Chapter Text
Childe absolutely hates Mondays. Detests them. Abhors them. Especially if he has to be up at the ass crack of dawn before his favourite café even opens for his much-needed caffeine hit. And especially if he had been up late yesterday.
Goddamn, he knew he should’ve just let Ekaterina deal with the issue with Yanshang Teahouse’s outstanding debt. If he’d known it would result in a 2-hour chase across the back alleys of Liyue Harbour, Childe would’ve probably thought twice about volunteering to join Javert’s little sting operation.
Actually, scratch that, that’s a lie. The little spot of exercise had been exactly what he needed. Ah, as Childe always says, there is nothing like a good old-fashioned chase down to lift one’s spirits! It’s just a shame that it happened at 2 in the morning. And yeah, Childe knew he had to be up early, but he usually loses track of things like this once his blood gets pumping. He should not be held accountable for the things he agrees to after midnight!
Well, maybe he shouldn't have taken on Ekaterina's bet. She's rather good a swindling people into getting exactly what she wants. It's great when he needs her to interrogate some blockhead from a rival gang. It's less great when Childe gets inadvertently swaddled with more work. Namely opening shop. Sure, Childe loves his little bakery. It's a great front and he gets to bake desserts basically every day which means he's earned like a bajillion big brother points in Teucer’s eyes. But damn, Childe is only a business owner on paper! He shouldn’t be crumbling under the weight of the daily minutia of running an actual business. That’s what he hired Nadia for!
(Actually, he hired Nadia because she’s absolutely wicked with a shotgun. But she put ‘great at multitasking’ on her resume so Childe decided to give her a day job too.)
Still, a bet is a bet and what's done is done and that means Childe is running on about 3 hours of sleep, trying to lug five Costco sized sacks of flour into the backroom because his pride dictates that he will only take one trip even if no one is here to witness this.
He kicks open the storeroom door, the lack of caffeine in his system making him extra grumpy this morning. Of course Childe is responsible for opening shop on fucking inventory day. He takes note of the sugar shipment as well as the submachine gun shipment. He's missing a crate which is super fucking annoying and the cherry on top of his shit morning.
Groaning, Childe drops the sacks of flour on the ground with a low thump. God, he hopes he hadn’t thrown out his back. Would be very unfortunate. That’s the sort of thing his dad complains about on the daily and Childe is far from a middle-aged man with 8 children.
Childe’s phone buzzes in his back pocket and he sighs. Tonia’s name flashes across his screen.
From: fav little sis
heyyyyy soooo
my class is doing a bake sale tonight
ykonw for hte band performance thing
and i totally said id bring something
but then I forgot
and its tnight
soooooooooo
could u make some of those cinammon roll cupcake things??
plsssssssss
i'll love u foreverrrrr
From: Bestest Big Brother
…..........
bruh
i mean u know ill say yes
but like wow no warning
and also why tf are u awake
From: fav little sis
AHAHAHA thank youuuuuuuu
this is why ur my fav brotherrrrr
also wdym???? i have track meet
like i do every thurs for the last 2 years????
From: Bestest Big Brother
OH RIGHTTTT
LMAOO SRYYYY
i legit went to bed at 3am
i cant even think a thougt rn
From: fav little sis
yo what
why were u up so late
From: Bestest Big Brother
work
dont worry about it
Childe swipes away from his messages before his phone buzzes again. The sender this time is a lot less fun because of course it's Scaramouche calling him at an ungodly hour on a Monday morning before Childe had the opportunity to make himself a good old cup of joe. Childe inwardly curses as he presses the green answer button.
“Hi Scara,” Childe tucks the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, “I’d tell you to fuck off, but I don’t think you’d get the hint.”
“And I’d tell you to shut your bitch mouth, but that would be an insult to dogs.”
Ah, how Childe absolutely loves all his conversations with his favourite vertically challenged co-worker.
“What do you want?”
“The Tsaritsa wanted to know if you got the sugar shipment yet,” Scaramouche’s tinny voice comes through even tinnier through the phone. “The boys back in Inazuma are low on lead and she’s upset that we’re basically reduced to fighting the Sangonomiya’s with fucking butterknives.”
“Well, that’s your damned fault that you decided to take on both the Sangonomiya Gang and the Shogunate Police Department at the same time.”
"Uh-huh, and why don’t I just go and tell the Tsaritsa that we should switch places seeing how my plan is so shitty and you, apparently, have such a fucking brilliant plan to win over Inazuma City then?”
“Aw, you know I’d love to go. Beats sitting around in Liyue Harbour twiddlin’ my thumbs all day.”
“Yeah, ‘cause if we sent you over, the police would have sniffed out your twinky little ass the minute you set your foot in the city.”
“My twinky little ass? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, Scara?”
“Fuck you, Childe. Shipment status update. Now. Then I can fucking hang up on you.”
“Mm, always a pleasure to hear your voice too. Felix dropped it off earlier. We’re short a crate though.”
“Fuck. Schubert better not have double-crossed us."
“See, this is exactly why I told Signora to stop doing business with the Lawrences. But it’s always ‘no Childe, you have no idea what you’re talking about’ or ‘shut up Childe, I don’t want to hear your stupid ideas’.”
“That’s because whenever you open your mouth, 90% of the time, it’s to sodomize the English language. Anyways, you’re gonna have to set up a meeting with Schubert.”
“Me? Uh, I’ll pass, thanks? I’m not about to drive for 6 hours to meet up with the geezer. Besides, Mondstadt City is under Signora’s jurisdiction. Ask her to do it.”
“Yeah, you can’t even pay me to touch that with a ten-foot pole. She’s going through her, what, fifth fucking break up with Rostam and I don’t want to be caught up in her hot pile of radioactive garbage of a mess. Apparently, this time he broke up with her, but you didn’t hear it from me. Anyways, I’m going to cut off all contact with her for the next 3 months if I have any say in this.”
“And you think I don’t want to?”
“I don’t care what you want. Just get the shipment over.”
“Wow, pushy much? Why don’t you go to Mondstadt yourself if you’re so antsy?”
“Mhm, yeah, you see, the thing is, I’m doing actual work here instead of fucking around all day like you. And, I know this might be a wild concept for your pea-sized brain to wrap around, but I’m a whole ocean away.”
“Aw, Scara, did your momma not teach you any manners? I’d have thought that if you were going to ask for a favour, you’d at least go about it in a nicer way. How about a little ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ here and there?”
“Alright fine. Would you please go talk to Schubert about that missing package? And while you’re at it, could you also please climb on top of Mondstadt Cathedral and throw yourself off it? Thank you so much! Bu-bye! Mwah mwah, love you!”
And then, Scaramouche hangs up on him. What a little fucker.
Childe tsks as he sends a quick memo to Ekaterina to clear out his schedule for Wednesday. Great, now he has to take a trip to Mondstadt City. It’s not like Childe has anything against the place but darn the Favonious Police are such sticks in the mud. Especially with the new Assistant Chief in town. Childe heard that the Gunnhildr girl is a real stickler for the rules, so he knows the Tsaritsa would tell him to be on his very best behaviour and avoid causing any sort of scene. Unfortunately, Childe lives for scene-causing. It’s his whole schtick. He is Childe the scene-causer and not Childe the diplomat.
Still, that’s a Wednesday Childe problem. Monday morning Childe has to finish opening up the storefront. Childe goes to the backroom to drag out their squat little chalkboard. Tying a pastel pink apron (this is the standard uniform of Cakey Bakey. Yes, Childe chose the name for his bakery. Yes, he also chose the uniforms) behind his waist, Childe finishes the daily special menu with looping, clear script.
Perfect. Now he just gets to bake a couple dozen trays of cookies, bread, and cakes. Oh, and add a few extra because he promised his sister he’d bring something for her bake sale.
Well, this is actually the most enjoyable part of his morning so far. Not that the bar was set very high, what with the very nice phone call from his favourite colleague and the illegal hour his phone alarm had woken him up with and the lack of caffeine in this building. Childe should just get an espresso machine for his bakery. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before.
But yeah, Childe likes baking. It’s calming and soothing and Childe can go to his happy place as he beats the ever-loving shit out of the eggs. Which he found out early on in his baking career is a great thing. More beating means more air. And more air means puffier desserts. Cakey Bakey is known all over town for its extraordinarily fluffy and soft cakes.
Ah, the wonders of baking.
The oven beeps to alert Childe that’s it’s done preheating just as he finishes filling the little paper cupcake tins. Perfect timing. Childe slides the trays into the ovens before starting on the frosting. Tonia had mentioned that her class was in the middle of their astronomy unit so Childe decides to go with that.
The cupcakes are out of the oven 25 minutes later and Childe works against the clock to prepare the cookie dough for the bakery. Rolling the dough into small balls, he places them on the lined trays before setting a timer.
The cupcakes are still a little warm and he should probably let them completely cool before decorating, but Childe’s impatient. Shrugging, he slathers on a layer of dark brown frosting before filling a piping bag with white icing.
Now, Childe doesn’t claim to be an artist by any means. He sometimes struggles to draw a stick figure. Decorating cupcakes are definitely not his forte, but he decides that drawing constellations wouldn’t be too far out of his abilities. How hard could piping some sticks and dots be right?
The only constellation Childe knows is the Big Dipper and he starts with that, connecting the six dots. Or was it seven? Childe makes a face as he struggles to remember what the constellation looks like. Huh, Childe really should’ve searched up a reference for this. He frowns at the little symbol he piped onto the cupcake. It didn’t look awful, but it definitely did not look like the Big Dipper.
Pursing his lips, he takes out his phone to Google up an image of the constellation. Yeah, he really fudged that one up. Not only had he drawn it flipped, it turns out the Big Dipper had seven stars, not six. And also, doesn’t look like a deformed bowl. Well, there’s one cupcake going into the reject pile. No matter, Childe just grabs another cake and this time draws with a reference like a proper artist should.
Sniffing, Childe pauses when he smells the woody scent of smoke curling behind him. Shit. If he left Tonia’s cookies in the oven to burn, he’s never going to hear the end of it from his sister. And if he ended up burning the whole bakery down, he’s never going to hear the end of it from Ekaterina. And if the resultant investigation turns up the weapon smuggling hustle he has going on here, he’s never going to hear the end of it from Signora and Scaramouche.
Christ, the Tsaritsa would have his head if something as dumb as burnt cookies was the downfall of her entire crime syndicate. And Childe likes his head exactly where it is thank you very much. Cursing, Childe whips around, piping bag in one hand and half decorated cupcake in another, when he makes three startling realizations.
One. The cookies are not done baking and there's still 13 minutes left on the timer.
Two. The smoke is coming from behind him and not beside him where the oven is.
And three. There’s a strange girl standing in the middle of his kitchen.
Huh. Well, this is new.
“Uh,” Childe says very intelligently.
The girl only blinks her large golden eyes at him. They flare dully, smouldering like embers in the early morning haze. It is a super cool effect and Childe really wants to know how she does it. Now that he thinks about it, her entire body is sort of glowing, golden like molten stars. She cuts a figure against the sleek silver of his industrial kitchen, blacken smoke coiling and settling at her feet. She’s wrapped in a dark dress, the flowy fabric rippling around her like fire, licking her pale arms with deep crimson. Her hair is the colour of warm sunshine and it wraps delicately around two horns. The blackened spines curl outwards, framing her pale face, casting her round cheeks in jagged shadows.
Wow, the things cosplayers can do these days. Childe is super impressed with the costume and all the special effects. And he’s even more impressed that this girl managed to sneak into his kitchen undetected with this whole getup.
“Hi,” Childe tries again because it doesn’t look like this weirdly spooky interloper is going to speak anytime soon. “We aren’t actually open yet.”
The girl doesn’t respond, instead choosing to cross her arms in front of her chest.
“Uh, so is there anything I can help you with, girlie?”
“Lumine,” she states. Her voice is surprisingly light and sweet, a far cry from the demonic garb she’s got on.
“Huh?”
“I am the Viatrix, Voyager of Dimensions, First Star of the Abyss, Last Pillar of Celestia, the Golden Sword. You have etched my insignia as it has been written in the stars. You have summoned me to the mortal plane to strike a contract. As such, you may refer to me as Lumine, if it so pleases you.”
Yikes, this girl is way too into whatever RPG LARPing thing she’s got going on. Childe sighs. It’s too early in the morning to deal with this. Sure, the intruder is kinda cute, but he’s really not vibing with her energy right now. Childe leans over the kitchen island, one foot hooked behind the other, trying to figure out what on Earth to say.
“Speak mortal,” the girl commands.
“Right, nice to meet you, uh, Golden Sword,” Childe puts a hand on his hip. “I am Childe, world’s best big brother, third son of Pyotr, pâtissier extraordinaire.”
The weird role-player Lumine girl nods her head sagely. Childe has learned that the best way to deal with strangely enthusiastic role players is just to go along with it. He’s learned this very valuable lesson at his first anime con when he came across an entire army of grey-faced trolls. Yeah, he’s not ever going to poke that sleeping beast again.
“Excellent, Pâtissier Extraordinaire,” the kooky cosplayer continues her charade. “What is it that you desire? I shall deign you the honour of striking a deal with me.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“We shall forge a deal. An agreement. A quid pro quo if you will. Name your desire.”
“Look, I’m sure you’re a great person, but I’ve had a really long night yesterday so if you could please just come back when the bakery opens, I’m sure you can find someone to help you. I honestly have no idea what you’re on about.”
“You do speak English do you not, Pâtissier Extraordinaire? A contract. You state your desires and I shall name my price and we come to an understanding.”
“Okay, Childe works just fine, girlie. And yes, I speak English, thanks. And yeah, I know what a contract is but—Lumine was it?—yeah I’m not sure you can actually help with my desires or whatever.”
The girl’s eyes narrow and somehow the kitchen seems to all of a sudden go darker despite the fact that it should be approaching sunrise by now if the weather app on Childe’s phone has anything to say.
“You speak to me with such impertinence, human. You dare question my abilities? You dare doubt my powers? Me, who was forged from stars? Me, who carved out the Abyss? I am of the highest blood. I have burned more civilizations, razed more empires, ended more dynasties than your insignificant mortal lifespan can ever seek to comprehend.”
Ah great, he’s ticked off this psychiatric ward escapee. What was Childe’s number one rule again? Right, don’t poke the sleeping bear. Ugh, when is Nadia coming in? Childe is so ready to shove this problem onto someone else’s plate.
“Look, I apologize,” Childe attempts to do some damage control before she decides to get violent or something. (Again, an incredibly valuable lesson he had learned as a youth in that anime con.) Yeah, sure he could take her on if things got ugly and shove her in a freezer until his guys can come in, but Childe is a gentleman, okay? Well, sure, Childe is a bad guy, no cap. Like his night job is literally murder. But he would never wish harm on the innocent and weak. Especially if they were mentally unstable. The girl looks absolutely harmless, maybe with a few crayons short of a full rainbow, and is probably just lost and delusional. “But my problems and desires probably won’t interest you. You seem very busy anyways. So, no need to worry yourself.”
The girl is still glaring at him, her strangely luminescent eyes shooting out ‘I-will-gut-you-and-leave-you-in-a-ditch-to-die’ vibes. It’s actually pretty terrifying, but luckily Childe has basically built up immunity to this as it’s the exact same expression Signora wears anytime she sees him.
“You have dragged me out all the way out to the mortal plane, thrown unveiled insults at my abilities, and now you seek to presume what does and does not interest me?”
“No?” Childe’s response comes out more a question than anything else. Christ, he doesn’t know how to deal with this girl.
“Then I shall ask you once again. What is it that you desire?”
She's really set on this, isn't she? Childe sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. God, Mondays suck.
“Look girlie—.”
“Lumine.”
“Okay, Lumine. Look. I’m just really tired right now. I’ve had about three hours of sleep and approximately zero cups of coffee and this,” Childe waves his hand (that’s still holding his half-decorated cupcake) at her general form, “this is just a bit too much for me at the moment.”
"Too much?" Lumine cocks her head to the side. It really must be the lack of sleep talking because Childe is super enraptured by how her golden hair catches the rising sunrise. "I would assume a summoner who knew and carved my arcane insignia would have some basic understanding of pact-signing. Still, I suppose that is understandable. The human world has not seen a demon in many a millennium."
"Uh-huh," Childe agrees because he's half afraid that if he voices any sort of question, she’d go back to contemplating curb-stomping him. “Yes, too much. So, why don’t we have this conversation some other time, yeah? Maybe not at the crack of dawn? Come back in two hours or something. Also, I have no idea how you came in, but maybe use the front door?”
“I have no use for doors. I entered through the Shadow Portal.”
“Okay, yeah sure, the Shadow Portal,” Childe softly guides the girl to the front of the bakery. Nadia would be coming in 30 minutes and would probably freak out and do something rash if she found the Harbinger talking to some strange woman. And Childe is not in the mood to clean up blood today. He has three batches of baked goods just lying on the open counters and he suspects Tonia's twelfth-grade teacher would not be all too pleased to find various human bits among the treats. “Anyways, I have some stuff to finish around here. We open at 9, by the way, so yeah, drop by if you want. Oh, here, take this. For the road.”
Childe places the cupcake into the girl’s hand. Lumine blinks down confusedly at the small dessert before looking back up.
“What is this?”
"A cupcake? You know, a small cake? For eating? Do you have allergies or something? There's no nuts or anything, but there are eggs. Oh, and milk."
Lumine takes a tentative lick at the bit of cinnamon frosting that had smudged on her fingers. She pauses, staring at Childe with an unreadable expression.
“Your offering has been accepted,” she says finally. “A deal has been forged. When you have made a decision, name your wish and it shall be done.”
“Cool, sure, will do,” Childe agrees without really hearing what he was agreeing to. “So, is there anyone that I can, like, call for you? Here, you can use my phone.”
Childe looks behind him to grab his cell from his back pocket, swiping the screen to unlock it before holding it out for the girl to use. But when he turns back, Childe discovers that he is alone inside his bakery. The girl has already disappeared, leaving nothing but the faint scent of brimstone behind.
Childe blinks.
“What the fresh fucking fuck just happened?”
“I think I’m being stalked.”
Ekaterina purses her lips. Childe says it in such an unconcerned and chill manner, she wonders, not for the first time, if the lights are all on upstairs.
“Sir?” she approaches the Harbinger with this subject as gently as she could as he’s wiping down the kitchen counters. “That’s rather worrisome if it’s true.”
“Eh,” Childe shrugs, “it’s not like it’s never happened before. Remember that time the Ragnivindr heir like full-on infiltrated the Fatui and shadowed me for half a year? And no one suspected anything, much found out that he was a stalker mole? Those were some fun times, eh?”
“That’s also…not a good thing? Sir? Are you okay?”
“Yeah! Besides, this time, the stalker’s only a girl who looks like she can't even hold a knife, let alone a gun."
“Sir, please try to hear what you’re saying.”
“What, it’s true! I mean she did pop in here two days ago and I’m still trying to figure out how she did it without alerting anyone, ‘cause it took me completely off guard, you know. Like one second, I’m baking some cookies, and the next, poof, random stranger.”
Ekaterina chokes on air.
“Your stalker broke in here!? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“What's there to say? A girl broke in and I gave her a cupcake. And now I think I’m being stalked. I’m sure weirder things have happened in Liyue Harbour.”
“Sir! That was absolutely dangerous! What if she had been an assassin?”
“Huh, I guess I never thought of that.”
“We’re going to have to increase security at the bakery! The next time something like this happens, your safety might not be guaranteed! I'll set up some cameras in the kitchen and back room and we’ll put a motion detector on the doors. And please consider taking extra guards with you! If you’re being followed, it’s highly likely this girl is aware of your schedule by now! Extra precautions must be taken!”
“Goddamn, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. I’m only being stalked, Ekaterina.”
“Sir!”
“Look, I don’t want to give you guys more work. Plus, if I go visit my family with some bodyguard posse, I think my mom would freak out.”
Besides, nothing terrible had happened yet.
The first time Childe had got a glimpse of his new blonde stalker had actually been the very evening after he had met her. Childe’s mother had been feeling unwell so Childe offered to go in her place for Tonia’s school performance bake sale. Normally, the ladies in the PTA were rather unwelcoming to outsiders, but what can Childe say, he’s a bit of a charmer. Plus, his baking was known in the school for raking in the dough and they always welcomed his baked goods with open arms.
“Hello ladies!” he had winked at the group of suburban homemakers setting up the bake sale table, waving the large Tupperware of cupcakes. “I come bearing desserts. Don’t worry Patricia, they're nut-free and gluten-free, just the way you like ‘em.”
“Oh hon, aren’t you just the sweetest thing,” the textbook definition of a soccer mom swatted Childe’s arm. “It’s a shame Olga couldn’t make it but with a tall handsome man like you around, I can’t bring myself to feel too bad.”
“Aw Patty, I’m blushing.”
As Childe set down the plastic container, he had caught a flash of flaxen hair reflected in the corner of the glass pane of the middle school auditorium door. Childe frowned, turning around, but there had been no one there except for Susana screaming on the phone over what sounded to be the fact that she couldn’t return the cardigan she bought 14 months ago.
Strange. But Childe had chalked it up to the fact that he had gotten less than five hours of sleep. Visual hallucinations were normal and healthy, right?
The second time it happened was on the following day, as Childe was calling Signora to inform her that he would be visiting Mondstadt the following day.
“Hey Signora,” Childe had greeted when the call finally went through. “I’ve got a meeting with the Lawrence head tomorrow and—.”
“Rostam used to call me that.”
Childe had paused, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, lips pressed into a line. Oh boy.
“Didn't he call you Rosalyne?”
“Yeah, ‘did’,” Signora had sighed in a way that had sounded suspiciously like a choked sob. “Past tense. Then he called me Signora. And now he doesn’t call me at all.”
“Uh,” Childe had struggled to come up with something to say. Yeah, this was why he hadn’t wanted to deal with the Lawrence situation. Or any situation involving Mondstadt at the moment. Because it would involve calling Signora. Which would involve whatever this is. “There’ll always be the next guy. You’re a great person, any guy would be lucky to be with you.”
Childe had wanted to gag. Or better yet, have someone knock him into an irreversible coma. It had been so painful.
“I don’t want a next guy!” Sigora hissed into the phone, and Childe sort of just curled in on himself. It had not been a conversation he particularly wanted to have. “I just want Rostam.”
“Maybe you should try telling him that?”
“And beg him to take me back? No!”
“Well damn, Signora! I don’t know what to tell you!”
“Then don’t tell me anything and fuck off!” Signora’s voice had caught on something and Childe had let out a soft groan of frustration.
“Are you crying?”
“As if!”
Yep, she had definitely been crying. Full-on sobbing really. Childe had sort of wanted to repeatedly pound his head on a brick wall.
“Well, I’m going to be in Mondstadt tomorrow. Want me to bring you some cookies?”
“Can you bring peanut butter biscuits?”
“Yeah sure.”
“Okay,” Signora had sniffed.
And then Childe had felt a prickle at the nape of his neck. Childe, first and foremost, is a member of the Tsarita’s Fatui and became the youngest of the Harbingers in part due to his stellar instincts. He knows when he’s being watched.
Childe’s brows had furrowed, looking across the busy street. He had spotted a dark figure in the shadows of the tall building across the road. Bloodred dress, pale arms, golden eyes. The crazy kooky cosplayer.
A bus had passed by, blocking Childe’s view, snapping him out of the little trance he fell into. He had blinked and her figure was gone.
Stranger and stranger.
The third time he came across the stalker had actually been that very morning. Ducking into the backroom to grab more sugar, he had felt pressure in the air. He didn't detect any breathing or human warmth, but Childe had been absolutely certain there was another presence with him.
But he turned and spotted no one and nothing out of place.
Well, the girl had broken into the bakery once. Childe supposed it wasn’t unreasonable to think that she had done it again. Except he would really like her to not. Baring the fact that, well, breaking and entering is generally considered pretty rude, if this girl came across something linking the bakery back to the Tsarita’s underground criminal activities, well, she may accidentally say too much.
And Childe would have to silence her. Ah, the euphemisms in his line of work.
In any case, Childe would really like to not deal with that. It's no fun killing off the weak and helpless civilians. They offer no challenge at all. There are no highspeed chases, no rushing adrenaline, and no new stab wounds to show for it.
Well, the next time he sees Lumine, he supposes he’ll just have to dissuade whatever unhealthy obsession she has over him. It’s flattering, sure, but Childe really could do without all the prying into his private life. And the prying into both his professional lives.
“Sir?” Ekaterina waves a hand in front of Childe’s face and he snaps out of his thoughts.
“What happened?”
His assistant sighs, rubbing a hand across her face. She never expected joining the Fatui would entail constantly worrying over an overgrown man-child but here she is.
“I was saying how you should at least take more men with you to your meeting with the Lawrence clan today. The stalker may be a spy sent over to target you.”
“The Lawrences? Have you seen their last quarterly report? They're half a step from full-on bankruptcy, I think they'd be smart enough to avoid a costly conflict with the Fatui.”
“True, but if they are as desperate as the numbers suggest, they might not be acting completely rationally.”
“Ekaterina, really, I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m kind of hoping they do go and attack me. I haven’t done anything fun all week.”
Ekaterina does that look she does when she’s stifling a long-suffering sigh.
“Okay, okay,” Childe placates, “I’ll bring Boris with me, how about that?”
“Your car will be here in five minutes,” Ekaterina just shrugs her shoulders in defeat.
The sleek black car does pull up at the bakery five minutes later. Boris climbs out the driver seat, bowing lowly to the Harbinger.
“Lord Tartaglia, we are ready to depart.”
And so, Childe finds himself on a six-hour drive to Mondstadt with absolutely nothing to do. He did receive a call from the Tsaritsa in the middle of the drive reminding him of the importance of diplomacy and civility towards a Fatui business partner, no matter how broke they may be. (It was really a 2-hour long lecture that could just be summarized as 'Childe, no’). Their cause in Inazuma apparently is taking a major hit and the Tsaritsa really wanted this shipment to be sent over as soon as possible.
It’s a little past sunset when Childe enters Mondstadt City borders. They drive past the inner city where the affluent members of the city elite resided. Childe had heard that the Lawrences had to recently foreclose their ancestral home and move out further from the city. The area Boris is now driving them to is far messier which must be a huge blow to Schubert's pride.
They pull up to the little warehouse Schubert had prearranged for the meeting. According to Signora, the warehouse had once belonged to a packing plant that had gone out of business, leaving this depot falling into disrepair. Seems fitting for the Lawrences to own the building now.
“Lord Harbinger, welcome.”
An armed man greets Childe the moment he steps out of the car. He spots four more guards near the entranceway and suspects there were more stationed around the perimeter.
“Lord Schubert is waiting for you. If you would, he has ordered no weapons in the building.”
“What, so I’m not allowed a gun but you and your men presumably are?” Childe raises a brow. “Seems a little questionable to me.”
“They were his orders sir.”
Childe sighs. No doubt Schubert was trying to intimidate him. He could just walk away but that would mean he drove down to Mondstadt for no reason. He wants to get something out of this trip, even if it has to be a shady business meeting.
“Alright fine,” Childe shrugs, tugging the gun strapped on his belt. “Boris, I guess you can stay out here. Keep an eye out.”
“Sir?” the man questions. “Is that wise?”
Childe shrugs. Probably not, but Childe isn’t known for his wisdom. This is probably a trap he’s walking into but the idiot guards don’t even bother to pat him down so really, so Childe would be forgiven for not thinking too highly of the Lawrences or their capabilities.
The guard leads Childe into the warehouse. It's as dilapidated on the inside as it is on the outside save for one ornate oak table in the middle of the room. Schubert, the brown-haired head of the Lawrence clan, sits in wait at the table.
"Welcome Tartaglia," the man greets, shifting his glasses and gesturing for Childe to take a seat. Childe notices the ends of the sleeves of his tailored blue suit are starting to fray. Appearances are everything to the Lawrences, and if they’re now seen wearing ragged suits, well, they must’ve fallen into deep destitution. “I hope the drive was pleasant.”
“Not really,” Childe takes a seat. “I never really liked sitting in cars. Nothing to do.”
“It’s a shame to hear that. The Lawrences are one of the founding families of Mondsadt and to hear anyone speak ill of this beautiful city is simply unacceptable. Franz," Schubert nods to the armed guard that had led Childe in, “can show you around the city tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I’m going to have to take a pass. I won’t be staying long. So about the weapons shipment. We agreed on 14 crates. And unless one of them suddenly grew a pair of legs and ran away, you only sent us 13.”
Schubert swallows thickly.
“There have been some issues with inspection lately. I assure you we’ll have them in a month.”
“A month? Where do you think we are, the DMV? A crate should take you three days max.”
“The Lawrences have a strict regulation process to ensure no defects are in any of our shipments. I’m sure even the Fatui can understand the importance of quality control.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult? Schubert, did you forget that you’re on borrowed time? We already extended the timeframe by 2 weeks and you still haven’t delivered. The Tsaritsa’s goodwill only extends so far.”
“The Tsaritsa is an unreasonable woman,” Schubert sniffs. “The shipment will take a month to arrive.”
Childe narrows his eyes.
“I hope I heard you wrong Schubert. The Tsaritsa was the one who offered you this deal, to save your family from ruin. And she can rescind it just as quickly.”
“Threats have no place in a civilized conversation. The Tsaritsa paid for my services, she should understand how the matters are dealt with.”
“No, the Tsaritsa paid for 14 crates that were supposed to be delivered 2 weeks ago. That's not a threat. It's simply a fact."
“My brother had indeed been correct,” Schubert spits out. “There is no reasoning to be done with obstinate riff-raffs.”
“Reasoning?” Childe huffs out a laugh. “I think you greatly misread the intention of this meeting. We aren't reasoning with you. We're warning you. This is your last chance, Schubert."
There is the most subtle of movements in the corner of his eye and Childe strikes, catching a hand. There are more Lawrence men waiting inside the warehouse, faces obscured by black ski masks. Childe twists the man’s hand, breaking his wrist, and he drops his gun. Childe catches the firearm before ducking away, kicking the heavy table over and rolling behind it just as the Lawrence men open fire.
Taking a quick peek, he fires two shots in quick succession, taking down two of the men. Schubert is scrambling away towards the exit and Childe huffs. To give chase or to not give chase, that is the question. Thinking better of it, he decides to deal with these goons first. The gunshots most definitely alerted the guards outside and he hopes Boris’ shot is better than his conversations.
Childe rolls again, flashing out the knife he’d hidden away in his sleeve (really, this one's on the Lawrences for not giving him a pat-down. Like who would ask someone to give up their weapons and not double-check?) Childe moves quickly, sinking his blade into the man’s jugular, spraying blood over his hands and face before quickly incapacitating a second man.
Another guard takes aim and Childe kicks him in the sternum. The man stumbles back a few steps, giving Childe an opening to swipe the guy’s rifle. He bashes the guy’s face with the butt of the gun before returning fire.
And okay, Childe admits that sometimes he gets carried away. Whenever he sees even a drop of blood being drawn, his systems just take a hit of dopamine like some kind of violence-addicted junkie. High off the bloodlust and brutality, Childe almost verges on hysteria when he really gets into it. He sort of tunnel visions and stops paying attention to his surroundings.
Childe slips up.
There is rustling behind him but Childe notices too late. Franz had snuck behind him with a steel bar and Childe hears the reverberating clang as it makes heavy contact with his skull.
And then Childe goes down like a baby.
When Childe comes to, it isn’t hard for him to notice that he’s been tied to a chair, his arms behind his back. Blinking the blood from his eyes, he spots Schubert and Franz arguing in the corner.
“You killed him!” Schubert hisses at his guard. “I told specifically ordered you not to kill him!”
“What was I supposed to do? He got past the guards outside and came in to investigate!”
Black patches are swimming in Childe's vision, but he makes out the crumpled form of a dark grey and gold uniformed man. The colours of the Tsaritsa’s Fatui. Childe breaths through gritted teeth. Boris. The loyal recruit. He must’ve come in to investigate the scuffle only to be met with a lead bullet to the head.
“It’s one thing to hold a Fatui hostage, it’s another to shoot them dead!” Schubert continues. “The Tsaritsa’s retaliation will be swift and merciless now that we lost our bargaining chip!”
“We still have the Harbinger.”
“You better hope so. If he bleeds out, your head will be the first one to go!”
“It seems like the Lawrence’s famed hospitality is nothing but a lie then,” Childe slurs. His head is swimming and his mouth feels full of cotton but at least his vision is clearing up. “Is this how you treat all your guests?”
Schubert whirls around.
“Ah, it would appear that Tartaglia has regained your cognizance. Welcome back.”
"Ugh, quit it, Schubert. My head is still ringing and I'm not in the mood for your dickish elitist power fantasy talk.”
The man frowns, deep creases forming between his brows.
“I shall overlook your insulting manner of speech provided that you cooperate with us.”
“Hmm, not likely.”
“Your cooperation will be favourable to the both of us. I would beg you to reconsider.”
“I’m sure you would.”
Childe could see Schubert’s temper rising. The man’s face is starting to redden and his nostrils flare.
“Need I remind you that you are currently tied to a chair without a weapon or backup?”
“You think that’s enough to get me to cooperate? Nah dude, this is child’s play. Haha, did you see what I did there? Child’s play?”
Schubert marches himself over and backhands Childe, the slap echoing in the empty warehouse. His lip is busted open and Childe can taste the rust of his blood.
“You would do well to listen to me boy. Cooperate with us and we might just spare your life.”
“Oh, need me to be your good little hostage?” Childe shrugs. “Yeah, I’m not good at that. Besides, you already killed Boris. It doesn’t matter who you hold as a bargain, the Tsaritsa won’t ignore a slight like that.”
“How comfortable you are in your Harbinger status. You don’t seem to fear me. Do you think I won't be able to hurt you? Or perhaps the rumours of the 11th Tartaglia’s shocking lack of sense hold true?”
“Oh yeah, definitely. Those aren’t rumours, they’re all true.”
“Then you would forgive me if I send the Tsaritsa a present. How would she feel to have your head shipped to Inazuma? I’ve been told that the Fatui have been expectantly awaiting for the last of the shipment.”
“Look man, I heard your conversation earlier. You can kill me sure, but the Tsaritsa’s not going to like that. You’re out of bargaining chips. You've shown your hand, Schubert. Shoot me or not, you're fucked either way.”
"We should just silence him," Franz finally joins the conversation. "As he said, the Tsaritsa won’t forgive us for dealing with one of her own. We could get rid of the Harbinger. It’ll buy us a few days and we can regroup.”
Schubert considers Franz's point. Childe just looks at the two men disinterestedly.
“Yeah, how long do you think you can run from the Tsaritsa? She has eyes everywhere. She’ll catch you eventually. I give it a week tops.”
“The Tsaritsa isn’t invincible,” Schubert sneers. “And neither are her Harbingers. You’d be less cocky once your body is at the bottom of Cider Lake. Any last wishes?”
“My only wish,” Childe licks the cut on his lip, “is to see your head mounted on a fucking pike.”
Schubert’s eyes flash behind his spectacles. He kneels down to Childe’s level, roughly grabbing his face with his gloved hands.
“You are of the same lower breed as the rest of the rats and dogs that have run roughshod all over my beautiful city. The Fatui have grown too arrogant with the Lawrence name, flaunting your power like this. But do not be fooled. You may conduct business with the nobles, but you will never be on equal standing with us.”
“The nobles?” Childe actually lets out an honest-to-god laugh. Sheesh, what kind of second-rate villain monologue is this? “What are we in? A shitty period drama?”
“And you still don’t know your place! You commoners are all repulsive in your manner of speech.”
“Oh, wake up Schubert. You think the Tsaritsa needs to do business with the Lawrences? You’re broke, dude. You have no power in Mondstadt, you have no capital. The only thing you had going on was your convenience. And desperation. Damn, I’ve never seen anyone grovel so pitifully to be our trading partner, jeez.”
“Enough!” Schubert strikes Childe across the face again. Fucking rude. “I’ve listened for far too long to this tired tirade. Franz, do rid my sight of the Harbinger.”
Ah, shit. Childe hears the telltale click of the safety being thumbed off. Childe quickly goes through his list of options. He might be able to headbutt this guy and make him drop his weapon, but the guards stationed outside the building would most definitely hear. And Childe is very limited with what he can do when he has his hands and feet hogtied like this. Curses, he should’ve listened to Ekaterina about bringing more Fatui men with him.
Childe feels the cool metal of a gun barrel pressing against the back of his head and he sighs. This is so not fair! He can’t believe that Schubert got to finish his stupid bad guy speech and still get to shoot him dead. That goes against every movie trope ever! Childe braces himself for his impending gunshot. What a bad run this turned out to be.
But the bullet never comes. Instead, the grip on the gun loosens and it clatters uselessly on the ground.
“Wha—,” Childe turns around to look up at the guard.
The guy’s head is gone. Poofed. It’s literally been cleaved clean off. Childe hears the sound of something thudding on the ground and Franz’s bug-eyed face rolls and rests at his feet in a trail of blood. Well, that can’t be good for the man’s health. Childe blinks dumbly as the headless corpse sways a bit before it pitches forward onto Childe’s back, pumping all sorts of human excrements all over Childe’s shirt and pants. He grimaces. These were his favourite pair of slacks!
“What have you done?” Schubert squawks as Childe shrugs the dead body off him and winces. It’s probably not a really dignified way to treat the dead but hey, blood-borne diseases are no joke!
“Me?” Childe looks at the man incredulously. “What did you do? I have my arms and legs tied up here man, I can’t do anything!”
The fluorescent lights above begin flickering. Childe and Schubert look up. A sharp electric hum buzzes around the room as the white lights struggle on and off.
“Is that, like, supposed to happen?” Childe asks. Schubert only shoots him a disbelieving look.
The lights suddenly explode in a fall of sparks and glass. The sound is deafening as the wires pop out from the walls, leaving the two men in complete darkness.
“Guards!” Schubert cries out. “Guards!”
No one responds. The humming comes to an abrupt stop and silence settles heavily throughout the room. Childe watches with bated breath as the lights slowly return. But they return in yellow orbs that hover motionless throughout the basement. Schubert yelps and falls onto the shattered glass littering the ground. Childe makes out a small pile near the entranceway and he squints to get a better look. Bodies. It’s a pile of bodies. Dead.
And then Childe smells the brimstone.
Lumine emerges from the dark, the smoke and shadow melting off her as she steps into the dimly lit room. Her eyes, like the floating orbs, emit a glowing amber radiance. The base of her spiny horns catches the light, drawing otherworldly shadows across her face.
Childe has never been so happy to see a stalker in his life. He doesn't know how the kooky cosplayer found him or disposed of the guards (although he is very curious to know. The cut of that decapitation was absolutely breathtaking) but he’s ready to jump into his saviour’s arms and have an hour-long make-out session with her right now.
“What in the Devil?” Schubert quakes from where he’d fallen.
“The Devil?” Lumine tilts her head a little to the side, the tips of her hair swaying in eerie golden lustre. “Hm, I suppose you’re close enough.”
“H—how did you get in here?”
“How I entered is of no consequence to you. What is, however, is that I am here to fulfill my deal.”
“Y-your deal? My dealings are with the Fatui, not with you.”
“Correct, you and I have no agreement. But Pâtissier Extraordinaire,” Lumine nods her head toward Childe who’s still blinking back and forth at the pile of dead bodies and Lumine’s imposing figure, “and I do. He has stated his desire to see your head mounted on a pike, and so I am here to uphold the terms of the deal.”
Oh. Did Childe say that?
“I—you—how dare you?! Do you know just to whom you are speaking?”
“I do not.”
“I am S—Schubert of House Lawrence! We are the spearheads of Mondstadt’s glorious history!”
“Fascinating,” Lumine nods. “Schubert of House Lawrence, I am here to collect your head.”
“Y-you think you can menace me in such an ignoble and vulgar manner? Should anything befall me, the Lawrence Clan will not hesitate to retaliate! An uncouth and primitive plebeian like you can only crumble beneath the magnanimous might of the Lawrence line!”
“Plebian? I admit I have never been called such a derogatory term by a lesser being."
“You dare mock the Lawrence name? I am descended from the noblest blood! How dare such insults be uttered from your common mongrel mouth!”
Something in Lumine’s eyes flashes sharply.
“How fleeting, the human memory,” Lumine hums as she approaches the cowering man. Her heels make sharp clack, clack, clacks against the grey concrete. She extends an arm to the side, her hand outstretched as if to grab something. Pinpricks of light, like flicks of dying ember, come together and take the form of a golden sword. A fucking sword. That she materialized. Out of fucking nowhere. Childe’s brain is about to explode. “It has not even been five chiliads, a mere wisp in a Celestian’s age-old existence. Yet, you have already forgotten your history, of the worship you once offered to the Heavenly Constellations.”
Lumine grins, all teeth and no warmth. She’s doing that glowy halo thing again which, can Childe just say, absolutely sets the scene. Damn, girlie really knows how to make a dramatic entrance.
"So, allow me to be the one to remind you of just why we were once so feared,” she says, pointing the tip of her blade towards Schubert.
Scrabbling backwards, the man reaches for his gun and Childe calls out a warning. Cursing, Childe starts on trying to untie his binds. Yeah, Lumine looks hella cool and intimidating with her golden sword and smoke machine special effects, but Childe heavily questions how well her flowing dress does in terms of bulletproofing.
“Don’t you dare take one more step, girl!”
Lumine’s pace doesn’t falter.
“Uh, girlie?” Childe pipes up, still trying to undo his knots. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this girl is going to get herself fucking killed. Seeing how she saved his life, Childe is inclined to return the favour so he could go back to Liyue Harbour with a guilt-free conscience. The rope has a bit of give now and he begins working his hand through the loop. “I think you might want to rethink this one.”
She ignores Childe’s warning as well, her sword glinting ominously in the dim light. Schubert grabs the firearm, points it at Lumine and begins shooting recklessly. His aim was utterly fried. So much for the head of the Lawrence Clan. But Lumine is at point-blank distance. There is no way she can avoid the fire.
The smell of gunpowder burns Childe’s nose as his heart drops in his chest. God, he hopes Lumine had gone out quick and painlessly.
Schubert’s gun clicks empty. He blinks down at his weapon in confusion. The sounds of the last bullet casings tinkling on the concrete ground ring loudly through the unfinished basement. Schubert blinks. Childe blinks. Lumine blinks.
The bullets hover in midair as if untouched by time, a mere few inches from Lumine’s body. Childe gawks apishly. She waves her hand in dismissal and they disintegrate into the same light her sword had been summoned from. Okay, okay, okay, Childe has seen some weird shit in his life but this? This really takes the biscuits of all the messed-up things he has ever witnessed.
“W—who are you?” the man quivers.
“I have been known as many things,” Lumine says. “The common people once worshipped as the Viatrix, the Voyager. Among the skies, I am known as the Golden Sword, the Last Pillar of Celestia. The Abyssal Princess was the name they later called me by.”
“You’re not a human.”
“Indeed, I am not.”
“Then w—what are you?”
“Nothing your mortal mind would be able to understand.”
Lumine slashes her sword. Childe feels a flash of energy, like the tingle of static shock, and a burst of blinding golden light surges forward. It gashes through the man's body in a wave of wind and sound, low like the distant groaning of a dying star.
Schubert doesn’t even have time to scream.
Childe watches as Schubert's body crumples almost in slow motion. His head, which is sporting an unseeing wide-eyed expression, tilts off his neck, tumbling towards the ground. Lumine snaps her fingers and shards of pointed shadow rush up to catch it, spearing through the base of the dead man's skull.
Oh yeah, the head-on-a-pike thing.
Childe just gapes at the scene in front of him, too mind-blown to do anything except try and pick the pieces of his jaw from the floor. Oh, my God. That, without a doubt, was the coolest thing Childe has ever seen. Lumine is the coolest thing he's ever seen. Forget a one-hour-long make-out session, Childe would be willing to offer his own neck to see her do that again.
“Here,” Lumine breaks off the sharp spike of shadow impaling Schubert’s head and offers it to him. “Your wish has been granted.”
“You know, girlie, most people would prefer flowers,” Childe finally regains his brain-to-mouth connection, “but I’m not opposed to this either.”
Lumine frowns, a shallow furrow forming between her brows.
“You did not specify that you would prefer flowers. The terms were clear. Name your wish and it shall be done. You named a speared head, and now it is fulfilled.”
“Yeah, no I get that now. It's just I never expected being handed a severed head on a stick would be so romantic.”
“It is not.”
“Oof, well that’s a huge bummer. And here I thought you showed up as my knight in shining armour.”
“Why would you expect that? That had not been a part of the pact we signed.”
“Girlie, to be honest, I’m still processing everything. I don’t even know what the pact I signed was.”
“You made an offering,” Lumine raises an eyebrow. “An invitation to trade.”
“An offering?” Childe scrunches up his face. “When?”
“On the day I was summoned. You offered the cupped cake.”
Childe blinks confusedly.
“The cupcake?”
“Yes. An offering for a wish. The pact was sealed when I accepted.”
“I—oh—okay, I guess?”
A small dessert for whatever the hell he wished for? Damn, maybe he should have been more selective in his wish-making. Childe had been told on occasion that his baking was heavenly, but he hadn’t thought it was that literal. Or well, maybe heavenly isn’t quite the right word to use in this context. This girl had said she was a demon.
“So,” Childe finally manages to untie his hands and slaps them loudly against his thighs. “You’re a real, Bonafide demon then?”
“In a sense, yes.”
“In a sense? Girlie, that was a yes or no question.”
"As I said, I'm nothing your mortal mind would be able to understand."
“Well, you’re definitely not human, that’s for sure.”
“I believe we have already established that fact. To reiterate, no, I am not of your world. Or rather your world as it is now.”
“So not really a demon, but you can still grant wishes apparently. Does that make you a genie then?” Childe pauses. “Or maybe my fairy godmother? My God, am I actually a Disney princess?”
Lumine fixes him with a flat look.
“I care not what creature you label me as. In any case, the terms of our agreement have now been filled. I see no further purpose in continuing this discussion.”
Just like when Childe was back in his bakery, he blinks and Lumine vanishes in a burst of bright light, brimstone in her wake. Childe is left alone to deal with Schubert’s head on a pike and pile of dead corpses. In a city he’s unfamiliar with. And in a city he was specifically told not to cause a scene in.
Great.
Childe wonders if the Tsaritsa would let it slide if he tells her that he might have accidentally made a deal with a demon and may have accidentally managed to get said demon to single-handedly behead every person present. Oh, he hopes Scaramouche won’t be too upset he hadn’t actually gotten the last of the machine gun shipment. Again, it’s not entirely Childe’s fault this time, but he still doubts the 6th Harbinger would be really sympathetic.
And goddamnit, he’s going to have to call Signora for a cleanup crew. In the middle of her breakup-induced breakdown.
What the hell even is this week?
Childe comes home absolutely worn out.
He had decided against informing the Tsaritsa about his little demon help in part because he didn’t want to risk sounding like a lunatic, and told her that Schubert had really planned to betray the Fatui. It isn't an actual lie because Schubert really was about to off Childe and the fact that he had also done Boris in earned him some sympathy points with the Tsaritsa.
The same could not be said of Scaramouche.
Childe had been plagued by insistent and scathing calls and messages from the Balladeer for the past three days. Childe had half the mind to just block him, but the Tsaritsa hated infighting between her Harbingers. If Scaramouche complained to her that Childe was ignoring her calls, he’ll probably be subjected to another stern lecture.
And then Signora took Childe’s peace offering of baked goods as an invitation to use Childe as her emotional punching bag. Sure, Childe wants to be supportive over her rough and messy breakup, but in a distant and understanding sort of way, not in a please-listen-to-me-rant-for-three-hours-about-how-sad-I-am-as-I-cry-into-a-giant-tub-of-ice-cream sort of way.
Plus, on top of all that, apparently, Childe is now responsible for finding a new weapons supplier because it was totally his fault that they lost the Lawrences even though, as he kept reminding everyone, Schubert had tried to kill him! Cut him some slack, please!
Kicking his shoes off, Childe shuffles into his kitchen. He’s starving and tired and just wants to unwind over an episode of The Bachelorette before going to bed. He opens his fridge door. It’s disappointingly empty and he reminds himself he has to go grocery shopping soon. Unless he falls low enough to make himself a ketchup and salsa lettuce wrap, it’s a boxed mac n cheese kind of night.
He boils a pot of water, waiting for the noodles to cook, and scrolls aimlessly on his phone. He has 28 new messages from Scaramouche and debates whether to just leave him on read. His father sends a video to the family group chat and Childe clicks it open. Hopefully, it's not another one of those vitamin pill scam things his papa is very good at falling for.
Childe is still scrolling on his phone when his dinner is done cooking. He walks into his living room, a bowl in one hand, his cell in the other and sends a quick message to his dad about the importance of internet safety. Suddenly realizing he forgot to get himself a spoon, Childe sighs and turns around to head back to the kitchen.
And comes face-to-face with the demon-maybe-god-definitely-not-human girl. Childe lets out a shrill scream (which he will absolutely deny later), launching his bowl of Kraft Dinner at Lumine’s face and scrambling backwards. By the grace of whatever holy or unholy power she possesses, Lumine ducks just in time to avoid the oncoming pasta assault and the bowl shatters against Childe’s wall. Childe trips over the back of his couch, flipping over it in the most unsexy way possible. He lands on his head, his limbs awkwardly sprawled all over the sofa.
“Goddamnit girlie! You have got to stop doing that!” Childe clutches his chest in an attempt to calm his heart currently trying to hammer itself painfully out of his ribcage.
Lumine blinks down at him. She looks a little irked to have been the almost target of an artificially coloured cheese projectile but in Childe’s defence, it was an instinctive reaction.
“Doing what? Standing here?”
“No! Appearing out of thin air like that! Give a guy a little warning next time, won’t you? Jesus, I literally felt my heart stop!”
“I did. I sent a message through the Crimson Waves before stepping through the portal.”
“I have a grand total of zero ideas about what that means.”
“The Crimson Waves. From which we can send messages through calefaction. I believe you humans call it infrared light?”
“Wha—infra—how would you expect me to get that? That’s not within the visible spectrum!”
“Visible spectrum?” Lumine cocks her head. “You do not see the Crimson Waves, you feel them.”
“Okay, well I can’t,” Childe mumbles, rubbing the base of his tailbone. He is still stuck painfully on the ground which is not an ideal position to have this conversation in. In fact, this whole conversation is not ideal in the first place. He never once in his life expected to have to discuss sixth-grade science with a powerful and archaic being after she somehow broke into his house, but he guesses that’s his life now. “People, like me, can’t sense in any way whatsoever wavelengths outside the visible spectrum.”
“Well, it is not my fault humans are so pathetically lacking,” Lumine pouts. “How else was I supposed to communicate?”
“By knocking on the door and asking? Like a normal person?”
“I’m not a person.”
Well, Childe can’t argue with that. He groans as he rolls over and picks himself off the ground. So long to his mindless evening in front of the television.
“So, did I somehow summon you again?” he pops his back, stretching to get the cricks out of his spine.
“Were you trying to summon me?”
“Aw, were you hoping to see me again?” Childe winks coyishly. Lumine doesn’t react in any way whatsoever. “I’m gonna have to disappoint you, girlie, the answer is no. I actually don’t even know how I summoned you in the first place.”
“Hoping to see you? You think I sit around waiting for a human to conjure up my insignia?”
“Well, I don’t know what you normally do all day, so yeah kind of. Isn’t that part of the whole demon thing? Getting summoned and then making a deal with humans. And then stealing their souls or something. Oh crap, are you here to take my soul?”
Lumine scoffs.
“Don’t be absurd. Our deal has already been fulfilled and your payment accepted. Besides, what use would I have with possessing a soul?”
“You tell me girlie. As you can probably tell, I’m very new at this whole demon summoning thing.”
“Clearly. Your attempt at drawing the Viatrix was so abysmal I was almost unable to cross through.”
“Drawing the Viatrix?”
Lumine raises her hand, the tip of her finger glowing like a sparkler. She sketches out a shape in midair, the light burning an afterglow in the empty space. Childe blinked. It’s his flipped and very poor attempt at the Big Dipper.
“The Viatrix. In order for me to cross through, a summoner must sketch this symbol.”
"Oh," he purses his lips. "Well, now I can definitively say that I didn't intend to summon you. Would you be offended if I told you that that was my failed attempt at drawing the Big Dipper?"
“I do not know what ‘large dipper’ refers to.”
“The Big Dipper. It’s the name of a constellation.”
“Ah,” Lumine nods. “I have not seen the night sky in a while, I should have expected that She would have changed it.”
“Who would change what now?”
“An entity whose name has not been uttered in this plane in eons. It is of no matter to you. But yes, the skies once held different truths. The Viatrix was once a constellation. People used to invoke it in order to allow me to step into this world. Before it was erased from the stars.”
"I don't think you can just disappear whole ass stars from the universe like that, but okay?"
“How would you know?” Lumine raises an unimpressed brow. “You yourself stated that you’re new at summoning.”
“Touché,” Childe says. “So, did I draw the Viatrix somewhere again? I swear I don’t do this on purpose.”
“You did not summon me.”
“Then how are you here? What did you say again? In order for you to cross through, a person had to sketch your symbol?”
Lumine tenses, her wide eyes reminding Childe of a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Interesting, Childe may have stumbled on some juicy little nugget here.
“There are many cracks in your world through which beings like me can enter,” Lumine sniffs. She’s avoiding Childe’s eyes which is super cute and super amusing.
“Right, so why haven’t there been more demons here then? When we first met, you said how this world hasn’t seen a demon in millennia.”
“They—they are just hard to locate.”
“And yet you somehow found this one super quick.”
Lumine glowers at him.
“Fine!” she admits, “I opened a portal!”
“Uh-huh," Childe nods patiently. "And are you supposed to do that?”
Lumine’s scowl darkens and Childe laughs. She might be a demon or whatever, but her angry expression holds all the menace of a 14-week old kitten.
"I'll take that as a no then," he chuckles. "Although, don't know if I should be flattered or concerned that you opened a portal into my apartment. How did you even know where it is? Or is it another weird demon thing?"
“I didn’t open a portal to your apartment!” Lumine huffs. “It’s linked to you.”
Childe blinks.
“Say what now?”
“The portal. It is tethered to your soul.”
“Oh my God!” Childe throws his hands in the air. “So, you are here to steal my soul!”
“Certainly not. I would not need to steal your soul to carve out a gateway. In fact, I have already used it to open the portal.”
“Wow, that makes this so much better!”
“I am glad you feel that way.”
“I don’t know whether I should laugh or cry right now,” Childe feels like he’s just entered the twilight zone. This is not how he wanted to spend his evening. Not with this demon, and not with the fact that his soul was apparently used in some demonic portal opening magic spell! “I can’t believe this. I actually sold my soul to the Devil!”
Lumine crosses her arms.
"You have not sold anything. Your soul is still within you."
“Oh yeah? Then why is it apparently tethered to a portal!?”
"I've simply used your soul as a conduit, a homing beacon for a lack of better words. No harm has come to it. And I assure you, no harm will come to it. I need this portal to be functioning as a way for me to enter this world as I please."
“Oh God, are you going to start the Armageddon or something? Please say no, I don’t think I’m in the right mindset to handle news like that right now.”
Lumine scoffs, flipping her golden hair behind her shoulders.
“You honestly think I would need to be present in this world to destroy it?”
“Yes? No? I don’t know! I’ve been hit with a lot of new facts in the past twenty minutes, okay?”
"Well, I would not. Your world exists on the basis of balance. Skew it just a little and it will fall apart. And it is not a very difficult thing to do. But for now, I need it intact. There are things here I must tend to. Things that have not been tended to in many millennia."
“I’m sorry, what now?”
“There are things that must be buried. And things that must be revealed. In due time, this world will come to know them all.”
And then she summons her sword again. Childe steps back, tensing himself, but she simply cuts what Childe can only describe as a dark slice in space beside her. It opens to a sky untravelled, to mysteries undiscovered. Childe catches the tail end of whispered secrets too ancient to understand, murmurs from the unexplored recesses of the earth. Lumine steps back and the wound closes up on itself, taking with it the skies, the mysteries, and the murmurs. Just like that, he is left in the ringing silence of his empty apartment.
God, what kind of hell did Childe just unleash into the world?