[ there are probably two ways the night could have gone. well several things could have happened, but maybe the two likeliest would be 1) zhongli behaving nicely and sitting by and maybe sleeping peaceably on the table like an exhausted college student, maybe treating childe to the sight of his sleeping face in the morning. past zhongli would probably have taken this route, because he's as placid and unruffled as a serene lake and would probably be a great house guest, like a gentleman.
and then there's 2) zhongli gets restless like a half-wild animal and despite knowing childe told him to wake him, he just plain leaves anyway. whether it's out of some lingering resentment against him, carelessness, or just plain pique, who would know? without his memories he too is a bit of a wild card, trying awkwardly to construct a new identity for himself and barely knowing how. it's not as if there's a 'recovering from amnesia and building a new life for yourself for dummies' book out there. or maybe there is, in a library or bookstore, and he's intent on finding it.
this is just to say when childe wakes up and ventures back to the main room, it's empty. the rock shards and meteor impact from last night are still there, because of course zhongli wouldn't be bothered or feel obligated to clean them. there are actually more half-crumbled rock and ore constructs, spear-like, in the room, as if he'd been trying to experiment and practice with his power. but zhongli himself is gone.
will childe: 1. celebrate, maybe with more firewater 2. send a letter to hu tao telling her he lost her dad 3. take a stress nap 4. other? ]
but no, the first thing that Childe does - which should come as a surprise to absolutely no one - is laugh, the sound remarkably boyish and light for the situation of a destroyed kitchen and remnants of crumbling stone left behind like the evidence of a particularly careless dog that doesn’t understand what it’s done.
It’s sometime late at night, and he imagines that Zhongli has either gotten restless or the act of disappearing from his “babysitter” is a subtle middle finger, which he doesn’t really mind. Perhaps he’d teased him overmuch and, with the consultant out of his hair, Childe’s able to let out the metaphorical breath he’s been holding and relax in degrees now that Zhongli’s not here to scrutinize his every move.
So he sets about sweeping up the dust and debris from his kitchen. The stones are cleared away with a combination of a broom and his Hydro vision, chunks broken off of the half-formed spears and gathered into a whirling orb of water that hastens the effect of erosion on it that would have otherwise taken years. Some he keeps, smooth, pretty stones of brown and gold as a souvenir of the consultant. He’ll lay these on the counter to dry before he sweeps them into a nearby drawer and out of sight.
When he’s finished it’s not a perfect fix - there’s only so much he can do about dents - but it looks better than before. He’ll pour himself another glass of fire-water and sit at the table to nurse it while he debates his next move. ]
[ so, he’s spent an entire night trying to think through all the info he’s been hit with through the day, try to process through everything in full without being distracted by various elements like octopi and childe punching him in the gut and childe not cutting up the stupid octopus properly and childe prompting him to half-transform and childe being a nuisance and menace in all the worst ways possible. childe.
but childe was also the one who seemed to have the most information and insight on him, he can at least appreciate this. and he can grudgingly appreciate the way childe had helped him unlock a few of his skills, even if it was inadvertently. so zhongli spends a good amount of the night simply trying to hone and perfect some of the abilities; he’d like to not get caught off guard trying to summon a polearm the next time childe decides to kick him to the wall, thanks. he can definitely tell that childe could kick his ass, if only because he’s confident and in control of his power whereas zhongli is not.
so he has a lot to think over regarding identity and building a new one or trying to restore his old one. and now even while leaning towards the former choice, a possible even higher priority than that is regaining his ability, even a little. he can’t say he’s learned terribly much in the few hours he’s been practicing, but he tries. and then just he leaves the remnants of his practice in childe’s home because why not be a nuisance back at childe, he deserves it.
the remains of their little skirmish does also make him think of childe’s injury though, and how careless he was in treating it. he’s discovered the human emotion of pettiness, incredibly, but he’s not completely heartless. even he thinks it’d be only fair to try to get more medicine or salve for that wound. so after a lot of trial and error and getting lost and following vague intuition in navigating liyue, he makes his way to bubu pharmacy. and when they keep such odd hours anyway, baizhu would be there with a cryptic smile and a cock of his head, as if reading straight through zhongli’s change in demeanor, with newly gained information.
but the pharmacist is remarkably sly, accepts with good grace his probably-improbable story about accidentally injuring an acquaintance, and browses through medicines. ‘So, incidentally, this acquaintance of yours… how much do you like them? We have some particularly fast-acting remedies but, shall we say, pain and discomfort may be the side effect and trade off for speed.’
to zhongli, that doesn’t seem like a bad drawback at all. ]
[ It's hard to say what time of day it is, especially when he keeps his windows shut and covered with blackout curtains, both to acclimate to his odd sleeping habits and also in a desperate attempt to keep his own apartment at least a little cool in Liyue's warmer climate. Despite how long he'd lived here, he was still adjusting - with varying degrees of success - to the weather change.
He's not sure which glass he's on but the time he's completely fallen into his thoughts, but while he's not drunk he kind of wishes he were. Gloved fingers trace around the rim of his cup, turning it this way and that while he considers the door with dull eyes, chin propped up on his other hand. The pain in his abdomen has lessened to a dull throb, but it's easy enough to ignore in the face of everything else running through his mind.
A part of him feels like he should be mad at how things are unfolding. Perhaps he should have taken advantage of Zhongli's amnesia and try and sway him over to his side - not in the way one might think, given his own unresolved feelings on the matter, but in other ways - and then he immediately quashes that with the notion that he'd rather not see more of him than he would like. It's already too much, too soon, and he admonishes himself for not running him through with his polearm earlier. Maybe then he'd actually get chased out of Liyue and the Tsaritsa would have no choice but to recall her Harbinger back to her shores if only to avoid a diplomatic conflict between nations. While he has no idea the nature of her contract with Morax, he doubts any peacekeeping clauses would remain in place once it was revealed his memories were gone.
.... ah. That's probably something he should be reporting, if it hadn't been already. As far as he knows he's the only one stationed in Liyue, though he had heard of Scaramouche's own wanderings in Tevyat.
There's no post open this late at night, but there are plenty of boats and Snezhnayan merchants that would be happy to take a missive to the palace. Childe needs to walk off his alcohol, anyway, and so it's with this in mind that he stands, pushing his chair in and draining the last of his fire-water before making his way to the door and venturing out into the night. ]
[ baizhu is one of the first people he’d met in liyue, right after hu tao of course, when she had taken him straight to the pharmacy after finding out about his condition. the good doctor didn’t have any salves or cures for amnesia but he’d provided a few remedies and teas for forgetfulness, to improve mental acuity, the likes. they didn’t seem to have a noticeable effect back in his first visits, but regardless the pharmacist brews a few more cups while zhongli stays for a spell longer at bubu to detail a bit more about his memory recovery.
parts of it anyway. he leaves out the whole… rex lapis deal, which he supposes he can’t exactly deny very adamantly now that he has proof of his inhumanity. and of course he leaves out the transformation, the little fight he had with childe over the octopus. but he tells enough about how he’d remembered how to manipulate geo and his weapon. baizhu takes it all in with quiet intent fascination; there’s just something about the cryptic quirk of his mouth that almost makes zhongli wonder whether his lies of omission might not be as subtle as he’d hoped, he may apparently be an amateur at it especially compared to rex lapis.
but the doctor’s orders, or recommendation, is to stay with childe a bit longer. clearly, because he needs a place to stay. but the fact that he’d recovered this much of his memory, even if it’s primarily muscle memory, is promising. surely more interaction with someone who seems to know him well may prompt more recovery. and well, how can zhongli argue with that? he wasn’t exactly planning to leave childe anyway, hu tao and baizhu now expect him to stay with him, and he no longer really thinks of him as an enemy. he should probably return to childe’s place.
baizhu is considerate enough to bill the medicines to wangsheng tang so he leaves with a small paper bag and tries to recall the way back to childe’s apartment. liyue really is unfamiliar to him, a maze of buildings and streets and people that both disorients him and kind of viscerally unnerves him, not in itself, but the fact that it’s so foreign to him. and yet he’d once guided it as a god? he breathes in the city air of late night, near early morning, near dawn. he closes his eyes, focuses.
he’d also been practicing for a few hours, this--he transforms his tongue just briefly, just once so he could taste the air, sharper senses than just human. and in the distance he could even scent that sharp bitterness of that liquor childe had drank. what? he blinks, startled. surely only childe would have that drink, right? or maybe another snezhnayan, but…
he beelines towards that scent. and after some moments, turns the corner to find childe at the far end of the street, apparently out on a late night walk, maybe like zhongli himself. did he really drink again after he left?
zhongli frowns. then experimentally, lifts a hand to uplift a small stone outcrop on the street for childe’s next step. it would trip him if he’s really inebriated and distracted, but zhongli would ensure to catch him. ]
[ Along the way Childe had managed to pick up a few trinkets here and there; a stuffed brown dragon (as blasphemous as it was to be labelled "the corpse of Rex Lapis", it was still a really good rendition), some small boxes wrapped in brown paper, a few herbs and medicines Zhongli might recognize as being distinctly Liyuen. Given that there was only one good pharmacy in town, it begged the question of whether or not Childe made them himself, got them from some other shady merchant at marked up prices, or they were all things he'd stored away for himself and was just now fetching. The latter was probably the most agreeable scenario.
He's on his way to the docks when his foot catches on something and he suddenly goes tumbling forward. But thanks to his years of experience in combat and quick reflexes he's able to right himself, though not without losing the little plushie, which flies out of his arms and tumbles down the slope. Turning back to see what had tripped him, he sees the little raised stone and squints at it for a moment before realization hits him in the form of spotting Zhongli a little ways behind him.
Oh. Well, at least he's not laying out in a field somewhere bleeding out.
Childe is quick to right go and retrieve the plushie, and thankfully this part of Liyue isn't dirty enough that the little monster avoids collecting much dust and grime. The few patches here and there Childe's easily able to go over with a bit of Hydro and clean, and once he's satisfied he sets all his items under one arm and glances over at Zhongli.
Admittedly, seeing him like this sparks something in him that he'd just as soon not think about - nostalgia, maybe - and for a moment he wonders if the consultant has gotten his memories back.
But there's a certain... air about him that a Zhongli with his memories distinctly lacks, and he knows that's not the case. ]
[ he’s about to reach out and grasp childe’s wrist to save him from the fall if childe really does fall. but then childe catches himself and…
ah, all right then. he draws back his hand, probably or hopefully quick enough that childe doesn’t catch his gesture. the contradiction and contrast of him is stark. rex lapis would not trip childe to be petty. rex lapis possibly wouldn’t reach out to catch childe either, trusting childe to take care of himself, in that distant way that gods view competent mortals. there’s a slight frown on zhongli’s face that wouldn’t be there if he were rex incognito, because he was always very cordial with childe. the way he crosses his arms is exactly the same way he did, before.
his eyes flicker to what childe is carrying. ]
Late night shopping trip? [ ‘trip’ literally, even. ] While drunk too, I see. Consider that a test to see how drunk.
I went out to see the pharmacist. [ and fancied himself a bit independent enough to do it himself, even if he got lost, surely he didn’t need to wake and bother childe to be his tour guide. he cocks his head slightly, eyes landing on the… stuffed animal. ] Did you have a craving for a… souvenir?
[ what is that, anyway. he isn’t quite familiar enough even with the image of the exuvia to recognize cute merchandise of it. ]
[ listen he's a strong independent fatui he don't need no man
but if Zhongli expected him to be drunk enough not to notice that little gesture he has another thing coming. The reaction that follows after is certainly troubling, the Harbinger's jaw tightening a little before he focuses his attention on what he's got in his hands. ]
I'm almost insulted you think me the sort of person that would stumble around the city drunk. [ Childe could care less about the bellyaching of the weak, but opening himself to attack with dulled sensibilities - nevermind the confidence he had that he would win every single street brawl he got into, because there was no one in Liyue sans the man standing nearby that could hold a candle to him - was not something he did often, if at all.
The comment gets a short little laugh from him and he shakes his head before turning to face Zhongli with a hand on his hip and a critical eye. ]
If you wanted to leave, you know I would have let you. You don't have to tell me where you were going. I doubt there'd be anyone here that could catch the great Rex Lapis off his guard. [ A quick glance down to the docks tells him he's still got a bit of time. The merchant in question hasn't yet started packing up his wares, too busy engaging in conversation with the pretty florist from the pier. ]
These aren't for me. [ Is all he offers, before looking back. ] The pharmacist? Did I rough you up that badly?
[ a strong independent fatui who gets stress drunk when his babysit-ee goes missing, certainly. but maybe that's unfair when hu tao basically dropped zhongli on him like a half-wild cat and he wanders off as such and gets lost and finally deigns to try to find his way back 'home' insomuch as childe's place counts as home. ]
I went to the pharmacist for you. One of us had an open wound and it wasn't me. [ purely because of his adepti constitution, because if he were any more closer to a human's level childe could definitely have fucked him up and he knows it. it's another reason why he wants to recover some amount of ability, if not necessarily a god's memory, he'd like to be somewhat on childe's level. his frown is thoughtful as he lifts a hand to his chin, the familiar pensive gesture. ] And you forget I still don't quite know what kind of person you are. Maybe you really are the type to meander about on a tipsy midnight city tour, I wouldn't know any better.
I'm staying with you for the moment, at least until Hu Tao returns. [ he'll assure him of this much. actually, he seems about to say something else, but something in his eyes flicker, returning to the plush toy. ] And, Childe...
... Do you have a child?
[ this seems to occur to him out of nowhere. childe is a young man of marriageable age right? is that the right word. if not, what is...? breedable? something like that?? anyway the point is, maybe the toy is for his daughter. ]
[ listen sometimes you just wanna have a little drinkie
or the whole bottle, it happens, and for someone who goes on about osmanthus wine Zhongli should know better than anyone about the whole "social drinking" thing (though he probably wouldn't now, not when he doesn't have any memories to back it up with)
At the mention of Zhongli's reason for going out, Childe's expression changes minutely. For a moment he both looks and acts speechless, and for all that Zhongli has been nothing but petty and irate towards him (which is charming in and of itself, in some twisted way) Childe has to admit that it's not as bad as it could have been.
Even if Zhongli had basically done the equivalent of shitting all over his floor and leaving Childe to pick up the mess.
It's perhaps telling when he busies himself with combing fingers through the mane of the corpse of Exuvia plush, deliberating over how to respond. He's thankfully saved when Zhongli makes his little observation and he chokes on a laugh, snickering behind a hand and finally looking over to Zhongli with disbelief written all over his face. ]
A child? Me? Goodness no, the poor thing probably wouldn't survive. [ Which is telling in a lot of ways; but Childe doesn't elaborate on it, and goes on with another glance down the merchant who's still conversing with the pretty florist. ]
No, this is for my sister Tonia back home. Just something to let my family know I'm still alive and well. [ He gestures to the other parcels, the smaller boxes wrapped in brown paper and the bags of medicine and herbs. ] Stones for my mother, and herbs for my father. I've been spoiling Teucer too much, so I figured I was overdue for a care package of sorts.
[ The last is said almost to himself; he wouldn't be surprised if the names don't strike any sort of familiar chord with Zhongli. He seldom, if ever, spoke of his family openly. ]
[ the word he might be looking for is 'family-having', if that even counts as an adjective that even makes sense, maybe it doesn't. and maybe it kind of brings up the question of whether zhongli himself had family (though he likely won't ask hu tao this) and if he were a god, maybe that meant he didn't.
but let's shelve that idea for now, because this hadn't actually occurred to him-- ] I didn't know you had family. [ but once the words leave his mouth they seem terribly... crude, or oblivious. childe is human regardless of his mercenery job. human like most everyone else here--presumably. he might have questionable morals or perhaps few at all, but this is kind of a paradigm shift in zhongli's head, that childe cares for his siblings and parents.
he seems about ready to say something further, then actually changes his mind and simply reaches to take the toy, or several of childe's packages. he seems to have his arms pretty full. ]
Did it occur to you just now that it would be a good idea to go shopping for them, after midnight? [ a wry question; he could speculate that perhaps drinking made childe lonely or nostalgic. come to think of it, he doesn't even think he's personally gotten drunk or tipsy since he's lost his memory, but at least he had the vague knowledge of how it should feel. maybe even gods could be susceptible to alcohol. ] Let's head back, if you don't have any last-minute items to pick up for them. And even if you do, I'm sure it could wait until morning.
What, did you just expect that I popped out of the ground with a sword in my hand? [ Childe can’t help but tease, but he shakes his head after that statement and lets out a thoughtful hum. The mental image was certainly amusing enough. Zhongli knew how babies worked, didn’t be? ]
Perhaps your memories weren’t all that you lost. [ And then, when he sees the consultant reaching for his items, he visibly hesitates. While it’s true that he doesn’t have anything else to pick up, the truth of the matter was it really wasn’t just a simple shopping trip he was out on. Missives to Snezhnaya could be sent out at any time with the right amount of mora.
If the Tsaritsa didn’t know what had happened to Morax after giving up his Gnosis, would she even want to? What if it was some kind of facet of their contract, the one that Zhongli had been so tight-lipped over?
Regardless, it fell to him as a Harbinger to report it on the off-chance it was a new development to her. So while he allows Zhongli to take his parcels, thinking he can mail them out in the morning, he remains where he is with a small smile. ]
You’re right. I need to go tell my comrade over there something, though. So give me just a moment.
[ if he had a dearth of common sense even as rex lapis incognito, would he have much to lose of it even after memory loss? a good question. ]
That's right, I suspected you either reproduced by fission or someone had concocted you in some obscure ritual. [ all right, he knows this much, it's silly not to have thought that childe would have family. but he'd thought of him as an enemy for the past day, it's only recently that childe has been a bit more... humanized to him, human as he may be.
still, he's much less sly and calculative than he previously was, so the machinations and workings of the fatui and snezhnaya operations would be completely lost to him--for now, perhaps. he arches an eyebrow in mild curiosity that childe would still have another chore to run. ]
I'll wait for you here, then. [ ... ] I'm not entirely sure where would be the way back. [ just don't take too long, or he might be in danger of wandering off again like a stray cat.
that, or more likely he'd watch childe from the corner of one golden eye, observing what he's up to. the walls of liyue have ears, it's just too bad childe knows that better than zhongli does. ]
[ Childe has to remind himself that this is but isn't Zhongli, and it's not always to his benefit to believe everything that comes out of the man's mouth. Sarcasm is something that doesn't sound terrible on the consultant (mayhap even charming for how petty it makes him look, but he's not going to think about that right now) and he has to quell every urge he has to continue this particular thread of conversation.
He almost wants to tell him to continue on without him, but then Zhongli continues with not knowing the way back and Childe resigns himself to his fate. With a reassuring smile he makes his way to the merchant and the pretty florist who, as luck would have it, is actually saying her farewells, and once the man catches sight of Childe his expression lights up and he greets him with a handshake and a broad smile.
At least he's pretty sure that the consultant doesn't understand Snezhnayan, so even if his hearing is inhuman he probably wouldn't understand the words Childe speaks in clipped tones to the man. The conversation lasts for maybe a few moments, the words rolling smoothly off his mother tongue, and the merchant shakes his hands again before accepting the plump pouch of mora Childe offers him.
As he's making his way back up the slope to where Zhongli waits for him, he lifts his gaze and catches the impressive figure the consultant makes against the backdrop of the city. While he doesn't stand tall and poised like he used to, he's still... something.
Childe's hand fits against Zhongli's elbow before he can think about it, the move so natural it feels like instinct. He doesn't expect Zhongli won't hit him for it, swatting at him like a particularly temperamental, feral cat, so he's quick to take his hand away once he's steered him into the right direction and they start walking back to Childe's place. ]
Maybe I should start charging you for all the damage you're doing to my apartment.
[ no, he doesn't understand a lick of snezhnayan. at this point he can't even quite read the traditional or archaic liyue characters, which should truly be a point of shame for one who used to be the god of the country. truly memory wipes are formidable. it's possible childe had taught him a few words and phrases in his mother tongue; it's actually likely that he'd had a rather passing or even decent familiarity with the language, at least enough to forge verbal contracts with foreign tradesmen. how far he's fallen.
the touch at his elbow is... a few hours prior it might prompt distrust and possibly even an attempted draw of a weapon, when he'd been so convinced childe was his enemy. now, it's a little... familiar almost, somehow, a little... ]
I could bring up the fact that you apparently tried to take my Gnosis, even if you failed. Would I be an aggrieved party, would an attempt at theft excuse me for that property damage? [ this being said, his tone isn't as harsh as it was, just one evening prior. he sounds a bit speculative. at this point still, whatever happenings in his past life still sounds a bit... removed from him, as if he's speaking about someone else entirely, he can't quite take it personally.
still, childe does have a point, he did cause quite a bit of damage. nobody can deny this. and zhongli has the sense of... balance, or debt, like wanting to equalize both sides of a contract. ]
I'm afraid I'm light of Mora. As in, I have none. I had the pharmacy bill Wangsheng Tang. I could do another IOU, or... is there any other way I could make it up to you?
[ In another time, with another Zhongli, that might have gotten a nervous laugh from him, his mind racing to thoughts involving the consultant that are far more intimate than their casual friendship would suggest. Childe would have argued that it was only because they'd got on so well and, with the nature of the public's general demeanor towards the Fatui as a whole, it was hard to get an outlet that wasn't trading blows with his recruits in the middle of a field somewhere.
And Zhongli had always been so warm, and so gracious, and - dare he say it? - funny, with a sense of humor honed over six thousand years.
There's still traces of him in there, he knows, even if the words he's speaking are harsher than his Zhongli would have any right to be. It's refreshing but also, it's mildly depressing. He remembered a time where he would have wanted Zhongli to be forthright and open and honest with him, laying out everything he was feeling for Childe to pick apart indulgently. Now... it's not quite the same.
Can this Zhongli even bring it up, when it seemed, for all extents and purposes, as though it happened to someone else entirely? It almost feels like he's taking credit for someone else's suffering.
But going back to that statement. If it were any other night, if he weren't currently running on half a bottle of Snezhnayan firewater, he probably would have rolled his eyes at him and joked about how he could work off his debt with the Fatui. They would surely get a kick out of seeing the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor consultant in their ranks, sorting through paperwork or else lecturing new recruits.
But it isn't, and he is, so what comes out of his mouth instead is: ]
[ he isn't rex lapis or at least he hasn't been for weeks now, weeks that would basically be a completely new life for him. but he'd still approach life and information with the same methodical, rather meticulous problem-solving methods that rex lapis would; probably not with the same subtlety and subterfuge, at least not yet. at the moment when childe is his strongest source of information and apparently his former self's associate, friend, somewhat-enemy at least in being a target of theft and contrivance--he strangely feels like that he could be candid with him. maybe paradoxically in contrast to how secretive he'd been with childe, one life ago.
and he has enough good will towards childe now to consider that he should actually try to make things up to him, now that they've reached a bit more of an understanding. oh, some things might not go forgiven, like that little touch of tentacle. but even if he doesn't preside over contracts, he has the sense of wanting things to be balanced and favors paid. childe has been a nuisance in quite a few respects but helpful in quite a lot of others, so maybe he could think of some way to compense him, never mind that he has absolutely no mora--
childe's suggestion pierces through his musing. he blinks, gives him a curious sidewards look, because his first thought is, ] On my knees?
Should I prostrate myself before you? Do you think I would? [ needless to say, from the look on his face, what a disagreeable idea that is... apparently he has some amount of pride. it might be long-lost pride from a god over an ancient massive nation even if that god is now apparently dead. a frown further as he studies childe's expression and rethinks his words more fully--
he might be an amnesiac but he might not be a complete ignorant, it dimly occurs to him childe might mean a different form of prostration. he considers this, then disregards it. ]
How drunk are you? [ it must be that childe has had too much of that firewater and might be a lonely drunk. and he really needs to sleep it off. ]
[ honestly, prostrate was the furthest thing from his mind, and it perhaps shows in the way confusion spreads across his features, his brows furrowing under the weight of it. but then he realizes what he said, what Zhongli's response was, and something like a cringe at the obvious lack of a filter crosses his face, the Harbinger immediately sifting through his bangs with gloved fingers.
it's probably just because today has been chaotic. that's all. he's seen more of Zhongli and his myriad of expressions than he ever has before, and it's starting to affect him. that's really all there is to it.
the sooner he can get back to Snezhnaya, the better. he only hopes that the Tsaritsa doesn't plan on sticking him in Liyue for the foreseeable future, especially with the revelation that Morax has effectively lost all his memories and now leaves Liyue open to conflict from outside forces. but if it were in their contract for to keep the Fatui under lock and key, well. maybe that meant he would be returning home sooner rather than later. ]
Never mind it. Forget I said anything.
[ there's still enough fire-water at home for him to imbibe with. he sets off for the familiar path that will lead him to his apartment, brushing past Zhongli on the way and moving with a slightly more accelerated pace than before. ]
[ he'd probably said the wrong thing just now, and the abrupt mood change... it doesn't quite unnerve him, but it might just come close when childe has been just about nothing but confident and cocky and in the know for this long. apart from that brief moment of vulnerability last night when he'd been drunk, but--
he can put this up to the alcohol, possibly. he deliberates over this as he follows childe, frowning; flexing his hand idly without quite realizing it, when he'd been trying to practice cultivating his power again, like exercising a long-forgotten muscle. an amnesiac but not a complete ignoramus; part of him is a bit wary still, part of him still meticulously collects, as if in fragments. all the information childe gives him and deliberates over each one: trusting that there's some or mostly truth to it, but wondering what might be hidden or unsaid. ]
Childe, I'll admit that I've been... probably, difficult to deal with since we met. [ to say the very least, when he'd literally attacked childe in his own home. still. ] Whatever had happened in the past, I do appreciate all the information and hospitality you've given me. To a point, anyway. [ because, fuck that octopus. for god's sake. ]
I'll do what I can to make it up to you, if a little. But I apologize if I won't get on my knees for it. I'll find some other way.
[ he does actually sound like he has some conviction in this. he'll make it a little mission for himself, maybe. he does have the sense of fairness, he wouldn't want to owe a debt or be caught lacking in an unequal transaction. ]
I'm not asking -- [ he snaps, pivoting on his heel with such force it's a wonder he doesn't give himself whiplash. a mixture of embarrassment and irritation simmers in his eyes, as though he can't quite decide which one he wants to be in this moment. it's not Zhongli. the only memories he has are the ones they're making right now, and while he knows he's not exactly making the best impression (hadn't, really, from the time they'd met until now) after everything that's happened between them he can't even begin to feel a shred of remorse over what his perception of him might be.
he doesn't know why Hu Tao decided to just dump him off on him. did she think they were friends? did she think that he might be able to fix him, somehow? maybe Zhongli didn't want to be fixed. he said he was going to live life as a mortal, so new shell, new him. it would make sense if he knew that this was going to happen.
gradually, he feels his shoulders slacken, his jaw unclench. he doesn't want to be here. Zhongli obviously does not want to be here. Childe does not want him here. ]
I can put you up somewhere else. There's an inn out between Dihua Marsh and Guili Plains. It's not too far of a walk, and maybe the fresh air will do you some good. As much as you loved this city if staying here hasn't done anything to jog your memory thus far, maybe walking the lands will.
[ he turns back around, that decided. ]
We can go when it's day time. For now... I need to get some sleep.
[ it's possible that contempt for humanity runs through the veins of dragons, and zhongli must be bleeding out quite a lot of it onto the cobblestones of the castle parapet.
he does not involve himself with the affairs of humanity, though he hears rumors on the wind and whispers by faeries and other monsters. they say this is a time of warfare for humankind, between the massive empire and the factions and nation-states of the union, this or that... he doesn't pay attention to the politics of humans when they're beneath him and his noble species. but maybe that egoism might just lead to his downfall because he finds himself now in this position, wounded and pinned to the floor of the castle gate. human archers really are formidable in this era. and the knights who chained him down, the mages who cast the spell to bind him. so this is how thousands of years of life of a noble dragon's life might end? if he were more destructive he could have drowned entire cities, destroyed coastal towns, he could have really made humanity pay for their arrogation and existence. but maybe he won't have the chance now.
the shouts of soldiers on the castle wall suggest that they're losing ground to attackers and to, in particular, a battle-crazed prince carving a bloody path through their forces. zhongli casts a baleful golden eye to the sky, to the iron gate. to his own blood seeping through the cracks of the flagstones and the spell etched around his body to lock him down. well, even if the wall were breached, he wonders if the enemy force would even hesitate to kill him anyway. dragons and humans might just be natural enemies. he'd never met a decent one in his long life and now he never will. ]
Edited 2021-07-15 05:59 (UTC)
me trying to scrounge up some drakengard lore from the playthrough i had ages ago
He's unsure where or when the attack came, if it had been something that had been brewing within his own ranks or if the opposing forces had gotten desperate and, in that same breath, reckless. It's in the evidence of the mangled bodies littering the ground, the uniforms on each corpse doing little to determine which side was winning when both were covered heavily in blood and dust from explosions and crumbling stone.
Perhaps if he had been more opposed to the frenzy of battle and bloodlust, they would have been overtaken long ago. But whether it was because seeing their prince on the battlefield beside them was a boost for morale for the infantrymen and footsoldiers, or because they had long been trained to fight and fight and fight until their bodies gave out or they were slain or even both, it's unsure. But they continued to hold the line even as their comrades fell all around them and the walls and courtyards were demolished to nothing but shattered stone and memories.
The report comes as a shout across the field, one Childe almost doesn't hear as he rips his polearm from a red-eyed soldier with blood and fragments of viscera splattering onto his front. It's been dirtied so much it's hard to tell what color the uniform was initially. Perhaps a deep blue, to match his eyes. At this point he's a prince in name only, because there's not a single part of him left that looks very noble or regal at all, but in many ways he's okay with that. Even amongst the royalty his lack of care for subtle manipulations and deceitful compliments was notable, preferring instead the blunt honesty that was charming in its own way. He's long been lauded as a man that would rather fight than sit and plan, and it's perhaps the one aspect that's kept this castle defended as long as it has.
At least, until now.
A dragon, he thinks, feverishly. His head snaps around to where the report has been called, eyes narrowed as though he could see the unfortunate creature for himself past the sea of clashing swords and spears. From this vantage point he thinks he can see the point of a wing, the jut of a horn -
- and suddenly his thoughts are interrupted by the spear running through him.
The point of it tears through his once-pretty uniform, ripping through flesh and fabric alike and coming out on the other side, somewhere close to his ribs. Foolishly, he presses a hand over the point of the blade as though he could push it back out and feels it cut into his palm, but his other arm is swinging wide behind him and catches the man across the neck in a clean slice with the sharp end of his polearm.
As the body crumples to the ground bereft of its head, Childe quickly rips the end of the spear out of him and staggers a bit, nearly blacking out at the pain that sweeps through him. He can taste blood in his mouth and his vision swims, and he knows that this might actually be the end of him.
But still his soldiers keep fighting, and Childe - well, he's got something else on his mind. There's a dragon within the castle, after all.
His sword - his father's sword - is unsheathed and hanging loosely at his side as he approaches. Through some miracle he's made it through the sea of bodies undisturbed, and he stands over the dragon now, his eyes looking upon the creature with a mixture of disgust and pity in his eyes. His own blood creeps from the wound on his side and mingles with what's already staining his front, deepening it to a red-tinted black. His lip curls into a sneer.
The sword is lifted over his head with more effort than it should, and Childe is but a step away from dealing the finishing blow. Not out of mercy, no; but out of a sense of justice. A clean blow is more than what this creature deserves. ]
its ok ur power is too strong to be held back by mere details of lore
[ and here comes his executioner now, he thinks as he sees the blood-drenched figure approaching, sword in hand, practically staggering with murder lust--
wait, no he isn’t. through the pain of the binding spell that sears into his flesh, zhongli could fix his eyes on this spectre of death and realize the blood on the man’s clothes isn’t just from, presumably, all the enemies he’s slain, but also from the wound that pierced through his entire body. the sway of him isn’t just from readiness to slay a dragon, but the man might actually keel over at any time, possibly right even after plunging that blade into zhongli’s throat. this soldier is a dead man walking and he must know it, yet it seems at least he’s determined to take the dragon down with him. the murderous prince that had cut down so many of the army below…
a realization runs through him like a bolt of lightning that he could use this man, and live. use, at least, in exchange for sharing his own life--would he rather die? he couldn’t have any time to debate this, he had to decide before this man ends his life. ]
Human, [ he hisses, his voice clear in childe’s mind, rasp with pain even while his jaws have been bound shut with spells. ] How bloodthirsty you are, to aim your blade at me even while your lifeblood is leaving you with every pump of your twisted heart. Do you not wish to kill more? I could aid you in just that and save you from death, so you can deal far more of it to your enemies.
[ oh, maybe all humanity was good for is dealing death to others. but at this point of time, he might just agree that maybe they should simply wipe each other out in whatever futile pointless wars they keep wrecking upon each other.
he wants to live and he thinks this man does, too. ]
Make a contract with me. I’ll lend you my great power to restore you from that wound, and you will free me from these bonds. Do you want to live?
[ The voice that rings out in his mind is like a death rattle, and there's no excuse for the swell of satisfaction he feels at the sound of it. It's pretty obvious what his intentions are, after all. It should be apparent even more to one that was so close to death.
As the creature speaks, whispering, rasping words that are surely meant to entice and seduce him into sparing its life, Childe focuses on keeping himself upright and not passing out from the sheer amount of blood he's losing through the gaping hole in his side. It's hard to focus on much of anything when the dull throb of pain is an ever constant reminder, and when he sees, in the dragon's eyes, the fate of his own parents and of his family as fresh as if it had happened hours earlier.
It's only when he's able to focus on the great beast's words that he understands what's being posed to him, and the laugh that he lets out is nothing short of unhinged, tainted with the blood pooling deep in his throat that he has to work hard not to choke on. ]
We've both a foot in the grave, and you intend to sway my hand by bargaining, dragon? [ The word is spat out with the blood welling up in his mouth. He imagines he paints a rather memorable picture, this once-regal prince holding a sword high overhead like an executioner's blade. It's probably that image which prompts the dragon to make such an offer, in an attempt to appeal to his bloodthirsty side.
It's almost maddening how well it's working. ]
It'd be just what you deserve. You and all the rest of your wretched kind.
[ The black dragon is still out there, he knows. Childe could not kill it back then, when he'd stumbled upon it with his mother and father held in talons and teeth, the remnants of his siblings in the blood splattered across the earth.
If he accepted the offer, he could kill it. He would live on to avenge his family, and perhaps die in the process. He'd take this creature with him, and that would work as recompense in some form or another. Would it still be considered cheating death if they both died some time later? ]
But... my business is yet unfinished. [ The sword slams into the ground beside him, and Childe kneels as though in mocking deference to the dragon before him. It's made even more taunting with the blood he spits at it, a trickle escaping sneered lips and dribbling down his chin. Perhaps he has more than a foot in the grave. ]
[ ‘wretched kind’ actually makes the dragon smile, a reptile rictus, bloodstained from where soldiers had took swords to his muzzle and from where the mages’ spell burns into his flesh. ] We’ll see who may be the more wretched of us all. [ he’s proud of his life as a dragon, his long lived solitary reign over skies and mountains. when compared against this prince’s bloodstained reign over his war-torn nation…
well actually, maybe he’ll refrain from casting judgment, when this prince’s nation or his enemies nearly brought him down, when he just barely narrowly avoids death by this dying human’s sword. he can’t claim to be so infallible. and there’s something about the brittle emptiness of the prince’s eyes that draws him in somehow, like the expanse of sky he longs to return to when unchained.
something of this pact is like a deal with the devil, this exchange and strengthening of power. but he can’t even say which of them would be the devil, or if the both of them would be, damning each other.
he struggles to open his jaws enough to uncoil his dragon’s tongue, dripping with ichor; a blood pact and exchange to seal their contract. exchanging lifeblood would empower the both of them, when dragon’s blood is toxic, magically potent, either ambrosia or venom or both at once depending on the spell it’s used in. this one is an offering of his power, and seeking this human’s so he can free himself. there may be something inherently blasphemous and powerful about humans, despite how seemingly delicate and weak they are. maybe there’s something naturally wicked like war in the blood of humans, he would taste it for himself, from childe. ]
Your lifeblood.
Mine will heal you. [ quickly now, before childe might just keel over from that spear wound straight through his body. ]
[ Perhaps this is a trick, some small part of him thinks. Perhaps the dragon, in its dying moments, would want to take someone down with it. Maybe he'll get close enough to give it his lifeblood and the beast will find some small trace of strength left to lunge at him and bite off his head.
He wouldn't rule out that possibility, least of all with a dragon.
His vision is starting to swim. Stepping forward takes more effort than it rightly should, and he knows his time is ticking. There's no time to measure the weight behind the dragon's words, the sheer honesty of them, the desperation. They both want to live; and the only way to do that is to work together.
It's almost laughable.
Although he doesn't quite know what to do, he's heard the stories. The dragon's words are the first steps of their contract and the ritual to seal it between them. Childe presses a hand against his wound with a gasp and digs his fingers into the hole for good measure. Flesh dips beneath his fingers and the lance of pain that burns through him is white-hot and blinding, but it's enough to ground him for those precious few moments.
As he outstretches this hand towards the beast, he feels something thrum somewhere deep in his blood, deep beneath his feat. There's an energy crackling in the air around him that he's sure has to do with what they're doing right now; the gods recognize the creation of this contract, and he's not sure if they're pleased or angry at this turn of events. Perhaps he might be projecting a little. If there were gods, perhaps his family wouldn't have been slaughtered so.
Childe cups his bloodied hand under the dragon's tongue, letting the ichor and the blood dripping from it pool over his fingers. It's warm, he thinks. If it is a trap, it's a comforting one. His fingers reach further, until he's able to flatten his palm over the wet muscles, granting the creature a taste of his own blood.
Something in his chest thrums sharply, shimmering through the rest of his torso. A heat spreads through his upper body, pleasant and warm at first before growing to a painful, hot fire, concentrating in one location in the middle of his chest. The light fixates on that point of his body before a shimmering, translucent orb begins to emerge. It swirls and flows, and as Childe reaches to grab it his fingers burn where he touches it. It barely holds the blood on his hands, though, and with only a bit of a struggle he's able to outstretch it to the dragon, to seal the terms of their contract. ]
[ he can't lie, even now while incapacitated and chained and surely just hours away from death if not sooner, the fantasy occurs to him whether he could lunge just that bit further and snap his jaws around the body of this man, take down just one of these arrogant bloodthirsty humans before they take his own life just like they are to all those unfortunate souls on the battlefield. how trivial life is to humans, even the life of a noble illuminated beast like himself. and there's something about this prince that suggests he'd be either a too-tempting meal to die for or maybe he'd struggle all the way down, with the taste of spite that would poison his meat and give zhongli indigestion.
but it'd be just a moment of satisfaction of a mouthful of blood and body, in exchange for what would surely be a painful and humiliating death at the hands of knights once the kingdom's army returned. so he refrains. and when he looks into the prince's rather maddened expression as childe claws at his own wound, he fancies he could see an abyss staring back at him, something far more potent than should be the ability of a mere human.
it makes him wonder what could come of lending this prince his power.
but there's no turning back from it now. the magic the prince offers him is dark and possibly blasphemous. the power zhongli offers is, actually, foreign. it's clear that he is not a dragon from these lands. he has no wings, his body is long and sinuous rather than stout, his mane bristles like a lion's whereas almost the entirety of western dragons are scaled. and his magic is... binding, golden, rich with the fundamental essense of earth and metal and iron and ore. it entertwines and locks and chains and there's some irony that he fell to these western mages' binding spells when his own is probably far more powerful, but what can he say? archers' greatbows had brought him down and humans are a terribly formidable force in great numbers. his eyes gleam as his earth magic twines around childe. he tastes the offering of the abyss that childe gives him, the taste of childe's lifeblood, as his serpentine tongue extends his own to childe.
the pact is sealed then. geo energy winds around childe to warm and restore him, knitting together that fatal wound and to empower him--for a price. maybe his tongue and speech, or something else. the pact price would possibly be something zhongli would demand but he's a bit preoccupied with this: his own power swelling, strengthened by childe's. he roars as he slices through his bonds, rearing up free and in ravenous, raging full health.
the way he turns his molten eyes on the battlefield suggests he might like to take vengeance on the army that had subdued him. ]
[ it's strange, feeling his wounds knit up like that, the agony and pain assaulting his soul fading until there was nothing at all but the warm, soothing sensation of ...
well, he can only assume it's the dragon's life force. perhaps even some ancient magicks at work. he's never been close enough to a creature like this for comparison.
it doesn't take away the stains in his uniform, though, which is fine. it's a stark reminder of the suffering he's endured, each drop of his enemy's blood soiling clothing a badge he'll wear with pride.
even if he ends up being devoured by this great beast anyway, at least he'd regained enough strength to hurt the creature on the way down.
and for a moment he does think the dragon has tricked him. the pain throbbing on his tongue is an unfamiliar brand, but try as he might to cry out in alarm, no sound comes. no words form from his lips and Childe is left to endure what's being done to him with tears edging the corners of his vision.
when it's all done and over with, he'll try again to speak. but of course, nothing comes out. it's the mark of their contract. a hand slaps against the dragon's thigh and his eyes narrow in accusation before he points at his mouth, tongue jutting out as though to show proof of what's been done to him.
but he also sees the way the creature looks out towards the battlefield. he sees the bloodlust in his eyes and feels it resonate with the one in his heart.
it's not like he'd stay his hand should the beast decide to indulge in a bit of slaughter. why not?
[ the pact price could possibly be decided on the flip of some cosmic coin, whether it's the divine beast's choice or even some higher power's, a cruel god's if a god might allow this slaughter in the world. zhongli regards childe with something like draconic amusement, a huff of ash-hinted breath from between his bared teeth, reptile laughter. ]
So that's your half of our contract, fulfilled. Your tongue, in exchange for a second chance at life. [ and of course in exchange for zhongli's power. in his opinion, more than a fair trade. childe can either learn sign language or, hell, violence is a universal language isn't it? and it's one they could both speak.
this time the dragon's tongue slithers out to brush against childe's mouth, against childe's speechless tongue if he doesn't pull back in time. amusement and the new bond between them might endear this violent prince to him with a sudden wash of fickle bestial interest, the interest a predator might have towards prey that's saved its life. when they've recovered each others' lives, he would forego eating this one--at least in the conventional sense. ]
Shall I show you the extent of my power, now at your disposal?
[ he doesn't quite have the power of fire that western dragons do, but with a rear of his head and a flash of eyes, he crushes his claws into the ground and--
the very earth quakes and splits in massive fissures across the battlefield, swallowing up entire phalanxes as soldiers find themselves without solid ground underneath their feet and fall into the deep depths of gorges where fragile human bodies might break. ]
[ the furl of tongue against him brings with it the taste of blood and something else that he can only imagine is dragonspit. it startles him into a jolt of surprise, brows immediately knitting together in disgust at the initial taste.
although he's unsure if the pact will allow the dragon to read his thoughts, that doesn't keep him from thinking in very clear, certain terms: you're disgusting. notably, it lacks the ire and the hatred that such a phrase would normally possess, which can only mean that the pact is doing wonders for their friendship.
but that's a thought for another time; now, Childe looks, his gaze flooding with awe and a little reverences as the great beast splits the earth beneath the chaotic battlefield. he watches as the soldiers he can see gets swallowed up, disappearing into the depths of the planet with rising screams of agony and horror. some of them were his own men - the few that had scant moments to live - and it's perhaps a sign of their pact that he feels nothing for the lives lost.
is it his feelings, or is it the dragon's? perhaps a mixture of both, especially since they wouldn't have had much time to live anyway.
his gaze turns back to the great beast and he regards it with some modicum of respect, though even that's a generous statement. the taste of dragonspit on his tongue is still lingering, but it's not as aggressively rancid as it had been at first.
[ disgusting, him? first of all, yes. second of all, how petty and capricious humans can be, to be so wary of a little saliva or tongue near their mouth, when he'd literally tasted each others' lifeblood. as far as body fluids go, he might just have more of childe's in mind to taste, sooner or later.
he's bonded to the human this intimately after all. he may as well make the most of it, eventually. ]
A trick, you call it? How difficult you are to impress, I see. [ an exhale of warm breath, like smoke, as his dragon's smile widens with teeth. ] And yes, of course I can fly. Your court mages and archers shot me down and tied me down to the earth with spells, when they have sheer numbers on their side and there are only so many of them I could target at once. [ so, the point is, fuck mages and archers. ]
Would you like to experience it, earthbound human prince? Flight.
[ as he lowers his body and hindlimbs, his whiskers atwitch, ears pricked towards childe as his golden eyes fix on him with the gaze of a predator making such a maganimous offer to a smaller creature.
what a proud creature he is, he never would have imagined offering his back to a human in his entire thousands of years of long life. but they are bonded now, and childe is now this special to him. ]
[ flight, the dragon says, and Childe thinks he must be dreaming. before his parents had been slaughtered by the wicked black dragon so many years ago he respected the great, winged kings of the sky, revered them, even. his envy at the ease with which they could take flight was unmatched, wonder and awe warring with each other in his young mind.
perhaps a long time ago his younger self would have jumped at the chance to ride a dragon. now, it only feels like a necessity. less for amusement and more for utility, a chance to escape the site of the battle unscathed and live on to fight another one.
he still takes great care in mounting the beast, more so because his body still carries the phantom aches and pains brought about by the exertion of the fight. there aren't any harnesses, no holsters and no reins with which to grab, so he can only trust that the creature will take care enough not to drop him and send him plummeting to his death while it's airborne.
the most he can manage is to grasp at one of the golden ridges cresting his back, and he does so with fingers slippery with blood and ichor.
You'll not drop me comes the warning, even though he's fairly certain it's unnecessary. ]
[ he invites childe over for tea often. actually, he might have extended his very first invitation during the first few days childe set foot in the city. part of this is something like courtesy; liyue is a historied and cultured nation after all. it's only good manners to be hospitable to foreigners. especially if it might grease some palms and soothe some egos in order to conduct business.
even if the fatui's idea of 'business' can be... shady, to put it politely. bloodthirsty maybe, to put it more pessimistically. but liyue is a large and prosperous nation with strong and unified faith in its god, which provides an intimidating enough check for mercenaries to not go running around assassinating people and forcing a power struggle. the most unfriendly contact zhongli has with the fatui is, perhaps, childe refusing to pay for one-too-many expensive rare books or artifacts they come across when they go window shopping. like a good host, zhongli had taken it upon himself to familiarize childe with the city, with its rich cuisine, with its traditions and culture and the warm thriving life of the nation's heart in liyue harbor. inviting childe to tea, to various festivals and events, to liyue's most famous restaurants--to the undiscerning eye, it's nothing more than a proud liyue citizen showing off their country to a foreigner. maybe coincidentally forgetting to pay for everything in the process, but what's a little spending expense (or a lot) between friends?
to the discerning eye, or possibly only his own--his golden eye studies the fatui with unwavering steadfast intent, like a reptile eyeing a new predator venturing into its territory and speculating on when the other beast might attack.
he isn't disappointed when it happens. when childe strikes, he goes all out. unchaining an ancient god's wrath and pointing it directly at the heart of the nation... surely liyue's native god couldn't let something like that pass without comment, right? never mind whether he tolerated the fatui within his city, whether he'd anticipated childe's mission here as a threat towards rex lapis, whether he'd forged his contract with the ice goddess long ago--the logic and machinations between gods are one thing. a mortal daring to try to destroy his country, the country he'd protected for thousands of years, is another.
so, the invite to tea. after osial is bombarded back to the depths of the ocean, after childe watches him deposit his glowing gnosis into la signora's palm, after he conducts the funeral rites for his own false corpse--his letter is delivered to childe at the northland bank. You seemed to be rather upset last we saw each other. Would a talk over tea help?
Meet me at the funeral parlor tea room.
short and simple and probably not betraying much. through the year or so they've known each other, childe would probably know best how generally unflappable zhongli is. poised and patient, he navigated through even the angriest altercations with rude barterers at the market like an expert sailor through choppy stormy waters. he tended to bow out of arguments even when it came to history or various other subjects he seemed to know like the back of his hand, preferring to let others simply believe what they may. to a stranger, it would seem almost surreal that he never appeared to get angry or upset, almost inhumanly so.
whether childe is a stranger enough to believe that is up to him. and maybe 'human' didn't quite fit zhongli anyway in the first place.
when childe arrives to the tea room zhongli would already be there, placidly pouring two cups. ]
[ Truthfully, this is not how he'd expected his continued stay in Liyue to go.
Childe knew that after his attempt at summoning Osial to drown the harbor had fallen to pieces - with a combination of the Traveler's own hand and the Qixing pulling together a plan out of their asses at the last moment, something he hadn't taken into account given how the city had still been reeling after the death of their beloved Archon - that he would be ostracized, muttered about in angry tones while being labeled a disturber of the peace for the rest of his stay.
This he'd expected; he even welcomed it, because why should he concern himself with the opinions of his lessers? He would invite every single one of them to prove their opinions and judgements through vicious combat, hell, he wanted them to do it, but of course they were all too cowardly to even meet his eyes.
The shunning he'd expected, even if the Qixing wrote off Rex Lapis' death as the result of a failed trial. It hadn't helped matters; the Fatui still weren't well-liked and there were a few stubborn old codgers that refused to budge from their opinion that the Snezhnayan diplomats somehow had a hand in the death of their beloved god, if only because how could Rex Lapis fail a trial, he was the Prime Adeptus, etc, etc.
If Childe hadn't been of the same mind early on when he was still trying to figure out why the Qixing were so determined to hide Morax's corpse away, he'd be more offended. But of course he'd always been just a step behind Zhongli and that was probably what infuriated him the most.
No - what was unexpected was the fact that even after all that, Zhongli had sent him a correspondence. The letter had already been sitting on his desk when he'd walked in that morning, and after ripping it open and skimming the contents of it Childe felt something within him snap.
Ekaterina was just finishing placing an order for new furniture for Childe's destroyed office by the time the Harbinger strode out of the bank, his scarf billowing violently behind him as he slammed the door shut. By the time he'd made his way to the funeral parlor much of the seething anger had subsided into an eerie calmness, and after ducking past the front desk he made his way through the building to where he knew Zhongli would be waiting for him.
He doesn't knock or announce his presence, merely walks in, and unsurprisingly Zhongli is waiting for him with two fresh cups of tea steaming on the table. ]
Zhongli. [ He says by way of greeting. ] Or would you prefer I call you Morax?
[ well if it's not obvious already that childe may be upset at him, it is now. ]
That name, rather than Rex Lapis? [ he observes, over the rim of his cup, childe strolling in through the door casually as ever but maybe with a barely-noticeable edge to his stride or the line of his shoulders. 'morax' coming from childe's mouth in such a controlled tone, rather than the lighthearted 'zhongli!' and 'xiansheng~' and the like. what an interesting new flavor of childe he's seeing now. ] Neither of those gods' names necessarily applies to me now.
[ his own words are mild as always, the way he always is when, say, admiring nice weather or pointing out talented artisanry while shopping at a market or elaborating on the history of this or that ritual or tradition. actually, that might be wrong. there's always a quiet warmth to his voice whenever he talks about any aspect of his country, the country he had nurtured and protected for six thousand years, the wealth and culture of his country he'd wax poetic about even to foreign agents he's certain were working to conspire against him and the nation. like childe.
the mild look he levels at childe is somewhat measured, calculative. the small quirk to his smile betrays little as he nods to the seat opposite him at the low table. childe's cup of loose leaf white tea is cooling. ]
You've always known me as Zhongli, does that have to change? [ does anything have to change now, after both of their deceptions are revealed? after zhongli playing childe as a fool, after childe attempting to drown his capital city. what has to change, really? maybe putting some fear of god in childe. ]
[ It's perhaps a mark of his maturity - or perhaps how easily his anger could be sated with destroying furniture - that he's able to rein himself in enough not to immediately respond to Zhongli's comment with physical violence.
But it's telling, the way his fingers curl into a fist over the table and the way he sits - because he does, inevitably, sit, all but throwing himself into the chair opposite Zhongli like he wants to break that, too - with an undercurrent of violence hidden beneath his actions.
To someone as old as Zhongli, perhaps he appears more like a child on the verge of throwing a tantrum. ]
Is it not your name? Rex Lapis is what your people call you. I'm sure you're well aware, I am not one of your people. So you are Morax to me.
[ There's meaning behind his sharper smile, the way his eyes harden and chill like the everlasting storms surrounding Snezhnaya. He's emphasizing the divide between them, burning the olive branch and stamping it to embers without a second thought. He's still a diplomat here, and a heavily disliked one, at that, so his options for retribution are fairly limited until he gets transferred out of the city.
It's unsurprising that his tea remains untouched. ]
You've played me for a fool and yet you still want to play at being my friend. I nearly drowned your precious harbor, and you invite me out for tea. I'm tired of your games, Morax; if there's something you want, just say it. It's the least you could do, after all your schemes.
[ 'your people' thrown out so sharply almost makes him bristle. could there be a limit to impudence, and could childe reach it? 'his people'--regardless of the treaties and contracts and agreements between gods, he knew almost the very moment childe had touched down in liyue that the man was here to undermine, to contrive. liyue is his land, almost as much a part of him as this creation of a body. he as the native god incognito had attempted to receive childe kindly and with grace.
the people of liyue now might shun and suspect childe now, but are they necessarily wrong to? zhongli lets out a long breath, warms his gloved hands around his own cup. of which that too is going cold, like the warmth of his good will. ]
You can call me what you want. It doesn't terribly matter to me. The fact of the matter is Morax is dead, Rex Lapis is gone. I've intended to bury those names and those identities with the rite of parting. [ to close one chapter of his long 6000 years of life and... 'open' another isn't exactly right, when he plans on this being his last identity. still, ] I see the time for light conversation and tea has passed for the two of us, has it? Should I have invited you out for dinner like we had, so many times before? Or would you be in danger of overthrowing a table and causing a scene?
[ niceties, decorum, serenity define and adorn him like the dragons on his greatcoat. it takes a special person to begin to strip those away from him, but then again childe is the man who had attempted to drown his city. even a millennia-year-old deity could start to lose a bit of patience, just a fraction. he had never tolerated such threats to his country in the past. could he have mellowed out enough to change now?
... ] If you're so impatient to get to the point of our talk, then I'll oblige you. We know each other decently well enough now, I know you're a man of action rather than words. [ whereas zhongli might be a bit long-spoken, but his actions, or rex lapis', speak for themselves in history books and ancient tales of war and prophecy. ] You're right, of course. There's something I want from you.
I want you to repent.
[ a phenomenon for western gods rather than himself, but he finds the desire and concept of it now appealing.
childe had attempted to take his godhood and to destroy his country. maybe a prayer of remorse could sate a god's wrath for such arrogance. ]
[ Surely it isn't fair of Zhongli to assume that Childe would overthrow a table when all he's done is spit out venom in response to the (former) Archon's good will. Are not friends allowed to fight? Are they not permitted to strike at each other with blows and barbs over some perceived slight, even if Childe's own fault lay in his attempt to drown the harbor? If Zhongli were to concede anything to him, surely it would be the notion that their relationship went far beyond simple acquaintances. The fact that Childe was this angry says as much.
It's nothing like the hurt and betrayal popularized in so many of those tragic love stories between two characters on opposite sides. He's not nearly as soft hearted as to let those kinds of emotions get the best of him even on his worst day. Rather - it was, on the one hand, a matter of trust. Despite what little he'd initially placed in Zhongli, he'd trusted the man not to one-up him like this, not to make him a laughingstock without expressly warning him first.
Truth be told, he hadn't thought Zhongli capable of such deceit. And that was where a bulk of his anger lay. Not that the man had stomped all over his pretty feelings, but more for the simple fact that Childe had lost, without the man even really trying. Sure, he'd made sure to keep Childe in the dark for as much as possible - but in the end Zhongli had always had a plan laid out. He'd been one step ahead of him the entire way, and that - perhaps that was what was so frustrating. That Childe had been so blind, so novice to not recognize the signs when he saw them.
It makes him drown Zhongli with the tea. There's ways to do it, he knows. But he also knows it probably wouldn't affect an Archon much, if at all. ]
No. [ The word makes his lip curl. ] I'm sure we're long past all that, Morax.
[ Even now Zhongli looks at him, he thinks, like Childe is beneath him. Like the battle has already been decided without them even coming to blows.
He's not sure if it's that that makes him angrier, or the words that he says next. Probably a mixture of both.
He wants me to what? ]
Repent. [ Childe repeats the word, incredulous. ] Repent for what? Wasn't it your plan to put Liyue in some form of mortal peril, all for the sake of testing your precious harbor? You cannot put the blame solely on me, Morax. Don't claim to be fully innocent of what you've sowed.
You conspired with Her Majesty the Tsaritsa for your little test. I was enlisted to play the fool, and nothing more. If you didn't like my methods, in all your infinite wisdom, maybe next time it should be your hand that pulls the trigger instead of getting someone else to do your dirty work for you.
I will not repent. Not when I've done nothing wrong. [ He doesn't bother to stand, but the challenge is there, a fire in his eyes, the muscle jumping in his jaw. ] You'll have to wring it from my body with your own two hands.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mora-less and memory-less
and then there's 2) zhongli gets restless like a half-wild animal and despite knowing childe told him to wake him, he just plain leaves anyway. whether it's out of some lingering resentment against him, carelessness, or just plain pique, who would know? without his memories he too is a bit of a wild card, trying awkwardly to construct a new identity for himself and barely knowing how. it's not as if there's a 'recovering from amnesia and building a new life for yourself for dummies' book out there. or maybe there is, in a library or bookstore, and he's intent on finding it.
this is just to say when childe wakes up and ventures back to the main room, it's empty. the rock shards and meteor impact from last night are still there, because of course zhongli wouldn't be bothered or feel obligated to clean them. there are actually more half-crumbled rock and ore constructs, spear-like, in the room, as if he'd been trying to experiment and practice with his power. but zhongli himself is gone.
will childe:
1. celebrate, maybe with more firewater
2. send a letter to hu tao telling her he lost her dad
3. take a stress nap
4. other? ]
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but no, the first thing that Childe does - which should come as a surprise to absolutely no one - is laugh, the sound remarkably boyish and light for the situation of a destroyed kitchen and remnants of crumbling stone left behind like the evidence of a particularly careless dog that doesn’t understand what it’s done.
It’s sometime late at night, and he imagines that Zhongli has either gotten restless or the act of disappearing from his “babysitter” is a subtle middle finger, which he doesn’t really mind. Perhaps he’d teased him overmuch and, with the consultant out of his hair, Childe’s able to let out the metaphorical breath he’s been holding and relax in degrees now that Zhongli’s not here to scrutinize his every move.
So he sets about sweeping up the dust and debris from his kitchen. The stones are cleared away with a combination of a broom and his Hydro vision, chunks broken off of the half-formed spears and gathered into a whirling orb of water that hastens the effect of erosion on it that would have otherwise taken years. Some he keeps, smooth, pretty stones of brown and gold as a souvenir of the consultant. He’ll lay these on the counter to dry before he sweeps them into a nearby drawer and out of sight.
When he’s finished it’s not a perfect fix - there’s only so much he can do about dents - but it looks better than before. He’ll pour himself another glass of fire-water and sit at the table to nurse it while he debates his next move. ]
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but childe was also the one who seemed to have the most information and insight on him, he can at least appreciate this. and he can grudgingly appreciate the way childe had helped him unlock a few of his skills, even if it was inadvertently. so zhongli spends a good amount of the night simply trying to hone and perfect some of the abilities; he’d like to not get caught off guard trying to summon a polearm the next time childe decides to kick him to the wall, thanks. he can definitely tell that childe could kick his ass, if only because he’s confident and in control of his power whereas zhongli is not.
so he has a lot to think over regarding identity and building a new one or trying to restore his old one. and now even while leaning towards the former choice, a possible even higher priority than that is regaining his ability, even a little. he can’t say he’s learned terribly much in the few hours he’s been practicing, but he tries. and then just he leaves the remnants of his practice in childe’s home because why not be a nuisance back at childe, he deserves it.
the remains of their little skirmish does also make him think of childe’s injury though, and how careless he was in treating it. he’s discovered the human emotion of pettiness, incredibly, but he’s not completely heartless. even he thinks it’d be only fair to try to get more medicine or salve for that wound. so after a lot of trial and error and getting lost and following vague intuition in navigating liyue, he makes his way to bubu pharmacy. and when they keep such odd hours anyway, baizhu would be there with a cryptic smile and a cock of his head, as if reading straight through zhongli’s change in demeanor, with newly gained information.
but the pharmacist is remarkably sly, accepts with good grace his probably-improbable story about accidentally injuring an acquaintance, and browses through medicines. ‘So, incidentally, this acquaintance of yours… how much do you like them? We have some particularly fast-acting remedies but, shall we say, pain and discomfort may be the side effect and trade off for speed.’
to zhongli, that doesn’t seem like a bad drawback at all. ]
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He's not sure which glass he's on but the time he's completely fallen into his thoughts, but while he's not drunk he kind of wishes he were. Gloved fingers trace around the rim of his cup, turning it this way and that while he considers the door with dull eyes, chin propped up on his other hand. The pain in his abdomen has lessened to a dull throb, but it's easy enough to ignore in the face of everything else running through his mind.
A part of him feels like he should be mad at how things are unfolding. Perhaps he should have taken advantage of Zhongli's amnesia and try and sway him over to his side - not in the way one might think, given his own unresolved feelings on the matter, but in other ways - and then he immediately quashes that with the notion that he'd rather not see more of him than he would like. It's already too much, too soon, and he admonishes himself for not running him through with his polearm earlier. Maybe then he'd actually get chased out of Liyue and the Tsaritsa would have no choice but to recall her Harbinger back to her shores if only to avoid a diplomatic conflict between nations. While he has no idea the nature of her contract with Morax, he doubts any peacekeeping clauses would remain in place once it was revealed his memories were gone.
.... ah. That's probably something he should be reporting, if it hadn't been already. As far as he knows he's the only one stationed in Liyue, though he had heard of Scaramouche's own wanderings in Tevyat.
There's no post open this late at night, but there are plenty of boats and Snezhnayan merchants that would be happy to take a missive to the palace. Childe needs to walk off his alcohol, anyway, and so it's with this in mind that he stands, pushing his chair in and draining the last of his fire-water before making his way to the door and venturing out into the night. ]
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parts of it anyway. he leaves out the whole… rex lapis deal, which he supposes he can’t exactly deny very adamantly now that he has proof of his inhumanity. and of course he leaves out the transformation, the little fight he had with childe over the octopus. but he tells enough about how he’d remembered how to manipulate geo and his weapon. baizhu takes it all in with quiet intent fascination; there’s just something about the cryptic quirk of his mouth that almost makes zhongli wonder whether his lies of omission might not be as subtle as he’d hoped, he may apparently be an amateur at it especially compared to rex lapis.
but the doctor’s orders, or recommendation, is to stay with childe a bit longer. clearly, because he needs a place to stay. but the fact that he’d recovered this much of his memory, even if it’s primarily muscle memory, is promising. surely more interaction with someone who seems to know him well may prompt more recovery. and well, how can zhongli argue with that? he wasn’t exactly planning to leave childe anyway, hu tao and baizhu now expect him to stay with him, and he no longer really thinks of him as an enemy. he should probably return to childe’s place.
baizhu is considerate enough to bill the medicines to wangsheng tang so he leaves with a small paper bag and tries to recall the way back to childe’s apartment. liyue really is unfamiliar to him, a maze of buildings and streets and people that both disorients him and kind of viscerally unnerves him, not in itself, but the fact that it’s so foreign to him. and yet he’d once guided it as a god? he breathes in the city air of late night, near early morning, near dawn. he closes his eyes, focuses.
he’d also been practicing for a few hours, this--he transforms his tongue just briefly, just once so he could taste the air, sharper senses than just human. and in the distance he could even scent that sharp bitterness of that liquor childe had drank. what? he blinks, startled. surely only childe would have that drink, right? or maybe another snezhnayan, but…
he beelines towards that scent. and after some moments, turns the corner to find childe at the far end of the street, apparently out on a late night walk, maybe like zhongli himself. did he really drink again after he left?
zhongli frowns. then experimentally, lifts a hand to uplift a small stone outcrop on the street for childe’s next step. it would trip him if he’s really inebriated and distracted, but zhongli would ensure to catch him. ]
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He's on his way to the docks when his foot catches on something and he suddenly goes tumbling forward. But thanks to his years of experience in combat and quick reflexes he's able to right himself, though not without losing the little plushie, which flies out of his arms and tumbles down the slope. Turning back to see what had tripped him, he sees the little raised stone and squints at it for a moment before realization hits him in the form of spotting Zhongli a little ways behind him.
Oh. Well, at least he's not laying out in a field somewhere bleeding out.
Childe is quick to right go and retrieve the plushie, and thankfully this part of Liyue isn't dirty enough that the little monster avoids collecting much dust and grime. The few patches here and there Childe's easily able to go over with a bit of Hydro and clean, and once he's satisfied he sets all his items under one arm and glances over at Zhongli.
Admittedly, seeing him like this sparks something in him that he'd just as soon not think about - nostalgia, maybe - and for a moment he wonders if the consultant has gotten his memories back.
But there's a certain... air about him that a Zhongli with his memories distinctly lacks, and he knows that's not the case. ]
You couldn't have just said hello?
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ah, all right then. he draws back his hand, probably or hopefully quick enough that childe doesn’t catch his gesture. the contradiction and contrast of him is stark. rex lapis would not trip childe to be petty. rex lapis possibly wouldn’t reach out to catch childe either, trusting childe to take care of himself, in that distant way that gods view competent mortals. there’s a slight frown on zhongli’s face that wouldn’t be there if he were rex incognito, because he was always very cordial with childe. the way he crosses his arms is exactly the same way he did, before.
his eyes flicker to what childe is carrying. ]
Late night shopping trip? [ ‘trip’ literally, even. ] While drunk too, I see. Consider that a test to see how drunk.
I went out to see the pharmacist. [ and fancied himself a bit independent enough to do it himself, even if he got lost, surely he didn’t need to wake and bother childe to be his tour guide. he cocks his head slightly, eyes landing on the… stuffed animal. ] Did you have a craving for a… souvenir?
[ what is that, anyway. he isn’t quite familiar enough even with the image of the exuvia to recognize cute merchandise of it. ]
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but if Zhongli expected him to be drunk enough not to notice that little gesture he has another thing coming. The reaction that follows after is certainly troubling, the Harbinger's jaw tightening a little before he focuses his attention on what he's got in his hands. ]
I'm almost insulted you think me the sort of person that would stumble around the city drunk. [ Childe could care less about the bellyaching of the weak, but opening himself to attack with dulled sensibilities - nevermind the confidence he had that he would win every single street brawl he got into, because there was no one in Liyue sans the man standing nearby that could hold a candle to him - was not something he did often, if at all.
The comment gets a short little laugh from him and he shakes his head before turning to face Zhongli with a hand on his hip and a critical eye. ]
If you wanted to leave, you know I would have let you. You don't have to tell me where you were going. I doubt there'd be anyone here that could catch the great Rex Lapis off his guard. [ A quick glance down to the docks tells him he's still got a bit of time. The merchant in question hasn't yet started packing up his wares, too busy engaging in conversation with the pretty florist from the pier. ]
These aren't for me. [ Is all he offers, before looking back. ] The pharmacist? Did I rough you up that badly?
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I went to the pharmacist for you. One of us had an open wound and it wasn't me. [ purely because of his adepti constitution, because if he were any more closer to a human's level childe could definitely have fucked him up and he knows it. it's another reason why he wants to recover some amount of ability, if not necessarily a god's memory, he'd like to be somewhat on childe's level. his frown is thoughtful as he lifts a hand to his chin, the familiar pensive gesture. ] And you forget I still don't quite know what kind of person you are. Maybe you really are the type to meander about on a tipsy midnight city tour, I wouldn't know any better.
I'm staying with you for the moment, at least until Hu Tao returns. [ he'll assure him of this much. actually, he seems about to say something else, but something in his eyes flicker, returning to the plush toy. ] And, Childe...
... Do you have a child?
[ this seems to occur to him out of nowhere. childe is a young man of marriageable age right? is that the right word. if not, what is...? breedable? something like that?? anyway the point is, maybe the toy is for his daughter. ]
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or the whole bottle, it happens, and for someone who goes on about osmanthus wine Zhongli should know better than anyone about the whole "social drinking" thing (though he probably wouldn't now, not when he doesn't have any memories to back it up with)
At the mention of Zhongli's reason for going out, Childe's expression changes minutely. For a moment he both looks and acts speechless, and for all that Zhongli has been nothing but petty and irate towards him (which is charming in and of itself, in some twisted way) Childe has to admit that it's not as bad as it could have been.
Even if Zhongli had basically done the equivalent of shitting all over his floor and leaving Childe to pick up the mess.
It's perhaps telling when he busies himself with combing fingers through the mane of the corpse of Exuvia plush, deliberating over how to respond. He's thankfully saved when Zhongli makes his little observation and he chokes on a laugh, snickering behind a hand and finally looking over to Zhongli with disbelief written all over his face. ]
A child? Me? Goodness no, the poor thing probably wouldn't survive. [ Which is telling in a lot of ways; but Childe doesn't elaborate on it, and goes on with another glance down the merchant who's still conversing with the pretty florist. ]
No, this is for my sister Tonia back home. Just something to let my family know I'm still alive and well. [ He gestures to the other parcels, the smaller boxes wrapped in brown paper and the bags of medicine and herbs. ] Stones for my mother, and herbs for my father. I've been spoiling Teucer too much, so I figured I was overdue for a care package of sorts.
[ The last is said almost to himself; he wouldn't be surprised if the names don't strike any sort of familiar chord with Zhongli. He seldom, if ever, spoke of his family openly. ]
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but let's shelve that idea for now, because this hadn't actually occurred to him-- ] I didn't know you had family. [ but once the words leave his mouth they seem terribly... crude, or oblivious. childe is human regardless of his mercenery job. human like most everyone else here--presumably. he might have questionable morals or perhaps few at all, but this is kind of a paradigm shift in zhongli's head, that childe cares for his siblings and parents.
he seems about ready to say something further, then actually changes his mind and simply reaches to take the toy, or several of childe's packages. he seems to have his arms pretty full. ]
Did it occur to you just now that it would be a good idea to go shopping for them, after midnight? [ a wry question; he could speculate that perhaps drinking made childe lonely or nostalgic. come to think of it, he doesn't even think he's personally gotten drunk or tipsy since he's lost his memory, but at least he had the vague knowledge of how it should feel. maybe even gods could be susceptible to alcohol. ] Let's head back, if you don't have any last-minute items to pick up for them. And even if you do, I'm sure it could wait until morning.
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Perhaps your memories weren’t all that you lost. [ And then, when he sees the consultant reaching for his items, he visibly hesitates. While it’s true that he doesn’t have anything else to pick up, the truth of the matter was it really wasn’t just a simple shopping trip he was out on. Missives to Snezhnaya could be sent out at any time with the right amount of mora.
If the Tsaritsa didn’t know what had happened to Morax after giving up his Gnosis, would she even want to? What if it was some kind of facet of their contract, the one that Zhongli had been so tight-lipped over?
Regardless, it fell to him as a Harbinger to report it on the off-chance it was a new development to her. So while he allows Zhongli to take his parcels, thinking he can mail them out in the morning, he remains where he is with a small smile. ]
You’re right. I need to go tell my comrade over there something, though. So give me just a moment.
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That's right, I suspected you either reproduced by fission or someone had concocted you in some obscure ritual. [ all right, he knows this much, it's silly not to have thought that childe would have family. but he'd thought of him as an enemy for the past day, it's only recently that childe has been a bit more... humanized to him, human as he may be.
still, he's much less sly and calculative than he previously was, so the machinations and workings of the fatui and snezhnaya operations would be completely lost to him--for now, perhaps. he arches an eyebrow in mild curiosity that childe would still have another chore to run. ]
I'll wait for you here, then. [ ... ] I'm not entirely sure where would be the way back. [ just don't take too long, or he might be in danger of wandering off again like a stray cat.
that, or more likely he'd watch childe from the corner of one golden eye, observing what he's up to. the walls of liyue have ears, it's just too bad childe knows that better than zhongli does. ]
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He almost wants to tell him to continue on without him, but then Zhongli continues with not knowing the way back and Childe resigns himself to his fate. With a reassuring smile he makes his way to the merchant and the pretty florist who, as luck would have it, is actually saying her farewells, and once the man catches sight of Childe his expression lights up and he greets him with a handshake and a broad smile.
At least he's pretty sure that the consultant doesn't understand Snezhnayan, so even if his hearing is inhuman he probably wouldn't understand the words Childe speaks in clipped tones to the man. The conversation lasts for maybe a few moments, the words rolling smoothly off his mother tongue, and the merchant shakes his hands again before accepting the plump pouch of mora Childe offers him.
As he's making his way back up the slope to where Zhongli waits for him, he lifts his gaze and catches the impressive figure the consultant makes against the backdrop of the city. While he doesn't stand tall and poised like he used to, he's still... something.
Childe's hand fits against Zhongli's elbow before he can think about it, the move so natural it feels like instinct. He doesn't expect Zhongli won't hit him for it, swatting at him like a particularly temperamental, feral cat, so he's quick to take his hand away once he's steered him into the right direction and they start walking back to Childe's place. ]
Maybe I should start charging you for all the damage you're doing to my apartment.
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the touch at his elbow is... a few hours prior it might prompt distrust and possibly even an attempted draw of a weapon, when he'd been so convinced childe was his enemy. now, it's a little... familiar almost, somehow, a little... ]
I could bring up the fact that you apparently tried to take my Gnosis, even if you failed. Would I be an aggrieved party, would an attempt at theft excuse me for that property damage? [ this being said, his tone isn't as harsh as it was, just one evening prior. he sounds a bit speculative. at this point still, whatever happenings in his past life still sounds a bit... removed from him, as if he's speaking about someone else entirely, he can't quite take it personally.
still, childe does have a point, he did cause quite a bit of damage. nobody can deny this. and zhongli has the sense of... balance, or debt, like wanting to equalize both sides of a contract. ]
I'm afraid I'm light of Mora. As in, I have none. I had the pharmacy bill Wangsheng Tang. I could do another IOU, or... is there any other way I could make it up to you?
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And Zhongli had always been so warm, and so gracious, and - dare he say it? - funny, with a sense of humor honed over six thousand years.
There's still traces of him in there, he knows, even if the words he's speaking are harsher than his Zhongli would have any right to be. It's refreshing but also, it's mildly depressing. He remembered a time where he would have wanted Zhongli to be forthright and open and honest with him, laying out everything he was feeling for Childe to pick apart indulgently. Now... it's not quite the same.
Can this Zhongli even bring it up, when it seemed, for all extents and purposes, as though it happened to someone else entirely? It almost feels like he's taking credit for someone else's suffering.
But going back to that statement. If it were any other night, if he weren't currently running on half a bottle of Snezhnayan firewater, he probably would have rolled his eyes at him and joked about how he could work off his debt with the Fatui. They would surely get a kick out of seeing the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor consultant in their ranks, sorting through paperwork or else lecturing new recruits.
But it isn't, and he is, so what comes out of his mouth instead is: ]
You could always make it up to me on your knees.
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and he has enough good will towards childe now to consider that he should actually try to make things up to him, now that they've reached a bit more of an understanding. oh, some things might not go forgiven, like that little touch of tentacle. but even if he doesn't preside over contracts, he has the sense of wanting things to be balanced and favors paid. childe has been a nuisance in quite a few respects but helpful in quite a lot of others, so maybe he could think of some way to compense him, never mind that he has absolutely no mora--
childe's suggestion pierces through his musing. he blinks, gives him a curious sidewards look, because his first thought is, ] On my knees?
Should I prostrate myself before you? Do you think I would? [ needless to say, from the look on his face, what a disagreeable idea that is... apparently he has some amount of pride. it might be long-lost pride from a god over an ancient massive nation even if that god is now apparently dead. a frown further as he studies childe's expression and rethinks his words more fully--
he might be an amnesiac but he might not be a complete ignorant, it dimly occurs to him childe might mean a different form of prostration. he considers this, then disregards it. ]
How drunk are you? [ it must be that childe has had too much of that firewater and might be a lonely drunk. and he really needs to sleep it off. ]
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it's probably just because today has been chaotic. that's all. he's seen more of Zhongli and his myriad of expressions than he ever has before, and it's starting to affect him. that's really all there is to it.
the sooner he can get back to Snezhnaya, the better. he only hopes that the Tsaritsa doesn't plan on sticking him in Liyue for the foreseeable future, especially with the revelation that Morax has effectively lost all his memories and now leaves Liyue open to conflict from outside forces. but if it were in their contract for to keep the Fatui under lock and key, well. maybe that meant he would be returning home sooner rather than later. ]
Never mind it. Forget I said anything.
[ there's still enough fire-water at home for him to imbibe with. he sets off for the familiar path that will lead him to his apartment, brushing past Zhongli on the way and moving with a slightly more accelerated pace than before. ]
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he can put this up to the alcohol, possibly. he deliberates over this as he follows childe, frowning; flexing his hand idly without quite realizing it, when he'd been trying to practice cultivating his power again, like exercising a long-forgotten muscle. an amnesiac but not a complete ignoramus; part of him is a bit wary still, part of him still meticulously collects, as if in fragments. all the information childe gives him and deliberates over each one: trusting that there's some or mostly truth to it, but wondering what might be hidden or unsaid. ]
Childe, I'll admit that I've been... probably, difficult to deal with since we met. [ to say the very least, when he'd literally attacked childe in his own home. still. ] Whatever had happened in the past, I do appreciate all the information and hospitality you've given me. To a point, anyway. [ because, fuck that octopus. for god's sake. ]
I'll do what I can to make it up to you, if a little. But I apologize if I won't get on my knees for it. I'll find some other way.
[ he does actually sound like he has some conviction in this. he'll make it a little mission for himself, maybe. he does have the sense of fairness, he wouldn't want to owe a debt or be caught lacking in an unequal transaction. ]
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he doesn't know why Hu Tao decided to just dump him off on him. did she think they were friends? did she think that he might be able to fix him, somehow? maybe Zhongli didn't want to be fixed. he said he was going to live life as a mortal, so new shell, new him. it would make sense if he knew that this was going to happen.
gradually, he feels his shoulders slacken, his jaw unclench. he doesn't want to be here. Zhongli obviously does not want to be here. Childe does not want him here. ]
I can put you up somewhere else. There's an inn out between Dihua Marsh and Guili Plains. It's not too far of a walk, and maybe the fresh air will do you some good. As much as you loved this city if staying here hasn't done anything to jog your memory thus far, maybe walking the lands will.
[ he turns back around, that decided. ]
We can go when it's day time. For now... I need to get some sleep.
drakengard...
he does not involve himself with the affairs of humanity, though he hears rumors on the wind and whispers by faeries and other monsters. they say this is a time of warfare for humankind, between the massive empire and the factions and nation-states of the union, this or that... he doesn't pay attention to the politics of humans when they're beneath him and his noble species. but maybe that egoism might just lead to his downfall because he finds himself now in this position, wounded and pinned to the floor of the castle gate. human archers really are formidable in this era. and the knights who chained him down, the mages who cast the spell to bind him. so this is how thousands of years of life of a noble dragon's life might end? if he were more destructive he could have drowned entire cities, destroyed coastal towns, he could have really made humanity pay for their arrogation and existence. but maybe he won't have the chance now.
the shouts of soldiers on the castle wall suggest that they're losing ground to attackers and to, in particular, a battle-crazed prince carving a bloody path through their forces. zhongli casts a baleful golden eye to the sky, to the iron gate. to his own blood seeping through the cracks of the flagstones and the spell etched around his body to lock him down. well, even if the wall were breached, he wonders if the enemy force would even hesitate to kill him anyway. dragons and humans might just be natural enemies. he'd never met a decent one in his long life and now he never will. ]
me trying to scrounge up some drakengard lore from the playthrough i had ages ago
He's unsure where or when the attack came, if it had been something that had been brewing within his own ranks or if the opposing forces had gotten desperate and, in that same breath, reckless. It's in the evidence of the mangled bodies littering the ground, the uniforms on each corpse doing little to determine which side was winning when both were covered heavily in blood and dust from explosions and crumbling stone.
Perhaps if he had been more opposed to the frenzy of battle and bloodlust, they would have been overtaken long ago. But whether it was because seeing their prince on the battlefield beside them was a boost for morale for the infantrymen and footsoldiers, or because they had long been trained to fight and fight and fight until their bodies gave out or they were slain or even both, it's unsure. But they continued to hold the line even as their comrades fell all around them and the walls and courtyards were demolished to nothing but shattered stone and memories.
The report comes as a shout across the field, one Childe almost doesn't hear as he rips his polearm from a red-eyed soldier with blood and fragments of viscera splattering onto his front. It's been dirtied so much it's hard to tell what color the uniform was initially. Perhaps a deep blue, to match his eyes. At this point he's a prince in name only, because there's not a single part of him left that looks very noble or regal at all, but in many ways he's okay with that. Even amongst the royalty his lack of care for subtle manipulations and deceitful compliments was notable, preferring instead the blunt honesty that was charming in its own way. He's long been lauded as a man that would rather fight than sit and plan, and it's perhaps the one aspect that's kept this castle defended as long as it has.
At least, until now.
A dragon, he thinks, feverishly. His head snaps around to where the report has been called, eyes narrowed as though he could see the unfortunate creature for himself past the sea of clashing swords and spears. From this vantage point he thinks he can see the point of a wing, the jut of a horn -
- and suddenly his thoughts are interrupted by the spear running through him.
The point of it tears through his once-pretty uniform, ripping through flesh and fabric alike and coming out on the other side, somewhere close to his ribs. Foolishly, he presses a hand over the point of the blade as though he could push it back out and feels it cut into his palm, but his other arm is swinging wide behind him and catches the man across the neck in a clean slice with the sharp end of his polearm.
As the body crumples to the ground bereft of its head, Childe quickly rips the end of the spear out of him and staggers a bit, nearly blacking out at the pain that sweeps through him. He can taste blood in his mouth and his vision swims, and he knows that this might actually be the end of him.
But still his soldiers keep fighting, and Childe - well, he's got something else on his mind. There's a dragon within the castle, after all.
His sword - his father's sword - is unsheathed and hanging loosely at his side as he approaches. Through some miracle he's made it through the sea of bodies undisturbed, and he stands over the dragon now, his eyes looking upon the creature with a mixture of disgust and pity in his eyes. His own blood creeps from the wound on his side and mingles with what's already staining his front, deepening it to a red-tinted black. His lip curls into a sneer.
The sword is lifted over his head with more effort than it should, and Childe is but a step away from dealing the finishing blow. Not out of mercy, no; but out of a sense of justice. A clean blow is more than what this creature deserves. ]
its ok ur power is too strong to be held back by mere details of lore
wait, no he isn’t. through the pain of the binding spell that sears into his flesh, zhongli could fix his eyes on this spectre of death and realize the blood on the man’s clothes isn’t just from, presumably, all the enemies he’s slain, but also from the wound that pierced through his entire body. the sway of him isn’t just from readiness to slay a dragon, but the man might actually keel over at any time, possibly right even after plunging that blade into zhongli’s throat. this soldier is a dead man walking and he must know it, yet it seems at least he’s determined to take the dragon down with him. the murderous prince that had cut down so many of the army below…
a realization runs through him like a bolt of lightning that he could use this man, and live. use, at least, in exchange for sharing his own life--would he rather die? he couldn’t have any time to debate this, he had to decide before this man ends his life. ]
Human, [ he hisses, his voice clear in childe’s mind, rasp with pain even while his jaws have been bound shut with spells. ] How bloodthirsty you are, to aim your blade at me even while your lifeblood is leaving you with every pump of your twisted heart. Do you not wish to kill more? I could aid you in just that and save you from death, so you can deal far more of it to your enemies.
[ oh, maybe all humanity was good for is dealing death to others. but at this point of time, he might just agree that maybe they should simply wipe each other out in whatever futile pointless wars they keep wrecking upon each other.
he wants to live and he thinks this man does, too. ]
Make a contract with me. I’ll lend you my great power to restore you from that wound, and you will free me from these bonds. Do you want to live?
i make up my own lore
As the creature speaks, whispering, rasping words that are surely meant to entice and seduce him into sparing its life, Childe focuses on keeping himself upright and not passing out from the sheer amount of blood he's losing through the gaping hole in his side. It's hard to focus on much of anything when the dull throb of pain is an ever constant reminder, and when he sees, in the dragon's eyes, the fate of his own parents and of his family as fresh as if it had happened hours earlier.
It's only when he's able to focus on the great beast's words that he understands what's being posed to him, and the laugh that he lets out is nothing short of unhinged, tainted with the blood pooling deep in his throat that he has to work hard not to choke on. ]
We've both a foot in the grave, and you intend to sway my hand by bargaining, dragon? [ The word is spat out with the blood welling up in his mouth. He imagines he paints a rather memorable picture, this once-regal prince holding a sword high overhead like an executioner's blade. It's probably that image which prompts the dragon to make such an offer, in an attempt to appeal to his bloodthirsty side.
It's almost maddening how well it's working. ]
It'd be just what you deserve. You and all the rest of your wretched kind.
[ The black dragon is still out there, he knows. Childe could not kill it back then, when he'd stumbled upon it with his mother and father held in talons and teeth, the remnants of his siblings in the blood splattered across the earth.
If he accepted the offer, he could kill it. He would live on to avenge his family, and perhaps die in the process. He'd take this creature with him, and that would work as recompense in some form or another. Would it still be considered cheating death if they both died some time later? ]
But... my business is yet unfinished. [ The sword slams into the ground beside him, and Childe kneels as though in mocking deference to the dragon before him. It's made even more taunting with the blood he spits at it, a trickle escaping sneered lips and dribbling down his chin. Perhaps he has more than a foot in the grave. ]
I accept your contract.
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well actually, maybe he’ll refrain from casting judgment, when this prince’s nation or his enemies nearly brought him down, when he just barely narrowly avoids death by this dying human’s sword. he can’t claim to be so infallible. and there’s something about the brittle emptiness of the prince’s eyes that draws him in somehow, like the expanse of sky he longs to return to when unchained.
something of this pact is like a deal with the devil, this exchange and strengthening of power. but he can’t even say which of them would be the devil, or if the both of them would be, damning each other.
he struggles to open his jaws enough to uncoil his dragon’s tongue, dripping with ichor; a blood pact and exchange to seal their contract. exchanging lifeblood would empower the both of them, when dragon’s blood is toxic, magically potent, either ambrosia or venom or both at once depending on the spell it’s used in. this one is an offering of his power, and seeking this human’s so he can free himself. there may be something inherently blasphemous and powerful about humans, despite how seemingly delicate and weak they are. maybe there’s something naturally wicked like war in the blood of humans, he would taste it for himself, from childe. ]
Your lifeblood.
Mine will heal you. [ quickly now, before childe might just keel over from that spear wound straight through his body. ]
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He wouldn't rule out that possibility, least of all with a dragon.
His vision is starting to swim. Stepping forward takes more effort than it rightly should, and he knows his time is ticking. There's no time to measure the weight behind the dragon's words, the sheer honesty of them, the desperation. They both want to live; and the only way to do that is to work together.
It's almost laughable.
Although he doesn't quite know what to do, he's heard the stories. The dragon's words are the first steps of their contract and the ritual to seal it between them. Childe presses a hand against his wound with a gasp and digs his fingers into the hole for good measure. Flesh dips beneath his fingers and the lance of pain that burns through him is white-hot and blinding, but it's enough to ground him for those precious few moments.
As he outstretches this hand towards the beast, he feels something thrum somewhere deep in his blood, deep beneath his feat. There's an energy crackling in the air around him that he's sure has to do with what they're doing right now; the gods recognize the creation of this contract, and he's not sure if they're pleased or angry at this turn of events. Perhaps he might be projecting a little. If there were gods, perhaps his family wouldn't have been slaughtered so.
Childe cups his bloodied hand under the dragon's tongue, letting the ichor and the blood dripping from it pool over his fingers. It's warm, he thinks. If it is a trap, it's a comforting one. His fingers reach further, until he's able to flatten his palm over the wet muscles, granting the creature a taste of his own blood.
Something in his chest thrums sharply, shimmering through the rest of his torso. A heat spreads through his upper body, pleasant and warm at first before growing to a painful, hot fire, concentrating in one location in the middle of his chest. The light fixates on that point of his body before a shimmering, translucent orb begins to emerge. It swirls and flows, and as Childe reaches to grab it his fingers burn where he touches it. It barely holds the blood on his hands, though, and with only a bit of a struggle he's able to outstretch it to the dragon, to seal the terms of their contract. ]
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but it'd be just a moment of satisfaction of a mouthful of blood and body, in exchange for what would surely be a painful and humiliating death at the hands of knights once the kingdom's army returned. so he refrains. and when he looks into the prince's rather maddened expression as childe claws at his own wound, he fancies he could see an abyss staring back at him, something far more potent than should be the ability of a mere human.
it makes him wonder what could come of lending this prince his power.
but there's no turning back from it now. the magic the prince offers him is dark and possibly blasphemous. the power zhongli offers is, actually, foreign. it's clear that he is not a dragon from these lands. he has no wings, his body is long and sinuous rather than stout, his mane bristles like a lion's whereas almost the entirety of western dragons are scaled. and his magic is... binding, golden, rich with the fundamental essense of earth and metal and iron and ore. it entertwines and locks and chains and there's some irony that he fell to these western mages' binding spells when his own is probably far more powerful, but what can he say? archers' greatbows had brought him down and humans are a terribly formidable force in great numbers. his eyes gleam as his earth magic twines around childe. he tastes the offering of the abyss that childe gives him, the taste of childe's lifeblood, as his serpentine tongue extends his own to childe.
the pact is sealed then. geo energy winds around childe to warm and restore him, knitting together that fatal wound and to empower him--for a price. maybe his tongue and speech, or something else. the pact price would possibly be something zhongli would demand but he's a bit preoccupied with this: his own power swelling, strengthened by childe's. he roars as he slices through his bonds, rearing up free and in ravenous, raging full health.
the way he turns his molten eyes on the battlefield suggests he might like to take vengeance on the army that had subdued him. ]
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well, he can only assume it's the dragon's life force. perhaps even some ancient magicks at work. he's never been close enough to a creature like this for comparison.
it doesn't take away the stains in his uniform, though, which is fine. it's a stark reminder of the suffering he's endured, each drop of his enemy's blood soiling clothing a badge he'll wear with pride.
even if he ends up being devoured by this great beast anyway, at least he'd regained enough strength to hurt the creature on the way down.
and for a moment he does think the dragon has tricked him. the pain throbbing on his tongue is an unfamiliar brand, but try as he might to cry out in alarm, no sound comes. no words form from his lips and Childe is left to endure what's being done to him with tears edging the corners of his vision.
when it's all done and over with, he'll try again to speak. but of course, nothing comes out. it's the mark of their contract. a hand slaps against the dragon's thigh and his eyes narrow in accusation before he points at his mouth, tongue jutting out as though to show proof of what's been done to him.
but he also sees the way the creature looks out towards the battlefield. he sees the bloodlust in his eyes and feels it resonate with the one in his heart.
it's not like he'd stay his hand should the beast decide to indulge in a bit of slaughter. why not?
Go on, then. ]
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So that's your half of our contract, fulfilled. Your tongue, in exchange for a second chance at life. [ and of course in exchange for zhongli's power. in his opinion, more than a fair trade. childe can either learn sign language or, hell, violence is a universal language isn't it? and it's one they could both speak.
this time the dragon's tongue slithers out to brush against childe's mouth, against childe's speechless tongue if he doesn't pull back in time. amusement and the new bond between them might endear this violent prince to him with a sudden wash of fickle bestial interest, the interest a predator might have towards prey that's saved its life. when they've recovered each others' lives, he would forego eating this one--at least in the conventional sense. ]
Shall I show you the extent of my power, now at your disposal?
[ he doesn't quite have the power of fire that western dragons do, but with a rear of his head and a flash of eyes, he crushes his claws into the ground and--
the very earth quakes and splits in massive fissures across the battlefield, swallowing up entire phalanxes as soldiers find themselves without solid ground underneath their feet and fall into the deep depths of gorges where fragile human bodies might break. ]
no subject
although he's unsure if the pact will allow the dragon to read his thoughts, that doesn't keep him from thinking in very clear, certain terms: you're disgusting. notably, it lacks the ire and the hatred that such a phrase would normally possess, which can only mean that the pact is doing wonders for their friendship.
but that's a thought for another time; now, Childe looks, his gaze flooding with awe and a little reverences as the great beast splits the earth beneath the chaotic battlefield. he watches as the soldiers he can see gets swallowed up, disappearing into the depths of the planet with rising screams of agony and horror. some of them were his own men - the few that had scant moments to live - and it's perhaps a sign of their pact that he feels nothing for the lives lost.
is it his feelings, or is it the dragon's? perhaps a mixture of both, especially since they wouldn't have had much time to live anyway.
his gaze turns back to the great beast and he regards it with some modicum of respect, though even that's a generous statement. the taste of dragonspit on his tongue is still lingering, but it's not as aggressively rancid as it had been at first.
A good trick.
Can you fly, dragon? ]
no subject
he's bonded to the human this intimately after all. he may as well make the most of it, eventually. ]
A trick, you call it? How difficult you are to impress, I see. [ an exhale of warm breath, like smoke, as his dragon's smile widens with teeth. ] And yes, of course I can fly. Your court mages and archers shot me down and tied me down to the earth with spells, when they have sheer numbers on their side and there are only so many of them I could target at once. [ so, the point is, fuck mages and archers. ]
Would you like to experience it, earthbound human prince? Flight.
[ as he lowers his body and hindlimbs, his whiskers atwitch, ears pricked towards childe as his golden eyes fix on him with the gaze of a predator making such a maganimous offer to a smaller creature.
what a proud creature he is, he never would have imagined offering his back to a human in his entire thousands of years of long life. but they are bonded now, and childe is now this special to him. ]
no subject
perhaps a long time ago his younger self would have jumped at the chance to ride a dragon. now, it only feels like a necessity. less for amusement and more for utility, a chance to escape the site of the battle unscathed and live on to fight another one.
he still takes great care in mounting the beast, more so because his body still carries the phantom aches and pains brought about by the exertion of the fight. there aren't any harnesses, no holsters and no reins with which to grab, so he can only trust that the creature will take care enough not to drop him and send him plummeting to his death while it's airborne.
the most he can manage is to grasp at one of the golden ridges cresting his back, and he does so with fingers slippery with blood and ichor.
You'll not drop me comes the warning, even though he's fairly certain it's unnecessary. ]
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even if the fatui's idea of 'business' can be... shady, to put it politely. bloodthirsty maybe, to put it more pessimistically. but liyue is a large and prosperous nation with strong and unified faith in its god, which provides an intimidating enough check for mercenaries to not go running around assassinating people and forcing a power struggle. the most unfriendly contact zhongli has with the fatui is, perhaps, childe refusing to pay for one-too-many expensive rare books or artifacts they come across when they go window shopping. like a good host, zhongli had taken it upon himself to familiarize childe with the city, with its rich cuisine, with its traditions and culture and the warm thriving life of the nation's heart in liyue harbor. inviting childe to tea, to various festivals and events, to liyue's most famous restaurants--to the undiscerning eye, it's nothing more than a proud liyue citizen showing off their country to a foreigner. maybe coincidentally forgetting to pay for everything in the process, but what's a little spending expense (or a lot) between friends?
to the discerning eye, or possibly only his own--his golden eye studies the fatui with unwavering steadfast intent, like a reptile eyeing a new predator venturing into its territory and speculating on when the other beast might attack.
he isn't disappointed when it happens. when childe strikes, he goes all out. unchaining an ancient god's wrath and pointing it directly at the heart of the nation... surely liyue's native god couldn't let something like that pass without comment, right? never mind whether he tolerated the fatui within his city, whether he'd anticipated childe's mission here as a threat towards rex lapis, whether he'd forged his contract with the ice goddess long ago--the logic and machinations between gods are one thing. a mortal daring to try to destroy his country, the country he'd protected for thousands of years, is another.
so, the invite to tea. after osial is bombarded back to the depths of the ocean, after childe watches him deposit his glowing gnosis into la signora's palm, after he conducts the funeral rites for his own false corpse--his letter is delivered to childe at the northland bank. You seemed to be rather upset last we saw each other. Would a talk over tea help?
Meet me at the funeral parlor tea room.
short and simple and probably not betraying much. through the year or so they've known each other, childe would probably know best how generally unflappable zhongli is. poised and patient, he navigated through even the angriest altercations with rude barterers at the market like an expert sailor through choppy stormy waters. he tended to bow out of arguments even when it came to history or various other subjects he seemed to know like the back of his hand, preferring to let others simply believe what they may. to a stranger, it would seem almost surreal that he never appeared to get angry or upset, almost inhumanly so.
whether childe is a stranger enough to believe that is up to him. and maybe 'human' didn't quite fit zhongli anyway in the first place.
when childe arrives to the tea room zhongli would already be there, placidly pouring two cups. ]
no subject
Childe knew that after his attempt at summoning Osial to drown the harbor had fallen to pieces - with a combination of the Traveler's own hand and the Qixing pulling together a plan out of their asses at the last moment, something he hadn't taken into account given how the city had still been reeling after the death of their beloved Archon - that he would be ostracized, muttered about in angry tones while being labeled a disturber of the peace for the rest of his stay.
This he'd expected; he even welcomed it, because why should he concern himself with the opinions of his lessers? He would invite every single one of them to prove their opinions and judgements through vicious combat, hell, he wanted them to do it, but of course they were all too cowardly to even meet his eyes.
The shunning he'd expected, even if the Qixing wrote off Rex Lapis' death as the result of a failed trial. It hadn't helped matters; the Fatui still weren't well-liked and there were a few stubborn old codgers that refused to budge from their opinion that the Snezhnayan diplomats somehow had a hand in the death of their beloved god, if only because how could Rex Lapis fail a trial, he was the Prime Adeptus, etc, etc.
If Childe hadn't been of the same mind early on when he was still trying to figure out why the Qixing were so determined to hide Morax's corpse away, he'd be more offended. But of course he'd always been just a step behind Zhongli and that was probably what infuriated him the most.
No - what was unexpected was the fact that even after all that, Zhongli had sent him a correspondence. The letter had already been sitting on his desk when he'd walked in that morning, and after ripping it open and skimming the contents of it Childe felt something within him snap.
Ekaterina was just finishing placing an order for new furniture for Childe's destroyed office by the time the Harbinger strode out of the bank, his scarf billowing violently behind him as he slammed the door shut. By the time he'd made his way to the funeral parlor much of the seething anger had subsided into an eerie calmness, and after ducking past the front desk he made his way through the building to where he knew Zhongli would be waiting for him.
He doesn't knock or announce his presence, merely walks in, and unsurprisingly Zhongli is waiting for him with two fresh cups of tea steaming on the table. ]
Zhongli. [ He says by way of greeting. ] Or would you prefer I call you Morax?
[ He doesn't take a seat. ]
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That name, rather than Rex Lapis? [ he observes, over the rim of his cup, childe strolling in through the door casually as ever but maybe with a barely-noticeable edge to his stride or the line of his shoulders. 'morax' coming from childe's mouth in such a controlled tone, rather than the lighthearted 'zhongli!' and 'xiansheng~' and the like. what an interesting new flavor of childe he's seeing now. ] Neither of those gods' names necessarily applies to me now.
[ his own words are mild as always, the way he always is when, say, admiring nice weather or pointing out talented artisanry while shopping at a market or elaborating on the history of this or that ritual or tradition. actually, that might be wrong. there's always a quiet warmth to his voice whenever he talks about any aspect of his country, the country he had nurtured and protected for six thousand years, the wealth and culture of his country he'd wax poetic about even to foreign agents he's certain were working to conspire against him and the nation. like childe.
the mild look he levels at childe is somewhat measured, calculative. the small quirk to his smile betrays little as he nods to the seat opposite him at the low table. childe's cup of loose leaf white tea is cooling. ]
You've always known me as Zhongli, does that have to change? [ does anything have to change now, after both of their deceptions are revealed? after zhongli playing childe as a fool, after childe attempting to drown his capital city. what has to change, really? maybe putting some fear of god in childe. ]
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But it's telling, the way his fingers curl into a fist over the table and the way he sits - because he does, inevitably, sit, all but throwing himself into the chair opposite Zhongli like he wants to break that, too - with an undercurrent of violence hidden beneath his actions.
To someone as old as Zhongli, perhaps he appears more like a child on the verge of throwing a tantrum. ]
Is it not your name? Rex Lapis is what your people call you. I'm sure you're well aware, I am not one of your people. So you are Morax to me.
[ There's meaning behind his sharper smile, the way his eyes harden and chill like the everlasting storms surrounding Snezhnaya. He's emphasizing the divide between them, burning the olive branch and stamping it to embers without a second thought. He's still a diplomat here, and a heavily disliked one, at that, so his options for retribution are fairly limited until he gets transferred out of the city.
It's unsurprising that his tea remains untouched. ]
You've played me for a fool and yet you still want to play at being my friend. I nearly drowned your precious harbor, and you invite me out for tea. I'm tired of your games, Morax; if there's something you want, just say it. It's the least you could do, after all your schemes.
no subject
the people of liyue now might shun and suspect childe now, but are they necessarily wrong to? zhongli lets out a long breath, warms his gloved hands around his own cup. of which that too is going cold, like the warmth of his good will. ]
You can call me what you want. It doesn't terribly matter to me. The fact of the matter is Morax is dead, Rex Lapis is gone. I've intended to bury those names and those identities with the rite of parting. [ to close one chapter of his long 6000 years of life and... 'open' another isn't exactly right, when he plans on this being his last identity. still, ] I see the time for light conversation and tea has passed for the two of us, has it? Should I have invited you out for dinner like we had, so many times before? Or would you be in danger of overthrowing a table and causing a scene?
[ niceties, decorum, serenity define and adorn him like the dragons on his greatcoat. it takes a special person to begin to strip those away from him, but then again childe is the man who had attempted to drown his city. even a millennia-year-old deity could start to lose a bit of patience, just a fraction. he had never tolerated such threats to his country in the past. could he have mellowed out enough to change now?
... ] If you're so impatient to get to the point of our talk, then I'll oblige you. We know each other decently well enough now, I know you're a man of action rather than words. [ whereas zhongli might be a bit long-spoken, but his actions, or rex lapis', speak for themselves in history books and ancient tales of war and prophecy. ] You're right, of course. There's something I want from you.
I want you to repent.
[ a phenomenon for western gods rather than himself, but he finds the desire and concept of it now appealing.
childe had attempted to take his godhood and to destroy his country. maybe a prayer of remorse could sate a god's wrath for such arrogance. ]
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It's nothing like the hurt and betrayal popularized in so many of those tragic love stories between two characters on opposite sides. He's not nearly as soft hearted as to let those kinds of emotions get the best of him even on his worst day. Rather - it was, on the one hand, a matter of trust. Despite what little he'd initially placed in Zhongli, he'd trusted the man not to one-up him like this, not to make him a laughingstock without expressly warning him first.
Truth be told, he hadn't thought Zhongli capable of such deceit. And that was where a bulk of his anger lay. Not that the man had stomped all over his pretty feelings, but more for the simple fact that Childe had lost, without the man even really trying. Sure, he'd made sure to keep Childe in the dark for as much as possible - but in the end Zhongli had always had a plan laid out. He'd been one step ahead of him the entire way, and that - perhaps that was what was so frustrating. That Childe had been so blind, so novice to not recognize the signs when he saw them.
It makes him drown Zhongli with the tea. There's ways to do it, he knows. But he also knows it probably wouldn't affect an Archon much, if at all. ]
No. [ The word makes his lip curl. ] I'm sure we're long past all that, Morax.
[ Even now Zhongli looks at him, he thinks, like Childe is beneath him. Like the battle has already been decided without them even coming to blows.
He's not sure if it's that that makes him angrier, or the words that he says next. Probably a mixture of both.
He wants me to what? ]
Repent. [ Childe repeats the word, incredulous. ] Repent for what? Wasn't it your plan to put Liyue in some form of mortal peril, all for the sake of testing your precious harbor? You cannot put the blame solely on me, Morax. Don't claim to be fully innocent of what you've sowed.
You conspired with Her Majesty the Tsaritsa for your little test. I was enlisted to play the fool, and nothing more. If you didn't like my methods, in all your infinite wisdom, maybe next time it should be your hand that pulls the trigger instead of getting someone else to do your dirty work for you.
I will not repent. Not when I've done nothing wrong. [ He doesn't bother to stand, but the challenge is there, a fire in his eyes, the muscle jumping in his jaw. ] You'll have to wring it from my body with your own two hands.