Thread by @tinylethologica

#scaralumi ; a thought:

it's a dream. it has to be. because in no reality would the traveller be in his lap, clinging onto him, /willingly/.

but no. he looks down, and it's her, same gold eyes and gold hair, golden hero of teyvat nestled in his arms, her head on his shoulder,

legs sling over his thighs, arms around his neck.

"what are you doing," he says flatly. "have you gone insane?"

lumine lifts her head, confused. "your excellency?"

it's her voice too. no hint of concern, scorn, just a dreamy lilt that has him frowning.

/your excellency./ as if the traveller wouldn't first bite her tongue off than address him in such a subservient way.

"who are you?" he asks sharply.

"have you forgotten?" she nuzzles at his neck, warm breath landing like a brand. "lumine. your devoted follower, my lord."

his breath hitches. "then who am I?"

"the archon of sumeru and inazuma, my lord. have you forgotten?" lumine gives a throaty laugh, her amusement vibrating through him, and why is she so close— "the celestia-anointed shouki no kami. should I list the rest?"

"no need." his grip

on her thigh tightens, and it's all bare skin, fingers right under the flowing fabric of her skirt in this mad dream of his where he succeeded instead of fallen, a world that could never be.

why is he here? why is lumine here too?

you could ignore it, his mind whispers. indulge in this dreamscape, a world constructed just for you. the traveller, pliant, willing, wanting. when would you ever have this chance again?

"lumine." her name is foreign syllables, hard to form. "I'll ask again: who am I?"

"my archon," lumine says dreamily. she shifts, arching up to kiss his neck, threading her hand through his hair, gently, lovingly. "you are my god. kami-sama."

"I am your god,* he says hoarsely. not a question.

"yes."

and he could. he could be her god, and that also means he could do whatever he wanted to her.

he could. should he? if this is a dream, why should he?

he stared down at the woman in his lap, and she stared back with eyes full of trust, love, desire.

he shouldn't, but he could.

he slides his hand higher up her thigh, almost at her hip bone, the other hand sneaking from below her arm and down into the front of her dress.

lumine only gasps quietly, but makes no move to stop him. whines a little instead, the sound going straight to between his legs.

the worst part, he thinks with no small amount of self-deprecation and misery, even as his hands are wandering her body, is realizing that the only way the traveller would ever desire him is in his fantasy.

[end? to be continued?]