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shaingles · 26 days ago

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★¸.•☆ — First Encounter — Part 1

Word count; 2,103

Characters Involved; Midas, Boss, Osric, Shepherd

A/N; I'm rewriting the Grand Teyvat (my story). If you're interested in reading the archived version, don't worry. It's still up. Click HERE for the archived Table of Contents

Divider credit; strangergraphics

Crash! Bang! Slam!!!

Midas’s eyes snap open, locking on the dingy ceiling above him. The sleepy haze in his skull fades, but the lingering fatigue keeps his muscles stiff as a board. Men curse, roughhouse, bang against doors and break stuff throughout the halls. The ruckus serves as an unorthodox alarm clock, going off every morning with no snooze button. It’s routine, at this point. He can’t help but groan and wipe the crust from his lashes.

“Just another day, just another day.” He pulls himself out of bed, tossing the tattered comforter aside. When he stands, the rusty bed frame creaks along with the floorboards. “Just get through the day.” He navigates through his cramped room, picking his clothes off the floor before throwing them on. They reek of yesterday’s excavation, but Midas tolerates it, pushing past the stench.

He swims through the crowded halls, ducking and dodging flying objects with skilled ease. However, the reminder of these treasure hoarder’s neglected hygiene shakes his focus. His nose crinkles from the other men's putrid smell. A mixture of sweat, dirt, alcohol, and something indescribable assaults his senses. He walks faster because of this, reaching the dining hall sooner than he thought. The lingering funk turns his stomach. It doesn’t help to see other treasure hoarders dig into their food like pigs. Disgusting, selfish pigs.

“Midas!” A nasally voice rings behind him. It’s almost enough to push Midas over the edge, his features crushing up like balled up paper. However, he takes a deep breath. The last thing he needs is to lash out this early in the morning. Turning around, he sees hair as orange as a carrot accompanied by a smug face approach him.

“Shepherd…” Midas says, crossing his arms.

“Please,” Shepherd says, waving his hand. “No need to be so formal—”

“Don’t piss me off. What do you want?”

“Woah, woah.” He puts his hand up. “No need to be so prickly. Here.” He holds out a fresh, plump sunsettia. “I saved this for you. You’re welcome.”

Midas looks long and hard at the fruit before glaring up at Shepherd. “I’m not hungry.”

“Again? So ungrateful—Ya know, I fought hard to get this. Those greedy bastards were going to leave you starving.”

He doesn’t bother entertaining Shepherd, instead rolling his eyes. Before Shepherd can say more, the bell rings. More noise to pile onto Midas’s irritation.

“Looks like Boss has another announcement to make. I wonder what you did this time.” He walks off with that same smug look on his face, joining the hoard exiting through the double doors. Midas doesn’t join them. He had enough with the foul stench and morning aggression. Instead, he heads into the kitchen to look for food scraps. He just needs enough to keep his growling stomach at bay.

Eventually, Midas joins the crowd in the meeting hall, taking the spot farthest back. It’s harder to see the podium with all the brawniest and tallest meatheads standing front and center. Regardless, he keeps his head low and leans against the dirty wooden wall. The song he hums helps distract himself from the overwhelming chatting buzz. He doesn’t remember where he heard it, but the song gives him a sense of comfort.

An older man steps onto the podium, his bulky stature towering over the crowd. "Attention!" His boomy voice fills the room, failing to silence the treasure hoarders at first. It’s not until he fires his revolver in the air when everyone cowers and quiets down. “Don’t play with me! I’m not in the mood! Why am I hearing about Hawkeye hoarders stepping into Mondstadt territory!?"

The silent air thickens. Midas sees some other hoarders rub their necks and share awkward glances with one another. He can’t help but snicker at their discomfort. Midas knows better than to step foot in Mondstadt again, especially with the increase of Knights of Favonius. He knows he can’t afford jail time.

“What did I say about Mondstadt!? Especially after that blunder from last year!? Do any of you want to get caught!?”

Soft murmurs fill the air.

Boss bashes his fist against the podium. “That wasn’t a rhetorical fucking question!”

“No, sir!” the crowd says in unison.

“Don’t be a liability! Don’t draw the authorities to our base! You’re all lucky we didn’t have to abandon this one yet! If you get caught, we won’t save you—we WILL abandon you—just how you abandoned your common sense for a few fucking coins! Do you understand?!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Don’t embarrass us! Despite our allyship with the Black Vultures, they’re still our competitors! Don’t make them think we’re a bunch of single-minded dunces! Now get to work!”

With that, everyone turns to leave. Midas tries to swim with the current as quickly as possible until—

"Midas," Boss yells, "get your ass up here, boy!"

The laughter of passing men turns Midas’s cheeks red. He holds back the urge to tell them to shut up, but he takes a deep breath. Dragging himself to the podium, he swears under his breath, his Fontainian accent slipping through.

“Yes, sir?” Midas keeps his voice and head low, avoiding eye contact with the older man.

Boss steps down, his cane creaking against the worn wooden stairs. “Where were you last night?”

“At the tavern.” Midas doesn’t hesitate, wanting to waste no time.

“The tavern? With the haul you turned in the other day, you don’t have time to get drunk. Only well-performed hoarders deserve that luxury.” Boss closes the distance, the smell of liquor and cheap cologne hitting Midas’s nose like a brick. “Shepherd will look over you for the rest of the month until you catch up with the rest. Do you understand?”

“Shepherd!? That weasel—”

“I said, do you understand?!”

Midas frown fades at Boss’s burning glare. “... I understand.” He huffs like a bull, crossing his arms.

"Good. Now get out of my sight."

He turns toward the exit, feeling Boss’s glare scorch the back of his skull. Shepherd and a few other men wait for him at the door. Seeing that orange hair boils his blood further. Yet another annoyance added to the pile.

"You finally caught up, huh, rookie?" Shepherd's chuckle fills the air, encouraging the rest of the group to laugh with him.

Midas murmur swears, including some non-English curses. He takes another deep breath, letting the air fill his head. "Let’s just head to the Chasm already. I need this day to be over."

Shepherd’s scoff follows his snicker. “Well, let’s go. Don’t fall behind now, rookster.”

After taking the last horses from the stable, the group set off. The horse ride to the Chasm is somber. Midas dreads descending into the rocky depths. It’s cramped, dark, and reeks of something rotten, especially with the disgusting ooze seeping through the cracks deep in the cave system. He shakes his head, knowing the discomfort is temporary. The quicker they snag leftover gems and ore, the better.

They leave their horses at the abandoned stables. It’s rumored to be left behind by a long gone gang, but nobody knows or cares. To them and other treasure hoarders, it’s just a free-use stable until someone replaces it with something else. Millelith soldiers guard the entrance, their vigilance tested when Midas and his group slip past them with ease. Despite this, the treasure hoarders keep their guard up. One mistake is enough to ruin their entire operation.

Once they reach the bottom, they slink into the shadows with haste. In the corner of Midas’s eye, he spots other hoarders doing the same thing. Shepherd motions for the others to get closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Alright, you all know the drill. Grab what you can get. Don't leave any rock unchecked. We'll regroup in an hour. Got it?" The men nod, including Midas. “Are you sure, rookie?” Shepherd adds, nudging him.

“Shut the fuck up, Shep. Let’s just get the job done.” Midas snarls at the ginger man.

He puts his hands up. “Okay, okay, geez. Archons forbid I keep worker morale up.” He grabs a nearby torch, the other men following his lead. "Be back here in an hour."

Midas mumbles under his breath while everyone departs. Shepherd claiming to ‘keep worker morale up’ gets under his skin. Midas knows it’s fake—a dumb facade the ginger weasel puts on. He grimaces at the familiar, unpleasant feeling in his gut, but he shoves it aside. He can’t let his emotions get the best of him.

While the other men scavenge for scraps, Midas strays away from the team. Along the way, he discards his torch, replacing it with another. The sticky residue of Shepherd’s pseudo-generosity disgusts him. He moves along the path, allowing the light to guide him. It’s easy to take solace in the Chasm’s echoing silence, especially when his normal life is chaotic and violent. He wishes moments like this could last for eternity.

A glimmer on the ground shines in Midas’s eye. Intrigue lures him closer to it, prompting him to pick it up. The dark blue surfaces feel smooth under his fingertips. It’s weighty, but not too heavy. It looks valuable, but he can’t remember the gem’s name.

Lapis? No…

Sapphire? Nah…

Loud rumbling from above interrupts his focus. He jumps to the defence, dropping the torch while reaching for his dagger. His eyes scan the rocky ceiling, ready for whatever might strike. He's unable to assess the potential threat, the sound of falling rocks and echoing screams bringing him confusion. He doesn’t react quick enough, a stranger followed by pieces of the earth crashing down on him. Midas’s dagger flies out of his hand, landing near the torch. They groan‌, the treasure hoarder shoving the person with all of his strength.

“Watch where you’re going, jackass!” Midas said. He balls his fist, ready to give the stranger a piece of his mind. “Are you out of your mind?!”

The man coughs, struggling to rub the dirt out of his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Midas stumbles on to his feet, reclaiming his torch and dagger. He spouts Fontainian swears, his frustration taking the reins. This was it—the last straw. All the pent up irritation finally boils over. He can feel the surrounding static fill the air. However, it’s not until he sees the man in the firelight when his fury dulls. The man’s ears resemble a sheep’s, his hair looks as fluffy as a cloud, and his skin is as dark as milk chocolate. Midas hasn’t seen someone like this before, especially someone with peculiar ears. He wants to lash out at the man before him—to get payback for the pain aching his body. But seeing the man tremble defenceless on the ground wrings pity from his heart.

"Here," Midas says, holding out his hand. "Let me help you up."

The man looks up at Midas, his star-shaped pupils piquing Midas’s curiosity further. “Thank you.” The sheepman says, his hand meeting the treasure hoarder’s. "I'm sorry for falling on you."

"It's whatever. Just watch where you're falling, Mouton." Midas dust the dirt off the sheepman's clothing, using this moment to study his appearance further. "Umm... Are you alright?"

The sheepman exhales, his ears flicking lingering dirt and dust off. "I'm okay. Thank you."

"Are you alone? It's not safe venturing the Chasm by yourself."

The sheepman rubs the back of his neck, a weak chuckle leaving him. "Yes, and no. I was with a group, but I got distracted and strayed away from them—which then led me to the hole above—then it led me to... you."

Midas can't help but laugh, his softened gaze washing over the smaller man. “I see. Well, you can come with me until you reunite with your folk. Just keep your distance and keep up, got it?"

"Got it."

The sheepman smiles, following Midas’s lead. The walk is silent. Every time Midas glances at the shorter man, he catches the sheepman scanning the rocky walls, curiosity guiding his unique eyes. Something in his gut urges him to question the sheepman, but uncertainty tingles his skin.

"My name is Osric, by the way." The sheepman says, "What's your name?"

"I—Uh... Midas. You can call me Midas."

"Mi-das..." Osric’s sheep ears twitching as he digests the new information. "That's a lovely name. It's nice to meet you, Midas."

Midas's cheeks flush when Osric compliments his name. "Yeah..."

He turns away, hiding his tinted face. The stranger's kindness shouldn't distract him from his task; he needs to stay focused. The walk remains silent as the pair continues exploring the chasm.

To be continued…

#genshin impact ocs #writing #lore #rewrite #🐺#🐏#👑#☎️#Grand Teyvat

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