An Experiment Albedo X Aether

Albedo Being Awkward

It was a beautiful calming moment between Albedo and Aether. But Albedo decided to awkwardly ask for Aether's permission.

"I'd like to paint you," Albedo said.

The corner of Aether's lip turned up in a half-smile. He lay back on the examination table, his braid dangling off the side. "Like this?" he asked.

"Like you'll be very soon."

Albedo ran his fingers down Aether's braid, tracing the satiny length of it, before carefully tucking it next to Aether on the table. How strange, that a being as alien to Teyvat as Aether was (as Albedo was not) could have such familiar hair—and other things. Albedo's earlier experiments with Aether had revealed no metabolic differences that would explain Aether's resistance to various poisons and corruptive influences.

The experiments had all had the same limiting factor: Albedo was working from the outside.

He took off his gloves and went to the basin to wash his hands. Aether didn't seem even slightly nervous when Albedo returned. Trusting as always, he waited for Albedo to start his work.

"Why aren't you ever afraid of me?" Albedo said.

"There's nothing about you to fear."

"That's an interesting evaluation." Albedo's hands trembled for a moment as he took out his dissection kit. He tested the tip of the scalpel against his finger.

"Careful," Aether said.

"Trust me, you'll want this to be sharp."

"So, you're just going to stick it in? Without any preparation?"

Albedo nearly choked. "I—Don't I always prepare?"

"So, what did you prepare today?" Aether tilted his head, his eyes disarmingly innocent as he looked at the tray of supplies Albedo had brought out.

"An anesthetic, so you won't feel anything. And healing elixirs, in case anything goes wrong, though I think your unique constitution will spare you from any harm."

"You're not just cutting me open to test me—cutting me open is part of the test."

Albedo nodded. "Are you ready?"

"Go ahead."

Albedo wet a cloth with anesthetic and held it to Aether's face. "Stay calm," he said, "and breathe it in."

Aether's eyes widened a little as Albedo held the cloth securely over his nose and mouth. Albedo found himself stroking Aether's temple when Aether's inhalations quickened with the natural panic of someone having their air restricted. Soon Aether's breathing evened out, and he didn't struggle. Albedo felt powerful in a way that he didn't like at all—he could've put anything in that cloth, and Aether would have allowed it.

When enough time had passed for the anesthetic to take effect, Albedo withdrew the cloth.

"How do you feel?" Albedo asked.

"My mouth is numb."

Albedo traced his finger around Aether's lips. "Can you feel my finger?"

Aether shook his head. Albedo pressed down on Aether's lower lip. "How about what I'm doing now?"

Furrowing his eyebrows, Aether replied, "No idea."

Trailing his hand down Aether's bare stomach, Albedo's fingers stopped at Aether's belt. Loosening it was a familiar gesture. He tugged Aether's pants down to just below his hips, where Albedo paused, distracted by the line of Aether's pelvis. Then, Albedo dabbed another cloth in disinfectant and scrubbed Aether's skin. Next was an agent (derived from a toxin unique to violetgrass grown in nutrient-deficient soil) to slow any bleeding.