Finally was able to put out the fires I had at work and finish this piece! I hope you like it, and that I got the feel for Nyxaris correct.
Its a fluffy and fun little piece.
Work under cut
NyxLumi: Fluffy as Snow
Rated: T
NyxLumi: Fluffy as Snow
It’s all theatrics.
As Lumine approaches a large wooden door, ostentatious laughter causes the wood to moan, as if grumbling from a terrible joke. When the door creaks open, a chorus of sighs from the Abyss Lector and Mages floats along with the breeze that follows. In the center of the chaos, their wife Nyxaris is flourishing their sleeves, twirling about. Dead eyes brighten, just a smidge upon spotting Lumine. Pirouetting to a stop in front of their love, Nyxaris welcomes them with open arms.
“My galeach! Finally, after all this time, are you here to free me from my captive audience?”
“Sorry Aris, I’m just here to pickup some things before heading over to Dragonspine. We might have an ally.”
Disappointment. Gone in a flash, Lumine doesn’t miss the little spark in their eyes sputtering and their expression dulling. But she knows Aris. As if they’d give up so easily.
“~ Oh what am I to do in this big castle all alone?~”
There it is, the beginning of a scene. She hears it in the taunting tone turning melodic, the movements growing animated, and the expressions burgeoning into exaggeration.
“~You’ve left your bride, whittling away. Just me, these walls, and the queen’s guards and dogs. Do I need a stroke of midnight? Or a rope of hair? Just to see my beloved so unfair?~”
An echo of groans. It seems even the Abyssal creatures have had enough of Nyxaris’ shenanigans. Wait - when did the castle have spotlights? However, that wasn’t the end of the scene, as their wife pulls out all of the theatrical ammo just for this moment: fluttering eyelashes, big puppy-dog eyes, a palm pressing daintily over their heart, the most puckering of pouts, a broom in the other free hand for extra drama, and drooping ears.
Lumine smiles crookedly and sighs, trying to seem unamused by the performance, but she can’t help the fondness in her eyes.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a few more days and I’ll be free afterwards…I think.”
“Be still my heart! By the time you’ve returned, grief and heart ache would have ferried me into the arms of eternal slumber.”
“…But you’re already technically dead…”
As golden eyes scan the room they’re in, it seems that all of the Abyss lectors, mages, and anyone else, have made themselves scarce. It’s just Lumine and Nyxaris now.
The shift in tone is near instantaneous as Aris dons a more relaxed and less energetic front, sighing.
“It’s been a while since we’ve been out. As lovely as this castle is, I’m going mad from boredom.”
“Dragonspine isn’t a walk in the park though.”
“Little green’s domain? Don’t worry, I’ll just use my familiars.”
There’s an eyebrow arching in doubt on Lumine’s face. The absolute confidence her wife exudes is questionable, as if nothing could go wrong. So far, their track record has been mostly solid, but she can’t help but feel that there’s an ulterior motive to this excursion.
“Me, caught unawares? You jest.”
With a small shrug of her shoulders, Lumine acquiesces to their darling’s request. Guess they’re braving the winter front of Dragonspine together.
Guttural ripping in the fabric of space precedes their entrance, and as the two of them step out of the portal into the new space, the breezy, frosty greeting of the mountain range brushes up against their faces. Golden tresses flow and loop around strands of red while two pairs of eyes cascade out towards the horizon. Mists heavy with the kiss of frost, settle in patches across the various steep slopes, flowing with the swaying of glittering foliage, twinkling in the light. The blanket of snow acts like a mirror for the dawn-kissed sky, reflecting the gentle hues of pink and blue. Amidst the calm snowscape, the true danger of Dragonspine rises defiantly with a blaze of red, like a beacon in the distance. As the duo stands at the foot of the mountain, far away from any possible detection, the chilling drafts carry the sting of deadly blooms.
“See my galeach, isn’t this more beautiful with me here?” A sly smile.
Lumine doesn’t answer Aris’ question, but they know the answer as the etchings of a smile form on her face and her golden hues melt into a molten river.
“C’mon, we should start moving. This isn’t a date.”
“We can always make it one.” With a silent hum, Nyxaris always gets the last words in.
The two knew it wouldn’t be easy, but finding this mysterious ally is harder than expected. As the couple trek through the icy landscape, snow begins to crown their heads. Using this time outside bland, stone walls, Aris admires the natural beauty of Teyvat. The red stones jutting from the landscape feel like a kindred spirit: bold, out-of-place, and proud. With a few flourishes of their long fingers, skittering familiars crush some of the waylaid stones, retrieving the shattered pieces for them, and the Scarlet Quartz fragments are carved and crafted into a hairpiece for Lumine.
Glittering defiantly against the backdrop of white, a red, alien flower stands perfectly sculpted in the fae’s palm. In their many travels, they’ve learned that this flower is called the camellia, which in the language of flowers means love and resilience. The red of the flower perfectly matches Aris’ hair and they can’t help but admire their work, imagining their love wearing the crafted gift.
Suddenly, upon gentle winds, there’s the scent of cecilias with no obvious source on these unforgiving mountains. Oh ho~ What perfect timing. Perfectly unfortunate, for him. Bounding over to Lumine with grace and barely concealed anticipation, Nyxaris taps Lumine’s shoulders, presents and places the gift in her hair, and gives her a quick peck on the cheeks with their hands laced behind their back. There’s a daring gesture behind Nyxaris’ back, taunting the wind with a choice finger salute.
It happened all too quickly for Lumine, and she had to give herself some time to figure things out. With gentle hands she takes her wife’s gift from her hair to properly admire their work. With a slow, soft inhale, she can’t help but admire the beautiful bloom between her hands, eyes enchanted, watching the light prism through the stone petals. Properly placing the ornament back in her hair, prominent and proud for all to see, the Abyss Princess turns towards their darling and gives them the rarest of smiles.
“Thank you. I love it.”
Ears wiggling and eyes twinkling in response to their galeach’s words, Nyxaris can’t help but to feel themselves warm. Skipping ahead in a hum, red locks dancing in the wind, Lumine is left giggling while following behind. The scarlet flower is a defiant symbol of their devotion, love, and belonging, for all of Teyvat to see. As the couple continues to search for this mysterious ally, the wind picks up for a brief moment, before puffing back into its gentle ebb and flow. Ruffled feathers, perhaps?
—-
As their journey takes them towards the Skyward Pillar, the caverns inside are lanced by towering icicles that refract the light, and the pristine silence is oddly romantic. The fading daylight shimmers upon crystalline facets, slow falling snow dancing from above, and the tides of flowing grasses make for quite the “date spot”. Lumine, ever prepared, lights a small campfire for the two of them as the day draws to a close. Steaming warm cocoa is prepared for the advancing cold and passes between chilled fingers, billowing in a puff of heat. Upon crackling flames, a small meal for two is cooking as the couple sits on a nearby chipped and stiffened log, huddling together under a puffy, large blanket. The pleasant atmosphere is a salve for the two souls, their weary shoulders finally getting much needed relief as they watch the flames lick and bite at the kindling.
While Nyxaris enjoys the intimate silence, warm golden eyes come into view, and there’s a slight pressure on the lips, sweet and subtle. Fingers entangle and thread through red locks as the scarlet camellia crowned on rivers of gold, shines in the light of the flames. How rare, a tender moment like this from their galeach. Reciprocating gently, the sweet moment of indulgence lingers among the beauty and silence of Dragonspine. Breathing synced and eyes closed, this is what Nyxaris misses when they’re separated, one of the many things they love about their light.
Then a nosy little WIND decides to peep, the subtle scent of cecilias itching the tip of Nyxaris’ nose. HOW RUDE!
Passion and jealousy course through the fae’s veins as they’ve been sorely intruded upon and little green has decided not to give them their due space. Through the fire of connected lips, the fae gives in; deeper to show their devotion towards their light; hungrier to show that it will never be enough, that they will always need them; all-encompassing to show their ever present protection; and with so much love that it will never be in doubt. The Scarlet Quartz camellia refracts in the light of the fire as they kiss, their lips intermingling, pushing and pulling as red glitters along cave walls, bright, dazzling, defiant. When Nyxaris finally parts, the scent is no longer bathing them in the wind. They see Lumine utterly dazed and blushing, staring at them as if spotlighted from above. Adorable.
As the new day starts at dawn, they set off again to find this mysterious ally. Despite Dragonspine being a comparatively small area, this ally has eluded them for two days straight! When Lumine’s back is turned, a small imperceptible jingle plays on the wind, too soft for Lumine, but oh so loud for Nyxaris. That green gremlin is being too nosy!
Once is a hindrance.
Twice is an annoyance.
Three is just fucking ridiculous!
Under their breath, the fae sings a tune just for one.
“~Little old man, little old man, have you come to play?
Or did you forget to pay? ~
~Parading around as a little bard boy
Oh so full of pride and joy.
But, my oh my, you’re nothing but a playboy
Who cried, and lied, and tried to hide
From a princess and her bride.~
~Your head doth slosh about
No fine wine
Nothing divine
Tis naught but fetid backwash
Festering on the vine~”
With a smug look, Nyxaris knows that the Anemo Archon heard them loud and clear as the jingling abruptly stops. It’s only for a moment, but the gentle winds of Dragonspine pick up just around Nyxaris as the snow-laden branches rustle above. In a smooth sidestep, the fae dodges the thud of snow piling right next to them, only to hear the snapping right above them. In an instant, they’re draped in white and Lumine turns around hearing the commotion behind her. Like a disgruntled snowman, Nyxaris’ head pops out of the bed of snow, sneezing. Surprised, Lumine has to laugh at the situation, helping their darling dig themselves out of the pile. However, it stops becoming a laughing matter when Nyxaris becomes extremely slow and lethargic.
“I’m fine.” Nyxaris says while barely clinging to consciousness, words coming out in a slow drawl.
“No, you’re not.” Lumine is having none of it.
In a moment of recollection, the Abyss Princess remembers what her wife said about centipedes, they don’t function well in the cold. With both surprising ease and practice, she hefts their body over one of her shoulders while freeing her right arm for combat. Picking up the pace, Lumine searches for shelter away from the hostile environment, grumbling ‘Me, caught unawares, they said. You jest, they said.’ As Aris’ body dangles with her movements, she idly notices how tall their love is, their legs almost touching the ground.
Finally in the distance, she sees a cave, jutting from the landscape. Entering, the garbling of Hilichurlian abruptly stops. One, two, four hilichurls. It’s child’s play clearing out the space, and Lumine sets about starting a campfire to warm their darling up. Soon, the immediate danger passes as the tender warmth of steady flames wraps the small space within its gentle embrace. Peace and quiet, a time to contemplate, observe, and wonder. Golden eyes slide towards their wife’s face in comfortable repose, admiring the serene expression they so rarely wore. The long lashes that hide eyes both blank and expressive, flowing hair they’ve kissed and adored, lips both mocking and kind. Lumine can’t help the wandering hand tracing their darling’s enchanting face. How is it that they are so handsome, blindingly lovely, and annoying all at once? Fingers linger over slightly chapped and parted lips, remembering their kiss the night prior. A smile.
Their fingers continue downward, petting the elegant outline of their neck, marked by black diamonds. As red strands loop around her wandering digits, she can’t help but to bring them to her lips and offer them a small kiss while smelling the wafting scent, so familiar and comforting. Wanting more, Lumine shifts herself until she’s behind Nyxaris. This is a rare opportunity, and she continues her admiration by tracing their body slowly, up and down. It’s amazing how the carapace at their spine is so smooth and flawless while the skin around it remains soft to the touch. The living centipede tattoos are also part of them, their skittering slower than usual. Holding Nyxaris from behind as the big spoon, Lumine’s featherlight kisses trace along their exposed shoulder, even gracing her lips along the living tattoos scattered across their body. She has to thank them too for being a part of the person she loves.
Content with their safety, Lumine closes her eyes and presses her soft bosom against their wife’s back as the heat connects the two.
“Rest well.”
Lumine closes her eyes in a light nap as they wait for her darling to awaken.
——
When Nyxaris comes to, vague and hazy, memories from being out cold slowly trickle in. There’s a small chittering of their familiars as they scramble to catch Aris up with the latest details, humming in satisfaction from the small affections that the adorable Lumine had given even them. The redness of internal combustion rises as Nyxaris peers behind themselves and feels the press of soft flesh against their back. Ready to explode on the spot, the fae lets out an undignified squeak of embarrassment and delight. They had truly made it a date, and Nyxaris can’t help the fluttering of their ears.
——
At Angels Share in Mondstadt, a lone red-headed bartender waits with a message at hand addressed to one Venti.
“Oh ho, is it a letter from one of my many admirers, come to wax poetic about my performances?”
Diluc doesn’t answer and just pushes the letter to the bard and waves him off. Once Venti opens the letter and unfurls the paper, the excited expression morphs into an annoyed grimace smile. Punctured in tiny little holes, probably made from some rather sharp feet, is a picture of Nyxaris’ gloating expression with some choice words, a taunt, and even more gloating at the very bottom. Venti is no Pyro Archon, but he’s going to find a way to set this cursed parchment alight.
