In which a small child wakes up as a Floating Hydro Fungus in Teyvat. With their cuteness, will they manage to survive in a world that hunts down monsters?
- gender neutral
- fast updates
- since y/n is a child, all relationships are platonic
- "i d...
Something cold pressed against your throat. An ice cube? You tried to push it off, but it wouldn't budge.
You opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was the half-grownup's face. You smiled, happy to see that his tears had gone away.
In fact, he hardly looked like he'd been crying at all. The sun glistened on his long eyelashes and sparked lightning in his sapphire-colored eyes. He looked beautiful, radiant, and also like he was preparing to murder you.
His jaw clenched when he saw that you were awake. "You. I should kill you for setting foot in a Harbinger's tent without permission." The dagger he held against your throat glinted. It was a handheld dagger carved from crystal, one that could easily be slipped into a sleeve or pocket. One twitch of his arm, and you would be taking your next breath in the afterlife.
"Well? Don't you have anything to say?" he demanded, lifting the dagger off your throat so you could speak. It was a gesture that almost appeared kind. Maybe he wanted you to cower in fear or shed apologetic tears, but for whatever reason, your heartbeat stayed steady and still. You felt like you could close your eyes and take a nap.
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I see. So that's why I'm not scared anymore.
You closed your eyes, breathing in the smell of lavender and violets. "Why haven't you?"
"What?"
"Why haven't you killed (Y/N) yet?" It was a genuine question. If he'd done it in your sleep, you wouldn't even have known.
"Do humans always ask such stupid questions?" the boy laughed, a cruel laugh. "Well, you're about to die, so I guess I can give you this one answer." He paused. "When you first opened your eyes, you... looked happy to see me. It reminded me of a friend of mine. That's why you aren't dead yet."
"What happened to your friend?" you asked.
He turned, shadowing his face. "It... doesn't matter. That's all in the past." The dagger pressed against your throat again. "That's all the answers you're getting." He peered down at your face, a look of amused curiosity in his eyes. "You sure you don't want to try crying and begging? I might change my mind if you put on a good performance."
Your next words surprised even yourself. "Why should I cry?" I'm tired of tears. "I'm not scared of you."
Of course, now was probably the worst possible time to suddenly develop fearlessness. You were about to die, for heaven's sake. Still, a strange fire burned within you.
"This is a first. Are you brave, or just suicidal?" the boy wondered. "Too bad I don't care to find out." The point of the dagger dug into your throat. How far were you from death—an inch? And yet your thoughts were clear. "Any last words?"
