The door to the lighthouse creaked as Flins stepped inside, the faint glow of his lantern casting an announcing gleam across the walls. Snow still clung to the shoulders of his overcoat, his gloves chilled from the winter air.

He set his lantern down on the small table by the door, watching the blue flame soften, and for a long moment, he simply stood there, eyes closed.

“I’m home,” he murmured into the din, voice low from fatigue. “Finally.”

When no answer came, a small pang of panic rose into his chest. Though, that thankfully fizzled out when you appeared around a doorway.

He’d been sheltering you since finding you in a smoking crater near the Snezhnaya border. You’d fallen like a star, and no doubt, he knew the Fatui would be sending a group over to Nod-Krai to investigate what could’ve been the Fifth Descender.

You’d told him your story: An artificial thing, a fine line between an android or machine, forged to protect and help the folk of your homeworld - now grounded with your means of flight destroyed. Despite your damaged body, you were by no means rusty, having the energy to cut down a pair of Fatui agents that had been just outside Nasha Town - drawing their guns when Flins attempted to move you past them.

This world… it was alien to you, you were from a place beyond Teyvat. Different culture, different customs. You knew nothing of humans and for all you knew, you were the last of your people. The last of your kind.

So now he was your refuge. Your safe space. He was the storm. You were the silence just before hail.