Lumine had always had a fantastic memory.
Aether used to tease her about it — a red dwarf, he'd call her, as old and cranky as Mother Universe herself, remembering every insult and jest in her long life with atomic levels of accuracy. Once upon a time, she'd scoff at her binary twin and elbow him between his ribs in response.
No matter what world she found herself on, her memory had ranged from above average to supernatural in comparison to the average inhabitant. Teyvat was no different in that regard. But in all her travels through her mother's abode, never once did Lumine recall ever bearing witness to something quite as perplexing as she did now, in the snowy ruins of Sal Vindagnyr.
The subject of her interest being, of course, the young man standing beside Rhinedottir, curiously lacking the usual soulless gaze all his previous prototypes had possessed. No, this one was different — Lumine could feel it as he watched her with a curiosity as palpable and present as the world surrounding her.
Rhinedottir had often spoken of her fascination of Lumine and her mysterious origins — really, how could she, a literal star, with thousands of her kin living on the figurative doorstep of Teyvat, be so difficult to decipher? — and her fascinations had often led to various experiments she would request. Most of which, Lumine would accept. There wasn't any real harm the alchemist could inflict on her, anyway.
The majority of Rhinedottir's efforts often proved to be rather fruitless, which was unsurprising. Lumine was, physically, nearly identical to the average denizen of Teyvat. She and Aether had made sure of that when they first arrived several decades previously. However, every once in a while the curious alchemist would get an unexpected result in one form or another. Perhaps those results are what allowed her to perfect her magnum opus.
Teal eyes watched with innocent curiosity as Lumine approach the two of them in the moonlit courtyard. His pale hair was cut quite long, stretching past his waist and brushing his hips. He was slender, almost boyish in size. Lumine idly wondered if his younger appearance was intentional on the alchemist's part.
Rhinedottir caught sight of her shortly after her creation did. She called out to her in greeting, but her words were lost on Lumine's ears. She simply nodded in return.
"I didn't think it possible," Lumine mused as she approached the pair, "yet here he stands, no?"
Rhinedottir's eyes glittered with excitement, betraying her usual stoic appearance. "He does, indeed," she replied. "And I do believe I owe you this accomplishment."
"Oh?"
"The research I've conducted on you brought me to the conclusion! In retrospect, it is quite the simple solution, but it really is very beautiful," Rhinedottir continued. "Given my initial theory to be correct, and with the information you have supplied on souls and their connection to life and matter, I was brought to an irrefutable conclusion on the very basis of life and khemia itself."
Lumine nodded, a small frown gracing her lips. She watched the boy before her as Rhinedottir spoke, a hint of bemusement creeping into her expression as he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Does he have a name?" she asked after a moment.
Rhinedottir soon returned to her usual stoic self. "Not at present, no. A name is a blessing," she said as she turned to watch the boy. "One that must be earned."
"Hm." Lumine had not expected her to properly name her creation, so her response came to no surprise. Names were a powerful burden; names were a symbol of sacred life. "I hope he earns one soon enough."
Rhinedottir turned the boy's head towards her to examine. The sensation must have been unfamiliar — of course it was unfamiliar, Lumine thought, he was barely a day old — because for just a moment, he seemed to almost lean into his master's touch. Rhinedottir frowned at his reaction.
"We shall see," she murmured.
The sun rose late the next morning, the mountain peak casting a shadow across their crude little camp. Lumine woke well before daybreak, as usual, and after a quick morning stretch to warm up, she set to reviving their small campfire. Soon enough, the braziers around the camp were lit and a pot was placed atop the fire for an early breakfast.
Lumine rubbed her hands together vigorously in an attempt to warm them just a little more. Nature was not kind to this mountain, she thought darkly. Perhaps she should spend more time in extreme environments such as this, if only to become accustomed to this new body of hers.
She banished that thought quickly as she dropped a large snowball into her pot with a scowl. She was accustomed well enough.
Soft rustling drew her attention towards the second tent in their little campsite. Rhinedottir's creation poked his head out, his eyes wide with the same curiosity she remembered of the night previously. He watched her warily as she searched for her oats, unsure of what to make of the situation. Eventually, he plucked up his courage and stepped outside his tent.
Almost immediately, he was blasted with a strong gust of freezing wind. He retreated back into his tent.
Lumine held back a slight chuckle as she stirred her oats. Being a human wasn't particularly easy, but he would learn its joys soon enough.
She ladled out an extra portion of oatmeal in a second bowl after it finished cooking. Rhinedottir was most likely asleep, as she had stayed up late studying her creation as he had slept. Lumine pushed aside the tent flap with her foot before ducking inside.
The boy was sitting in the middle of the small tent, his knees tucked up against his chest and wrapped in a thin blanket. He wasn't shivering, surprisingly enough — perhaps Rhine had intentionally made him more resistant to the cold?
She offered him a bowl of food. He stared at it in confusion, then at her, then back at the bowl. "It's food," she stated. "Eat it. You'll feel better."
She was taking a bit of a gamble in assuming he knew how to speak, or at least could understand her. She supposed it was unavoidable. He would have to learn eventually, anyway.
He took the bowl with careful hands before resting it on his lap. Lumine nodded satisfactorily before sitting down in front of him and taking a bite of her food. Bland oatmeal — Aether would have ridiculed her for it. Just like your personality, he would jab. She withheld a snort.
The boy — really, he needed some sort of name at the very least, regardless of what Rhinedottir had said — studied her as she ate. She raised an eyebrow at him after she had eaten a third of her food, as he had still left his bowl untouched.
"Go on."
He hesitated for a brief moment before he clutched his spoon tightly. His hands were clumsy and inelegant, but he made his attempt regardless.
His eyes widened as he took his first bite. Lumine watched in silence as he ate, clearly enthralled by his first meal. He ate slowly, savoring every bite.
Bland oatmeal. Aether didn't like bland oatmeal. She set her bowl beside her before she began to rummage through her pack once again. Soon enough, she revealed a small jar of brown sugar. He once again watched her carefully as she took his bowl from his lap and mixed in a small amount. Aether would always put an obscene amount of sugar in his oats. She wouldn't dull the boy's senses just yet.
Lumine handed him his bowl back and motioned for him to eat once again. He hesitated a moment longer before taking another bite.
Ah, yes. His eyes widened like a child watching fireworks for the very first time.
"Do you like it?" she asked. He nodded vigorously in response. So, he could understand her after all.
Lumine hummed and rested her chin in her palm as he ate, her own bowl of food resting beside her, momentarily forgotten. He was so full of life — briefly, she wondered how long it would take Rhinedottir to acknowledge that fact. Cosmically speaking, he and all other humans were but a grain of sand in a never-ending ocean, and Rhinedottir understood that much, at the very least. But she strove for a greater understanding, to elevate her knowledge to something far beyond her station.
Not unlike Lumine, and Aether. She wanted to be like them. Perfect, eternal, immortal. Rhinedottir didn't understand the consequences.
The boy had finished eating, she realized with a start. He watched her with worried eyes. Had she been frowning?
Start small, Lumine concluded. The brightest lights in the cosmos all bear humble beginnings.
"Do you have a name?" she asked. He furrowed his brows, puzzled.
"You need something to distinguish yourself from everyone else. Something for us to call you. Do you have one?"
Perhaps it was a bit redundant to ask for a name when Rhinedottir had already confirmed his lack of one. She had never mentioned anything of the boy choosing a name of his own, however, and judging by his level of intelligence, he was fully capable of doing so.
"...No," he whispered as he shook his head. His voice was incredibly soft, and he seemed a little uncertain of his words.
Lumine raised an eyebrow. She certainly hadn't expected him to talk. "Master said I am not yet worthy of one," he said.
She snorted. "Well, alright. What does she call you, then?"
"Alpha-two-fourteen."
Of course.
"Let's give you something more…suitable," she said with a grimace. "Don't tell your master, or I might get in trouble."
He gave her a puzzled expression. "If it must remain a secret, then why bother?"
"Just-" Lumine sighed. "I don't want to say Alpha-two-fourteen whenever I must talk about you. It's inconvenient." Nevermind the significance of recieving a name, especially if he chose himself.
"Then what would you propose?"
Lumine hummed in consideration as she placed her chin back in her palm. "I'm not sure," she said simply. "Maybe something alchemy related? Nigredo, albedo, citrintas, rubedo, chrysopoeia…although that last one is the least suited to serve as a name."
"Albedo?" he murmured. For the first time since she had entered, his gaze wandered.
"The whitening, or purification process," she explained simply. Her knowledge of alchemy was limited, but expanding.
He — er, Project Alpha-two-fourteen, Lumine supposed, at least for the time being — hesitated for a moment. "I think it suits you," she offered. His hesitation was somewhat understandable. Somewhere inside him battled two budding ideas, she thought, one of unconditional obedience to his creator and the other of rebellion. Eventually, he offered a small nod in response to her comments.
She smiled. The gesture felt foreign.
"Allow me to formally introduce myself, then," she said. "My name is Lumine. It's a pleasure to meet you, Albedo."
a/n: originally i was planning on making this much longer, like a full length fic, but then i started actually writing this out and i realized...what i had planned was basically four fics in one feat. albedo and insomnia! so, have this as its own standalone fic, i guess. if i ever finish the rest of it, ill probably post it as a separate fic or something.
this is the part where i mention possibly writing a chapter 2 for this in the future with albedo and subject two but dont get your hopes up because i am cursed to perpetually work on fifteen different fics at once and dont understand this strange concept called discipline