Letting You Go

Confrontation

I should've seen it coming. A perceptive little thing, you are. So pensive, yet so quiet. So full of questions, yet so devoid of answers. It was only a matter of time until something happened. I just never anticipated it being what it was. Not once in a million years.

I remember when you and your brother first arrived at the House of the Hearth. Being from Natlan, your skin was much darker than most children's, but in contrast, you held a spirit brighter than the sun. Blown away by the change in atmosphere that is the House. I found you in a rather rundown hut within your old village, after all. To go from bread and water to the exquisite meals of the House and sparkling cider was probably one of the greatest shocks you'd ever had in your young, tiny life.

You were also so expressive and friendly with the other children. So willing to play along, eager to become the center of attention. Like all those times you chased each other playing tag or what you kids call "infection." You always looked so excited when you were the last standing. Most of my memories of you as a young child are rather repetitive, I'm afraid. Perhaps that's just the impression you left on me.

But then, one day, all that energy disappeared.

I can't pinpoint exactly when you stopped being you, but you didn't quite develop like the others. You went from expressive and effervescent to just... Quiet. Suddenly, there was no time for games. No time to converse with your friends. Only time for studying. Keeping clean and training what little bit of training you could engage with. And so, so much reading. Perhaps I should've had that library scaled down.

You were always reading about other nations. Reading about past conflicts between them, past conflicts between them and the Fatui. The conflict between Celestia and Teyvat. I've had much time to determine it, but I'm positive those books are where the change in your behavior came from. After all, you seemed far less willing to embrace being one with the Fatui afterward. Cautious of the Tsaritsa. I don't know why I left the very obvious issue as is for so long. Anyone else in my position would've done something. Maybe I doubted how well you'd interpret those words. Maybe I was hoping you wouldn't remember much of, if any of it at all.

Clearly, I was wrong.

All of which would lead to that night in July. The order of events fits together like a perfect puzzle. I guess that's why I remember everything. Every change in feeling, our actions, our words. Those twenty-four hours are ingrained in my head. I don't know where else I could possibly write them, so I guess here will suffice.

It was a lovely night. The moon had risen almost to the top of the sky, and it, along with the stars, were unfathomably bright. They casted the finest shadows I'd ever seen. To think, in your head, that made them the perfect excuse. An excuse to open your window when it was far too late. An excuse to try to climb out. You were a great liar when it came to the other kids, but you learned that from me. And you knew you could never hope to outsmart the master. At least, not oftenly.

"What are you doing?" I questioned after peering open the door to your room. You froze in your actions and stared. Terrified. "I-I, uh," You stammered, "...I-I just wanted to get some... Some air! Y-Yeah, just air, Father."

I crossed my arms, "Air? After you and the children just came back from the yard? How could you possibly need more air?"

"Um... I-I don't... Well-"

"Well, what?" I stepped forward into your room towards you, my glare strong as ever. "Is there something wrong internally?"

"N-No, Father, I-"

"Do not lie to me, child," I interrupted, Now towering before you. "It will not work."

You fidgeted with your hands before answering. You always subconsciously did that every time you found yourself in even the slightest bit of trouble. Such a childish thing to do, even at fourteen. It's amusing reminiscing on it. I wonder if you still do... If you still did.