himself, a cherry hue blossoming on his cheeks. 

Relinquishing one of his hands, Collei bent down and stretched out to grab his bag from the floor, then handing it over to him to slip on.

“Let’s go!”

Bound by their latched palms, the girl led them out of the hut and into a brisk breeze that nipped at Razor’s exposed skin. A ripple travelled down his vertebrae, making him shudder, but he hardly had time to let the low temperature seep into his bones before he was being tugged up towards Tighnari’s hut.

Reminiscent of how his second morning at Gandharva Ville had been, Collei merrily greeted every Forest Ranger and Watcher they crossed paths with, offering bright smiles and happy waves to all. The only difference was that his presence was not dismissed. The people whose names he didn’t even know, and yet he had occasionally helped with menial tasks in the previous days, called out to him along with Collei. He did his best to nod and smile at each one, attempting to mimic how the girl beside him seemingly effortlessly did. 

When they drew nearer to the hut, sounds akin to a scuffle reached their ears and the both of them drew their steps to a slow stop. There was rummaging, thumping, and Razor’s heightened senses picked up on a drawn out sigh. He looked to Collei to find her eyebrows pulled together, a crease forming between the two, and then she also met his gaze and held a finger to her lips, indicating him to keep quiet. 

He nodded once and steadied his breath to be as silent as possible, joining her in crouching closer to the hut from which a voice filtered out.

“– Packing because I cannot let him face Lupus Boreas, a god , on his own,” A grunt, something cluttering to the ground, “What if something goes wrong? What if something unexpected occurs? He’s just a boy – a kid. I can’t abandon –”

“Dear, this god has raised him and cared for him for the majority of his life,” This was Tighnari speaking, tone soothing as though he were attempting to calm the other, Cyno, and rationalise his worries, “We’re not throwing him into a tiger’s den.”

“If this god truly cared as much as the kid believes, where was he when Razor needed him the most?”

Collei's shoulders hunched closer to her neck as if stung and her fingers pressed tightly into Razor’s hand, clutching onto him.

Steps could be heard pattering across wood and whatever turbulent movements were being made within the hut ceased.

“Relax, Cyno, we were going to accompany him on the journey home regardless. If you want to spend some extra days there, that’s of no issue to me,” There came the sound of a kiss and a haggard release of a choked up breath, “I am only trying to keep your mind from perceiving the situation to be worse than it is. Everything is alright now, remember that.”

The discussion seemed to succumb to quiet and the eavesdropping kids both took the chance to mull over what they’d overheard. Whatever had crossed Collei’s mind apparently fortified her resolve for she abruptly straightened her posture and marched to the door alone, only to push it open without any preamble and stand boldly in its frame. 

“What – Collei?” 

“Dads, I’m coming with you!” She announced with conviction, leaving no room for debate, “I didn’t come last time and look at all that happened! We can make this into a family trip. In exchange, I’ll study extra hard when we come back.”

Razor scampered after her, taking root at her side, ears pulled low and his tail tentatively wagging. 

“Family?”

At him speaking Collei set her hands on her hips and shifted around to face him better, the question in his eyes sparking a confusion in her own.

“Well, yeah,” She said, almost with a quizzical intonation, “You’re my brother now, aren’t you? I thought…”

Her voice trailed off as she looked to her guardians standing immobile in the centre of the hut, both men sloppily dressed and a chock-full backpack risking toppling over from where it swayed on an unmade bed. 

With a tired sigh and his hand reaching up to grab at his head, Tighnari waited a few moments to gather himself before casting a cursory glance at each person in the hut.

“I suppose there is no harm in having this conversation now, if you have nothing to say to the contrary of it,” He muttered in surrender, directing the last phrase to Cyno who had stiffened to the point of stone.

Cyno merely nodded, jaw tense. Perhaps he was apprehensive as to what the boy’s reaction would be, Tighnari concluded prior to focusing on the present.

“Razor, we have an important matter to discuss with you; however, please keep in mind that you are free to share your feelings and opinions as you want and we will respect them. Alright?”

With his heart drilling itself against his ribs and the pulsating blood in his ears making it hard to decipher anything over its ruckus, Razor only scarcely remembered to dip his head as a sign of understanding. 

“Alright. Come inside, you two.”

Doing as told the kids stepped further into the hut, forming a small group with the Forest Watcher who appeared pensive and the General Mahamatra who was uncharacteristically rigid and oozing anxiety.

“You see, Razor,” Tighnari began, words slow and meticulously enunciated as if he had rehearsed them already on multiple occasions, “during your stay here we’ve all grown very fond of you. Cyno and I, we’ve come to see you and care for you as one of our own. We would like to be people you can trust and rely on in the future, provide you with anything you might need, and offer you a home with us.”

Collei smiled at Razor, giddy despite the couple being so blatantly nervous. 

“With that said, we spoke of this with Collei and we all agreed to ask you to formally be a part of our family. You could view us as fathers, uncles, brothers or even simply as your guardians. Whatever roles you’d like us to take on, we will do our best to fulfil them.”

The wolf boy watched, mute, as Tighnari’s words simmered into nothing, but he couldn’t manage to formulate his own just yet. 

His mind spun and sparked with the toll processing the very moment he’d been hoping for for the past few days took on it. They had actually asked him to be his family. He was going to have a proper family. He could refer to them as his fathers and sister out loud and nobody would be able to refute it or sever their bond.

“Of course,” Cyno spoke up lowly, as though the prolonged silence weighed on him too heavily, “that doesn’t mean you have to stay here with us, but if in the future…”

“My father Tighnari. My father Cyno. My sister Collei. I am a son. And a brother, also,” The terms rolled off of his tongue with ease, his mind registering them as correct and natural, and a sense of happiness so intense he felt as though he could burst, popped like a multitude of bubbles within him.

With his hand to his chest, he smiled.

“I like it, very much. I am happy. Very, very happy. I want to be family, with you. Us, being Lupical together, makes my heart run fast. My fathers, and my sister, thank you for loving me.”

Instantly the conclusion to his response was adorned by a sound of erupting glee and rapid clapping, before he was pulled into a suffocating embrace by Collei who bounced happily as she held onto him. 

“Of course we love you! We’re officially a family now!” She exclaimed, releasing him lest he got overwhelmed, “This is the best day ever!”

Razor’s tail wagged vigorously behind him and his wolven ears twitched with delight. It was hard not to reciprocate the beaming smile his sister was giving him, so he did. He grinned, all sharp canines and glittering ruby eyes, shimmering with a joy he was unused to but that he held onto with every ounce of strength he could muster.

“Welcome to the family, Razor,” Cyno said, an upturned curve sweeping across his lips as he stepped towards the boy to affectionately ruffle his fur, “I hope you can always rely on us.”

“Our group keeps growing,” Tighnari chuckled, watching his partner continue to pet the boy who nearly purred in contentment, “Thank you for allowing us into your life, Razor.”

The boy hummed and shook his fur into neatness once Cyno had lifted his hand out of it. 

“We should finish making preparations for our trip now,” The Forest Watcher spoke, then peeking at the boy’s luggage, “Do you have leftover space in your bag?”

Razor needed only to nod for the man to smile in a way that appeared barely repressed and somewhat mischievous.

“That’s good, because…” He let his voice trail off as he walked towards his bed, kneeling before it and sliding a small box out from under the brightwood frame. Razor’s eyes followed as Tighnari rejoined the group, inquisitively jumping between the latter’s kind expression and the box that was being held towards him. 

“For me?” The boy had to ask to make sure he wasn’t misinterpreting the situation. He pointed at the package and then at himself, ingenuous, curious and taken aback all at once.

A breathy laugh left the Forest Watcher who encouragingly nudged the box into the boy’s chest again.

“It’s for you, yes. From all of us,” He assured gently, “They’re simple things, enough for you to have us with you once we’re apart, but we hope you like them.”

Humming in his throat, Razor’s tail vigorously wagged with spiking anticipation. His family had given him gifts. 

Unceremoniously dropping to his knees, Razor took hold of the box and began opening it whilst the others joined him in sitting on the floor, allowing the scene to unfold without interference. Upon lifting the unlatched wooden lid a distinct smell of leather and saccharine flowers wafted up into his nose, bringing him to twitch it in the instinctual attempt to stow the oncoming chirp of a sneeze that came to pass regardless.

Collei giggled into her hand at the high-pitched sound but he was too distracted to think much of it, for his eyes scanned over the contents with wonder. Each item had a little tag with a name written upon it in freshly dried ink.

“Go on, see what there is,” Cyno spoke in a hushed tone, offering a smile when the boy peered up at him through the silver fur that draped over his forehead.

Keen, Razor reached for the first thing he could see and grasped a book, lifting it into view. It was leather bound and stitched with a golden thread all around its rims. Elegantly debossed in its deep brown cover was the title Stormy Night , the name of the author written much smaller beneath it, and a tiny tag weakly attached that read – in sharp and quick strokes – From Tighnari. 

Trepid about ruining the gift with his claws, Razor handled it with immense care, briefly skimming through the pages and allowing his eyes to hover over some of the illustrations within.

“It was one of my favourite books as a kit,” Tighnari explained once he saw that Razor’s interest wasn’t diminishing, “It tells the story of a goat and a wolf who become sworn friends, and who travel in search of a land where they can be free from the judgement of those who don’t understand them,” He paused, fondly watching as the boy slowly set the book aside and looked to him with eyes shining with profound emotion, “I hope it brings comfort if you ever feel alone.”

As though his throat were being wrung Razor barely managed a swallow and couldn’t find it in him to properly speak more than a cracked, “Thank you,” before shyly reaching into the box again.

This time he extracted a journal of sorts, one that was not unfamiliar, for he had sat with it open and under his focused gaze for hours whilst pressing flowers and leaves in between its pages. It wasn’t large but its cover was hefty and felt indestructible, whilst its paper carried the scent of nature. Upon its cover was the tag that bore Collei’s name, letters rotund and neat as though each stroke was studiously calculated.

“It’s not much but I figured it could carry the smell of Gandharva Ville for a while, in case you missed it,” Collei murmured, sheepishly rubbing at the nape of her neck, “When you come to visit, we’ll fill the remaining empty pages together.”

“Thank you,” Razor said again, voice feeble.

It was at such times he wished he were more adept at speaking – at capturing his emotions and thoughts into the functional little jars that were words, for inside him was a whirlwind of both aspects and yet his tongue did scant to make it known.

The last gift within the box – labelled by swirling yet straight letters with the name Cyno – actually comprised two pieces; they were brown leather forearm guards, sturdy and with lacing running up each of their inner sides. Said man watched with relief as Razor’s lips parted in awe at the intricate designs etched into the dried skin, turning and analysing the guards from every possible angle.

“You wear them on your arms and use them to block hits,” The General explained, watching the boy fiddle with the laces as if wanting to untie them, “They are reinforced with sheets of one of the most resilient, lightweight metals there is. I hope they can help you keep safe while you are working to protect your Lupical.”

“They are pretty,” Razor acknowledged, eyes still roaming over their details and fingers still persistently trying to undo the laces. He eventually gave up on his efforts with a mild pout and jutted them towards Cyno, “Help me wear them, please?”

“Sure,” The General laughed, humoured by the boy’s tenacity. 

The man slid the guards onto the boy's scarred forearms with ease, fingers deftly making work of the laces and fastening their ends into tidy knots. Upon completion, Razor lifted his arms into his line of vision and appreciated them with a satisfied sound. 

“I like them a lot. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, kid.”

Collei crooning at them brought the mood into a lighter, less sentimental tone, and Tighnari laughed as his partner’s ears reddened.

“Group hug!” The girl abruptly cried out almost as a battle cry, only to subsequently wrap her arms around those closest to her and pull them in.

Chuckles and muffled groans of faux displeasure erupted from the huddled family, everyone’s arms colliding and their knees knocking but their happiness remaining unmarred.

“This,” Razor whispered, shutting his eyes as he drank in the sensation of it all, “I will miss this.”

Notes:

three things rq:

1. inspiration for 4ggravate’s dnd characters comes from this artist’s incredible post! it was so good and made so much sense to me i simply had to reference it lmao please show their art some love! their post

2. the book gifted to razor by nari is actually a japanese animated film called Stormy Night which i really recommend bc it’s such a sweet and comforting watch

3. just to clarify: when playing dnd your group and dm will have a preliminary meeting to discuss the future campaign and your characters/how they would fit into it etc. once that is all settled and youve written your character sheets and such, the campaign can begin. in this i simplified it for convenience/it’s only a one-shot and also bc technically they’re not really playing dnd lol (this is still not the dnd scene i wanted to write that was the whole reason i started writing this fic btw lmao)

i enjoyed writing this chapter so i hope you enjoyed reading it! to mondstadt we (finally) go!

Chapter 21

They were loath to part but, unfortunately, time marched on and so did they have to keep moving along with their plans. Tighnari offered to help Razor with grooming his ears and tail, even brush through his lengthy hair if they had the chance, whilst Cyno finished packing and jotting down a comprehensive list of things that had to be handled by his matra whilst he was away. Once all were ready to leave, the family of four exited the Forest Watcher’s hut and made their way towards the riverbank where a couple of sumpter beasts leisurely grazed. 

Admittedly Razor had been reluctant to approach them, for his prior experience encountering one said creature in close proximity had been far from pleasant, but he eventually found it in himself to clamber onto one behind Cyno once Collei climbed up onto the second sumpter beast’s back behind Tighnari. Forest Watchers and Rangers alike called out their goodbyes to Razor, waving from where they were stationed and inviting him to visit soon.

Whilst his fathers discussed how to take care of and handle sumpter beasts during their voyage – Tighnari checking on the rations and mentally portioning them in a way that would be best – there came the sound of fast approaching, thudding footsteps backed by the drumming of multiple paws on damp soil.

“One moment, wait!”

Amir was panting heavier than the dogs that tailed him by the time he reached the group, blotchy-faced and hair dishevelled.

“I wanted… to tell you goodbye,” The man breathlessly spoke with his eyes trained on the wolf boy attentively watching him, his shoulders sharply rising and falling with each gulp of air, “It was really nice having you around, Razor. You’re a good kid, really.”

He spread his arms and looked down at the pack of dogs that agitatedly jumped and yelped around him, making sounds up at the boy as though having understood they wouldn’t be seeing him for a long while, “They’ll miss you. Come visit us – when you get the chance, that is.”

Razor’s heart twinged painfully again, those words plucking at a delicate cord in his chest. His sight fluttered over the dogs’ round eyes and drooping tails, at Amir who seemingly waited for him to respond – to assure him he would do as asked.

“I will come back,” Was all the boy vaguely said, but it brought the expression on the Ranger’s face to soften and gleam with a gentle, pleased look.

“We’ll be counting the days until your return, then.”

 

***

 

Under a hot sun, through sweeping breezes and beneath a canopy of stars, travelling when in good health and in pleasurable company turned out to be a more enjoyable activity than he previously thought. 

The sumpter beasts were patient and diligent in carrying them along swerving paths and along rumbling rivers, early one morning and deep into the next night, with Razor dozing off on Cyno’s shoulder whilst the man talked about the stars and constellations to Collei abreast of them. Their first day of travel was smooth and they lulled into the next much the same way. 

They had reached Liyue and what a sight it was to behold the golden peaks that seemed to encase sunshine itself and touch the roof of the sky – to see the grass of yellow that danced so high it reached their waists when they plopped down into it to stop and have lunch. Collei and Razor sprinted through the land of hills and valleys, laughing as they’d trip and yelling with adrenaline when one would catch the other. To spend days under the sun, unencumbered by society, free of all barriers, seen by only those you love and who return that love with the same sincerity – what a dream to live, even if for a day.

At night they stopped at the same inn where Razor, and the knight who’d ridden horseback with him to Sumeru, lodged months ago. It was all dark wood and candle light, scent very different from that one would find in a hut at Gandharva Ville; these rooms smelled of satin and parchment, of open ink bottles and silk flowers.

Razor watched the stars from their shared room, attempting to recall all those somewhat invisible shapes that could be envisioned amongst them. Ultimately his attention was stolen by a luminescent streak cutting across the navy blue canvas, glittering and shining until it faded into the nothingness of the vast world beyond, and he wondered if his wolf Lupical had seen that same star – if his wolf Lupical thought of him at the sight of it, just as he’d thought of them. 

That night’s sleep was hard won for his mind was blistering with growing worries and fears. The reality he was scared to face was growing to be all too close, and he began to question if he’d done well to leave the safe haven he’d found in the rainforest for a future suddenly uncertain. 

They were trudging along the beaten path on the outskirts of Wolvendom, with the Dawn Winery coming into view on their right, when conversation had sparked amongst his family; one he couldn't find it in himself to partake in, not with his anxiety making bile rise in his throat and his stomach constrict at sharp increments. 

“I can’t wait to see Amber again,” Collei said while plopping a segment of a fruit in her mouth, back resting against Tighnari’s own, “Dad, do you think she’ll be upset I didn’t warn her that I’ll be visiting?”

Tighnari had replied with an undertone of mirth but Razor was aloof, mind abruptly swept away by the gust of wind that lapped at his face almost in welcome. It was sweet, delicate; a mix of grass, dandelions and the pungent scent of freshly fermented wine. He shut his eyes for a moment, breathed in the smell he’d dreamt of and longed for throughout the majority of his time away, and how intrinsically different it was in comparison to that belonging to Sumeru’s rainforest. 

There were less layers to this scent. It was softer, laden with a near-tangible sugar and simplistic in the plants it wafted off of. Perhaps this change was due to him having heightened senses, what he recalled not entirely matching what he was then picking up on. 

It smelt of home, of where he belonged, but it was not the same.

 

***

 

“Wolfie!”

Klee had sprinted towards them with no second thought the moment their sumpter beasts came to a gradual stop just beyond the city gates. Her little legs carried her as fast as they could, skidding on gravel and kicking up dust, away from where a gathered group of people were apparently waiting. Waiting… for him?

With his heart in his throat and a sudden wetness in his eyes, he struggled to descend from the creature with great urgency, haphazardly dropping to his knees onto the hard ground just in time for the young girl to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him close. Footsteps were approaching, gasps and distorted words Razor couldn’t pick up on over the sound of his own erratic breathing and sniffles of the child that held onto him for dear life. 

He was embraced. He was missed.

Carefully he reciprocated the girl’s hold, noting she still carried the telltale smell of explosives and grilled fish. Silly child. At least she was safe.

“Klee, I am home.”

The subsequent events felt to be a sequence of flashes and murky colours until the world steadied itself. 

There were those leaf-green eyes blinking at him through tears, a crooked smile and a fresh band-aid on a tanned cheek. There was his voice: relieved, elated, ecstatic. There was his rambling and his slender arms coiling around Razor’s waist. There was his smell; that odd concoction of honey and soil and leather, and oh. Oh, Razor had missed Bennett so much he felt every cell that made up his physical being vibrate with electricity, a magnetic force pulling him towards the other. 

They hugged and hugged, Bennett garbling on about how much he had worried about him; how he had marked each day on his calendar until his return; how much he had longed to be by his side and for them to go adventuring together.

And the faucets in Razor’s eyes opened and gushed. They let salt water flow down his cheeks steadier than they had in a long while, and even though he did his best to convey the intensity of his own emotions – explain to Bennett that yes, he had missed him as much as a bird would miss the sky and a flower would miss the sun – all he could repeat was, “I missed you. I missed you.”

Fischl had joined in on their embrace, her persona of prestige and utmost elegance dwindling to near nothing at the sight of her dearest friends finally back together again. 

He was loved. He was accepted.

It was a long while – one Razor couldn’t assign a number of measure to for it was too short and not long enough, no matter how much time passed – before their reunited trio peeled themselves off of each other, all soppy smiles and embarrassed giggles. 

Razor’s eyes found themselves locked onto distant gems of green, saturated and glittering.

“My sweet wolf cub…”

Lisa wore a quivering smile, her eyes framed by thick, long lashes that had clumped together with her shed tears, silent in sound yet blaringly loud in sight. Her arms opened just enough to be encouraging and Razor couldn’t spare another moment before skittering over to her and almost collapsing into her hold. She gripped him as he gripped her, their tears seeping into one another’s skin, and he nuzzled as deeply as he could into her chest, relishing in her scent of roses and tea.

Mother. 

“Teacher,” He mumbled, doing his best to swallow his choked cries, “Teacher, I came back. I was strong.”

Her chuckle was as mellifluous as it could be, tinkling like wind chimes hanging off of the porch to a quaint home Razor now knew to be his own.

Her gloved fingers carded through his fur, petted his head and moved to cup the nape of his neck to urge him back so that she could get a good look at his face, as though doing her best to inscribe any new details she could see into her mind.

“You were so strong,” She whispered, head askew as he pressed his cheek to the inside of her forearm, “You were brave and strong, my gentle wolf. I’m proud of you. I… I missed you.”

Razor couldn’t describe what was occurring within the cage of his ribs, the abundance of emotions threatening to shatter them. He was trembling, he was dizzy and he felt as though he were sparking. 

He belatedly became aware of how fervently his tail was wagging behind him – the base muscles of it growing tired – and his cheeks dipped red at the realisation. As if understanding, Lisa's face relinquished its tone of deep-rooted joy and sentimentality in exchange for one of fond teasing. 

“My my, what adorable ears you’ve got now.”

The worn soles of his sandals shifted bashfully upon pale dirt, his ears twitching and drawing low.

“And your tail!” Chimed in Klee, boisterous and gleeful, tiny hands attempting to grab the wagging limb that deftly snapped away each time, “It’s so soft and fluffy!”

“Yeah, who would’ve thought you had such a cool part of yourself you never discovered!”

“In the mind of the Prinzessin, your new form does behest of glory and awe,” Fischl strikes a daring pose, her vivid emerald iris peeking out from between her gloved index and middle fingers she held up as a V before it, “Heed my words with due reverence for I, Fischl, declare your rank within our Adventuring Team to have been raised!” 

Klee and Bennett cheered at the announcement, clapping and pumping the air with clenched fists whilst Fischl laughed pridefully and all but danced out of her pose. Razor hadn’t fully comprehended what he was told, but this was not a new issue nor was it really a matter he considered to be such. His friends were laughing, his friends were happy to be around him, and it felt as though they had never been apart at all. 

Over their brief commotion Lisa approached the rest of the visiting group with a smile of gratitude, the brim of her wide hat gracefully flapping in the breeze.

“Little Cyno, Tighnari and darling Collei,” She greeted mirthfully, briefly snickering at Cyno’s head timidly dipping at the nickname prior to reigning in her mischief to instead be genuine, “I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you’ve done. Without your efforts, intellect and kindness, I dread to think of what other conclusions the situation might’ve reached.”

Collei remained a step behind the General, evidently shy in the presence of Lisa’s outgoing and playful personality, while the latter himself seemed to have recoiled, even if marginally. 

Perhaps being someone’s junior simply does that to you? The girl unwittingly pondered.

“It was of no great sacrifice on our part, I assure you,” Tighnari replied, politely bowing his head, “He was a pleasure to have around and we will miss him greatly.”

Lisa hummed, smile soft, her eyes shifting to their peripherals to glance at the wolf boy surrounded by his companions, tail swishing and canines shining.

“He really is a treasure, isn’t he?” Her voice was lofty, as though it intended to be carried off by the wind, and then she returned her focus to those before her, beaming, “I hope your trip here was a pleasant one. By the looks of your baggage, I assume you’ll be staying a few days?”

“That’s right,” Cyno finally spoke, arms crossed over the black hooded cloak that wrapped over his shoulders and covered his chest, shrouding his form, “We intend on spending not more than a week.”

“Oh, what lovely news. I do hope you’ll have the chance to recount all that transpired to me then; I appreciated the updates via letter but I really do have many questions still unanswered.”

“Of course,” Tighnari took a step nearer, standing fully by Cyno’s side, “A conversation about all he went through and discovered might be in order, especially seeing as how he wishes to visit the wolf god who raised him.”

At the final phrase Lisa’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second until she sculpted her muscles into a position more pleasant.

“Yes, certainly, I can imagine that to be the case… Ah, well. Come now, everyone,” She hurriedly addressed all in close vicinity, effectively ending their private conversation, “Let’s head to the Good Hunter for a hearty lunch. You poor things must be positively starving,” Striding towards Razor, she affectionately petted his head twice and giggled at his happy purr, “Jean is also awaiting us. She’s eager to see you again, cub.”

 

***

 

Fears weren’t necessarily exaggerated scenarios and worries weren’t necessarily unfounded, these statements being more so factual when they were rooted in previous experience and bore seedlings of truth. 

There was something unsettling about the way the eyes of people lingered on his wolven ears, watched his swaying tail and spied his weapon-like claws. Their stares stung and pricked and stabbed at his skin, doused it with alcohol and set it alight, burning him and searing him until he felt the pain of it in his bones. It was more intense than it had ever been; infinitely worse than when he’d stepped out of the Bimarstan in Sumeru City and worse than how the Mondstadt locals used to look at him prior to his whole transformation. They now openly leered and retreated at the sight of him, and the sense of being a beast among humans resurfaced tenfold.

The guards at the gate had admittedly allowed their small crowd into the city, but it seemed to be more so due to the fact that they had Lisa and guests from afar with them, for Razor had an inkling that had he been alone he would have been put under greater scrutiny and denied entry.

There were agitated whispers and wandering gazes, subtle gasps and hands covering mouths in a vain attempt at having whatever left their lips remain a secret; but the wind was ever one to bring truth to light and his ears hardly permitted anything to be lost to his perception.

“He was always a feral creature,” A lady buying flowers said as they walked along the cobbled street, “now you can just see it as clear as day.”

“It’s the weirdo of Wolvendom… I thought we were finally rid of him running amok.”

A startled grasp for her partner’s arm, her body hiding behind his taller frame as she spoke, alarmed, “Is he a wolf? Do you see his claws and his teeth? Lord Barbatos, he must bite into meat like a wild animal would with those things. Does he not pose a threat to us? Why on Teyvat would the guards have let him in?”

Razor – for a lasting, aching moment – longed to be able to tear the ears from his head and the tail from his back, pry off his claws and rip out his fangs, rid himself of his threatening, predatory features and tell everyone – show everyone, I am still me. I am just Razor. I am a person, like you. 

“Why are his nails shaped that way? And his eyes… His ears are moving, do you think he can hear us?”

The boy quickened his steps to blend into the cluster his friends had made, having begun to converse with Collei who was doing her utmost to surpass her initial shyness. They were discussing sumpter beasts at the present, Fischl stating they would be worthy for her to ride as the Prinzessin and Collei in turn watching the girl as she spoke. She was openly fascinated by Fischl who was so alternatively dressed to herself – what with her gothic black dress and boots accented by deep purple and lace sections, sheer cuts in her ensemble and bat motifs as decor, topped off by an eyepatch hiding her left eye. Fischl had a flair for the dark and the dramatic, attributes Collei couldn’t remember having seen so perfectly encapsulated within a singular person before.

Razor did what he could to focus on what they had to say rather than anyone else, and soon Bennett had an arm draped over his shoulders as they walked into the eatery already bustling with chatter and laughter.

The Acting Grandmaster was indeed waiting at a table for them to arrive, uniform of white and blue as pristine as ever, blonde hair immaculately tied back and posture ramrod straight. 

“There you are,” The woman said at the sight of them approaching, standing from her chair to prioritise reaching Razor, tentatively giving his shoulder a pat or two, “Welcome back. I’m so happy to see you returned in good health.”

Razor bobbed his head, mumbled a nervous, “Thank you,” and then the wheel to the machine that was social niceties and standardised human interaction – which he had no clue how to steer – was taken over. 

The adults shook hands and introduced themselves, exchanged pleasantries and gathered to seat themselves on one end of the extended table, leaving the other for the kids who did the same. Unfathomably, despite him having felt the absence of Lisa, upon having sat beside her he regretted his choice. 

The eatery was bursting with overlapping voices and sounds, the clinking of plates and the screeching of cutlery against dishes; it was a commotion that was urging him towards the edge of overstimulation and anxiety, things that he learnt where easier to control if Cyno was by his side, unaffected, sturdy, but also kind and quick to pick up on his unvoiced discomfort. 

Fortunately he would be eating a delicious, juicy steak soon enough and hopefully the taste of what was home would ground him.

It didn’t take long for the discussion to turn to Sumeru and the events that transpired there, Cyno and Tighnari taking it upon themselves to relay most things in broad detail while urging Razor to say his piece from time to time. It was difficult to speak of certain matters and Razor felt as though his dads had elected to leave out the more grim moments, at least during that afternoon’s lunch, but he was relieved by their choice. He didn’t think he could handle burdening Teacher with needless worry or have his friends look at him with pity. 

“Truly fascinating,” Jean commented quietly, by then deep in thought, “I wonder if the Knights of Favonius’ collection has any documents or texts regarding the Lupus Entia.”

Lisa hummed, dabbing her mouth clean of any food, “Well, the library doesn’t have any as of yet, but I have sought out some merchants and historians who are willing to help us find what we may need.”

“I see. To have an entire race scrubbed from Teyvat’s history… Something terrible must have happened.”

The Acting Grandmaster had said what had been on everyone’s mind and yet the group still lulled into a pensive pause, eyes straining on half-eaten meals or on the reflective surface of the water within their cups.

“It is for this reason Cyno and I support him paying a visit to the wolf god,” Tighnari eventually said, broaching the topic with care as Lisa’s earlier reaction to it remained clear in his mind, “He must have known more than we initially did to have behaved as he had. Perhaps he’ll now be more favourable to sharing that information with us.”

Jean nodded, setting her cutlery down to place her hands atop one another on her lap.

“I fully agree,” Her eyes drifted to her lover, the librarian’s form tense and strained, “I know you have your reservations and I acknowledge that they are not without sound reason, but he deserves to know more, doesn’t he?”

Lisa’s reply never came, her lips painted with a polite smile refusing to part, and Cyno cleared his throat.

“If you fear for his safety, Tighnari and I have decided to accompany him,” He resolutely assured, “No matter what, we will ensure no harm comes to him.”

Razor’s mind fogged with bafflement at the way they spoke of Lupus Boreas. He couldn’t deny that the god having not shown himself in the boy’s time of need was a severe blow to the young one’s heart, but the god had never posed a threat to him in all their years together; rather, he had guided him and steered him clear of unnecessary danger. 

The wolf boy did not raise his voice to say this however, for the adults appeared too engrossed in their own perspective to view the situation his way. Regardless, he would be visiting Lupus Boreas along with his wolf Lupical very soon and the thought filled him with jittery butterflies, mildly knotting his guts. 

“Hey, team, how about we go outside the city for a while?” Bennett suggested in a low voice so as to only be heard by his friends, “We could even show you around Mondstadt for a bit, Collei. If you’re up to it, that is.”

The girl eagerly nodded, her smile as ever radiant.

“I’d love that. I’ve actually visited here before, but I would like to see more of the woods and meadows!”

“What splendid words have waltzed to mine ears over the tune of an instrument so sweet!” Proclaimed Fischl, hand on her puffed chest, ready to perform, “As heroes of stories long told, we shall unite and traverse the sweeping lands of Mondstadt! Mayhaps, before the moon courts the night sky in these coming hours, let us set out for not longer than it takes a flower to bloom; I do say, by the blessing of the next sun, we should spend its time of light seeking the truths of this world beyond these meagre walls!”

Collei let out a stupified giggle, searching for answers from Razor who merely shrugged his shoulders prior to turning to Bennett who appeared to understand his help was needed with a start, jolting in his seat.

“Ah,” He began, flustered, “What she means to say is that since it’s getting late we shouldn’t spend too much time out today. Tomorrow though, we can spend the entire day together!”

“Oh, thank you!” Collei replied, giving a clap of her hands as laughter continued to bubble out of her, “That sounds great; I’ll be looking forward to it! You’ll be joining, won’t you?” She asked Razor, eyes glittering with hope. 

The boy harrumphed and nodded, mirroring the smile.

It was enough, for his friends all cheered and Bennett set off with talking about where they should go and what they should do, recounting previous adventures and the funniest mishaps. Razor gazed upon them all, chest fuzzy and warm, as though he were swaddled by a thick blanket. 

He was happy.

Notes:

ive decided to have a copy or two of this story printed for myself and im currently trying to figure out the design for the cover and formatting! once all chapters are published here i’ll be reviewing the work a couple of times for errors/plot holes and then sending it off to be printed for which im quite excited!

ah just in case, if anyone would like a copy feel free to hmu on twitter/tumblr or straight up on discord at gh0stbra1nz. i wont be printing until december earliest and even then ill be making a spare copy just in case so dont hesitate!

anyway thanks for reading and for all the support! i believe only 2 chapters are left which is crazy! thank you for everything!

Chapter 22

Notes:

happy birthday to my boy! the spotify razor playlist has now been published even on youtube for those who don't use spotify (this one had to be taken down and re-uploaded. i apologise to those who saved it and lost the og ver)!

this is the longest chapter in the entirety of this story btw so strap in buckaroos

A guffaw; a shriek; a stupefied “Puh! How dare you?!” – Razor snorted as Bennett tagged Fischl and sprinted off in the former’s direction, running toward and alongside his best friend whilst Collei dodged Fischl’s futile attempts at catching her.

Daylight had long been beating upon their forms, turning their cheeks a tender pink and their skin into a bejewelled artwork; perspiration trickled along their temples and trailed their backs as they ran after one another in their endless game of hide and seek that had morphed into a simple battle of catch.

Collei had been quick to find her footing amongst the group and had rapidly taken up the second-in-command role of keeping the rowdier boys in check, aiding Fischl in the strenuous task. It was impressive to see how easily Collei adapted to new friends. Razor wondered if she too pondered each word, tone and act she carried out in their presence to have their approval as he did when encountering strangers, but she appeared unencumbered by such thoughts, plainly rejoicing at the chance of having companions her age to spend time with.

“Tag! You’re it!”

Razor stumbled forward as Fischl’s palm splayed flat on his back with an uncontrolled force, and he lurched around to instinctively grab at her so as to prevent his fall. 

The girl yelped, whined a soft, “Ow,” and his hand yanked itself from her forearm as if he had been scalded, allowing his body to tumble to the ground in a heap, painfully crushing his tail.

Fischl held onto her right arm and Razor’s mind spun – flashed with images of memories he wished he could eradicate from his consciousness. He almost gagged at the sight of a fine thread of crimson dribbling down to his friend’s elbow. 

Again. Again. He had done it again. Monster.

“Oi, what happened?”

Razor’s head snapped to where Bennett was jogging over from, Collei in tow with a concerned furrow to her brow.

“I am sorry,” He earnestly apologised, his pulse spiking as his fingers dug into the blades of grass and soil beneath them, guilt materialising as a boulder on his chest, “Sorry.”

“Ah, it is but a miniscule wound of mortal flesh!” Fischl was quick to assure, raising her arm as if the shallow cuts done by Razor’s claws were a trophy, “What war does not incur injury? What Prinzessin does not stand donning such with pride? Rescind your apology, mein Freund!”

“Don’t worry about it, Razor,” Bennett soothingly spoke, careful in his steps as he approached, as if concerned he’ll frighten off the other, “She’s not hurt. It was a mistake. Here, grab onto me.”

The wolf boy stared apprehensively at the hand Bennett offered him, his smile amicable and warm, evidently intent on helping him up. Razor’s eyes cast themselves to his own hands, fingers partially smeared with damp earth and the faintest hint of crimson on his curved claws.

He couldn’t bring himself to touch Bennett, he couldn’t risk hurting him as well.

Internal turmoil having brewed out onto his face, his thoughts were as easy to read as an open book to the young adventurer whose gentle smile tinted with sympathy. Slowly Bennett lowered himself down onto one knee and reached for one of Razor’s hands, moving at a pace that permitted the latter to avoid his touch if he wished to. Razor didn’t, but he did flinch at the grazing of the boy’s worn gloves over his knuckles before his fingers latched around the other’s palm and turned it upright. 

Razor watched as Bennett set their hands together, his ruby eyes fluttering between the boy’s own and his calm hold. Fluidly moving their fingers like entities of water, Bennett linked them as one and his smile became a grin, the band-aid on his cheek lifting with the force of it.

“See? You’re not hurting me.”

He was rigid and afraid, but he also felt as if he were on the verge of self-combustion. 

His pulse roared in his ears like a crowd chanting something he couldn’t pick up on, and his eyes – round, befuddled, inquisitive – blinked back at Bennett who only fastened his hold on him.

This was not merely fear. Something else – something incomprehensible, yet just as formidable – had seeped into it. 

“Here, I brought some bandages with me.”

At Collei’s voice cutting through the deafening chaos within Razor’s skull, the boy looked to her to see that she was nearing Fischl, the pouch she’d strapped around her waist already open and being fiddled around with. 

Always prepared, the Forest Ranger rinsed off the cuts with water from her waterskin and proceeded to deftly bandage the oddly quiet patient’s forearm.

“There we go. Now no dirt should get in,” Collei announced upon completion, satisfaction clear in her tone.

It was just as well that the situation had been handled for Razor’s ears swivelled west as they picked up on the sound of footfalls, steady and rhythmic; a group of people coming their way. 

“Someone is close,” He told the others, momentarily forgetting about the way his hand was still intertwined with Bennett’s. He sniffed at the breeze, head tilting up and angling itself differently in an attempt to pinpoint from where the people were approaching and who they specifically were.

There was the scent of mushrooms, perfumed oils and flowers. There was the scent of roses and tea and the lingering undercurrent of dandelions.

“Family,” He said to appease the rest who had remained on tenterhooks, holding their breaths and preparing for a possible collision with hilichurls or slimes until he’d assuaged their worries.

There was a collective sigh and then the visitors’ figures came into view, rapidly drawing nearer until they were in clear sight. Abruptly flustered, Bennett disconnected his hand from Razor’s, his tan cheeks taking on the hue of a ripe sunsettia as he stumbled onto his feet and dusted off his knee, poorly feigning ignorance to the analytical stare that tracked his every move.

Cyno was the first to make a sound when close enough to be heard, giving a hum as his seemingly all-knowing eye jumped between Bennett – who fidgeted with his tattered, collared vest – and Razor, who was gazing at the hand he’d thoughtlessly left up, as if unfamiliar with the cold that came with the lack of shared touch.

“We were hoping we’d find all of you here,” Tighnari began, arms crossing over his chest, “You look worn out. Have you been staying hydrated and taking cover from the sun at regular intervals?”

Collei took it upon herself to reply, nodding before speaking.

“Yeah dad, we’ve been careful.”

“That’s good then. Razor,” The boy’s head snapped up at the call of his name, his hand dropping limply to his lap, “Are you willing to visit Boreas now? We came to accompany you, but it’s fine if you don’t feel ready.”

Razor’s mind, still fogged by previous pondering, was thrown into a raging storm at the question. Was he ready to see Lupus Boreas again? Or, rather, was he prepared for the possibility that his wolf Lupical leader wouldn’t wish to speak to him for a second time? 

The latter was a question that strangely didn’t taste all that bitter. He no longer relied solely on Lupus Boreas to be anchored to the world; to have a home and purpose; to have meaning and connection. No, he was certain it would hurt to be dismissed again, but he would be alright, eventually. He would do what he could to understand the reason why he was cut off and move on.

Close in importance was being able to meet with his Lupical again. He hadn’t seen them in so long. Had they felt his absence as he felt theirs? Had new pups been born whilst he was away? Would the little ones still be willing to play with him? These thoughts left him antsy and excited. He could have his human family meet his wolf one.

He earnestly nodded his head and made to stand.

“I am ready,” He spoke, hand on his chest and a radiance to his being, “New family, become friends with wolf family. That, is a good thing.”

Cyno couldn’t prevent a small smile from curving his lips.

“Perfect. Let’s set off then.”

“Ah, before I forget,” Lisa interjected for the first time, “Fischl dear, the Adventurers’ Guild asked me to inform you that you have an important commission lined up and that it would be preferable if you claimed it soon.”

Fischl scuffed her right boot against the ground, making a sound of disappointment.

“I give you my thanks, Miss Lisa, for bringing this message to me. Ruefully,” The girl turned to her friends, offering a solemn bow, “the Prinzessin accompanying you on this most precious of reunions was ordained not to be by the word of fate. Alas, we must allow our one path to become two and walk our own way for a time.”

Straightening herself she approached Razor and indicated seeking a hug, to which he partially lifted his hands in acceptance. They embraced for a quick moment, Fischl offering a comforting pat on the back prior to her stepping away and giving him a smile.

“By the light of the stars and the might of darkness’ will, I wish you the greatest fortune and joy on this day. I do hope you will tell me all about what transpires upon our future hours together.”

Getting a vague gist of her words Razor harrumphed in promise and, after she bid her farewell to everyone gathered, she took off running towards the city, the bouncing black drapes of her dress akin to a corvid’s flapping wings.

“Miss Lisa, can I come along?” Bennett asked hesitantly, worried he will also have to leave his friend at such a juncture.

“Oh, me too! Can I come?” It was Collei who chirped up next, as though she had automatically believed she would be able to join them and the thought to ask for permission came later.

At the sight of their hope Lisa let out a bemused giggle, a gloved hand elegantly masking her mouth as she did so.

“Why, what a tender scene,” She jovially teased, “Will you be joining his bodyguard ranks too? If so, the list is already quite lengthy.”

“I may not be super strong, but I’ve been taught many practical skills!” Collei stated to prove her case, aiming for approval.

Contrastingly, Bennett’s cheeks dusted red once more, his hand awkwardly going to rub at the nape of his neck as his sight sank to the ground.

“Uhm, now that I think about it, I don’t really bring the best of luck. I should stay behind. You go – Huh?”

The remainder of his sentence was lost to him gasping as Razor took hold of the free hand at his side, determined and almost pleading, with his eyes locked onto Bennett’s.

“Bennett, come. Please.”

Bashful and sputtering half-spoken words, Bennett could only gingerly nod.

“Seeing as how Razor has given his go-ahead, you both can come with.”

Having received Lisa’s blessing, Cyno reminded everyone to be cautious and to stay close together before the group commenced their lengthy walk to the woods of Mondstadt and to the home Razor had always known – to Wolvendom.

 

***

 

Their journey there was predominantly tranquil with only scarce scuffles involving stray hilichurls along their way, all of which Cyno handled swiftly and expertly, rendering the beings unconscious with no preamble or leisure. Razor could see from his movements that the General had hardly exerted even a fraction of his skill and power, yet Bennett was immensely dazzled and whispered words of praise and awe into his friend’s ear each time, swelling the latter’s chest with pride.

Perhaps it was thanks to the wolves’ heightened senses, or possibly they were simply always on high alert, that shortly after the group breached the invisible territory line into Wolvendom they were accosted by sounds of guttural growls and baritone snarls.

Instantly Cyno got into a crouch and Tighnari materialised a bow and arrow of sleek silver and verdant leaves. Lisa swiftly stood before Collei and Bennett, arms splayed and shielding them with her body lest they were suddenly attacked.

There was silence, Razor’s heart thudding in his ears, and in the moment it took for him to shift a foot on the ground for better balance, a pack of wolves descended upon them from a tall stone platform that lined the main path into the forest. 

There was yipping and howling, grunts and growls, and Razor stood between his two families, breath shallow and brow wrinkled. The wolves – with dense coats of grey and black, with keen, yellow eyes and thick saliva polishing their exposed teeth – critically watched as the boy took a slight step towards them, a hand up and tail low.

“Lupical, I am me,” He spoke clearly, doing his best to focus his attention on all of the familiar faces that stared back at him, “I am here, home.”

For a tense handful of seconds the wolves appeared unconvinced by his words, their hefty paws seemingly digging into the ground as though rearing to spring forth in attack; but there came the first sniff at the air, a singular head extending to better pick up on the boy’s scent and – as though recognition struck like lightning – the wolf let out a loud yelp and bounded upon the boy, dropping him to the ground and slobbering his face with zealous licks.

The rest of the pack wasted no time before following suit and joining in on the forming pile until Razor’s body was entirely hidden by his wolven companions and all that could be heard was him laughing in their shared delight.

Unaccustomed to the nature of the situation, Cyno and Tighnari were slow to ease their tension whilst Collei fervently whipped out her pocket notebook and pen to jot down observations about the animals’ behaviour. Spotting this, Bennett briefly peeked over to get a look at her scribbled words and huffed out a chuckle, unintentionally snapping her out of focus and bringing her to the realisation that she had been caught.

“The wolves tend to be welcoming if you bring them food,” He whispered to her over the continuing cacophony created by said creatures and Razor rolling around on the soil some ways off, “If you want to know more about them, all four of us can come back tomorrow and Razor can help you guys become friends.”

Collei’s previously embarrassed expression glimmered with surprise and glee at the tantalising suggestion, her desire to learn burning brighter than her shyness.

“I’d love that, thanks!”

They watched and waited until the wolves had had their fill of celebrating one of their pack members’ return, eventually standing and unveiling the boy who panted with the shadow of laughter still in his lungs. Razor gradually sat up, petted the muzzle of one of the wolves who bumped its snout against the boy’s head, and looked back at his human family with a smile so genuine it set ablaze the hearts of all who saw it.

“Wolf Lupical is happy,” He explained to them, tone elated, subsequently redirecting his focus to the animals still encircling him, “Wolf Lupical, this is my human Lupical. They are not dangerous. They are friends.”

A wolf gave a grunt of understanding and Tighnari wondered if they could actually comprehend human language or if Razor simply had a knack for communicating with them.

The boy – whose clothes were then stained with dirt and grass and whose unkempt fur was decorated with twigs and leaves – made to stand, the size of the wolves being so enormous in comparison to himself that they reached his shoulders in height. 

“Lupical, we are going to see Lupus Boreas now,” He informed them, and a choir of disillusioned whines resounded from the pack, “I am sorry. Tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and much tomorrows after, we will be together.”

His words of promise successfully lulled the wolves into a sense of acceptance and they trotted to the sides of the path in order to allow the humans safe passage. Their eyes remained strained on the new visitors but there was no malice or threat to their demeanour, merely caution and kindled curiosity.

“You are loved by many,” Cyno commented as they walked, smiling when Razor sheepishly hummed in response, “They were very pleased to see you.”

Razor could only hope the same was to be said for Boreas.

“Me too,” He murmured in reply, quelling the thought before it could cause anxiety to fester within him, “Also happy to see them.”

The inset arena of carved grey stone was soon to come into sight, amidst the looming trees that huddled around it like spectators ever-waiting the chance to witness a trial. It always held an unfathomable energy to it; one of abandonment and lack of human interference, yet with the icy presence of what couldn’t be seen by a naked eye. 

Their footsteps cracked on felled branches and kicked at small, shattered rocks, and the closer they drew to the arena, the faster Razor’s pulse thrummed. 

He stilled for the briefest moment upon seeing those yet-to-glow eyes that watched over the space from within their stone wall encasing, hesitant. A hand lightly set itself on his shoulder and he looked up to see that Lisa was by his side, smiling reassuringly at him with a glint of resolve in her own jadeite irises.

No words were shared as they descended into the arena, all but Razor gingerly flitting their sight about in search of any signs of life. Razor, instead, stared at those cold, stone eyes and willed his courage to be made of much the same stuff.

“Lupus Boreas?”

A prolonged pause of silence, a bird shuffling in its nest at his call that disturbed the peace and, for a second, the fear that he would never see the wolf god again jabbed at his heart. 

His fists clenched, his breathing quickened, and then there came a bellowing howl that rattled their bones and deafened their ears; that characteristic gust of blue and white fog that carried a chill sharp enough to bring them all to shiver and that emanated from the ground, enshrouding them. When they next parted their eyelids it was to the view of a majestic, immense wolf of frigid ice caps and snow, cutting through the cloud from the very wall in which those eyes of grey then glowed cerulean.

Razor’s muscles went lax at the sight of him, every word in his head dissolving.

“Pup,” The Great Wolf spoke in that baritone, coarse voice, words always lingering in the air like a winter’s wind would carry on the murmurs of leaves, “You have returned in your new form. My spirit can finally be at ease, knowing you have survived.”

None of the adults or his friends spoke, nor did they make a sound, and Razor struggled to formulate coherent sentences with which to reply to the god who had cared for him for as long as he could remember, but who had hurt him so profoundly.

At his silence Boreas let out a gruff sound, not necessarily one of displeasure yet not entirely welcoming, as his focus turned to the people gathered behind the boy.

“You have brought a crowd,” He began, voice underlined by distaste, a detail that had the General’s muscles grow taut in preparation to strike, “Who are these… outsiders that you have guided into my arena?”

The question was an easy one to answer, which was perhaps exactly what Razor needed to be snapped out of his stupor. 

He roughly shook his head and patted his cheeks, attempting to partake in the current conversation rather than stand and stare mindlessly.

“Lupus Boreas, this is my family. My human Lupical. It has grown much.”

Grunting, the Great Wolf’s large paws thumped in place upon the fractured slabs of stone beneath them, his lengthy tail – that was composed of jagged icicles and blue shards – flicked briskly, capturing sunlight and refracting its rays much like a crystal would. 

“You have assimilated yourself even further to the humans during your stay away, Razor.”

The stitching around the words was akin to barbed wire, but with nothing inherently malicious or incorrect about them Razor couldn’t understand why they had him shrinking in size, his shoulders drawing closer to his neck and his head dipping low.

“I must say that such is unavoidable when the one who initially cared for him refused to be present in his time of need,” Lisa interjected, voice like a well-honed blade – violent but wielded so gracefully that the implications glimmered on its metal prior to it slicing to the core of the matter. 

Affronted, the wolf god gave a disgruntled growl. 

“I have my reasons, human , for which I do not solicit your opinions on,” The words were spat with venom and concluded with a snarl that had both Collei and Bennett take fearful steps back; Razor merely frowned.

There was that gnawing in his chest again, jaws sinking their teeth into the throbbing heart that persistently twitched, and a wetness in the boy’s eyes became unavoidable.

He lifted his head and held the god’s gaze.

“Explain why,” His hands quivered where they dangled at his sides and he belatedly realised he had underestimated how difficult confronting the ancient spirit would be, “Please. Make me understand.”

A sigh equivalent to a breeze blew at them, ruffling Razor’s fur, and Boreas’ stance edged into one less imposing.

“Razor…” Boreas allowed the boy’s name to linger between them, or maybe he couldn’t think of what next to say, but even with the traits of his voice that instilled fear anyone could tell his tone had become doleful and gentle.

“Though you now know of your true form, at the time, you lived as nothing more than what you believed you were. I knew from the moment I saw the print on your skin, when you were but the size of a calf and struggled to run on two feet, that you belonged to the Lupus Entia race. I made the conscious decision to not inform you of this, however. In truth, I had assumed the bloodline had been reduced to mere traces and that nothing would ever come of its remnants in your blood. In hindsight, such was a foolish miscalculation. It was in part what urged me to not speak my thoughts yet, admittedly, I was also driven by a fear of a reality I dreaded to be true.”

Hooked, black claws scraped against rock as Boreas brought his hind legs forth and sat back on them, chest of rolling white fur adorned by ornaments, puffing outward from under his head held high. His eyes, luminescent and blue as a flame, took on a glaze of recollection of memories, long since a dried river of torment but that still flowed when flooded with rain. 

“I have bore witness to the inevitable transformation process that occurs when a suppressed Lupus Entia reaches a certain age – centuries ago, when your people were numerous and prideful in these lands. I have watched as children of families seeking shelter to avoid being slain were forced to hide their distinctive features and how, as all things do, when they rose to the surface despite their best efforts, it would tear at their bodies and diminish their health so greatly that they would die an agonising death regardless.”

Lisa’s hand jerked to instinctively reach out to Razor, as if to protect him or confirm he was truly there at all.

“I have watched children spiral into insanity, lose all reason, morph into feral beasts that would disembowel and slaughter their own loved ones. To know that you were at risk of meeting a not dissimilar fate and being aware of my own ineptitude with regards to being of aid…”

The god’s words dissipated for a tense moment, his fortified stature only barely countering the sombre way he looked down at the boy who attentively listened to every word, outwardly unaffected.

“It was too late for me to rectify the choice I had made a decade ago. I could not bear to witness your death,” Lupus Boreas ultimately carried on, “nor could I bear to deceive you and have you believe all would be well. It was a decision spurred by my own weakness. It was fed by my selfishness to preserve your image in my mind as the boy who survived against all odds and who, despite his human nature, understood the true meaning of freedom. For my shortcomings and for the hardship they brought you, I ask your forgiveness.”

There was not a sound as the confession steeped in everyone’s minds, the information slowly brewing and processing as the wolf boy stood immobile for stretched out moments. 

Lupus Boreas’ tail had set itself down onto the rock; the tall, blue ears upon his head sank back into his mane; his eyes – the wolven features that wove together his face – gave no indication of any sentiment as he awaited the much smaller boy’s response.

It was, in fairness, much for Razor to dissect and swallow, his mind turning to his blurred past in attempts of bringing to the forefront instances in which he could have been able to pick up on clues, perhaps allowing him to foresee the future that was destined for him. There were none.

His eyes met those of the god, crimson meeting azure midway, and his vision grew wobbly.

He had been lied to, he had been deceived, but he couldn’t bring his anger to surpass the relief he felt at knowing it had come from a place of care. 

With quaking knees and dragging steps, he walked to the wolf god apprehensively, as if fearing he’d be refused. When Lupus Boreas remained still, chin tucking itself into the tufts of his chest so that he could maintain his sight on the boy, Razor let his body drop against the wolf’s massive form, the front of his being entirely sinking into the god’s white fur. 

It was that familiar ice cold; the same he had snuggled into as a pup during heatwaves, the same he had had to plead Boreas to let him hold even during the low temperatures of past winters. It was silken, thick and suffocating in how long it was and how he seemed to be swallowed up by it the deeper he pressed into the god’s chest, but he shut his eyes and breathed until his lungs were so full they could have burst. 

His hands – bare, shivering, reddening from the sheer chill of Boreas’ body – clutched desperately at the latter’s fur, wordlessly pleading Don’t leave. Don’t leave me again. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to verbalise his emotions, not when they engulfed him so intensely and not when his voice had felt to be locked away in his throat. He simply held on to Lupus Boreas and did his utmost to hide the tears he shed when the wolf carefully set his snout atop the boy’s head, almost in lieu of a kiss – a sign of tender affection.

“I am sorry, pup, for what you have endured,” The god’s voice was impossibly quiet for how booming it could be, sincere in its regret, “I am proud of who you have become.”

Time trickled on in a haze what with the god eventually laying on his belly, front paws regally crossed before him, whilst the visitors had joined him in sitting on the ground, Tighnari taking on the duty of recounting what they had learned about Razor’s history so that Boreas could rectify falsehoods and fill in blanks.

Razor, still incapable of speech, sat cross-legged upon the hard rock, sandwiched between Collei and Bennett who shared their warmth with him in the space that had turned so chilled.

“He is indeed a descendant of an ancient and near-eradicated race, purged by humanity for being feared as predators and violent beings, plainly by association with the wolven kind,” Boreas explained with underlying sorrow, the centuries past not having been enough to wash the tragedy’s effects from his soul.

“Though they had not brought harm to others – and most often died in attempting to prove so – they were forced to live in terror and hiding upon being discovered, exiled from their homes and lands, pushed always further into the wilds. When their settlements would be found, their homes would be set aflame in the course of one night, and once their screams of agony had bled into the ground, all that would be left was ash, cinders and the charred remains of precious lives.”

“The Lupus Entia are a unique race, for they are the sole group capable of suppressing their distinctive features at will. Such a fact had benefited the adults who had better control and stronger bonds with their soul companions, but it jeopardised the lives of children who had never been given the chance to do the same.”

He huffed out a breath from his nostrils, his large head shaking in scorn. 

“Once this ability became known they were labelled as wolves in sheeps’ clothing, morally depraved beasts rather than people. Nobody was spared of being put on trial or interrogated for suspicion of being a Lupus Entia, both most often leading to death despite no evidence to bolster claims made against them. With Razor having subconsciously suppressed his wolven features for numerous years, he had begun to walk the path many children before him had not returned from. It wore on his physical and mental state, destabilised his elemental power as, without his knowledge, he was continuously funnelling effort into maintaining his human appearance. Perhaps a necessary evolution in order to survive.”

“Did other Lupus Entia escape this genocide?” Cyno asked, face forcibly stoic but his singular eye burning with a scantily tempered rage, a hunger for a justice too late to be dealt roaring within his stomach.

The wolf god grunted, his attention settling upon the man with an appraising stare prior to replying.

“With Razor’s presence among us, yes; it is likely there are some who have yet to leave the shadows they found refuge in.”

Razor’s knuckles turned white from the force with which he gripped his knees, his eyes strained intently on the ground. There were still others like him, somewhere in the vastness of Teyvat. Was there a possibility of his parents being two of the few, or had they been served a cruel fate in their years outside of his life?

“We were told that the spirit that dwells within him is typically acquired through a ritual or consensual bond; however, Razor has no memory of either,” Tighnari posed the question with a scholarly tone, ears twitching in interest.

Lupus Boreas cast his sight upon the Forest Watcher next and the latter had the sense that the change in direction for the conversation was a disliked one.

“His soul companion is the spirit of one of our slain Lupical members, his life cut short during an attack by those abyssal beings one night in Razor’s childhood, when he was trying to protect the pup from harm. His spirit was somehow imbued into Razor’s elemental power and the intense desire with which he sought to keep the pup safe allowed him to unwittingly form a lifelong bond with the pup, becoming his soul companion. Such cases of bypassing the ritual have been rare, the situation seldom replicated, but there have been previous occurrences.”

Exhausting that which he wanted to say regarding the matter, Boreas returned his full attention to Razor who had yet to look up from the ground.

“Pup, listen to me.”

Razor did as told, fading back into the present and raising his head. Quietly, Bennett set a hand upon the boy’s thigh, a mute reminder of the support he would always offer.

“I can teach you to conceal your features, to return to your base human form,” Razor’s eyes rounded, his throat closing up, “Once you master complete control over your body, you could elect to conceal only specific aspects at a time: your ears, your fangs, your claws – whichever ails you. It will never not cause you pain, but if it will bring you safety – if it will bring you peace, I will teach you to do as your ancestors did. You must swear one thing to me in return, pup.”

Razor’s thoughts twisted and curled together, baffling him and stunting him while simultaneously cheering at the fact that he could return to how he was, at least enough so that the people of Mondstadt would accept him.

He nodded. Lupus Boreas had never been unreasonable in their exchanges.

“Very well. You must swear to me you shall never do it out of shame. You must not change yourself for others,” Boreas dipped his head low, his chin setting itself upon the ground with a dull thud so that his eyes could be closer to aligning with the boy’s own.

“You must be proud, Razor. Proud of your ancestors, proud of your nature, proud of who you are,” A pause, and the god’s head was lifted once more, his body repositioning itself so that he was seated at full height, an image of majesty and power, “After all, you hail from the nation of freedom, is it not only fair you are able to live by said word?”

Notes:

i would like to formally apologise to andrius, lupus boreas, wolf king of the north, for having made readers upset with him

also chat lowkey the dnd scene that was the whole reason for which i started writing this fic might actually not make it into the fic… lol. lmao, even

Chapter 23

It is to be admitted that living unabashedly as your whole self is a daunting thing, frightening even. Perhaps allowing yourself to be perceived and known in the raw entirety of who you are is what requires the most courage in life – an attribute that, on occasion, Razor came to the harsh realisation he had not an infinite well of from which to draw from.

The thought to conceal his Lupus Entia features would pierce his mind from time to time, a thorn bush he had to consistently trim and maintain as small as possible before it could perforate his brain beyond what he could repair. When his shears grew dull, his arms tired of handling them, he would find solace in the people who accepted him as he was, prickly spikes and all. 

He had learned to seek the aid and comfort of friends when in need, a skill that had proven to be inconceivably fundamental in keeping himself sane within the city that had yet to truly allow him into its walls with genuine welcome on the days he decided to spend within it.

Razor would pass some mornings at the church, listening to that shining girl in white sing, some afternoons adventuring with his friends or finding peace in the solitude of the woods, and some late evenings resting at the Angel’s Share tavern, where the man of fire and wine would allow him to stay and read past closing hours whilst he tidied up his establishment after a day’s work.

“The door will always be open for you, kid,” Diluc had made sure to tell Razor one night, upon setting a cool glass of juice atop the boy’s corner table with a nonchalant expression, “If you ever need anything, come knocking.”

There would be hours which Razor would spend being tutored by Lisa in the Favonius library, poring over tomes and practising his skills with a pen. He had made great improvement academically, enough to reply to the letters his family in Sumeru would often write to him – with the help of Lisa’s gentle corrections and encouragement.

Other mornings he spent hunting with his wolf Lupical, other afternoons playing with Klee, other nights alone, gazing up at the dazzling embroidery that was the night sky and recalling the constellations Cyno had shown him, an act which brought on thoughts of his fathers and sister, so far away. 

A sense of loneliness would engulf him then, for while he had made trips to Sumeru and so had his Sumerian family done the same in vice versa, the amount of time they spent apart was enough to consistently drive the long blade of a dagger into Razor’s heart, neatly resting itself between his ribs and seldom permitting him true peace.

There were nights he would wonder what Collei was doing, if she were on patrol or had discovered some cool new plant with Tighnari. He’d wonder if Cyno’s missions were going well and if Alhaitham and Kaveh had recommenced their weekly weekend trips to the rainforest for a gathering with the others.

He would think of the humid, grassy scent so distinctly pertaining to Gandharva Ville after hours of rain, the aroma of freshly baked pita pockets and the whiffs of fungi that would be ever present in the air. He would think of the call of those birds with curved beaks, the grunts of the weary sumpter beasts, the Forest Watchers and Rangers’ gradually increasing buzz at the start of a new day, and even the continuous rumble of the waterfall that he had mostly avoided for its ceaseless noise.

Razor had stowed the gifts his family had given him in his wooden crate of most precious things. Along with what had already been there for years – a broken hilt of a greatsword, a book titled The Wolf and the Windwheel Aster , and a long since withered and extremely fragile four-leaf clover; he really wished he had known of Collei’s methods of plant preservation sooner – was the journal his sister had given him and the book his Forest Watcher father had passed onto him. Cyno’s arm guards were being put to use, fastened snugly around the boy’s forearms.

It was when he felt that sense of oneness with the forest being thwarted by the gloom of isolation and despair that he would fetch his beloved crate, tug out the journal bearing Gandharva Ville’s scent, and press his nose into its pages. He’d breathe deeply, shut his eyes, and envision the dawn of a new day beneath a canopy of large-leafed trees.

Sometimes tears would well at the loss when his eyes would open and he was alone, sometimes his pack would call to him at just the right moment. One time, a perhaps pivotal time, he was snapped out of his forlorn wondering by the crunch of ragged boots on twigs and grass, steps somewhat sloppy on the sloped hilltop.

“Razor, hey!” 

It was Bennett. Bennett who smelled like sunshine – of kindness. Bennett who smiled in the face of a world that would not let him rest without a trickle of bad luck always being poured into the near-empty glass he stubbornly perceived as full. Bennett who – no matter regarding what or who – continued to laugh and care, help and forgive, support and… love, Razor supposed. Indeed, Bennett smelled of love.

“I came to see if you wanted to hang out with me! Do you have the time?”

And Razor figured the last question was entirely out of societal politeness because they both knew he had nothing but time. Maybe even too much time. Time to reminisce and miss, long and crave for things out of his reach.

He harrumphed, carefully shut his crate and tucked it away prior to standing. 

“I will come.”

Bennett cheered and dashed towards him, slinging an arm over the boy’s shoulders and guiding them on as one.

“Awesome, I was hoping you’d say yes! I was starting to feel lonely, not having seen your face around these past few days.”

That was something Razor admired about Bennett; he was open about how he felt and what he thought, unless he was cautious of hurting someone’s feelings. It was a quality Razor was trying to learn himself, just as he had begun to practise smiling more. He wanted to glow as his friend did.

Spending a day with Bennett could go a variety of ways, really. They would typically go exploring, in search of new groves and meadows, ponds and shallow caves; or they would go foraging for fruit to snack on and then lay about, ravishing their spoils as Bennett would talk on and on about a multitude of topics.

That day their legs led them to their familiar river, its bank being rhythmically lapped at and its high weeds swayed by the flowing water. The sun was gleaming in the sky, watching over them with its light as they basked in its warmth, bodies strewn upon the bed of grass tall enough to tickle at their cheeks.

Bennett had sighed contentedly as he flopped down onto his back abreast of Razor, their feet – stripped of their socks and shoes which were haphazardly tossed aside – half-afloat in the river’s cool water that would sporadically bump their toes together with its rushing current.

There was a drawn out quiet, one that scarcely occurred in the presence of Bennett; the adventurer seemingly had many things on his mind, even if his lips were up in their perennial curve. 

Razor tilted his head towards the boy and watched him, traced his profile with his eyes, and he elected to revert them to their human state, an act which had become as simple as blinking. He preferred seeing Bennett in a full range of colour rather than in limited hues of yellow and blue. He watched as his companion studied the sky splattered with clouds of cream; he watched as a gentle breeze – that seemed to have the endless expanse of grass around them give an undulating wave – mussed his short white locks; he watched as those green eyes – soft, sad – eventually locked onto his own.

“Razor,” Bennett’s voice cracked on the name, a slight red dusting his cheeks as he loudly cleared his throat and made a second attempt, “Razor, can I ask you something?”

The wolf boy simply hummed, his sight trekking the rises and dips of Bennett’s features until it settled on the length of his pale eyelashes, fluttering as the latter blinked in thought while he stared at the sky.

Bennett took his time carrying on the conversation; whether purposefully or not, Razor couldn’t tell, but he lay there, patient and silent until the other spoke again.

“Are you happy here?”

Razor didn’t need to think. He knew the answer to such an easy question without having to search within himself.

“Yes,” He bobbed his head, cheek rubbing against the ground, “With you, now, I am happy.”

He had spoken earnestly and yet it seemed he had said something erroneous for Bennett hurriedly shook his head in response, then let it fall to face Razor. His golden cheeks had become marginally hot, a befuddling indicator as it didn’t coincide with the words he next said.

“No no, Razor. I mean, not right now specifically but, in general. All the time. Are you happy here?”

They held one another’s stare and, though Razor couldn’t name it, there was an intense emotion festering in Bennett’s usually tranquil eyes. There was a slight crease between the boy’s white eyebrows, a purse to his pink lips that still carried the mark of an old scar on them – most likely caused by some unfortunate fall – and the sheen of the juice of an apple he’d eaten that had yet to dry.

Razor pondered the question intently. 

There was much to weigh and to take into consideration. Was he content? Numerous events had completely shifted his perspective on the world and himself, but it seemed the world hadn’t changed alongside him. He had answers that he’d sought for so long, he had family he’d only dreamed of, and yet. And yet... Was he missing something he wasn’t aware of, or was he still to acclimate to his new way of living?

“Hm.”

Bennett sighed at his friend’s non-answer, that mysterious emotion in his eyes sizzling away as quickly as it had appeared. With his bare hands on his rapidly rising and sinking belly that peeked out from between his half-laced vest and above the hefty leather belt that held up his navy blue shorts, Bennett lifted one of them to gesticulate as he returned to looking at the clouds.

“It’s just…” He gave a slight groan as if frustrated, upset, and Razor felt his stomach coil with worry. He couldn’t stand seeing his cheery friend harbour such negativity. “The way people look at you, it’s so cruel and – and stupid. They don’t treat Sucrose or Diona this way at all and they also have animal features! What’s so wrong with yours? I – Gah, I don’t get it!”

Oh, Bennett was angry in Razor’s place. He was angry at how Razor was ostracised by the cityfolk. 

The boy appreciated the sentiment, yet he couldn’t help but think that he had been scorned and sneered at for as long as he could remember, regardless of the absence of his Lupus Entia appendages. Maybe he had grown more vulnerable to such expressions of disdain after returning from a period away in a place where people looked upon him with kindness and acceptance, but he had already somewhat moved on from the hurt that came with not being wanted. It was simply how the world worked and he did not need the approval of others whom he himself did not care for, or so he told himself.

Words to convey such thoughts remained trapped behind his teeth as Bennett apparently had more to say, verging on a ramble, and Razor didn’t want to interrupt him.

“Sure, more of them have gotten used to who you are, but you shouldn’t have to put up with this discrimination in the first place. What makes them think it’s okay to say the stuff they do, or to deny you certain things?” Akin to a balloon with a leak, Bennett quickly deflated, his hand – that had been swishing about in the air as he spoke – dropping onto his stomach with a final huff from his mouth, “I guess what I’m saying is; are you okay with living here where not everyone accepts you?”

Again, Bennett turned to him, as though he needed to analyse Razor’s features when he would reply to check if he were lying or keeping something under wraps.

Razor noted the start of that ineffable, hot feeling taking root in his chest again, spreading its vines along his every tendon and muscle, prickling at his fingertips and ears with a flame that had ignited on the winding plant. He stared at Bennett; stared at the pink dusting his cheeks, the glittering of his verdant eyes, the way his hair cascaded over his forehead and spiked out from under those chunky goggles he never removed from atop his head.

Bennett didn’t seem fussed about not getting an immediate response and merely reciprocated the stare, holding it as a soft current from the river swept their feet against one another, gently nudging their ankles together.

Razor mulled over what to say to appease the other’s concerns, measured what he could do to bring him relief and even gladness. As he thought, the book Tighnari had gifted him rose to the front of his mind and he reviewed its story as he watched the plains of Bennett’s visage blossom redder the longer they held one another’s gaze. 

Bennett seemingly felt the urge to speak up, possibly to cut the moment stuffy with unnamed emotions short.

“I know that they’re not too nice to me either because of my rotten luck,” He mumbled, eyes flickering down to Razor’s nose, “but I can see the reason in that. It makes sense. But it doesn’t compare to how they are towards you. You have it so much harder than me and there isn’t even any logic –”

“Bennett.”

The young adventurer swallowed the rest of what he wanted to say, aware he was going around in circles and regurgitating the same points in different words out of nerves. 

Razor noted how he took a sharp inhale and held it, his chest stiffening, bloated with air.

“Bennett, you need to breathe.”

The statement must have taken the other off-guard as if he’d been anticipating something else, for he choked out his pent up breath and sputtered a bashful chuckle promptly after.

“Right, sorry.”

Razor smiled and waited for the boy to nestle comfortably back into a lying position on the riverbank prior to speaking again.

“About the humans,” Bennett’s features bristled, “The humans of the city, they never understood me. They never will, and that is okay. I am not angry. I am only a little bit sad. It is like this, from when I was a child.”

“Razor…”

“It is okay, because you accept me. You understand me. With you, I am happy. Here. Nowhere. Somewhere. With Lupical, it is okay.”

A rebuttal wanted to topple from Bennett’s lips, his mouth ajar and prepared to wield words Razor parried by leaning close and blowing the latter’s hair up off of his forehead, bringing him to shut his eyes and crease his brow with a surprised laugh.

Razor hummed, content to see a smile returning to Bennett’s face, the same that felt to hold the power of the sun at noon and the shine of a moon at night.

“One day, if you want, we can run far away together. Be free, together,” It worked for the wolf and the goat in Tighnari’s book, why shouldn’t it work for him and his friend? “We can go to Sumeru, stay with Lupical in the rainforest for a long time. Or, we can see new places. We can find a place where we are free. To me, if there is you, if there is my family, I know I am loved. I know I belong. Anywhere. Everywhere.”

Bennett’s Adam's apple bobbed; his hands fidgeted; his lashes fluttered in bewilderment.

“You – You want to run away with me?”

Razor harrumphed, grinning, his canines pressing into his bottom lip and, as though some sort of vat had been opened, Bennett dyed red from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck. He uttered jumbled words until he burst into a fit of laughter and began prodding at Razor’s side, forcing the other boy to giggle and squirm.

“You’ve got crazy plans in your head, Razor,” Bennett chuckled, pausing his jabbing to sink back into the grass and allow his friend to stabilise his breathing. 

“So, no?” Razor asked, winded, eyes mildly disappointed.

Bennett hummed and flipped over onto his side, resting his head on a folded arm, beaming.

“Maybe one day, yeah.”

At his reply, Razor contentedly yipped and attacked his friend with an uncoordinated embrace, grabbing onto his exposed shoulders before lightly nipping at the curve of Bennett’s right one.

“Hey, hey!”

Bennett must have attempted to sound scolding but all such intent was lost in the fit of chuckling that cascaded out of his open mouth as the two of them began to playfully fight upon the damp grass. They rolled around, feet splashing in the river’s water, the bottom of Razor’s trousers gradually soaking as he was tumbled over from his position of pinning Bennett to the ground by the latter who latched onto his wrists and held them over his head instead, a mixture of elated laughter and panting endlessly floating out of the pair.

“Got you,” Bennett victoriously claimed, draped over the other, legs bracketing Razor’s torso and his nose a hair’s breadth away from Razor’s own.

Their exhales mingled, their eyes waltzed, and then Razor snapped his head up to swipe his tongue along Bennett’s cheek and hide by nuzzling into his warm neck, feeling the quickened pulse against his lips.

Bennett smelled of honey, the earth, sunshine, love. He smelled safe, like home.

When Razor’s muscles started to ache at the effort the position required to hold, he dropped back down to the ground, looking up at the boy so blatantly flustered with a gleeful look in his ruby eyes and fanged grin.

There were unspoken words lingering in the air between them, carried by the breeze that tickled their hair against their skin, that even Razor’s wolven ears couldn’t pick up on no matter how excitedly they twitched and swivelled atop his head. 

Bennett stared at him, studied him, admired him, and when those lips parted to say something, anything, resounding howls called through the open space and the two boys looked in the direction of Wolvendom.

Razor returned his focus to his friend above him, his chest fuzzy and blazing and electric, and he wriggled his wrists still clutched tightly together above his head.

“Come with me?”

And Bennett nodded, proceeding to roll off the other and begin to pull on his socks and boots in preparation. They splashed water at each other as they went, giggling as they shoved and provoked, until another howl came and Razor lifted his head and howled back in response, ears drawn low and tail stilling from its steady wag.

“Let’s go, fast,” Razor urged his friend, despite the fact that in his own rush he hadn’t wrung the excess water from his trousers and it had begun to pool within his tall boots.

“I’m trying. Hold – Hold on,” Bennett was wrestling with his laces, risking losing his balance and splashing into the river had it not been for Razor’s preemptive arm holding him steady by the torso.

“Ready?” The wolf boy asked once Bennett had fastened on his waist pouch and patted his pockets to see he’d collected his belongings. 

All Bennett had to do was give a decisive nod and Razor took off in a sprint, a wide smile on his face and a laugh spilling out of him as his friend yelped at the impromptu race he was thrown into.

Their shoes thudded upon the waving carpet of green, kicking up rocks and soil with each galloping stride, and their breathless laughter blended into a singular sound to form a musical tune that would forever ingrain itself into their memory. 

The wolf pack called out to Razor again and Razor responded in kind. Bennett – panting, eyes meeting those of his companion who peered back at him – opened his mouth and, with all the strength and volume he could muster, attempted to imitate the howls he’d heard.

Razor laughed, slowing his pace ever so marginally so as to be able to latch his hand onto Bennett’s and carry him along faster.

“That was good!” He complimented sincerely, supporting Bennett as the boy briefly tripped on his own feet.

“It felt good!”

Razor howled again, his fingers locking securely with Bennett’s as the latter joined him in the chorus, and they ended their performance with choppy giggles, winding their way through the thickening trees of the woods.

The wind blew at them, a caress to their rosy skin and a pet to their unruly hair, akin to a mother sending off her children to experience the vastness of the world on their own for the first time. A promise of comfort, affection.

The wind carried the scent of freedom.

Notes:

it’s over. woah. i cant tell if theres a weight off my chest or a void within it now that i know the story i wanted to write has been written. so much of myself and my emotions was funnelled into this silly little work i was convinced no one would read that now im loath to part with it.

i’ve never written anything this long before and i was honestly scared i wouldnt finish it as i have a terrible habit of giving up easily and yet, because of all the kindness, support and encouragement i received, we have reached the end. genuinely, with so much of my heart, i want to tell you thank you. i went through numerous tough times in the progress of this story and yet every kudos, every funny or lengthy comment, brought a smile to my face (sometimes even tears to my eyes, i must confess) and made me willing to keep going. thank you for making this experience such a pleasant one, and thank you for joining me on this journey!

please continue to love razor! please take care of yourselves! if nothing else, i hope you found some comfort in this work, that it encourages you to explore who you are and treasure every fragment of yourself that you discover. please, be kind to others and be kind to yourselves. we all belong, we’re all worthy of a chance at life, we’re all worthy of love.

thanks again!

(there’s a little extra chapter after this btw somewhat of an epilogue so i’ll see yall there lol)

Chapter 24: Afterword

“As you proceed onward, night settles, and with it you are shrouded in shadows and mist,” Cyno’s singular visible eye drifts along the crowd of faces all immersed in the scene he painted, listening attentively with anticipation of what was to come. “In the dead silence of the dark, you suddenly hear a distant howl. You attempt to discern whether it’s a friend or foe; however –” 

“Are they Lupical?”

The man hummed at Razor’s inquisitive look, schooling his features to be as deadpan as possible.

“You will have to roll to find out,” Was all he vaguely replied, and Bennett restlessly squirmed where he sat with folded legs on the hut’s blanketed floor.

“Maybe it’s an enemy,” He whispered to the party, as though the Game Master could not hear him speak, “We should try to avoid them, right?”

Kaveh huffed in disapproval and crossed his arms over his chest, head held high as he turned to Cyno bearing a look underlined with some sort of message.

“Can you just let it be our Lupical?” 

Cyno wordlessly shook his head no but Alhaitham had already taken the matter onto himself to expand upon.

“Actually, based on our location, pack movements and delineated territories, it’s quite impossible for the visitor to be a member of our Lupical at all,” He straightened his posture, rolling his dice in the palm of his left hand, “I say we prepare to enter battle. It’s best to strike first rather than to let the enemy get the upper hand.”

“Oh really?” Kaveh scoffed, leaning forward with a suspicious glare, “And since when do you know so much about wolves?”

“Logically, since a wolf boy joined our party, I’d say,” Was Alhaitham’s instant retort, tone flat but a twinkle of mirth present in his cerulean eyes that watched as Kaveh seemingly processed what he’d said with seriousness.

“Spending your precious time off work reading about wolves? You care a lot about him, huh?”

All snark had left Kaveh’s voice, his expression taking on a shade of fondness, and Alhaitham’s frame tensed as he uncharacteristically was the first to break eye contact with his partner. He feigned disinterest by instead glancing over the map of their current game splayed out on the floor, the markers symbolising each of their characters neatly set in position on it.

“It’s merely a scholar’s desire for knowledge,” He finally said, persistently putting on a show of strategising their next move rather than concerning himself with the conversation any longer; but Kaveh had already lovingly sighed and Tighnari’s tall ears flicked as he shared a knowing glance with Cyno, the both of them thinking, He totally cares.

“Uh, so are they Lupical or not?” 

Razor’s question felt to pin everyone back into the present and, at the sight of Collei’s mildly pouted lips and pleading eyes, Cyno’s resolve crumbled like barracks of sand when collided with a hurtling ball.

He let out a breath and smiled in surrender. 

“They’re Lupical.”

Notes:

the end (truly)! consider this as a peek into the future and interpret it as you wish! did bennett and razor decide to live in sumeru? are they simply visiting but living in mondstadt? are they going around teyvat and just dropping by the rainforest? who knows! but hey, i got to (somewhat) add in the scene that started it all in my head and (hopefully) please those of you who wanted to read it so thats a win right?

thanks for reading!

feel free to be my mutual on twitter or tumblr where i ramble about razor, cyno, a bunch of different things and queer media! :D

until whenever, if ever!