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A temple.

[ She wants to say more. The temptation is there, but instead, she jams her hands into her coat pockets. ]

It's not too far away.

[ A temple, huh? He eyes her a bit critically - she's never struck him as the type to be interested in religion - then makes up his mind. ]

Mind if I tag along? I haven't been to too many of the temples around here yet.

[ Lucy stares back at him without blinking for as long as she can manage before reaching up to scratch an itch on the side of her neck. She can only guess what he's thinking but only because she finds it hard to believe she's going out to a temple herself. ]

Can't hurt. Maybe you'll find something to pray for too.

[ Now that makes him smile—but in a sharp humorless way. ]

I can't say I really believe in gods. At least not in the types of gods that respond to human prayer.

[ Are gods real and true in Teyvat? Sure, but as far as he's concerned most of them are completely out of touch with the plights of every day humans. Better to rely on himself than a figurehead prancing around. ]

But sure, maybe I'll think up something to pray about on the walk there. [ Speaking of, he gestures to the road in front of them. ] Lead the way.

I don't either, but it doesn't hurt to do this kind of thing, at least.

[ She shrugs, but she's in good enough spirits to keep walking. ]

Maybe one will actually hear it.

[ He follows alongside her in companionable silence, hands tucked away in his jacket pockets. ]

What made you decide to start now? Or made you think of it again now, I suppose.

[ A pregnant pause serves as his answer for the next few seconds. Before she finally admits the truth in a startlingly soft voice. ]

My mother.

[ Wriothesley glances over at Lucy, the sudden turn of his head and widening of his eyes easy tells of his surprise over her admittance. Of all the things he would have expected her to pray for - a list that had been, admittedly, pretty short - her family hadn't been on there.

Another pause follows hers before he asks, slowly: ]

What was she like?

[ Her peripheral catches his surprise, and she feels a bigger drop of her heart into her stomach. Is it really so surprising that she has family? Or that she'll talk about them when asked?

...no, it's not fair to feel bad about that. Not when she closes herself off to avoid this exact kind of emotional punch. ]

I don't know. I never met her.

[ The atmosphere hadn't exactly been cheery before but it's positively grim now, another silence falling between them. They're going to reach the temple before this conversation finishes, at this rate. His gaze returns to the road in front of him, and then up towards the sky. ]

I'm sorry. [ It's a trite condolence, but it's all he knows how to offer right now. ] For what it's worth, I never met my parents either. [ Or, well: ] My birth parents, at least.

[ Lucy slowly shakes her head. She forces an uneasy laugh to go along with it but instantly regrets it for how weird it sounds. ]

It's okay. It's not something you need to apologize for.

[ Is it comforting to hear that he's an orphan too? Or was? She's not sure, but it does give her a sad sense of connection. A macabre relief... He understands at least that much more than anyone else might, doesn't he? ]

But, that's why I want to go to this temple. Kannon is the goddess you pray to for motherhood and things like that. It seemed...right.

Kannon....

[ He murmurs the name under his breath, rolling around the unfamiliar syllables on his tongue doing his best to commit it to memory for further research later. He thinks another moment and then smiles, small and quick.

Louder: ]

I'm sure your mother would have liked that. Do you think she'd mind if I prayed with you?

[ Her steps stall as she takes in what he says. She can't hide her surprise, but it melts into a sheepish smile she turns her head to hide. What she can't hide, however, is the short huff of a laugh that crawls out of her throat. ]

I think she'd be happy.

Then I'll be sure to put her at the forefront of my thoughts for today.

[ All children of Fontaine are born amid their parents' wishes and blessings. A nice sentiment, even if he'd always thought to be more applicable on a broader scale. He might know nothing about Lucy's mother - her name, her face, the kind of person she might have been - but surely there's no harm in believing that she would have wanted a good future for her daughter. And surely there's no harm in sending along wishes now, and the fleeting glimpse of the smile on Lucy's face. ]

Are you an only child then, or did you have brothers and sisters?

[ The little smile stays on her face, but...it changes. Her eyes look ahead but don't really see anything in front of her. They're further back in time, reliving a moment she can't forget. One she won't allow herself to forget. One of many. ]

I had a younger brother.

[ Had not have, and while a lot of things have changed for a lot of people after their abrupt arrival in Neo-Tokyo, there's something abuot the way she says it that makes him think that something must have happened to this brother of hers. (Though it sure would be nice to be proven wrong.)

He glances over at her, his own smile fading, voice slow and cautious. ]

What happened to him?

[ If she doesn't want to answer, he won't push. ]

[ Like with her mother, the pause that hangs in the air is heavy. If she reaches out to brush aside that veil...what will happen? Telling the truth is better than leaving it a mystery, isn't it? But at the same time, she's already cried at the temple dedicated for Jizo for this very reason.

What can she even say... ]

He died.

[ There's no strangled words to follow it. Just silence as she keeps her eyes forward on the road ahead. ]

[ There's silence on Lucy's end after that simple pronouncement, and the more silence on Wriothesley's end as he mulls over the implications behind her statement. Anything he could say without knowing the full story would be trite and meaningless, but he's already nosed enough into her business.

Eventually, he settles for a(nother) simple question. ]

Are you going to pray for him as well?

[ She can only guess what he's thinking, but she doesn't dare say a word again until he does. It feels like anything she says could be an indictment, an admission of something she did. Better to just leave it vague for all their sake. The following question gives her an out she appreciates all too well. ]

I did last week. Children's Day was on Sunday. [ A soft sigh. ] The temple I went to for him isn't far from this one. It's how I found it.

[ He nods, easy acceptance of her answer. ]

Wish I'd known about it. [ Really, he means it. Another few steps forward, another glance at the neighborhood they're strolling through. ] If we're still here next year and you go again, I'll come with you.

[ He'll pray for her brother, and for all the kids out there deserving of a better future. ]

[ It's still wild to think about planning as far ahead as "next year." Hell, sometimes even "next month" is a weird thing to catch herself thinking about. ]

You don't have to do that. [ He doesn't have to. Shouldn't have to. Just thinking about it makes her nerves itch in discomfort. Yet, she can't bring herself to just let that be all she says. Not after he's shown concern for her again and again.

So, her lips quirk upward into a smile. Tiny, awkward, but there. ]

...but, thank you.

I don't have to, but I want to.

[ Which is really all that matters to him. But he doesn't press the subject, just keeps walking, deliberating for the next minute on how much more to say. ]

Maybe I'll pray for my siblings too. [ A small smile cuts across his face, wry. ] Though I guess they wouldn't be kids anymore now.

[ She's both grateful for the silence and hates it completely. It always feels like she should say something in the long lapse that follows, but her lips stay welded shut instead. It's probably for the best. She can't think of how she could begin to approach the subject of his siblings without it sounding awkward or diving too close back to her own.

But, she at least knows how to respond without flubbing when he speaks up again. ]

Can't hurt to do a prayer anyway. Maybe whatever patron is nearby will hear it and grant it anyway.

[ He appreciates her silence and the consideration she shows for his privacy. For all the suffering she might have gone through in the past, the depths of which he can't even begin to understand, he hopes that her future will be much brighter and filled with an amount of happiness equal to (or better yet, greater than) all the hurt she's been dealt. ]

Sounds like we have quite a few prayers to make. We better pick up the pace then, huh?

[ There's really only the one for her mom, but no harm in getting there sooner and spending a little extra time. ]

[ In her eagerness to leave heavier topics behind, she chuckles softly. More to herself than him. ]

Are you trying to say I'm walking too slow? Rude.

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