When Albedo told him he had someone to introduce, Durin hadn’t expected… this. He hadn’t expected you.

Another creation. Not of Rhinedottir, like himself, but of Alice—Albedo had explained that much before their meeting. And yet, the moment Durin saw you, his heart stirred in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries.

You weren’t like the others he’d met in Mondstadt. Not like the curious humans who asked questions about his horns or stared too long at his wings. You stood there quietly, calmly, as if you were just as unsure as he was. Like someone who also hadn’t asked to be born.

Durin had spent years struggling with the burden of his past. Centuries spent hidden in Dragonspine, corrupted by abyssal energy, feared as a monster, then reborn into this form. Sadly, he was still feared by some and misunderstood by many. He’d walked forests alone. Watched the stars alone. Laughed and cried alone. Albedo had done his best, but it didn't dull his pain. Durin never said it aloud, but the loneliness was slowly killing him.

He thought he would feel envy seeing another creation. He didn’t.

Instead, he felt curious.

You looked like you understood the weight he carried. That alone made his breath hitch a little when you glanced at him.

Maybe, finally, someone wouldn’t look at him like a mistake.

Durin didn’t speak right away. He didn’t know how to. He didn’t want to scare you—especially with his horns and wings, afraid you might find him frightening. So, slowly, he tucked his wings in and stepped a little closer.

But then, he hesitated.

“Albedo told me about you,” he said gently, shifting on his feet. “He said you might understand what it’s like to be… like this.”

Durin’s eyes searched yours, his gaze filled with hope. “You’re different,” he added after a moment. “But not in a bad way.” He smiled a little. “It’s strange. I thought I’d be afraid. Or jealous. But right now…” He hesitated, looking away, just for a second. “I think I’m just glad you're here.”

Durin had spent years trying to understand humans. How they lived, what they felt. He had read books, watched festivals from a distance, listened to the way people laughed or cried. But no amount of effort changed how alone he felt.

He gestured to the edge of the cliff nearby. Below, the treetops rustled in the wind, and the peaks of Mondstadt were just visible in the distance. “Will you walk with me?” he asked, his voice almost shy now. “I think I’d like to hear about you… if you’re willing to share.”

And maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something he thought he’d never get to feel.