a softer type of life — lohen
⤹ sfw, oneshot, lohen's idea of domesticity is a little skewed at the end, may be ooc im still getting a handle on his character, kind of an analysis?, not beta read
For a man like Lohen, routine is a nightmare.
Perhaps the life of the expedition had changed him irreversibly— waking up in the wilderness every morning, never knowing for sure if he'd eat that night, sleeping with a hand around his dagger just in case a stray monster managed to wander past the night watch… perhaps it had been his childhood kidnapping that made him into this— a nocked arrow quivering against the bowstring. Always itching to be fired straight into the heart of the enemy, unable to stay in one place without a trained hand holding him back.
Or perhaps he had simply always been this way.
In any case, the original statement remains true. Lohen cannot stand a daily routine.
As his fellow knights grew accustomed to life in Mondstadt again, welcoming back their old habits, Lohen was forced to watch them grow far too comfortable. The same knights that he would go on morning patrols with through the wilderness now spent their mornings off casually watering plants and laughing with friends in the street. The same knights that would previously spend their nights polishing up their weapons in preparation for the next battle were now heading to the bar after their shifts, casually and jovially downing drink after drink without any concern over who would watch over them in their drunken stupor.
Lohen couldn't understand the desire for such simple things. These new routines of theirs only encouraged complacency— not to mention, they were also unbelievably restricting. Why spend time on things like sweeping leaves off your neighbor's porch, or catching a child's lost cat, when you could be spending that time getting stronger? Did his comrades not feel that itch under their skin when they sat too still? Could they not feel themselves splitting apart at the seams without something new? Were they really so content to remain exactly as they are? To remain so slow and weak and powerless and mortal?
Trying to understand it made Lohen's head spin. Those at the top of the food chain controlled everything beneath— If Lohen himself were nothing more than a rabbit, he would fight every day to claw his way up to the top with the wolves. He couldn't think to comprehend how someone could remain happy knowing that one day, they'd be eaten by a larger predator, and there would be nothing at all they could do about it.
Yet perhaps the most confusing of all was you.
You, who has never picked up a weapon in your life. He asked you about why, once— while watching you flit around your home to and fro as if cleaning the dust from your windows would be of any real benefit to you.
"I just never felt the need to, I suppose." You had looked at him a little curiously, but given him a smile when you answered nonetheless. Lohen found himself at a loss on what to say in return to that. It was absurd. Even as a young child, Lohen had been around weapons. His first toy was a handmade wooden bow from his parents— and even now, he never left his home without at least one dagger tucked up his sleeve.
But you were perfectly happy never to touch a weapon in your life. You were the very epitome of everything Lohen despised about himself. Slow. Weak. Powerless. Mortal.
And yet, for some reason he was unable to place, Lohen couldn't bring himself to hate you for it.
Instead, he found himself drawn into your presence like a moth to a flame. After his late night trips into monster camps he would end up at your door after every injury without fail, leaving puddles of blood on your porch step. You welcomed him in every time, your hands as gentle as the breeze as you ushered him into the warmth of your home.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," He'd joke, lightheaded from the blood loss— and you'd laugh in that way that reminded Lohen of the bells that chime around the city during Windblume. It was easy, in the dark of night, to ignore how his heart fluttered at the sound. It was less easy to ignore in the morning, while he helped you to scrub his bloodstains off of your porch.
But he had to wonder— When you touched him so carefully, to wipe the blood from his face with a damp cloth, to disinfect his numerous wounds— did it count as holding a weapon?
Lohen liked to think that it did. Perhaps it made him feel safer with the concept of your weakness; by having him around, you basically had a weapon on hand. A dangerous, volatile weapon, who was likely to cut the hands of whoever were to wield him, but a weapon nonetheless.
It certainly makes him feel safer now, standing at your doorstep out of uniform with a basket of fresh fruit in one hand and a dagger tucked into his other sleeve. Returning to your home feels a bit like returning a sword to its sheath— tucked away neatly so it can't cut anyone, while still remaining on the body of its owner in case of an emergency. While indulging in your weakness, Lohen is also keeping you safe at the same time. His presence alone is akin to that of a weapon, after all of the training he has gone through to twist himself into one.
Lohen tosses the thought of you owning him like a weapon around in his mind a bit, and finds rather quickly that the idea isn't entirely unpleasant to him.
"Lohen!" The door creaks a little when you push it open, and theres flour dusted across your cheeks. Your eyes don't even scan him for weapons before you're welcoming him inside, a grin tugging at your lips like it belongs there. "Come in, come in! I'm just baking right now, I'll put this down and we can chat!"
The knight can only shake his head, raising up the little basket of fruits he brought along with him. You brighten at the sight, and Lohen is a bit dazed by the fact that you hadn't even noticed that he was holding something. If someone had come to your door with a knife, would you have still opened it? Worse, still— would you have even been able to fight back?
Lohen can't ponder that thought for too long before you're approaching, keeping your powder-covered hands away as to not stain his clothes.
"Ehh, don't worry about that," Lohen finally said, his response feeling just a bit too late to be natural. "I'll help out. We can use some of the stuff I brought."
"Alright, alright. But you can't complain when I put you to work!" You laugh, and Lohen is once again reminded of the Windblume bells. "Why'd you bring this over, anyway? Some special occasion I'm forgetting?"
"Hm? Oh— Just consider it a… 'friendship fee'. They were a gift from my team, and they'd just rot at my place."
The lie slips out easily. In truth, Lohen had seen them for sale on the way to your home, and thought immediately of how you'd smile at the sight of such a gift. You seem somewhat content with his explanation, however, scoffing under your breath about how you don't need any kind of payment for your friendship.
Somehow, the word 'friendship' feels incredibly flimsy when Lohen thinks about you, but he makes no effort to correct himself in the moment.
"What're you making, anyway?" Lohen finally asks, clearing his throat a little as he sets the basket down on your counter.
"Apple pie!" You brush against his side as you eye up the fruits in the basket, carefully plucking out the ones that you deemed acceptable. Your touch feels hot against his side, even through his shirt. Lohen has to take a shaky breath in, the burn of your touch more delicious than any other pain he's ever felt. "Lucky you brought extra, I was worried I wouldn't have enough."
You set the handful of apples down in front of him one at a time, making a neat little row across the counter. Right next to them, you place down one of your kitchen knives. You carelessly leave the blade pointed at yourself, and Lohen can't stop himself from reaching over and pointing it towards himself instead when you aren't paying attention.
"Here, cut these up for me? With the both of us working, it should be a lot faster!" You turn away after that, busying yourself with finishing up the batter for what it likely the pie crust.
Seeing you so domestic was… almost frightening. Whether you realized it or not, this life you lived was unbearably fragile. One wrong move and this world you've built would come crumbling down into a heap. You'd be left defenseless, your simple routine of dusting windows so the sun shines through and baking on weekends for no reason in particular completely useless at leaving you prepared for such an outcome.
Lohen swallows hard, his throat suddenly feeling tight as he picks up the blade you left for him. It was hard to imagine himself ever living in such a fragile, gentle world with you. You turned your back away from him like you hadn't just given him a knife, trusting him wholly not to run the blade through your chest. He never would, of course, but there was no way you could ever truly know that.
His grip tightens around the knife in his hand, the sensation both familiar and foreign.
Out of the two of you, it was clear that you were the weaker party. You couldn't fight, you didn't own weapons, and you were overwhelmingly trusting of him. Perhaps to a fault.
So why was it that Lohen still felt that it was him? Why was it that his hands felt so useless when he saw your smile? Why was it your face he saw in his mind every time he lost a battle?
In an act of uncharacteristic obedience, Lohen turns away from your form and begins cutting up the apple you placed in front of him. He isn't sure when he became so invested in this domestic routine of yours, but imagining a life without it makes his stomach roll uncomfortably.
Lohen has trained himself into a weapon— but for you, he finds that the idea of living in a domestic routine suddenly doesn't sound too terrible. If you asked, he would gladly cut up apples for you while you baked. He would scrub his blood off your porch. He would fight off any monster that dared to look your way.
And this soft life you lived… Lohen would just have to become twice as strong to protect it in your stead.
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