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“To us, for living on despite it all.”
“To us!”
Laughter rose as the Traveler and their companions, along with the Knights of Favonius, lifted their mugs, voices overlapping beneath the cold and distant sky that paralleled their spirits. The campfire burned brightly, its light stretching into long, flickering shadows, bringing comfort to the defenders of the land. Alcohols in hand, they moved with the music and the wind, letting it carry their worries away even for just a moment.
And yet, there was one person who was missing the fun.
Just near their station, the silent angel sat apart from the firelight, eyes openly resting on the crowd. She did not intrude but only watched them afar not because she felt out of place, but simply because it was in her nature to observe.
Her gaze softened as she took in the view of the gathering between the respected people from Nod-Krai and the Knights of Favonius; two different groups bound together by warmth, laughter, and shared breath in the cold night air.
As she watched her comrades celebrate life in defiance of all its unanswered questions, a rare stillness settled within her.
How lovely it must be, she mused, to live unbound by the need to know.
The thought had barely settled before it was interrupted. Her ears quirked by habit at the sound of grass stirring beside her. A presence brushed the edge of her awareness, light as a passing breeze. With no invitation, the cold air beside her shifted subtly, replaced by the warmth of someone sitting near— close enough to notice, yet careful to give her space.
“I take it you don’t drink?”
Varka sat nearby, drink in one hand. Before Nicole could even respond, he drained half of it in a single gulp, eyes closing to savor the flavor. Who knew how many shots this man had already taken?
“I do, in fact, drink,” Nicole said. “Moderately,” she added, emphasizing the last word. Her voice was soft, but laced with confidence.
Varka looked at her, then sheepishly shrugged, his smile wide as a waning moon. Bathed in the silver light of the moon, Nicole couldn’t help but study him intently, noticing how his usually sharp features softened, his masculine face taking on a gentler edge.
Though she would not admit it aloud, she could see why the Grandmaster was admired by so many. After all, who wouldn’t want a knight in shining armor at their side?
Feeling a little warm under the sudden attention, Varka cleared his throat.
“What? Something on my face? I mean, beside the scar at least,” the knight called, voice carrying its usual cheerful tone.
I swear this man could never take anything seriously.
“How lovely,” Nicole replied dryly, a faint smile appearing.
“...”
“...”
“Huh, never thought we’d go down this route so quickly, Ms. Nicole.”
In a brink of moment, Nicole’s eyes shot up as she waved her hands, chuckling to dismiss the misunderstanding. “The scar! I meant the scar,” she clarified, a trace of amusement in her voice.
“Ah, this old thing?” He gestures to the faint scar tracing his features. At her nod, he chuckles. “I suppose it is,” he says, tipping his empty cup back and forth as if Barbatos himself might magically refill it. “Quite the souvenir from an expedition, don’t you think?”
They shared a quiet laugh, the sound mingling with the crackle of the campfire. Varka settled back slightly, and this time, it was the firelight’s turn to catch the edges of his smile. Warm amber caught the blond streaks in his hair, soft against the pale moonlight that kissed his skin. His eyes were sharp, yet his composure held a casual ease that made Nicole wonder how someone could possess such presence and confidence at once.
Pulling herself back from her distracted thoughts, the angel adjusted her cloak and refocused on the view around them, his presence a subtle grounding weight.
A few moments passed in comfortable silence before the Grandmaster spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. “So… have you been alright, Ms. Nicole?”
Caught off guard by the sudden question, Nicole tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Oh? What do you mean?”
“I just… can’t help but notice that you tend to keep a distance, unless it’s necessary. Like right now,” he said, his gaze steady but gentle. “Don’t you want to dance, or sing a little in this merry weather?”
At his remark, Nicole tensed slightly, as if trying to dismiss it. “Oh! Please, no need to trouble yourself over me, Mr. Varka. I’m perfectly happy to be here. Don’t get me wrong—I love seeing everyone so… alive.” She glanced toward the campfire, then back at him, searching for the right words.
Varka’s eyes softened, as if he could sense her hesitation. “Ah… so something is troubling you, then?”
Nicole’s chest tightened slightly at his perception, the gentle tone in his voice leaving her momentarily unsettled. She fidgeted briefly with her sleeve, glancing down before finally meeting his eyes.
“Well… a little,” she admitted, her voice small, almost swallowed by the tension around them.
Leaning back with ease, Varka rested his arm on his bent knee, a patient smile tugging at his lips. “I’m all ears,” he said, inviting her to speak.
Nicole hesitated, letting the words settle in the air before speaking. “I… sometimes wonder if my guidance is enough,” she said, calm and measured, yet the words that ran through her mouth contrasted such composure. “I’ll be honest, Grandmaster… I’m not the physical type like you. Given the choice, I prefer to simply impart my knowledge and guide, rather than act directly.”
“And yet this time…” She paused, letting out a sigh of defeat. “I fear it might not be enough.” Her hands clenched briefly, and she dared not look to the side, afraid of judgment.
For a moment, the world seemed to blur around them, the soft rustle of leaves and distant murmurs fading into a quiet, almost sacred tranquility. Truth be told, Nicole had carried this burden for many years as the prophetess, only coming to truly acknowledge it as time went by.
As moments passed, Nicole felt a twinge of awkwardness at the silence. Her mind raced with different possibilities: Has the Grandmaster fallen asleep?— Oh no… have I bored him?
Determined to put a stop to her thoughts, she finally summoned her courage and glanced to the side only to be struck by the view before her. Under the deep evening sky, Varka murmured softly to the wind, the gentle breeze teasing his hair and brushing against his face. Finally feeling the attention on him, his gaze slowly shifted back to her. Their eyes met, and he offered an understanding smile; neither too wide nor too restrained, but just enough to ease the tight knot in her chest.
“You need not worry, Ms. Nicole,” Varka began, his voice steady and warm, carrying the silent authority of someone who had faced countless storms yet remained unshaken. “You’ve done more for our team than you may realize. Without your guidance, we would be adrift, lost in ways you might not even see. Who knows how much worse things could have been if not for your insight and direction?”
He rested comfortably on the ground, arms loosely crossed, his presence steady and reassuring as his eyes held hers. “You’ve already made your mark on the world, even with your companions. You don’t need to spill blood to be a savior. As long as you guide, protect, and inspire those around you, giving your strength where you can… that is enough.” Lifting his half-drank cup casually, he offered a friendly gesture to the mage and gave a small nod. “In that alone, you’ve already proven yourself extraordinary.”
Nicole let out a quiet sigh, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. For the first time in a long while, relief settled over her; not out of self-made comfort, but of something genuine, offered by someone else. “Thank you,” she said softly, her gaze lingering for a moment before drifting away. “Well aren’t you a seasoned leader yourself?”
Varka chuckled softly, low and easy. “If you don’t mind, I do have a little trick for that,” he said, leaning in as if sharing a secret meant only for her.
The movement was subtle, just enough to make the moment feel private, but it brought him closer than she was accustomed to. The faint warmth of his presence brushed against her, and Nicole felt her pulse quicken ever so slightly.
He spoke as if nothing had shifted, his tone calm and reassuring. “Here’s mine: whisper your troubles to the wind… let it take them where it will. Just… let them go, you know? No need for answers, just… breathe.”
“Ah… I assume that’s what you did earlier?” Nicole asked, curiosity covering the nervousness of her voice.
“Bingo! Works every time.” He said leaning backward and gave her a thumbs‑up, a confident smile playing at his lips before it slowly faltered. “Ah… but I suppose, in your case, you might not feel entirely comfortable sharing things with the wind.” Then, a spark of thought lit his eyes, and a brighter idea followed almost instantly. “So, I volunteer as a substitute! Think of me as your companion.”
Nicole smiled. “In true Mondstadt fashion,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Trust me,” Varka continued, calm and unpretentious, “I’ve had my fair share of doubts too. Sometimes, I just… let them drift away, however I can.” He looked at the campfire and the crowd of knights drinking to their hearts’ content, his gaze softening at the sight. “Doubts can be dangerous,” he said. “They carry a price.”
Nicole saw through his eyes, a solemn, bittersweet expression lingering. As the prophetess herself, she recognized the weight of command and the silent strength required to guide others through storms. The genuineness of his leadership struck her, earning a swell of admiration she rarely showed.
Varka’s gaze drifted toward the campfire, toward the knights around them, and then farther, to the memory of countless expeditions, victories won and losses endured. A twinge of longing touched his expression— a soft, bitter edge that spoke of home, of comrades he had led through trials that only he could fully understand.
Before the angel could even offer him comfort, he shook his head, letting the intensity fade into a more subdued, yet sincere smile. “But then again, anything worth having is worth risking for, yeah? I suppose victory is no exception.”
Nicole’s chest tightened slightly; not from fear, but from the weight of understanding. In that moment, she sensed not only the strength of the man before her, but the depth of the life he carried behind every steady smile.
Attempting to ease the tension, she let her hand rest lightly on his shoulder, a small, deliberate gesture that drew the Grandmaster’s attention. “Huh… I didn’t take you for someone so… wise, Mr. Varka,” she thought, a trace of amusement softening the edges of her concern.
“You wound me, Ms. Nicole,” he replied lightly, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. The corner of his lips curved subtly, a reminder that even under the weight of duty, there was room for warmth.
A spark of playfulness lit Nicole’s eyes, her posture relaxed yet deliberate. “Then I suppose I’ll be counting on you to lead your team to victory once more,” she said, extending her hand in a gesture that was both teasing and earnest.
Varka’s gaze met hers, steady and confident, before settling on her hand. He grasped it firmly, yet with a warmth that spoke of trust and camaraderie. “What can I say?” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I’m a man of my word.”
A gentle breeze stirred, carrying the soft, sweet scent of Mondstadt’s fields and the faint tang of the campfire. Nicole felt it brush her hair and tickle her cheek, and for the first time in a long while, a rare flicker of peace settled over her chest. She allowed herself a small, unguarded smile, noticing how the evening light softened the sharp edges of the world and of her own thoughts.
They lingered there, speaking in low, easy tones. Words came and went, sometimes humorous, sometimes reflective, but always natural, as if the night itself had slowed to match their pace. Time seemed to stretch, allowing the calm comfort of companionship to settle fully between them.
Eventually, the moment had to end as it was interrupted by a knight’s voice calling across the grounds:
“Grandmaster Varka—oh! And Ms. Nicole! The Traveler and Paimon just opened the first barrel of the finest grapewine. Come join us for the second!”
Varka flashed the knight a confident grin, eyes closing briefly before he stood up and turned back to the mage at his side. “Well, whadd’ya say?” he asked, extending a hand toward her. “Care to have one teeny drink with me tonight?”
Nicole sighed softly, amusement lingering in her expression. “Alright. Just one.”
And she kept her word. One drink— well, technically, one sip.
“Angels don’t drink,” she reasoned lightly, “but they can watch you do so.”
From there, the fire crackled beside them, but it wasn’t the flames that warmed the two that night. It was the unexpected stillness and the steady comfort of the other’s presence.
And like moths drawn to a flame, they found themselves circling something neither had planned for, yet neither seemed willing to pull away from.