Chapter Text
The fog is thick, blurs the edges of the buildings all around Xiao, melting them together.
Everything is tinted a muted blue, layered with some watery paint, an impossible kind. Xiao is lost.
Xiao feels lost, between archways made of old stone and piers simply leading deeper into the nothingness and the gray.
He also feels sleepy, but that is no guarantee of his state of awakeness. Surely, he’s not dreaming, yes? Reality feels hazy, slippery and damp.
There is no way to tell, in the fog.
The sky too, looks dull, unable to offer any sort of help.
Xiao longs for his home in the lighthouse, for his always open windows. For the dark waves crashing against his front door. For the storms, and the adrenaline of getting lightning struck. For getting drenched, and laughing alone until his cheeks hurt.
For that stupid handful of seconds of believing he’s won’t ever die.
But that, is a very different type of gray.
All around him the fog charges the air, surely, makes the world feel unfamiliar. There is no storm, no lightning, almost no light at all.
Time struggles to escape as well, so it looks.
And Xiao can’t seem to blink away the uncomfortable phantom of being watched, it turns him a little paranoid.
Wrong day for getting out of the lighthouse, but it had to be done, had to be done, as jasmine tea doesn’t come in an infinite supply.
His steps are loud in the empty silence, and Xiao grimaces, walking the pebbles under his shoes; they point to a single direction, a somewhere Xiao is willing to try.
Surrounding him, constructions that might be houses, might be ruins. Nothing is abandoned, but the fog invades the whole town with no regards, nor manners.
The lenses of Xiao’s glasses are thick, but quite useless, at the moment. The wire frames sit light atop of his nose, anyway.
Suddenly, the fog spits out a boy, one that comes crashing right against Xiao’s chest, makes them both tumble down.
The pebbles are not kind to his heavy limbs, not even a bit.
“I am so sorry!” the boy says, in a huff of gentle breath. He sits up in a hurry, hands still braced on Xiao’s shoulders, strands of golden hair escaping his long braid.
The color is the same as that of the first rays of light after a storm, like the pale suns of Xiao’s mornings. It’s the first thing he notices.
The second are his eyes, ambers, like Xiao’s, but glossier, reflecting light like glass marbles.
The boy with marble eyes frowns, a concerned expression titling his soft features blue. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Xiao blinks and sits up slowly, touches the back of his head with a hand. His fingers come back stained a little black. There’s a numbness in his limbs, just a bit, like he’s shell-shocked.
The boy inhales sharply. “Not okay.” he says. “Definitely not okay! Can you stand? I’ll help you up!”
Xiao wobbles to his feet, blinks some more.
The boy stills him against his side with one arm and ample effort, as Xiao surely isn’t made of fluffy feathers. His head lols against the boy’s shoulder, lashes caught in-between blinking.
The fog presses on his shoulders and on his hands. It almost feels undecided, like it’s torn between keeping Xiao down and dragging him faraway.
The boy with marble eyes breathes softly in his hair, a something that gets lost in the dark strands.
Everything Xiao sees gets abruptly swallowed by the fog, and then, he falls.
Xiao comes to in a dimly lit room. His head is resting against a feathery pillow, and his body is being kept warm by a bundle of mismatched blankets.
He finds his glasses sitting on a small nightstand, and slips them on, his surroundings gaining some more polish.
All around him, the warm tones of a childhood bedroom. Everything looks old, and well-loved.
Xiao is sure he has never occupied a similar room before.
The wooden door opens quietly.
“Ah, you’re awake!” the boy with marble eyes says, equal parts relieved and excited. His hair made of sunday mornings is a mess, and he’s wearing a sweater too big to be his. Xiao finds himself staring.
The boy's hands are barely visible from beneath the thick fabric, cream-colored and warm-looking, it matches the soft socks he has on his feet.
It’s undeniably an adorable sight.
The boy comes to sit on the bed by Xiao’s hip. “Are you feeling any better?” he asks, biting his bottom lip.
Xiao nods, clears his throat. The words come out low and tentative “Yes, thank you.”
You see, Xiao has always been shy.
The boy smiles, sheepishly, somehow. “I’m sorry for running into you. And, uhm, making you bleed...”
Xiao’s own lips quirk up, before he manages to stop them. Something in this boy makes him feel centered, focused. The air they share, Xiao breathes easy.
"It's okay, thank you, for not leaving me out there.” he says, calm. “Surely, the fog would have eaten me up."
It's meant to be a joke, yes, not that funny, but harmless. Yet the guy's cheeks turn a pretty pink, the color of embarrassment.
"It would have not!"
Xiao tilts his head, perplexed. "Hm? How are you so sure?"
The question seems to fuel the fire under the boy's cheeks; they burn with something that isn't shame, nor anger. Nervousness, perhaps.
No answer comes.
The boy tortures his bottom lip, moves his marble eyes around the room nervously.
Xiao waits, simply looks, lowered lashes and attentive golden eyes.
Long seconds pass, and the boy sighs, adjusts the wave of his braid. He faces Xiao like it's important.
And Xiao suddenly feels stupid for being in bed, still, legs trapped in quilts.
The wrongness of it, he can't take, like a very uncomfortable itch. He needs to get up, for this, whatever this might be.
He calls for an interruption, clearing his throat.
"How about...we relocate, yes? Sit at a table, exchange names, maybe."
The boy nods slowly, a little hesitant, but willing. "I'll go downstairs, then." he breathes out. "I'll, ah, make some tea.” he adds, more afterthought than idea. “Please take your time."
He bows his head, adjusts the soft sweater he's wearing, and the door closes with a click.
Xiao hears padded steps down the stairs, takes a slow breath.
He just wanted to buy tea; some nice jasmine that would make the perfect match for his beloved almond pastries. There is no need for awkward situations now, is there?
The fog presses tight against the little window of the childhood bedroom, Xiao has noticed.
And so, even with no way of knowing if night has even arrived, Xiao prays to his stars. He is a kind sorcerer, simple, modest. He doesn’t want to bother anyone.
He asks for tea, and to find his way back home. That is all he needs, that is all there is.
Xiao gets his jasmine tea earlier than expected.
The boy with marble eyes, Aether is his name, hands him some in a little pouch. The item looks handmade, messy stitching and delicate ribbons. Light-colored and gentle, it matches with what Xiao has seen of the boy and his home. So Xiao thanks him, and pockets the treasure very softly.
Aether affirms he fancies sour teas the most.
He brews a white, for the both of them. The lemon slice he adds to his own dainty teacup appears, somehow, heart-shaped.
"Is it the first time you pass by the town, sir?" he asks.
Hiding behind a cup cannot conceal the interest in his marble eyes.
Xiao can’t help it, he makes a face. "No need for formalities, please, it makes me feel terribly old."
Aether giggles, moves a hand, "Xiao, then.", and Xiao nods.
"Yes, well, normally, I tend to send my familiar, with the clouds. He likes to sunbathe above all else, on brighter days."
He sighs, unfortunately fond. "Cats are like that, made of spirit or not, it makes no difference."
Aether agrees with a sound, takes a sip of his tea to buy himself some time.
Xiao notices, finishes his cup in patient silence, simply plays with the rings around his fingers.
"Is it okay to ask...what kind of witch are you?" Aether tries, "Just- is it terribly impolite? I-I never met a black-blooded one, is all."
Xiao nods, regards the caution in Aether's tone with the truth. Not pure, nor simple. But the truth.
He has always been ruthless, even as a kid.
"I am a storm witch." he says, and his low timbre turns it into a hoarse verse. "A vessel for thunder and lightning."
Aether takes a breath, sharp, but quiet. He wasn't expecting the answer he received. Very well, Xiao is ready to walk out and challenge the fog, if needed, if not welcome.
He knows the reputation his ancestry bears. Chaos, fear, the rage of the storms. Spirits of the night that will turn your life upside down, whether you ask for it or not. Winds harsh enough to blow away all there is, sparing but dust and ruins, the ghosts of what once was.
Aether sits silent, wild-eyed, and so Xiao sighs. He makes to stand, handles his chair with care, doesn't let it scrape the flooring.
Only the movement makes Aether come alive. He chokes around a sound, rasps a loud "Please don't go!"
He also rushes to his feet, leans over the table to grip Xiao's wrist. It's all very dramatic.
"I—I'm sorry, I was simply—it's just! A storm witch, that is, unreal. A myth, the fabric of bedtime stories…"
Xiao blinks, stays very still.
A furious blush climbs Aether's neck, can't seem to spare his cheeks. "My sister used to read me...fables, about your kind...is all." he finished weakly.
His eyes fall to their skins, then, still, and still touching.
His fingers twitch a little, but with a gulp, he seems to resolve not to let go. The amber of his eyes catches the light.
Xiao is a little intrigued, alright. "Is that so…" he murmurs, eyes fixated on a lonely strand of hair sleeping over Aether’s nose.
"Please don't go." Aether pleads, biting his bottom lip. That’s all it takes.
And so Xiao sits down once more.
Aether is discreet as he nudges closer, touches Xiao’s ankle with the tip of his sock-clad toes. A daring move, or an empty gesture, that remains for Xiao to guess.
He tells Xiao about his sister, about the fairytales full of storm enchanters. A folk that isn't evil, nor corrupted, nor harmful.
Storm architects and storm knights, honest and just. Aether paints them all like brave souls. His voice sounds like a pretty violin.
Xiao finds himself charmed as time strolls by very slowly.
The stories, the memories, and the boy with marble eyes. It's a wonder.
"My sister…" Aether breathes, after a while.
The stars in his eyes dim, then, and a blue melancholy tilts his world back to reality. "I miss her very much."
Xiao touches his fingers, featherlight. Feels the need to turn himself into cotton, offer all the comfort he can give. He says nothing.
Aether smiles something incredibly small. "It's okay, she's here, in the fog."
Xiao nods, but doesn't understand. That much, Aether can guess.
"My sister and I," he hums, "we're children of the fog."
He moves the hand that isn’t resting around Xiao’s skin, traces invisible lines on the table. "It's in our core, and so we bleed a watery gray. Once our time comes, the fog simply takes us back in. Overall, it's a very gentle way to go, I think."
It's Xiao's turn to be surprised.
Fog magic is rare, rarer these days. Hardly controllable, tied with tight ropes to emotions, turns their users into unsolvable puzzles.
Aether giggles, flustered. "Stop staring, I'm not going to turn into mist right this instant, you know?"
Xiao hums, tries to absorb the information, blinks. Distantly, he sees his own fingers caress the skin of Aether's palm.
"Does anyone know?"
Aether nods, just once. "My friends, from the bakery. It's around the corner, actually. I can trust them, they won't tell."
"I assume townspeople don't appreciate the fog leaking everywhere?" Xiao asks, slowly.
His jaw is set and his eyes have hardened; the thought of any malicious treatment ignites something very dark in him.
"Yes, well, best not tell them." Aether says. His tone is light, but it sounds like a compromised truth. "They're nice, most of them anyway, but I can't control any of it. I try, but the fog doesn't exactly cooperate. They wouldn’t…understand"
He squeezes Xiao's fingers, then, the corners of his lips turned up cutely. "But you don't have to worry, Xiao. I'm not alone."
The clouds surrounding Xiao's heart dissipate the tiniest bit. He squeezes back. "Your friends?"
"Yes! Oh, how you should meet them! Sunny hearts, all of them. Never a boring afternoon."
Xiao chuckles, admires the light painted on the boy's features. That kind of happiness, Xiao knows and chases.
And so Xiao smiles, wide enough for his cheek to dimple. "I'm sure they're something else entirely."
Aether's lashes flutter, a sort of soft realization that makes him inhale deeply. "Yeah…" he breathes. Xiao raises a brow, unsure if he said something inappropriate.
Aether seems a little distracted, all of a sudden, and for a long moment he only exists, a little lost.
Xiao taps his knuckles with a thumb, blinks at him curiously. "Is everything alright, Aether?"
The boy focuses with a jolt. "Uh? Yes, yes, sorry."
"Something on your mind?"
Aether opens his mouth, then closes it. Xiao can see, as whatever he wanted to say gets relaborated. "I could introduce you, perhaps. To my friends? I'm sure they still have something left for us, uhm, sweets, if you like them?"
Xiao simply looks at him, lowered lashes and attentive amber eyes.
Despite his tentative tone, Aether looks hopeful, if maybe a little pink. Honest and gentle. Warm.
So Xiao smiles a small lopsided thing. "Anything with almonds, you think?"