Chapter Text
Irminsul, a grand natural database that no one but the Dendro Archon and a select few could access. At this moment, an unusual visitor walked along the sturdy root toward the trunk of divine knowledge. A subtle look of mire was in his eyes, gloved fingers coming up to tilt the takuhatsugasa up slightly to view Irminsul with an unobstructed view.
Wanderer was informed by its guardian that there had been some discrepancies within its pockets, none other than the God of dreams and wisdom, Buer. it was at her request the puppet begrudgingly went along with it. Nothing had to be said, but the young god knew the choice wasn't out of force or coercion, only a disguised bit of concern and pride. The exchange left the Archon giggling while Wanderer's eyes rolled playfully.
The conversation was, is, and always going to be a fond memory of him. The god was wise beyond her years, yet a child at heart. After their establishment of trust, it wasn't long before they began to tease and bicker with each other. Indigo eyes gazed along each branch, searching for any visual problems. Irminsul rarely displays such events; it is better to be safe than sorry in this case. Knowing there are problems in their world's database of knowledge for past and present, perhaps future, every avenue had to be explored for safety measures. If Wanderer's time in the Fatui taught him anything, it's that whatever inch you give, if there is enough driving force, that will be enough for a country to be taken over. For supposed diplomats, will take anything beyond face value and use it to their advantage to every extent possible.
“Did you find anything yet, Hat Guy?” a child's voice chirped out.
Wanderer sighed heavily, head shaking out of habit. It became a norm for the puppet whenever Nahida asked a question. Especially if she used that embarrassing nickname. “Nothing visually, at least. We may be able to rule out corruption from the abyss. But keep it on the table. There is a chance that it's still there; it just hasn't become a life-threatening issue.” Wanderer explained as he strode closer to the glowing tree, hand reaching out as pale colors illuminated his hand.
The Archon gave a hum of acknowledgment. He could feel the thoughtfulness radiating from that sound alone. It became easier to read her actions and her feelings over time. Although it was hard to be in tune with them, Nahida was patient. Guiding. Her strange analogies gave the puppet a headache at first. As time went on, he began to understand them. Slightly. It still didn't make sense. However, there is a hidden pride behind the Wanderers’ front when it comes to explaining the analogies of the god. A feeling of snark and smugness always emerged when he could taunt that floating fairy of the traveler. Alas, the Anemo user had to learn to take the high road. One of Nahida’s first lessons. There was an underlying message in that lesson, one that Wanderer gleefully took to heart: ‘Be the bigger person, if they deserve it.
“That was always a quick way to boost his mood.
The familiar pull of the divine tree was grasping at his abdomen, causing an instinctual feeling of nausea to emerge. It was disconcerting. It would be even worse if the constitution of the man's body was human. A glimmer of blond hair flashed for a brief second. Although the Traveler could bleed, calling them human would not be accurate to life. The thought flashed by before there was a moment he could bother to care. The familiar sight of the depths of Irminsul pushed out the lingering thoughts of the blond.
The path he had carved months earlier still existed, much to his surprise. Over time, maybe there was an expectation that a new path had to be walked to reach the center of this miniature world. As the world progresses, so do their minds and world of information. It would make sense for their record keeper to keep up with the broadening of Teyvats' horizons.
The infinite, brightly glowing void that was the “motherboard,” the core of Irminsul. Before him, stretched the infinite, glowing void, the true source of Irminsul. The faint border of a path, carved so long ago, remained. A frown tugged at the puppets’ lips, remembering the last time he had to enter here. It was back when the truth of the last 500 years came to light, the truth of the orchestrated betrayal from Tataratsuna—the plot to ruin every aspect of that kindness that was born with the failed vessel. Remove those gentle, soft aspects that were the cause of failure, corrupting it into something an ugly sense of satisfaction that could come with claiming one's birthright.
That memory will surely cause other sinful acts to rear their ugly heads. Lips curling into a frown, the puppet strode forward along the path, brushing those thoughts away. It's no use to deal with the past, nor let it repeat its mistake after receiving this once-in-a-lifetime second chance to atone. Swallowing the ugly bile down, Wanderer made sure to avoid the data pockets that sprouted near the edge of the path. As long as he never gets too close, they will just go away on their own. A gentle warmth embraced that distant darkness, feeling like small arms wrapping around the puppet.
Inwardly, he thought out an embarrassed, soft, ‘thank you,’ that warmth peaking with a wave of affection. Eye twitching, the ex-harbinger accepted that softness for a second. A gentle warmth pulsed through him, quiet yet persistent. He sighed. Nahida always knew. Either by the learned practice of reading emotions, expressions, and body language, or mind reading in the direst of circumstances, could effortlessly pick the right method of comfort. It's these insignificant, unassuming moments that were precious. They carried a special place in the back of his mind, tucked away deep so it couldn't surface without reminiscing on it. The goddess had a way of knowing and understanding. It was ironic, in hindsight.
The puppet abandoned for feeling too much so deeply loathed that side, while the wise god who never understood emotions loved to experience it, even if it was painful. Maybe that was why they worked so well together. They had the mindset that was missing from each other. They ensured the other could learn what was never taught. They made each other feel seen past their intended purposes. Wanderer could feel the divine energy growing stronger as if it was being drawn to that empty chest inside. Something to fill. The puppet denied its entrance as soon as those wandering vine-like energies chose to gravitate toward him. “How does it look from the inside?” Nahida asked curiously. Right, she still had access to his mind. Indigo eyes scanned the innermost part of the tree, quickly finding another branch once he deemed it in satisfactory condition—the same eye-burning, bright, pale blue. Everything was normal as far as the puppet could tell. No corruption. If there was, it would have made itself known here if the ‘firewalls’ didn't exhibit the symptoms. An unexpected breath of relief left the doll's mouth. Breathing wasn't necessary. So a reflex that was learnt for the sake of blending in with the other humans.
But at least this meant the young archon didn't have to sacrifice her power again to rid Irminsul of that corruption. The thought of being the one who would have to guide her here, to be the one who would announce that Buer lost her memories, her divine power as an archon for Sumeru, was an ill-fitting imagination. “Nothing. Is it possible that the discrepancies are because of an unknown data pocket that contradicts the current information?”
“Possibly,” Nahida replied. “You would be looking for something out of the ordinary.”
Wanderer deadpanned at the explanation, heavily sighing. “I’m in Irminsul. I doubt anything is normal.”
He could feel the goddess's disapproving gaze. That was only the fuel for the growing smirk. There’s only one person who could and would tease the nation's god. Everyone else had too much respect for her or was just nervous about unknowingly upsetting her. Maybe being the second in command of the god gave him some leeway; being able to know the child god both off and on work was something that only he could witness. The traveler did count to an extent, but the blond never stayed in Sumeru long enough for both to grow as close as the puppet and god. Still worthy of being called an honorable mention. If the Anemo user called Aether anything else, Buer would know and chide him. It’s a start. That floating fairy is a different story.
A footnote. That’s all Paimon would get from him. Imagining that indignant squeak, the pathetically adorable look of anger brought a smug smile to Wanderer's face. Something did catch his eye after he turned his gaze upward toward the younger branches. They were closer to the distant void the tree grew out of, low-hanging, but not enough for that odd-looking, weighted data pocket at the tips of it. “Buer, are data packets meant to be hanging from the branches?” Wanderer would not like the answer; he is sure of it.
That question alone caused a silence that the puppet predicted to become a massive headache in the future. Maybe he could sympathize with Nahida's Acting Grand Sages' mentality for not taking on complicated and unnecessary workloads. That won't be admitted out loud. It never will. Grumbling, Wanderer's arm crossed with annoyance peaking. Not at the god, but more so at the potential drawbacks this abnormality could cause. If a singular data pocket was able to cause the tree to become semi-unreliable because of just one divergence, who can say how much more trouble will happen if it's left unchecked? This is not going to be a fun mission. It could be a good pastime. Enough to impede the boredom that had been plaguing Wanderer these past few weeks. Maybe. With a sigh, the Anemo user observed the data pocket from afar. Better safe than sorry. Unless Nahida deemed it too dangerous to be left alone, he would leave it be. Not likely, given how cautious Sumerus Archon is.
“No, they are not.” The soft voice startled the puppet, clearing his throat as he nodded.
“Can I cut it down?”
“I wish it had an easy method.” Nahida apologized.
Oh, that headache was coming faster than he thought. That meant he would likely have to touch the data pocket to glimpse whatever stored information was inside. Many possibilities spanned the ex-harbinger's mind—an unnecessary backlog. Information got mislabeled. Irminsul was going haywire. Each new idea that popped into his head sounded more outlandish than the previous one. That was going to get old fast. During the time in the Fatui, it was the outlandish ideas that often worked. Only if done correctly. Huffing softly, there was an old plan that used the unconventional for its basic foundation. Despite the preposterous dilemma, using an equal measure of it worked. The Harbinger suggests it was, unsurprisingly, Tartaglia.
Tongue clicking, Wanderer only averted his drifting gaze back to the glittering out-of-place pocket. It was strange. Noticing how it was unique even for the uniform style of these pockets, this one was..off. The pale blue strands had a mixture of faint hues of green, red, and white. There were not many instances of this happening, according to Nahida. This translates to never. What that meant is, by pure coincidence, the puppet and Archon had found a peculiarity because they looked at it too closely.
The thoughts that flickered through Wanderer's head felt strange, feeling more and more far-fetched. New words flicked throughout his mind, words he began to find as unusual and not of Teyvat.
Cars.
Trucks.
Quirks.
Heroes.
Villains.
Wanderer felt his head begin to throb, vision blurring. Surprise, then a weariness washed over him. It wasn't a sickness. There was no way for that to happen. Unless a sudden interference of the Leylines was causing this, it is possible. However, the puppet didn't come in contact with any of them. No. indigo eyes ventured over to the abnormal data, noticing how that pulsation was strangely brighter. Groaning quietly, the anemo user had to stumble to catch the sluggish body, weakly sending out a wave of urgency. Through their connection, surely, the goddess would be able to do something.
( This was not meant to happen. The data pocket was giving its information to Wanderer by choice. Nahida could feel the fading connection she had established with her friend. It was growing distant and weaker. She called out to him, attempting after failed attempt to reconnect that waning thread they held. It wasn't working. No matter what method was used, it still never reestablished this. Panic began to quiver at the edges of the child god's mind. As a last-ditch effort, Nahida forced her mind to reach out to her friend.
It was too late.
With tears welling up in the archon's eyes, the connection was severed.)