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Time flies when you're having fun.
Romaritime Harbour isn't exactly the biggest and liveliest port in all of Fontaine, but Xavier wouldn't call it a bad thing at all. It is a part of its charm - providing a moment of serene respite for fatigued travelers, offering a quiet atmosphere and a place to talk, rest and recover before setting off on yet again voyage to explore the unknown. It is a thing certainly needed in this time and day, when everyone is so caught up in their busy lives they couldn't simply take a second to exist in the moment, without deadlines, worries or anything else that troubles an average citizen.
The scenery is certainly something to marvel at, with Sumeru's desert overwhelming the majority of the landscape, though he wouldn't call that a drawback of the harbour's placement - the sands looks ethereal in the evening's fading sunlight and the great greenish tree gave it a bit of a fairytale-esque feeling. He could discern lush rainforests to his left and even recognize Chenyu Vale's countless mountains standing proud in the distance, if he walked along the harbour's top floor's railing.
His little hometown is lying in the middle of the lake - serene, peaceful, untouched by the calamities befalling Teyvat; separated from the mainland of Fontaine yet undoubtedly tied with it by the threads of fate. It has certainly come a long way from a run-down fishing village from centuries ago, to the proud idyllic town it is today. He feels proud, even if he had little to do with it; his little corner of Teyvat.
He is waiting patiently for today's last boat, which was bound to come in around half an hour (assuming everything goes smoothly on Petrichor's end, which, honestly, did not happen too often in Xavier's own experience), leaving him with plenty of time to ponder. From his position at the top of the harbour, by the marble railing covered with flowerpots, he can see the entire world, the entire universe even.
He still remembers his nineteen-year-old self, being recruited as one of the researchers in the Institute due to his wit and skill with a variety of mechanisms. He was so full of youthful enthusiasm and never-ending optimism, never looking back at the past, careful and awfully careless at the same time. A walking contradiction, his friends would say, though Mécantre called it "putting 'moron' in 'oxymoron'". What a wonderful lad; Xavier hasn't seen him in a while. He should be celebrating his thirtieth birthday soon - though it wouldn't come off as a surprise if he was still holding on to the dreams from his adolescent years. Xavier just hopes he approaches it with a more peaceful demeanor (and less throwing tools around his poor father's backyard whenever he got stuck with his research).
Ageing is a wondrous thing, he thinks.
He wonders when will come the time he will turn into one of the old men, always quick to judge and full of disdain.
He certainly sounds like one at times; life threw various hurdles his way and with overcoming those hurdles comes life experience, and yet he was one of the lucky ones, never having to experience true grief, horror or rage.
So where are these sombre thoughts coming from?
An early midlife crisis, perhaps.
The breeze is cool and calming on his face and he thinks of his mother, waiting for him in Petrichor, still so hopeful and unused to his antics even despite the years gone by. She never failed to encourage him, even with her worries and doubts. Look at him leaving her behind, her heart filled with sorrow, to chase his dreams around Teyvat, with but a letter or two sent in-between boats and carriages and little inn rooms, filled with the scent of wood and smoke. A true prodigal son he is, coming back to Petrichor after years of silence to beg for forgiveness.
He thinks of his older sister, Giulia, his best friend and enemy. She was always teasing him about his non-existent self-preservation instincts, telling him to slow down with his endless pursuit of his dreams; watching him from behind.
"Chill out, Xavier, you're gonna outrun life itself one day" she used to say when they were young and he was buried in his papers and mechanisms from the earliest crack of dawn to the silky fog of the nightfall. He would playfully smash her arm and she would call him a "little bitch" in revenge and steal his pencils.
Good times.
She got married soon after Xavier's departure to Liyue with his Institute team; he completely missed her wedding and was rewarded with an angry letter. Giulia's disappointment and rage stayed with him for a long time - even now he could feel his heart sink at the memory. He didn't write back and deep in his soul he was glad he didn't - it could've ended with a relationship broken beyond repair. They both certainly inherited their temperament from their father. Their teenage years were... interesting, to say the least. Xavier still wonders how their poor, poor mother hasn't died of a heart attack.
Writing after they both cooled off was a better, albeit slightly cowardly, option.
That's what Xavier repeats himself on days he remembers his latest letter from Giulia was written on a cold February night over five years ago.
He then thinks of his closest friends from the Daydream Club, always by his side, always hyping him up in his various endeavours. Petrichor's quiet days had come to an end the day their club was established. Mécantre and Babisse's banter could be heard throughout the town at times and the evenings a young Felix was immersed in his singing were probably still fresh in the minds of the town's citizens - poor boy had big dreams of becoming an opera singer, but absolutely zero talent. What's worse, everyone living close enough to Xavier's own house was deemed an unfortunate witness to their first attempt at drinking - it was a wild night, and first of the many.
Looking back, it was interesting how a group of people so intelligent could be so dumb at times.
Ah. He certainly hasn't been spoiling them with letters in the past few years. He hopes he isn't met with anger for his misconduct as soon as he steps on his hometown's ground.
They all went their separate ways, at least to his knowledge. If there were any remains of the Club's past affairs he was bound to find out soon.
If that damn boat comes on time.
No matter. Stuff happens, and Xavier isn't the one to be quick to anger nowadays, so he indulges in the peaceful atmosphere once more.
He briefly thinks of places visited, people met and befriended - it all seems so far away now, disconnected from the "here" and "now", in Romaritime Harbour, in the last gleam of the day.
Sometimes he wonders if his memories are memories at all and not just figments of his imagination.
What does it matter who you know, when at the end of the day you are left by yourself? When all that matters is who you are?
He is getting old, isn't he.
Time passes in the blink of an eye and Xavier takes an elevator to the ground floor of the Romaritime Harbour, and lo and behold - the boat is already there, the boatman collecting fares from several other souls unfortunate enough to be travelling at this hour. He doesn't recognize any of them, but it doesn't come off as a surprise, really - Petrichor is merely a stop between Romaritime and Bayda harbours. His little town isn't the most popular tourist attraction, nor isn't it an overcrowded and bustling city like the ones he had the pleasure to visit, before returning to Fontaine.
He pays the boatman and settles down on the wooden seat. The waters of Nostoi Lake shimmers slightly in the approaching moonlight. Xavier extends his hand and touches the surface with slight apprehension - the water is cold and refreshing.
He thinks of Inazuma's rainfalls, Mondstadt's breeze and a certain blonde traveler's smile.
The boat finally sets off, towards the remains of childhood dreams.