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Eula passed under the shadow of the main gate, a small slice of space where the air was cool. Where the sun hit the grass, the very air roasted all who had the misfortune to stand there. It was excellent weather for the festival of Windblume. This year looked to be shaping up to be a wildly optimistic party, baking in the unusual heat for this time of year, when the citizens of Mondstadt usually expected wind and rain.
Everyone walked with a spring in their step and spoke with a joyous hint of melody, in tune with the ballads and hymns written specially for this festive period. Work and labour activities were suspended, so everyone had the time spare to spend with their families, and surround themselves with love and happiness, and just like every other day of the year, Eula was excluded from that.
So she planned to put the city behind her and scheduled some time to herself.
Looking out over the bridge where the protection from the blazing sunshine was exactly nil, Eula's spirit shrivelled a little. She had chosen a bad time of day to travel due to the unexpected weather conditions. Out there, beyond the shores of the lake, all the popular hotspots were teeming with revellers, families reuniting from the farming villages with fortune-seeking cityfolk. Windrise, Cape Oath and the fair village of Springvale were jam packed with visitors, tourists coming from other nations to experience Mondstadt's most famous annual event, and she would have a tough time avoiding all of them. She looked back to the city with the tall windmills and thick stone walls that provided the sweet relief of shade.
Eula shook off the doubts, like water off a duck's back. Now was not the time to second guess herself. Eula chose to brave the heat, and took a step out of the city boundary, completely unaware that she was being watched.
"Where do you think you are going?"
Startled, Eula jumped and stress prickled all over her skin, like she had been caught committing a heinous crime. She quickly realised that her privacy had been invaded—she never told a soul that she was leaving and made it a habit to change her routine often enough that no suspicion would arise from her sudden absence from her usual haunts.
"Master Jean! I did not see you there. What were you doing, hiding in the shadows like that? What a dishonourable way to start a conversation."
"I knew I had to catch you before you try to slip away, like you do every year."
Eula bristled. So she had been noticed, and for how long, Eula could only speculate. Jean left no hints that she paid Eula any attention at all outside of her obligations as Acting Grand Master, and their occasional meetings for afternoon tea. "The festivities put me in a bad mood. So I depart until the city has ceased its incessant need to shout from the rooftops how jubilant and free they are."
"Where do you go when you leave? I haven't a clue where to start guessing. Do you go home, Eula?"
"I have no home, other than the barracks at Headquarters." This year, Eula had planned to go to Dragonspine to stave off the heat, far away from her family estate, and the city. She knew all the little nooks and crannies of the mountain to hide in, the best spots were never on the beaten path anyway. She had hoped to go delving in some ruins and take a leisurely swim in one of the ice lakes.
"Then where do you run away to?"
"I go wherever I please, away from those who would question me with little objective other than to irritate me." Eula's eyes glared pointedly at Jean, who found humour in the accusation.
"I could assign you to a guard position somewhere in town, then you'd have to stay, and at least watch, even if you won't join in. Windblume is all about drinking and having a good time, I thought you would enjoy that sort of thing." Jean was light on her feet like some persistent pixie, moving in front of Eula whichever way she tried to walk, herding Eula back within the gates of Mondstadt. "I saw very special and exclusive new wine varieties being delivered with the garlands this year, you'd be a fool to miss it."
"I… don't have anything to celebrate."
"Come now, that can't be true. You're alive and you're free. That's worth celebrating."
Eula almost laughed, but she remembered to control her face and wiped the sneer as soon as it appeared. "What an interesting but wrong viewpoint. Now if you'll excuse me."
"Don't go."
Jean's fist closed around Eula's wrist and rooted her in place. The iron grip was an affront to Eula's pride, escape was not possible, no matter how hard she fought.
"Why should I stay? I have no family to share gifts, no friends to share drinks. It's like, for these few days, everyone forgets that I exist, so if you don't mind, I prefer to stay out of sight until it's all over, lest someone notice me and kindly point out how alone I am." Eula's disdainful eyes travelled down Jean's form and her frown intensified as she concentrated on Jean's hand, still gripping Eula's arm. "I'd rather die than stay here, to be honest. I hate this time of year."
Jean looked rather shocked at Eula's choice of words and finally released her, protecting her scorned hand as if it had been burned.
"The first year you joined the Knights, I wondered who you would spend Windblume with, it wasn't until the year later that I realised that you left the city without a trace. Took me this long just to catch you in the act."
It took Eula a moment to process the subtle compliment. She almost smiled. A lot had happened and changed since Eula became a recruit, then a Knight, and a Captain, but the fact that she refused to be a part of Windblume never changed.
"If I'd known that you'd leave town to be by yourself, I'd have done something about it sooner."
Eula scoffed and pointed her hoity-toity nose directly towards the sky. "Such as? There is very little you can do to stop me from leaving." Her arms were tightly folded in front of her as she spoke, guarding herself from Jean's uncharacteristic casual mood, obviously brought on by the festival.
Jean bounced triumphantly onto her toes, with a wide grin and a twinkle in her eye. "I wish to give you a Windblume, as per the custom. I thought it would be a nice gesture—bury the hatchet, so to speak—and you're the only one who would appreciate these." She revealed what she had kept hidden behind her back.
"People have given you those for years, dandelions for the Dandelion Knight. They're for you, not me."
"I politely disagree. If they're a gift from me, which they are—I collected them myself, and on the first day of Windblume, where you consider your nearest and dearest who gives you the most happiness, then it's tradition to give something as a token of appreciation—a Windblume. For you, I chose dandelions because they suit you just as much as they suit me."
Eula strained her eyes not to belay her incredulity, wondering when Jean had fallen into such a delusional fantasy. Her eyes rolled despite her efforts. "Don't tell me you wrote me a poem as well. Roses are red, violets are blue… absolute absurdity, more fool you."
The follow up to the mockery was an afterthought, her internal rhythm continued on the beat of the preceding children's verse. Unfortunately, Jean saw this turn of events as a complete success.
"See. You're getting into the spirit of it now."
"All you're doing is making me want to be left alone with even greater haste."
"Wait, wait! Please stay, just once. Have you ever stayed for Windblume, Eula?"
Eula finally took a step back, towards the busy streets again, but only so she no longer had to stand in the sweltering heat, feeling herself wilt like a parched potted plant.
"I drew the lot for guard duty one year. I know what I'm missing and it's not much, I can happily absorb the loss."
"But it's such great fun! There's games, and songs, and drinks! You love drinks. It's a chance for everyone to let loose and be carefree, more so than usual, and, most importantly, not be alone."
Eula blinked once. She didn't understand how there could be any other option. She could tell the festival was something that made Jean happy, despite all the extra work it called for in organising logistics, and the time wasted on such matters interfered with her already overloaded schedule.
Jean held out her hand, as if waiting for a handshake. "Well, I thought to myself, that this simply won't do, and am therefore pleased to cordially invite you to spend the time with me. No one should spend the holidays alone."
So Jean pitied her. What could be worse?
"Don't be ridiculous. When could you spare the time? You have a family, friends, and any number of suitors who would unabashedly throw themselves at your feet. And because you are Jean Gunnhildr, you humour them all with utmost grace and the perfect execution of the rules of etiquette." Somehow Eula made even the highest of praise sound insulting. "Doesn't it ever get tiring?"
"It is my duty to uphold the traditions in service of Lord Barbatos."
"Yet you make a mockery of them. The Windblume was used as a symbol of rebellion to overthrow first a god, and then my family of aristocrats. You'll remember from your history lessons that it was the Gunnhildr Clan at the spearhead, who led the revolution against my ancestors. If you've but half a brain, you'll see the cruel irony in your actions."
"But isn't that the perfect reason why you should have one? Are you forgetting about a little known former member of the Lawrence Clan, known only as Kreuzlied, who rebelled against his Clan and fought alongside a troupe of rebels? They also used the code of the Windblume. Judging by your actions in life thus far, you are more than worthy to receive such a symbol of resistance, much more so than me."
"That might be true if I were a disciple of Lord Barbatos."
"Everyone who lives in Mondstadt falls under His protection."
"What a shame He cannot or will not protect me from His other followers."
All the while they had been talking, passersby had shot Eula with dirty looks, scowls, and non-silent mutterings. They stood out, people tended to give Eula a wide berth whenever they saw her, and to see her talking with the beloved Acting Grand Master caused quite the stir. They barely waited five paces before gossiping about what they saw, cursing Eula in the same breath.
"I hope this does not affect your opinion and reverence of the Church."
"I have never been allowed to worship Lord Barbatos. And frankly, I have no desire to. I am not a recipient of His blessed forgiveness, my prayers have always been rejected. I fear I am condemned by His Lordship, rightly so, since I come from a bloodline drenched in wickedness that would undermine His rule and seek to replace Him."
"But the sins of the father were granted pardon to all men—"
"Funny how my sins in particular are exempt from that rule. They are simply too deeply ingrained for one person to swim against the tide of past transgressions, especially in the eyes of Mondstadt. For a gaggle of drunkards, Mondstadters have an exceptionally long memory."
Legends were passed down through generations by song, ballads of heroic stories, requiems for those whose journeys were tragically cut short. Musically, they were impeccable, Eula loved the melodies, but every verse and stanza decried Eula by name. The Lawrence Clan had a long history of arrogance and evildoing, and Mondstadt never let her forget it. Eula was not permitted a moment's reprieve, disdain floating to her ears in songs on the wind.
Jean looked as desperate as Eula felt.
"Please just stay, for me. Please. It would only be the two of us, only for one day, then you can go, if you still want to."
There it was, the truth of the matter. Summed up in short, Jean must have had a fondness for Eula in her heart and decided to reveal it in this moment. The dandelion Windblume, often a symbol of romantic love, especially given on the first day of the festival. Eula was still holding it—her first ever Windblume. She was embarrassed to count the years of yearning it had taken to finally receive one, and had given up hope long ago. Now that Jean had planted the idea in her head again, pain and sorrow took root, regrettably the opposite of her intent.
The thought brought tears to her eyes, that she was an empty soul, void of love, carrying only cold and chilling sadness. Any happiness she happened upon was merely a vapour, stolen away from her by a slight breeze.
This, too, would end; the brief joy of being acknowledged. The festival only lasted a week, and it wouldn't be too long until Jean would realise her mistake and forget about what could only be a silly infatuation. Eula daren't feel wanted, desired, be lusted over, because all too soon she would grow to need it, and suffer deprivation once everything crumbled.
"What are you thinking?"
"Why did you have to go and do this? What is the meaning of this?" Eula pushed the flower stem back into Jean's hands. Their hands fought each other gently, and Jean's will to reject the return of the gift caused it to fall at their feet. Eula tutted, accepting that the discarded gift was now where it belonged, and she was disappointed in Jean for being childish.
Eula knew from the way Jean paled that feelings had been hurt, perhaps severely, irreparably. She frowned at the crumpled plant and then at her clumsy hands.
"I just—all I wanted was to make you happy."
"I found that to be a futile pursuit, so I have long since abandoned it. I care only for my vengeance, for my Clan and for myself. This path is long and arduous and has a low chance of success. My own personal happiness is meaningless in the grand scheme of things."
"But what kind of life is that?"
"Repentance."
"The toll it takes on your heart must be very grave. I can see it sometimes in your eyes… they're always so haunted. My heart aches for you, Eula. I sometimes find it unable to bear, but bear it, I must."
Eula pushed her thoughts down at great pain to herself, repression never got any easier. "Empathy is not a safe practice around me. I would warn you against it at all costs." She had to caution Jean to stay back, and not become infected with the contagion of sin loaded upon her shoulders.
Eula picked up all her mental baggage, ready to haul herself away with the heaviest of hearts. She turned her head towards the long bridge, her heart was set on walking a lonely road.
"You're still leaving." Jean inhaled a shaky breath, but she nodded in understanding. "That's fine. You must do the things that make you happy. Or at least, avoid the things that increase your sadness."
Jean straightened her spine and cleared her throat. Eula averted her gaze and ignored the tears welling in Jean's eyes.
"Be safe on your travels."
"I will return on time to report for duty when usual Knight of Favonius activity resumes." Eula said, thinking it was something Jean would want to hear. She waited for a response, confirmation that Jean had heard, or express permission to leave.
Jean only tensed her hands, grinding her teeth behind pursed lips.
"Before you go, may I give you one more thing?"
Eula barely made any response, but Jean saw the tiny nod.
A brief look of terror and regret passed over Jean's face, but she stiffened with bravery and pushed forward. Eula actually flinched away, and her eyes widened in reproach, but Jean was undeterred and stepped into the thorny barrier that Eula projected around herself.
"What are you doing?"
Eula froze up. Her mind went blank, disconnecting from her body, and she was unable to find the correct response to someone hugging her. Past experience was sorely lacking.
Rising panic brought heat which rosied her cheeks, she couldn't remember the last time someone else was this close, let alone close enough to physically touch her. Another human had their hands on her bare back, pulling her to press against another warm body. She was able to smell the unique scent of sun-kissed skin, and felt a tickle on her own skin—breath from a face so close as Jean leaned her head on Eula's shoulder.
Also this was Master Jean, the Acting Grand Master, her superior through and through, whom she viewed with all due respect and reverence, even if Eula's tongue was especially sharp when speaking to her. She held Jean to high standards, same as herself, given the similarities of their backgrounds, so it may have seemed harsh how Eula chose to deal with those interactions. Jean had told her once that she was grateful to Eula for holding her accountable and was flattered that Eula held her in such high regard.
"I don't want you to face this world alone, a world that opposes you without due consideration. I know it's hard for you to accept help, but it's here, waiting for you, whenever you decide that you want to take it."
Eula could feel her throat swelling, making it hard for her to breathe. She sucked in a loud breath and Jean looked to her expectantly.
"I must go."
Her guts roiled and bubbled as she stepped out of Jean's arms. She made it about ten paces without looking back, and she wished her steeled nerve had not melted so quickly because Jean was clutching her chest and bravely holding back tears. Eula had to pretend she did not see that, and kept walking. One foot after the other, all the way down that long bridge, weaving through the crowds where they took up the entire width, clogging the path.
Eula knew the roads to Dragonspine by heart, she could travel there with her eyes closed. But she found herself on a different path entirely. What Jean had said kept repeating.
'Avoid the things that increase her sadness' because happiness was a fleeting dream for Eula; there was a glass ceiling above her that she could never break through, she was heavily chained to rock bottom. 'It's hard for Eula to accept help' due to pride, which was ridiculous, because it was based on the pumped up reigning conqueror ego instilled in her since birth by the crumbling Lawrence Clan, which was sustained wholly by pompous delusions of grandeur.
Eula had put up a good defence against the constant persecution, the quick rebuttals she had coiled on her tongue at all times hid her patheticness with arrogance, always ready to lash out at short notice. It was incredible that Jean even gave her the time of day. She did enjoy Jean's company, she just had a strange way of showing it—spitting out quips at each other, and Jean was more than happy to volley with her, usually with a deep undercurrent of humour. To an outside listener, it was as if they did not like each other at all.
So now she had stumbled upon an impromptu plan to give back what was lost, and find something suitable for Jean, whose intentions were pure and innocent, which Eula had stomped all over and mangled. Eula only realised later, once she was far enough away from the city that she both loved and despised, that her actions reflected the worst aspects of her character. So quick to judge, full to the brim with pessimism and spiteful bitterness. She could blame it on her bad mood, but she would be lying.
Hoping to never explain her absence during a celebration of love and relationships, Jean had exposed her to the pain of her loneliness. She was numb to it most days, but it had been dragged up to the forefront of her mind and she had no defence against the assault. She wiped her eyes endlessly as she searched the grassy fields for a dandelion worthy to bestow upon Jean.
Of course, all the good ones had already been harvested and taken to be given as gifts, just as Jean had done. She could imagine Jean waking early before dawn to find the ideal specimen before anyone else would have a chance to get their hands on it, because Jean was definitely the type of person to do such a thing. How many flowers did Jean pick? She certainly knew an awful lot of people.
Eula only had a single goal.
She found one with the most pleasing roundness. It reminded her of Jean's face, flawless and exquisite. She dare not touch it, for fear of disfiguring the perfect spherical shape. Eula stared at it for a while, wondering, of all the dandelions left, how was this one missed? Perhaps it had not been there earlier and had only come into its own after sunset, a late bloomer, so to speak. Almost like fate intended for her to kneel in the dirt, cut the stem gently with her knife, and coddle it closely as she journeyed back.
By the time she had made it back to the city gates, the sun had set long ago and the day's heat had faded into nothing, returning the air temperature to that of a normal night in mid-March. Given the drastic change, even Eula shivered in the bite of the chill as she had worked up a sweat during the hot hours of daylight, and it was now reacting to the winds.
She marched all the way to Headquarters, ignoring the jeers and comments from the merry drunks lining the streets. There must have been a wedding party in a nearby pub, where a large crowd was assembled, raising their drinks in toast and singing praises to the newlyweds. Unfortunately, one of them saw Eula and how she clutched the extra special dandelion she had plucked for Jean, and bellowed out with laughter. All alone again, they taunted her, Sally-No-Mates, never been touched, doomed to spend her life as a spinster, they sang about how they would watch her die an old maid and dance on her grave. She picked up speed to avoid further humiliation.
Eula's eyes had a storm inside them and it made the front guard cower before her. She shoved the door open, it banged against the wall with the force of her push, and turned immediately towards the office of the Grand Master.
She knocked, the door was slightly open already and her sharp tap widened the gap. She peeked through, not expecting to find a little party behind the door. A joyful fire crackled in the hearth, and seasonal decorations lined the mantelpiece and coving. Jean was joined by a few of her friends and her sister, and they sat around the large dining table enjoying themselves.
Kaeya and Lisa were deeply engrossed in a card game and their sparring match in competitive witty banter, while Jean sat next to Barbara and was talking to Diluc. All had various drinks in their hands, as per tradition, though Diluc's cocktail was non-alcoholic, and everyone was smiling, laughing, having a good time. The empty wine bottles piled in the centre gave away how much they had already gone through, as well as the twin patches of rouge in the centre of Jean's cheeks.
Eula knocked again, since she hadn't yet been noticed and she wanted to announce her presence.
"Yes, yes, come in! Don't worry, this will only take a second. I'm off-duty, but whatever." Jean started giggling, perhaps unused to those words from her lips. She turned around, finally.
"Oh! Eula! I wasn't expecting you."
"You have company. Of course you do. I, uhm—"
Jean dropped what she was holding to practically run to the door before Eula could disappear from behind it. The door opened wide to reveal Eula hunched over, shrinking herself to stay hidden, clutching her prized dandelion, which now seemed much less important than Jean spending time with her friends—the real purpose of Windblume.
"I apologise for interrupting you. Master Jean, may I speak with you?"
"Of course. Come in, come in. You must be weary from your travels. Would you like some refreshment? I've got tea, water, juice, and Diluc brought wine. Whatever you fancy."
"I meant in private."
"Oh! We were just leaving, weren't we, boys?" Lisa sprang to her feet, much faster than she would normally move at her leisurely languid pace.
"Please relax, sit. Eula and I can take this outside, might I suggest a short walk perhaps." She nodded enthusiastically at Eula, who could not look directly at anyone in the room. Eula was dragged outside, back into the cold night. They walked through the enclosed premises of Headquarters, past the stables and the training ground. Eula was so serious and focused, especially in comparison to Jean who felt a little bit wavy. Diluc was a master at mixology, his drinks went down a bit too easily. Jean couldn't help but smile every time she had Eula in view.
Jean had forgotten an outer layer to cover herself and rubbed her bare arms for some warmth. She had changed into her summer clothes at some point during the day, helping her to relax for her party, but had very little protection from the cold. They came to a stop close to one of the braziers, recently lit after sundown. Jean spread her hands out in front of it to catch the heat.
"Once again, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take you away from your gathering."
"No, I'm glad you came back. What changed your mind?"
"I thought about what you said. As you might imagine, Windblume lacks appeal for me. But I know you enjoy it, and it wasn't right of me to dampen your good cheer."
"It's quite alright. I realised later that it was insensitive of me to force it upon you."
"I want you to know that I'm not ungrateful, I know you meant well. It was just so unexpected, and I had no precedent for a suitable reaction."
"I'm honoured to have given you the first. I've been wanting to give you one for ages, but you always became a ghost around this time of year. Maybe this time around, I might have the pleasure of your company on my birthday."
Eula had never been to a birthday party before, at least one that wasn't strictly controlled by her parents, the leaders of the Clan, who were heavily influenced by the customs of old. Her family were known to have a stiff formal affair and, as the heir, she would perform a ritual dance to sombre music. She didn't hate it, just the expectation; she didn't have a choice to participate. This was a small part of all the hopes and dreams of the Lawrence Clan that were laden upon her shoulders, which by itself did not burden her, but compounded with the reckoning that she would somehow lead them to wage an unwinnable war against the explicit freedom ideology that Mondstadt was built upon, that the Knights were sworn to protect, was what led her to reject her Clan in the first place.
Since leaving her home and being shunned by her family, she had come to learn that birthdays were a little different when not adhering to millenia-old traditions. They were fun and cheerful, the guest of honour was treated to their favourite things and celebrated all day long. Not that Eula had been invited to one before. Would it have made a difference to her decision to stay if she had known Jean's birthday fell in the middle of this festival?
Eula's birthday also fell during a season of celebration—the Weinlesefest. No one paid her any attention, but at least she got to enjoy some drinks for the occasion and pretend everyone was there for her. She was able to blend in and hide amongst the crowds of revellers while she smiled to herself, proud of surviving another year.
Jean backpedalled when Eula's pensive face came into focus and she had been silent for a long while trying to produce the words to describe her complex feelings about birthdays. "But I would understand if you didn't want to do that. There would be a lot of people there, some who might not be so happy to see you, I suppose."
Eula half shrugged. "It's the thought that counts."
"What have you got there?"
"This?"
Eula had almost forgotten she was fiddling with the long stem, nerves made her fingers clumsy but she didn't harm it. She seemed surprised when she looked at it and almost dropped it. For a moment, she was left wondering where all her confidence and bravado disappeared to, like a teen, nervous to make friends, dreading how she might be perceived.
"Oh, I had to reciprocate your earlier gift. I wasn't about to let you outdo me in the art of gift-giving. Here, I found a Windblume for you. A dandelion, unoriginal but appropriate." Eula's hand was trembling as she delicately held it out.
After an initial inspection, Jean rewarded her with a smile. "I love these." She raised up the beautiful dandelion head and waved her other hand, commanding the wind to detach the little feathery seeds and sweep them up into the air, before making them dance in wondrous swirling patterns. In the orange glow of the lit brazier, they looked like fireflies.
"I didn't know you could do that."
"Visions are not playthings, I'm setting a bad example."
"It's very pretty though."
Jean's eyes were nowhere except on Eula's face, carved out of the firelight from the brazier and bright moonlight. "Yeah."
Eula lifted her hand next to Jean's, a hair's breadth apart, and fluttered her fingers shooting off tiny chips of frost and snow, sending them towards the cyclonic air current created by Jean. It made fantastic sparkles, the icy wisps refracted the light as it was caught in the gusts, whirled to and fro by Jean's manifested anemo.
They pushed harder, expanding their power, to make the wondrous sight even more spectacular. Jean gasped as the chill wind got out of control and swept over her, throwing her hair over her eyes and making her shiver. The flames in the brazier were reduced to ashy glowing cinders, the heat from it suddenly ceased. Her arm lowered and their little light show was over.
"Too cold?" Eula clenched her fist, pressing her nails into her palm, so that the pain would stem the flow elemental energy from her hand.
Jean was grateful for the darkness to hide how she blushed at her lack of forethought. "It surprises me that you care at all. Shouldn't you scold me for making a mistake? I don't often drink alcohol, there's never time to relax, and I must admit, I am not used to feeling so off-kilter like this."
"Hmph. I care for you a great deal."
"Funny way of showing it."
Eula sighed. "I know. Come here."
Eula reached a quick hand, grabbing onto Jean's upper arm. She wrapped herself around Jean, forcing far more contact than she was used to, pinning Jean's back against her chest to transfer a large amount of heat, snaking her arms around Jean's torso and, finally, her chin came to rest on Jean's shoulder. She could feel Jean's frozen fingers grasp at Eula's arms to keep herself locked in tight.
"There. Is that better?"
Jean hummed, and Eula could sense her smile. She relaxed, releasing the tension of being caught by surprise and got comfortable in Eula's arms. "My thanks, for protecting me from the cold and my own stupidity."
"You could blame the wine."
"A bad habit that is hard to shake. It won't happen again, you have my word."
"I will say, it's nice to see you loosen up—take off the mask of the Acting Grand Master. This Jean, who plays with the power of the wind to make dandelion seeds dance, and skips along when she is excited, I have only met her a few times."
"This cuddly and soft Eula, I think she is part of a dream."
Eula's head fell forward as she laughed. She was as confused as Jean at what she was doing here, it would be just as easy to relight the brazier, a much more suitable heat source, but she could not pretend that she didn't enjoy being close to Jean like this, on her own terms—from behind, so Jean couldn't see her face and how uncomposed she was, her brow had a deep crease in the centre as she fought against the tide of tears swelling in her eyes.
"Hmm, Eula?"
"Nothing, it's just the wind." She sniffled.
"No—"
Jean tried to twist herself around whilst remaining in Eula's arms, and Eula clamped down harder to restrict Jean's movement before she could manage to turn. Jean settled for this, being fixed in place, with Eula so close she could feel the smallest muscles of her face flex as Eula pouted.
"I need to tell you something and I can't have you see the look on my face."
Cold nervousness washed over Eula, her teeth chattering behind her lips the same way that Jean shivered.
"This is something I can tell you now since you've made it obvious how you feel, with commendable bravery, I might add. My first reaction failed to convey my gratitude. I was mostly shocked, so much so, I could barely think. You brought me my first Windblume, and I'm honoured, truly. It means a lot, coming from you."
"The honour is all mine." Jean's voice came out weak. Eula afforded her the mercy of blaming the cold and the wind. Eula tried to ensure their shared warmth was enough to keep Jean comfortable while she talked.
"I must say thank you for wanting to have me around. It is a very foreign feeling. I'm sorry I gave you the cold shoulder earlier. It would appear as if you are my only solid connection to the human world and, sometimes, I hate myself for it. I am here at your grace, something that you could take away at any moment, a thought that terrifies me. I will never be able to repay your kindness."
"I didn't do it with the intention of a reward. I only did what was right."
"I am the first Lawrence in living memory to join the Knights, and actively oppose the goals of my Clan. I hope I am not the last. There is a burden on me to be perfect, to prove you were not mistaken. That initial faith you had in me was nothing short of a miracle, and it changed the way I saw you. I've never been able to look at you the same, knowing that our Clans are sworn enemies, dreaming instead of becoming one with you."
Eula sought out Jean's hand, clinging on her body somewhere to conserve heat, and covered it, threading their fingers. She repositioned their hands to lay over Jean's heart. Her own heart began to glow as she could feel Jean relax and lean into Eula even more, she was glad Jean understood her meaning.
Long gone were the days when she dreaded Jean's company, as severe longing wounded her heart. Like most others, Eula admired Jean from afar. She never bothered to try and make Jean notice her, it was futile to hope someone like Jean could ever look at her that way. Maybe after all that time, Jean did notice her, working away in the background, keeping a respectful distance.
What a turn of events that it was now Jean pining after Eula! She couldn't fathom why. They were so wrong for each other in almost every way. Jean had so many other options, better options, that she could have her pick with a snap of her fingers. But Jean was far too gracious and modest to do anything like that.
Eula's love for Jean was an iceberg; so much of it buried beneath the surface—hidden from view. She was ashamed of herself for letting it affect her day after day, and her attitude was lousy and grim. Distance was her only protection, physical or otherwise. She kept to herself and kept others out, isolating from the world that was out to get her, bar very few. She could be cruel and cutthroat, making herself an island with barbed defences on all sides, hurting those who got too close. But here she was, holding Jean in a loving embrace, sharing their body heat and heartbeats.
Her mask was well-practised and had never cracked, until today, when Jean gave a gift of her favourite flower—her favourite because she associated them with Jean. She'd never cared before knowing Jean, never saw the significance of showing affection through gifts that would eventually be discarded or lost, especially symbolic ones that had no practical use. The devastation in Jean's face as Eula rejected her gift would haunt Eula for the rest of her days.
Jean might forgive her, but she would never forgive herself.
She had developed an unwilling trust bond with Jean, one that made Eula feel weak and dependent, but if she did not have it, she would surely die. Very often her beacon of light and hope was none other, the home she thought about more than any other, and the warmth of a shared touch she craved, yet she forged it out of herself over and over, beating her bleeding heart with a hammer until it learned to stop crying.
The cure was here all along. If she had only allowed her heart to cry with joy, then it could sing in harmony with another. If only she could extend this moment, erase the past and the future, living in this single moment and die knowing that she had experienced true happiness.
She tried to imagine a future with Jean, but it was filled with a dreadful amount of uncertainty. Eula did not even dare to fantasise that they could ever go public with it, she would be a concealed blemish on Jean's life, forever being covered up and excused, kept in the shadows like a dirty little secret. A sad thought entered her mind that it was the best she was going to get, and she should strike while the iron was hot.
"The truth of the matter is, you are a very beautiful, charming, and intelligent woman who once allowed me a single drop of your kindness, and I fell for you instantly, just like in the poems. I had never felt that way about anyone before."
Jean turned to smile against Eula's cheek. "You kept that quiet."
"I was like a lost little lamb, praying everyday to rid myself of this weakness. Lord Barbatos never listened, so I had to do it myself. Whatever I may have experienced, the outcome I want is impossible anyway. Everything I touch is tarnished, made filthy and impure. I could not do that to you, nothing good would come of it."
"I'll decide what is good for me, thank you very much." Jean bristled.
Oh dear, Eula had done it again. How much more Jean could stand was anyone's guess.
"Denying yourself pleasure in life is no way to live. Even if your quest seems impossible, you must sustain yourself with hope, however small. I do not want to open the door to your soul to find that you are already dead. Self-preservation is key, and that includes your soul."
"No amount of forgiveness will repair that."
It was hopeless, Eula would always be trapped in the darkness cast by the shadow of her Clan's ancestral sins.
Jean cleared her throat, and pressed on regardless. "We don't always leave room to speak of our honest feelings and I sought to use the festival as a way to make it clear that you're one of my most precious friends, and I think I'd be rather lost without you, so please be kind to yourself."
"Jean, I'm sorry, I am…" Inadequate. Foolish. Pitiful. Afraid. Irritable. Depressed.
Eula's arms fell away, she couldn't keep up the act any longer, her strength failed her. Jean's boot scraped in the gravel as she turned to finally look at Eula and her sad, puppy-dog eyes, and she leapt to kiss all that sadness away.
A noise that Eula had never made before got smothered between their mouths. And just like that, they were swept up into the breeze and Eula's heart took flight. The feeling of velvety soft lips, Jean's cold fingertips warming up as they gently held Eula's rosy cheeks, the windswept scent of Jean's hair swirling around her, all this combined set Eula's senses ablaze.
Not that Eula had extensive past experience, but she was sure that friends did not kiss each other like that. This was a lot further than she had intended, a lot further than she could have imagined when Eula gave Jean that Windblume. But, even now, Jean was still taking it slow. Every step was cautious and left them wanting, in case she scared Eula away again.
Jean needn't have worried. Eula was simply in heaven. Copious amounts of energy and life came flooding in, like nothing she'd ever felt before. Kissing caused more happiness than she could handle, her chest rattled from thunderous beats of her heart. For the first time in years, she was alive. And to think, all this started with a plain old dandelion.
Jean grabbed the back of Eula's head and pulled, drawing Eula in closer, creating tangible heat that they could bathe in, adding fuel to the fire as she now directed Eula's hands to lay on her back, close to her waist, and Eula's arms were around her again, cradling her tenderly.
From then on, Jean switched back to letting Eula control the pace, allowing Eula to explore what it was like to kiss her on the mouth, and spent time getting to know each other through hands and lips.
Just as Eula picked up the hint to open her mouth so Jean could taste her, while Jean's fingers were tangled in her hair, they split apart by a mere inch to catch their breath. She could feel the smile against her lips, and her eyes flickered open to gaze at Jean.
"I have wanted to do that for quite some time. It may be the wine talking, but I hope that makes it clear." Gone was the skittish chattering of Jean's teeth, her voice was steady, in control. Eula found it comforting.
"I think we should let wine do the talking more often. How long have you felt this way?" Eula wondered out loud.
"How long have we known each other?"
They had to laugh at how stupid it was. The both of them sat on either side of a closed door, thinking that the other held the key, but it was unlocked all along.
"Will you stay this year, Eula, for Windblume? Stay with me on this Festival of Love."
Eula couldn't help but hesitate. Fear shot straight into her heart, evaporating away the warmth she had collected there, to be replaced by familiar dread. Jean's eyes flicked down on Eula's throat as she gulped. She thought of the suffering, bullying, and outrage headed her way, and pictured herself cornered, surrounded on all sides by hate. How dare she step foot in Mondstadt during the happiest time of the year and spread the general malaise that followed her around, and repelled any and all who dared approach. Jean seemed immune to it though, in fact she seemed unusually drawn to Eula, so much so that Jean's fists were gripping her lapel and tie, such that Eula's collar was strangling her neck.
The choice was clearly an illusion.
Even though she knew Jean was willing to simply be in her presence without complaint, touch her, and even kiss her, Eula's hands were nervous as she raised them to caress Jean's cheeks. She forced herself to look Jean directly in the eye, though they were both shrouded in darkness. Jean stood back and let herself be touched, finding Eula's curiosity quite adorable.
Eula assumed for a long time that other people were hard and solid, unbending like she was, that skin was made of steel and stone. She had no reason to think otherwise, she'd only ever been graced with physical contact during combat where any kind of touch was hard and forceful. Jean was known for her strength, Eula had personal experience of how steadfast she could be, and unrelenting when challenged. But up close, she was soft and tender, her eyes were kind and understanding. Jean loosened her grip, safe in the knowledge that she had Eula captive entirely without force.
Ever so gently, Eula brushed Jean's hair aside with her fingers, perfectly framing Jean's face. She was beautiful like that, with half-lidded eyes and a smile that was almost smug, but, at the same time, welcoming Eula to get even closer and let Jean inside her thick fortress walls. Eula still hadn't said a word, one way or the other, and by now, it was making Jean rather nervous.
Jean leaned forward to whisper her pleas in Eula's ear. "I don't want this to be our first and final kiss. I'll kiss you again if that helps make your mind up."
Eula opened her mouth, ready to give her answer. But her chest shuddered in panic, and she threw her arms around Jean and hugged her tightly, burying her face into Jean's shoulder. "Of course I'll stay now that I know that someone wants me to. That you want me to."
Jean returned the hug in earnest, breathing a sigh of relief as she did so, her heart dancing with happiness. "You, my lady, are hard work. But I relish the challenge."