A/N: In honour of the fact that Thoma came home! He is in my pocket as we speak! Set roughly somewhere after the Moonchase Festival, and contains some Hangout spoilers! No warnings necessary!
i.
"Scarves are always a great choice."
Aether trusts Thoma, he really does. But he's beginning to think that behind the sweet, humble smile and modest demeanour, there's a sadistic streak waiting to strike.
"Great choice," he mutters under his breath as he battles with the ball of wool. "In what world is this a good choice?"
"That looks really bad," Paimon says, hovering at his shoulder. "Were you trying to knit a scarf or a dirty puddle?"
The mass of wool in his lap does resemble a dirty puddle. Aether groans, slumping on the tree stump. The wool he found isn't the right shade of red, and it looks muddy and earthy in the bright sunlight. Perhaps it's a little silly to knit outside, on a hilltop, where it's possible that the scarf really is muddy instead of just looking muddy, but Aether's used to the outdoors now.
Besides, nobody can hear him curse out here.
"It's meant to be a gift," Aether says, prodding the lump. "How am I supposed to give this to anybody without insulting them?"
"You could give it to Childe!"
Aether imagines the look on Childe's face if presented with a fluffy, bedraggled noodle, and snorts. He would soon be facing Tartaglia's wrath, that's for sure. He puts the needles aside and sighs heavily.
"I'm never going to get this right."
"Practice makes perfect!" Paimon chirps. "Maybe we could ask around for help? Paimon bets Thoma would let us have another lesson if we asked."
"Not Thoma," Aether says immediately.
"Oh?" Paimon perks up, her tiny smile widening when he looks away, blushing. "Paimon thinks she knows who the scarf is for! Paimon thinks Aether has a little crush!"
"Aether thinks Paimon should be quiet unless she wants to get dunked in the nearest pond," Aether says sweetly. He stands and brushes off his legs, stuffing the mangled knitting into his bag. "Still, your original point isn't terrible, I guess. It feels like we've met everyone on Teyvat at this point, and there's bound to be at least one of them who knows how to knit." He pats her on the head before she can float away. "Not a bad idea, for emergency food."
"Hey!"
ii.
"When it's finished, you can either wear it yourself… "
Liyue Harbour is as busy as ever. Aether slinks through the streets, following Paimon's enthusiastic trail, and eventually wanders down to where the boats sleep to pick up some super fresh fish. Little Fei waves at him as she races past, and he waves back. There are still candles burning on the corners from the Moonchase Festival, though the air is definitely different, not as warm or nostalgic as it once was.
"We should go to Wanmin Restaurant!" Paimon cheers.
"I doubt Xiangling knows how to knit," Aether says. "She doesn't have room for any other hobbies besides her cooking. You just want more food."
Paimon studiously ignores him, floating a little faster. He rolls his eyes and lets her zoom away, presumably to pick up some Jade Parcels and drain their stash of Mora. She'll be back as soon as she's full. So, approximately eight years.
"Traveller!"
The soft, high voice catches him by surprise; Aether turns to see Chongyun raising a hand in greeting, Xingqui strolling along beside him with a book tucked into his elbow.
"Chongyun," he says, grinning. "Xingqui. Causing trouble?"
"The Feiyun Commerce Guild is not affiliated with any mischief, shenanigans, or scandals at present, I'm pleased to say," Xingqui said, with a wink. "Though the sun has only just risen."
Chongyun sighs deeply. "It's been a little while, traveller. Are you in town for anything interesting?"
Aether considers his options, but the truth is, there aren't many. Chongyun doesn't strike him as the type of person to stray from training for indulgent activities; the whole thing with hide-and-seek was proof enough that he was a little sheltered in that regard. And Xingqui is certainly someone of culture, but he's also someone of a certain higher culture, and knitting probably didn't fall far on his list of priorities growing up.
But again, there aren't many options. Thoma's smile flashes across his mind and he decides to bite the bullet, so to speak.
Withdrawing the mound of knotted knitting was much easier when only Paimon was there to judge him for the mess. Xingqui looks politely amused, and Chongyun looks downright appalled at the state of it.
"Did someone sabotage your knitting, traveller?" Chongyun asks earnestly. "We can help you track the culprit down. There is no doubt something malicious going on here."
Xingqui laughs brightly, not bothering with his polite veil.
"No sabotage," Aether says, smiling wryly at Chongyun's mortified bow. "Just my sub-par talents. I don't suppose either of you know anything about fixing it, do you?"
"I can't say that I do." Xingqui takes one strand of wool from within the nest and tugs on it thoughtfully, dark blue hair falling into his eyes. "I know how to stitch, and I can point you in the direction of some excellent reading material, but knitting isn't something I ever tried my hand at."
"I'm afraid I don't have much experience either," Chongyun adds, still flushed and flustered. "What precisely is it supposed to be?"
"A scarf. Someone told me that scarves are always a great choice."
Maybe it's the fond way he looks at the wool, recalling Thoma's warm smile and his sweet, patient teaching, or maybe it's the softness of his tone, but either way, it doesn't escape Xingqui's notice. He grins from ear to ear, looking ironically demonic, considering his companion. When he leans forward conspiratorially, Aether tries not to melt into the ground.
"My, my, Aether, could it be? Is this scarf part of a courting ritual?"
Chongyun hums in realization. "Ah, that makes sense."
"Courting ritual?" Aether splutters, agape.
"It's in all the good romance books." Xingqui pats the book sitting safely in the crook of his elbow. "I may be more of a fantasy-lover, but a dedicated wordsmith dips their quill into all kinds of genres. There's always a moment where one character gives something to the other as a token of affection, and the game of love begins."
Chongyun makes another curious little noise in the back of his throat while Aether stuffs the knitting back into his bag, unsuccessfully trying to push Xingqui through the stone walkway with the power of mental strength alone.
"It's not like that," Aether says, but his blush gives him away. "It's just—he's a friend. Someone I met in Inazuma. He took the time out of his day to teach me how to knit, and I was terrible at it, but I want to show him that it was worth the effort. Oh, shut up."
Xingqui laughs, his eyes gleaming with warmth and mischief. It's in good humour, he knows, so he doesn't throw anything at the two of them. Especially as Chongyun generally looks too sweetly serious to deserve being pelted with Geo energy.
"If you're not going to be helpful, then I'm going to find somewhere to eat that doesn't have your faces anywhere near it," Aether says, turning on his heel. "See if I ever knit you anything."
"Let's not be hasty, dear traveller," Xingqui says, catching him by the elbow neatly. "How about we take this discussion to lunch? I do believe I have a tale or two that might help you on your quest."
Suspicious, but never all that hard to convince when it comes to food, Aether shrugs him off and aquieses.
"Fine," he says, making his way toward Wanmin Restaurant. "But you're paying, oh mighty member of the Gihua Clan."
"I study their arts, not their finances!"
Aether strolls ahead, refusing to turn back at the sound of Xingqui's sophisticated whining. He doesn't stray too far though; in the end, he's close enough to hear Chongyun's soft, quizzical tone as he tugs on Xingqui's sleeve.
"Xingqui? That handmade claymore sheath you gave me a while ago—was that a token of affection? Only I wish you had told me we were starting a courting ritual, so I could be a better participant."
The sound of a book clattering to the ground is extremely satisfying.
iii.
"... Or gift it to a friend!"
The two hours after lunch are the quietest hours at Wangshuu Inn. Most people are sitting in a bloated, satisfied daze, or setting off on their journey, and new arrivals don't start rolling in until dusk. Aether takes the lift up to the reception and meets Ver Goldett's smile with one of his own, though decidedly less sharp. When he points up to the private balcony, she winks at him, and turns to deal with another customer.
"Paimon isn't sure about this," Paimon whispers. "What if we get thrown off a roof again?"
"Xiao isn't like that anymore," Aether denies as he climbs the steps, ignoring the fact that Xiao is, in fact, precisely like that, and probably always will be like that. "Besides, you can fly."
"Not even Paimon can fly with that much anemo energy swirling around!"
"He said we could call him if we needed him," Aether says, emerging onto the sunlit balcony. "It might not be urgent enough to summon him, but if he's got a problem with me hanging out here, then he can just say so."
"There is no problem," a dark and hoarse voice says.
Aether whips around, already smiling. Paimon shrieks and soars backwards. Dark tendrils of anemo energy are in the midst of dissipating, and a lone figure leans against the railing, thin and blank-faced, arms crossed over his chest.
"Not yet," Xiao adds.
"Xiao," Aether says, grinning. "How are you?"
Xiao sighs heavily, striding away from the railing to stand near him. "Must you ask the same pointless questions each time we meet? My emotional state is of no consequence, and rarely differs."
"Agree to disagree."
"Yeah!" Paimon says, finally finding her voice again. "It definitely matters how you are, Xiao! How are we supposed to ask you for a favour if you're having a bad day or feeling down?"
Xiao cocks his head. "A favour?"
Aether snorts, shooing Paimon away; she dances down the staircase, calling out for Smiley Yanxiao and his famously good almond tofu.
"That's not the only reason I wanted to see you," he says. "It feels like it's been ages, even if it was only at the festival the other day. But yeah, I did need a favour."
He unloads the favour right there on the balcony. Xiao blinks at the pile of knitting once, long and slow, absent of his usual scowl.
"I believe Pyro is more effective than Anemo when it comes to destroying unwanted gifts," Xiao says.
Aether gawks at him. "Are you making a joke? Seriously?"
The truth is evident in the way Xiao turns his head, ever so slightly, to hide his faint smile. Aether groans and drops to the floor, sitting cross-legged on the wooden beams. Sun-warmed and cleanly swept; the whole balcony is comfortable and homely, the beginning of something that Xiao deserves. Right now, he kinda wants to take a nap and ignore his own stupid problems.
"You should stick to fighting," Xiao says.
Aether huffs a laugh, reluctantly amused, while Xiao sinks gracefully to sit beside him.
"And cooking?" he asks.
Xiao hesitates, glancing at him. Aether makes sure to keep his smile easy and sweet; hardly a problem when it's Xiao he's looking at.
"Your cooking is adequate," Xiao murmurs finally, glancing away. "Your knitting skills are abysmal. Why did you come to me for help?"
Aether recounts what Xingqui told him over lunch. Two separate accounts of adventurers finding crocheted effigies near adeptus statues. Both of them were infused with Anemo energy, and carried the same signature. Xiao sighs as though greatly inconvenienced when Aether finishes speaking, and he knows he's on the right track.
"Something tells me it wasn't Cloud Retainer," he adds.
Xiao scoffs. "Learning the skill was a favour to Ver Goldett, a way of repaying her for her efforts, and the effigies were part of a challenge for Ganyu. She was interested in practicing her tracking and training herself to recognise scents and signatures across long distances. Nothing more."
Aether very carefully doesn't point out that he probably could have used anything to help Ganyu train like that. Even a rotten Sunsettia would do. He didn't have to craft miniature knitted versions of the adepti and hang them gently where everyone could see them. It's impossibly sweet that he did, and Aether kinda wants to demand his own little crocheted token, but he doesn't.
Instead, he pushes the pile of knitting across the floor and blinks pleadingly at Xiao until he starts to scowl.
"Surely whoever you intend to give this to will appreciate your own efforts, and not those of a stranger."
"How did you know it was a gift?"
"You go above and beyond for others. You would not look so desperately for a solution if it was for yourself." Xiao looks away again, rolling his eyes. "It's the only thing that makes sense."
Privately, Aether doesn't think he's such a selfless person. He was willing to book it out of Inazuma without lending a hand to the war effort, after all. The only thing he's really been intent on is finding Lumine, and although that quest has stalled somewhat, he's still seeking the truth. There's not a lot he wouldn't do to find it.
But it's true that he's glad he didn't leave Inazuma behind. He's glad he stayed. He's glad that he met new friends and helped them as much as he could. Now he's the Captain of Swordfish II, Komore Teahouse serves a special kind of tea ordered just for him, and he's got a standing appointment in the teapot every few weeks with a grouchy god who can't cook.
It was worth it. He still doesn't think he's particularly selfless, not the way others seem to view him, but it was worth it in the end. It always is, when he ends up with friends like the one sitting next to him and the ones waiting for him.
"You're right," Aether says, leaning back on his hands. "I do want to give it to someone. But I don't want it to be a mess, and you're pretty good about getting me out of whatever mess I'm in lately."
Xiao arches one eyebrow.
"I'll make you some almond tofu!"
Xiao sighs, his shoulders slumping. "I was going to help you anyway."
iv.
"Just imagining it warms my heart."
By the time Aether arrives back in Inazuma, news of his hardships has travelled all the way to the border. Kazuha greets him at the dock, standing alone not far from the rest of the Crux Fleet Crew. He looks as he always does, demure and calm with a faith edge of uncertainty when he's on his homeland. Aether runs down the length of the dock and skids to a halt in front of him, smiling so widely that his mouth hurts.
"Kazuha!" he says. "I thought you weren't coming back to Inazuma for a while."
"The winds led me back home, as always," Kazuha says, inclining his head. "As did Captain Beidou. I heard you had some trouble lately."
Aether falters, his hand straying to the satchel he keeps at his side. "Nothing I couldn't handle."
"Traveller!" Beidou says, grinning like a fiend as she marches towards them. "You've been busy lately. Word on the sea is that you've got yourself a fancy woman to woo."
"Has nobody got anything better to do than gossip?" Aether demands, exasperated.
"Not really. Things have been calm lately, thanks to you." Beidou's grin doesn't wane. "C'mon then, let's see the cargo."
Xiao had taken great offence to the reddish colour of Aether's terrible knitting, grimacing in distaste before directing him to Ver Goldett for a different material. It turns out that crocheting is a little different to knitting, so the overall effect is still a bit shoddy and messy despite his snippy instruction. Some strands aren't quite perfect, and there are lumps where there should be smooth lines. It worries him. But if he looks at it for any longer, he's going to throw it so hard into the sea that it wraps itself around Osial's slimy neck.
"Not bad," Beidou says, eyeing the scarf. "Could be way worse. Your fancy partner—are they really fancy, or do they appreciate simple things?"
Aether rolls his eyes, and Kazuha sighs at the captain's unsubtle dig. But the truth is, Thoma appreciates modest things, humble things, things with simple exteriors and sincere roots. The windflower shocked him to the core. A scarf like this, no matter how messy, will probably bowl him over.
"I think he'll like it," Aether says, tucking the scarf back inside the bag for safety.
"Lucky," she snorts. "Ningguang would only want a scarf made out of the finest damn silk flower the world has to offer."
A member of her crew calls out to her then, and she straightens her spine. She wishes him luck before strolling away, barking orders. Kazuha catches Aether by the wrist before he can make his escape, and his eyes crinkle.
"If it's who I think it is, then he's going to love it."
Aether falters, a little flustered. Kazuha lets him go, and he grins, waving cheerily as he heads for the road out of Ritou.
He's made the trip to the Kamisato Estate so many times that he could do it in his sleep at this point. He clears out a few lingering Fatui and almost gets his head cut off by a Mirror Mage en route, but that's not much different to any other day. His clothes are soaked by the time he emerges on the other side of Chinju Forest, a few bright moon-blue flowers clustered together in his hand.
"Don't you think the scarf will be enough on its own?" Paimon asks, materializing out of the ether.
"These are for Ayaka," Aether says, waving the flowers in her face. "Want to give them to her?"
"Paimon knows you just want her out of the way!"
"There are better ways to get rid of you. I haven't had dinner yet."
Paimon huffs and sulks and complains for the remainder of the trek up the hill, but she does take the flowers out of his hand and speeds off the moment they arrive, so he considers it a win. Unfortunately, being on his own again leaves him with no buffer for his internal monologue. It's easy to second-guess everything as he strides quietly through the Kamisato halls, searching for a familiar jolt of orange hair.
The moment he rounds the last corner, out of sight of the garden, his thoughts go quiet.
Thoma is sweeping. The broom glides along perfectly in his hand. He moves backwards down the hall, whistling a sweet tune as he sweeps up the dust and mess. Not that there's much to deal with in the first place. Thoma keeps the Kamisato Clan residence spick and span to the point where dust quakes at the thought of resting here.
Something unlocks. Aether's shoulders sink, and he smiles slightly. He feels a warm rush of fondness as he watches Thoma set the broom aside, dusting off his hands and surveying the hallway with satisfaction.
"Thoma," he calls. "Got a minute?"
Thoma whirls around, and his face lights up. His laugh is light and easy. He strides over and pulls Aether into a brief hug, grinning down at him. For all that he reminds Aether of Childe physically, the energy is certainly different. Everything about him is softer, younger, a little bit kinder.
"For you, traveller? I might even have a few minutes to spare."
Thoma ushers him over to a quiet spot in the garden, where the sand has recently been raked. They stand near the railing, the sun setting gently, spilling honey all over the sea.
"What brings you here?" Thoma asks, cocking his head. "Not that I'm complaining, of course, but I thought it might be a while before I saw you again."
Aether thought so too. But instead of explaining, he undoes his bag and pulls the scarf out, handing it over.
Thoma's expression brightens even further. "Did you make this? Aether, this is amazing."
The scarf really isn't that amazing. It's a rich butterscotch colour, and it's criminally soft to the touch. There are wobbly bits and lumpy areas, and despite its thickness, it seems too inefficient as a scarf to do much good against the cold. But Thoma looks at it like Paimon looks at treasure, so he figures that he's probably done something right.
Maybe not quite how Paimon looks at treasure. There's a little less drool.
"Wow, you've really improved," Thoma says, running his hand along one of the stitches. "See, what did I tell you? Passion, patience and method is all you need.
"It's for you," Aether says, holding it out. "I had a little help in the end, but I made it for you."
Thoma's eyes are wide as he takes the scarf with both hands.
The problem Aether has found is that he's perfectly capable of getting flustered and embarrassed, up until the point where nothing on earth could embarrass him anymore. It's like he has a quota. It makes him, in Lumine's words: dangerously and embarrassingly bold.
The moment Thoma's cheeks turn pink, Aether grins wide enough to hurt, buoyant and light on his feet.
"You don't want to wear it?" Aether asks.
Thoma stutters for a moment, before gathering his words. "I do! But I can't accept this, it's too much."
"I made it for you." Aether leans in a little, softening his grin. "You said that scarves were always a great choice, so I figured you wouldn't mind getting one as a token."
Thoma hesitates. "A token of what?"
"I'll let you figure that out."
Thoma doesn't hesitate before wrapping the scarf around his neck, but that might be to hide his burning cheeks. It's a little bulky, but the colour is soft enough to combat any awkwardness. He sinks his chin into the material and hums. Aether considers leaping over the railing to get away from such a sight, but decides against it in the end.
"I love it," Thoma says. "Thank you, Aether. But no more gifts, alright? You've already given me enough."
Maybe if Aether were a little more selfless, he'd agree. But he likes the idea of giving Thoma gifts too much to ignore. In the end, he just leans back against the railing, smiling, and shrugs.
"No promises."
[Word Count: 3,806]