#|| a polar star in darkest depths ; ajax

[inhumanheresy]

" is .. everything alright ? you usually write ahead to say that you'd be visiting -- what's the surprise visit about ? " dumps mamajax on your lap.

Childe smiles, bright enough to fool anyone into thinking that nothing is amiss. Natalya, perhaps, might catch a hint of fatigue mixed with restlessness in her third son’s bearing, but nothing more. Besides, he’s recovered from his long battle with the whale by this point — the palace’s own medical staff and his innate healing saw well enough to that.

So off again he goes, but this time, Project Stuzha creeps rime-like over the horizon.

The long winter approaches.

“Sorry, Mama.” His smile tilts wry even as he holds his arms open wide for a hug. “I’m just passing through this time, and didn’t want to get any of the little ones’ hopes up in case they were still at school. Is this a bad time? Anyone here that doesn’t want to see me?”

[inhumanheresy]

Another night, strikingly cold, colder than they have yet to experience this winter, falls deeper as the hour grows later, biting st every edge of Zapolyarny Palace. Yana had lit one of the hearths before Tartaglia was able to answer her call, and now she walks with him from the entrance of the throne room towards the firelight, hand curled around his forearm, knowing he must slow his stride so as not to outpace her leisurely steps.

"Most other nations have begun their celebrations," she says with a soft smile, eyes glancing up to gaze at his profile. Snezhnaya dornet begun their own celebrations for a few more weeks yet, but she's not against a moment with her Eleventh before that time - even if she knows he would rather be with another on this evening. Most evenings, perhaps. "I have something for you, so I hope you will indulge me a bit of your time before you leave again. I will not keep you long."

As they take seats beside the fire, she recalls a few years prior, when they sat in these same seats while she gifted him the earring that still adorns his ear now.

"Schastlivogo Rozhdestva. A little early, yes, but I have a job that will keep you busy in the coming weeks, and I hope the holiday will be spent with your family." He may only have a day or two of free time at that point, and she knows how important his family is to him, so she will not keep him from them. She picks up a box from the small table between the chairs and the fire, and hands it to him. Inside, nestled within white tissue paper, is a new red scarf with the barest hint of silver woven into the threads that may just resemble flecks of snow when catching the light. This scarf is thicker than his usual one, not meant to replace it but to be used when it is especially cold, perhaps on this night as he leaves.

The chill of Her touch seeps through his coat and thick leather gloves where She tucks her arm through his, but the temperature She maintains at the moment is not so cold as to be terribly uncomfortable — not for a Snezhnayan-born, at least, and not for any like him who have spent extended time in Her presence.

Her heels click with each step, a feathering rime crackling out over rug and stone even as the two of them approach the radiating warmth of the hearth fire. Its heat does nothing to diminish the icy aura of the Archon by his side, though he himself appreciates both the comfort of the hearth as well as the delicate touch of Her hand. He finds the cushions of his chair, too, pleasantly warm when he relaxes down against it after keeping his arm steady for Her Majesty as She takes her own seat across from him first.

“Shchaslyvoho Rizdva,” he replies, dark eyes crinkling alongside his smile as he easily falls back into the dialect and accent of his home region, so often set aside by necessity when he’s in the capital city. “I’ve heard that Sumeru and Natlan celebrate the solstice in particular, and that Mondstadt keeps the midwinter celebrations going for… well, as long as they can. To hear the tale of it told, it sounds as if they retained their traditions from times before the Archons, back when Mondstadt froze nearly as cold as we do.”

Tradition in Snezhnaya tells that the Tsaritsa ascended to her throne on the coldest day of the year, not the longest. Either time is a prime excuse to both bond with family, he thinks, huddled together against the cold and dark, or to celebrate as vigorously as possible for much the same reason.

“You may keep me for as long as You wish,” he says with a touch of both mischief and affection in his face and the warmth of his voice. “I come late and stay late when it comes to family gatherings, and so must make what excuses I can to linger elsewhere for a while. I would much rather spend this time with Your Majesty than list about aimlessly.”

His own gift for Her is not ready yet, and he feels a twinge of guilt at not having it ready at hand. A silly sentiment, of course, and he knows this, guesses that She gifts him before the holiday so as not to infringe upon time with his family. Ajax smothers that immediate contrition of his in order to truly, properly appreciate the gift She presents to him.

“Oh,” he breathes as the warmth and exquisite softness of the scarf reveals itself from the first touch of his fingertips, and then as it settles against the back of his neck, gentle as a newborn snowfall and yet warm as Snezhnaya’s summer sun.

"Thank you."

Blood-on-snow, home and heartbeat, are the associations that lie against him with the downy comfort of safety amidst winter’s might. Leave it to Her Majesty to understand, to present him a gift both practical and luxurious. Hints of silver gleam in the dancing firelight as he thumbs across the fabric, appreciating the weave, the warmth, and the thoughtfulness for a long moment before slinging it overtop of the one he now wears. The bulk infringes on the wolf-fur of his collar, but oh, he is warm.

And once again, his favorite color. She remembers.

“A job?” He notes what She said belatedly, his words partly smothered by his enfolding layers of scarves. Tartaglia hooks a finger into the high-piled cowl of red fabric and yanks it down enough that he can be understood clearly. Perhaps I’ll see about going home early— But no, Sashko and Tetyanka and Tarasik will still be there, along with their families…

“Rest assured, I will spend all the time I can with them.” Every second he can manage. He’ll count every moment a blessing. “But that is for the upcoming days.”

To lift her hand and kiss it is audaciousness beyond belief for any normal person, much less any citizen of Snezhnaya, but since he was fourteen, unbridled audaciousness has been a norm for the man now named Tartaglia. His breath rimes on his lips as he lifts away from Her skin.

“I would accompany you for a while, if you wish it.”

[inhumanheresy]

Ajax grins all the way back to his molars at his brother’s visible enthusiasm, the vibrant energy and desire to prove himself. He’ll be a fine warrior one day.

“I believe you, and I’ll hold you to it.” Well, he’ll hold Teucer to that promise to a certain extent — waking early, amongst all the rest, but after that, he’ll push his little brother only to a point, fully anticipating that Teucer’ll tip against his side completely asleep not too long after they’ve gotten through the rigorous activity of sawing through the thick lake ice.

Ajax himself did much the same when Papa first took him out ice fishing. By striding out before sunrise tomorrow with his brother, he steals that first fishing trip of Teucer’s from their father. The very thought of such theft pains him. Even so, he cannot regret taking this experience for himself. It will be the only time he does so, and both his reward and his penance will be in the form of a memory that he carries dear.

“We are in agreement.” Ajax stands and holds his hand out for Teucer to shake. “Then let's start getting the equipment ready, shall we? We’ll need the rods and tackle box, an auger, a saw, and the portable pyro crystal heater.”

( 🎠 ) THE EXCITEMENT WAS plain on the younger's face with the big grin and shine in his eyes growing even brighter as he all but bounced in place and tugged at his brother's sleeve. he wasn't rough by any means , if anything he was rather playful as he progressed his spirited actions -- no doubt a far cry from the energy he'd likely have in a few hours against what he promised.

❝ I CAN HANDLE it i swear ! i'll prove it to you ! i'll stay awake the whole time , honest ! ❞ a voiced truth that no doubt would be broken later on ; thankfully nothing too serious that a failure of truth would pose no harm. his desperation upon his face sat clear as day upon his face 'fore perking at the acceptance of him coming along.

THE YOUNGER'S NOSE scrunched up at the mention of him having to go to bed early tonight . . but if it meant he could go with ajax in the morning ( early early as he says ) and spend time with him but also help with the fishing . . then it was something he would have to do. ❝ UM . . YEAH. it sounds fair ! as long as i get to spend time with you and help tomorrow then i'll do whatever ! ❞

[inhumanheresy]

Ajax raises his teacup in response to the condition appended to his ‘threat’ of slipping into Zhongli’s workplace all unnoticed, his ‘hmpf’ befittingly haughty. “The point is to not be noticed at all in the first place, much less distracting. Still, since you’ve set that parameter, then I’ll leave a plum blossom on the esteemed Director’s desk as well as sneaking whatever gift I scheme up as appropriate into your office. A paper plum for her, if I decide to execute this plan outside of its blossoming season, but enough to mystify and mollify her in equal measure, even if she doesn’t recognize the need of it in the first place.”

He does not fault Morax’s surprise at his career training track. The assumption aligns directly with his personal preference, after all, but ‘less suited’ is… a conundrum. Fresh out of the Abyss, he was wont to pick at tempers like loose threads, intentionally or otherwise, and find a way, any way, to confront others with a blatant intent to fight, as little else at the time satisfied the battle-lust that his time down in the Abyss unleashed from his heart.

Within the Abyss, and at first the least of all creatures within it, he’d ingrained down to his bones the necessity of hiding, learning, stalking, and ambushing his… prey? target? that which will die — even though as his skills and capability grew, so did his thirst for open, unrestrained combat.

Along with his penchant for creating chaos, some keen-eyed assessors within the Fatui saw the young Ajax’s aptitude for such quiet precision lying unutilized beneath his talent for both picking fights and sheer annihilation and decided to pluck him from the mass of new blood into a more focused discipline.

Truly, he should thank them. Had they not extracted him from the sea of recruits, he might well have ended up lauded amongst the top of the infantry, a general in his own right, but he never would have achieved the rank of Harbinger without the patience and self-control taught with difficulty by his master but reinforced further by Fatui specialization training.

And perhaps this does constitute a measure of underestimation from Zhongli, but not in a way that matters. He is not wrong, after all, in believing Ajax more fitting in places other than the shadows, no matter how broadly his skills range.

Zhongli’s hand slips from his, gentle and unhurried, much the same as his demeanor during the prolonged silence of Ajax’s contemplation. The adeptus’ index knuckle brushes against his lips before Zhongli guides him up to meet his gaze with a firm steadiness that brooks no refusal.

Warm. That smile, the affection in his eyes, his stroking thumb, even the self-conscious dip of his chin and flicker of his gaze. Honest.

‘I am grateful that I did.’

Well, what is a man to say to such a confession?

“While it’s reassuring to know that I wasn’t completely incorrect in my expectation of how you might react, the fact still stands that for a good long while now I had assumed that, eventually, even your tolerance would grow thin. And I was wrong.”

He lets his head rest more heavily on the support of Morax’s curved fingers as he looks up at him, exhaling with a quiet little hmmmm.

“You really are a strange one, aren’t you… Befriending the handpicked villain of your play, tossing your empty shell into a crowd almost as much for your own amusement as to start an uproar, seeking out and contradicting pridefully incorrect historians for sport—”

Ajax drifts the back of a single knuckle against the inside of Zhongli’s wrist. “And now, not only knowingly accepting but welcoming such a beloathed creature into your abode.

“But I suppose we’re well-matched in that regard.” A chuckle accompanies the half-smile that still doesn’t feel quite believing of the situation he finds himself in. “Strangeness. Though you will call me predictable for my disappointment that I cannot now surprise you in the heat of battle with the sudden manifestation of a strength long-dreaded for its full release yet previously unknown in form.”

the sight of a particularly flustered ajax is, of course, entirely expected. and in truth, it only serves to heighten zhongli's sense of amusement— and a certain fondness— in that moment. he makes no attempt to hide the smile that settles on his face then, even as ajax visibly attempts to compose himself. such a vivid response could never have been elicited were his words not wholly true... and they both know well this fact.

a conveniently timed sip of tea then allows ajax a moment to fully recover. and in the next, the man shoots his own grin toward zhongli, stilling him with its sharpness, deadly, predatory... even when half-hidden. yes, human or something else— that smile is, indeed, the very same. perhaps that is why— apart from his own curiosity, his affection— that he can so easily chase away any innate repulsion.

there is no line where one ends and the other begins. there never has been.

flatterer— at the pointed tease, zhongli relaxes again, huffing quietly to himself, under his breath. but the threat that follows draws a true laugh from him, eyes alight as he meets ajax's again. " so long as you can manage it without drawing the director's ire by proving too distracting, i fully welcome the challenge.

" and for the record, it isn't that i believe you incapable, simply less suited when compared to other things. " whether or not ajax could be considered a master of spy-craft or no, his truest talents— at least in zhongli's opinion— centered around his insatiable desire to better himself, his notable resourcefulness and unending perseverance. his current station suited him.

a vanguard, after all, needed to be seen to properly lead an advance.

their conversation continues then with a wonderfully familiar, well-practiced ease. and zhongli nods along as he listens, huffing a quiet laugh to himself as ajax finishes off the last of that hastily-prepared meal. then suddenly, he remembers that he had, in fact, not simply wished it into being but actually made it.

did he enjoy it that much or was he truly that hungry? his eyes follow the empty bowl as it is, at last, set aside. and for a brief moment, there is a touch of surprise clear across his face. his attention, however, quickly returns to ajax, feeling his gaze. and struck by the intensity in those eyes, the thought is discarded before he can properly decide either way.

and for a time, they simply sit there in a comfortable yet weighted silence, zhongli as steady as any mountain and just as patient. and when, at last, ajax does reach out and take his hand, his eyes follow the gesture all the way up, his own lips parting at sheer honesty of it.

i should have known better— the words clearly surprise him. and though ajax's gaze is downward, as quickly as he can manage, zhongli hurries to shake his head. " hardly. " he replies, breathy. he then pulls his hand free just enough to turn it, shift it to force ajax to look back up at him by a thumb placed at his chin.

and as he continues, he gently traces his thumb along the man's skin. " i'm uncertain even i could have predicted that evening's outcome. " the assumption was perfectly logical, after all. how could he ever take offense from that? he smiles then, expression soft. and his head dips, a touch sheepishly then.

" i suppose i surprised myself a bit. and i am grateful that i did. "

[inhumanheresy]

heading down to the harbor

‘Casual’, Morax suggests for an eatery, and Tartaglia agrees. Wanmin and Third-Round Knockout, two of the less-formal standards on their spread of restaurant choices, might be the sort of place where they could show up in such disarray and not be chastised for doing so, but neither of them would wish to bring the criticism to those establishments that would follow their showing up in such states unlike their usual.

That, and they both have public faces to upkeep. Zhongli-xiansheng still remains untouched enough — if a bit dusty, especially around the hems — that he can still show his face in ‘polite society’, but Childe in anything less than his full summer uniform, even when he’s known for leaving it open to alleviate the muggy Liyuen heat? Perish the thought.

They head towards the southern end of Chihu Rock instead, where seafood and noodle vendors loudly ply their trade from stalls, and everything from mora meat to saucy grilled eel to quail skewers is available to purchase and then eat on the go.

Tartaglia gets a paper-full of boiled shallow-water crustaceans before they find a lonely place along the pier to sit with their food. His coat and scarf he casts behind him for the moment as he dangles one leg casually off the side of the dock and pulls out one of his crawfish, deftly twisting head from body and sucking out the juices before chucking the now-drained upper portion into the harbor waters.

The gentle waves and cries of gulls cover the sound of their voices along with being a relaxing background noise. The long dock provides them a modicum of privacy despite the open air. Should anyone attempt to approach from underwater, Tartaglia will know of their presence a league before they can surface within hearing distance.

He cracks open the crawfish’s tail and pops the meat into his mouth with a hum of appreciation. “So,” he says after he finishes the tender bite, going back to their conversation that they’d begun and not really continued since ending their spar in that isolated mountain meadow, “I’ll not ask you to share your secrets, bribery of food notwithstanding. But I will ask: what surprised you?”

what happens next is far from formal. morax smiles, dipping his head at the words, an acknowledgment but also a promise. if not fated, it is certainly logical at least and entirely natural in hindsight. after all, there is no need for either of them to play pretend any longer. and there is a certain charm to be found in being so acknowledged.

it only occurs to morax in the afterward— standing there, opposite that pointed smugness— that he'd very nearly forgotten what it felt like to be faced with the unknown, the wonderfully unpredictable... and whole-heartedly enjoy it.

and so, they will return here, sooner rather than later were he to hazard a guess. he'd been genuinely surprised by the man's sheer force of will in their bout, so-very-human, the absurdity of his persistence. perhaps he, too, can learn something when next they find time to meet for a physical contest.

" that would be wise. " he replies, eyes alight to match his gentle teasing, the faint laughter in his voice. " and i can recommend you another tailor should you choose to give your current one a well-deserved respite. "

the mention of food that follows elicits a noticeable reaction; morax pauses, eyes widening, clearly surprised by the suggestion. it had been an easy thing to ignore given the circumstances, but he is hungry, he realizes then. and though he pretends to consider the offer for a brief moment, truthfully, he could not think of a reason to decline the offer. he wants to go, to return to another taste of normalcy between them. and just before he answers, he seems to grin.

" that seems a fair trade, though you won't be able to pry all of my secrets from me with food alone. " he concedes. and after taking a moment to look the man over from head-to-toe, he continues. " somewhere casual then? "

they were hardly dressed for anything else, really. and though most would be too polite to question why exactly the lord harbinger was so... disheveled, they would certainly notice it.

[inhumanheresy]

Childe’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline when Dehya speaks of surviving on Dragonspine without any ‘extra protection’.

“None? Your Vision must be the reason for that, surely.” He hadn’t missed the gleam of the sleek Sumeran case of the Pyro Vision hanging from her belt when he’d sized her up on her initial approach. Pyro wielders tend to take longer to grow cold than nearly anyone else, save those with Cryo visions, but a pervasive, unending icy climate does not care — one does not win an endurance competition against prolonged low temperatures.

To withstand the cold of Dragonspine without aid, Dehya’s Pyro control — both unconscious and practiced — must be highly skilled.

The mask behind his eyes flickers thin for a brief moment, a mere hint of his thirst for a fight shining through, the thunder of his blood rising— but this is not the time.

“Whatever the case may be, I do advocate for the use of a coat. The chill is… permeating. If you freeze, well,” he shrugs, a smile both humored and dangerous crossing his face as they step up to Wanmin’s counter, “you’ve now been warned.”

He raises his arm to wave as they approach the counter, and between height and familiarity manages to catch Chef Mao’s eye, the man making eye contact and giving a quick nod before returning to the customers he’d been attending. A pot of tea will accompany him when he approaches for their order, a variety either new, appropriate for the season and weather, or both.

“I’ll take you up on your offer at some point! I’ve never been to Sumeru, though I’ve met with traveling scholars, merchants, and warriors many a time, especially when they’re traveling through the commerce hub that is Liyue.”

He laughs, then heaves an exaggerated sigh as his gaze drifts to the distance. “Alas, duty calls. It may be some time before my schedule is freed up for personal time off aside from the usual evenings. Such is the life of the terrible Fatui.” At that last part, he tilts his head towards her with a long-suffering yet conspiratorial little expression, the mask on the side of his head bright in the lanternlight.

Drawing someone into confidence, whether in a lighthearted or serious manner, is a disarming tactic that’s worked well for him in Liyue. This time, he treads the line of saying only the truth while revealing nothing with practiced ease, yet with a spark of humor that he thinks will hit well with Dehya; she seems the sort to respond well to both the lightheartedness and the honesty.

“I’d say it might give me some time to acclimate to heat beyond what Liyue summers offer, but unlike your own tolerance, I’m not sure I’ll ever adapt to the sort of temperatures that I’ve heard of in Sumeru. The forest a little better, perhaps — summer in Liyue often feels like you’re swimming through the air like it’s harbor water, and I imagine the rainforest suffers much the same — but for a Snezhnayan-born like me, I fear that I’d crisp in the desert.

“And speaking of crisp—” He points to a dish with a sheen of golden-red oil currently making its way out of the kitchen. “If you want spice, heat, and something I think is altogether Liyue, ask for ‘chef’s choice, with moderate Jueyun chili’. As for ale, they don’t serve it here, but you can wander across the street, bring back alcohol, and the owner here won’t mind. Otherwise, I’m afraid that I can’t offer any recommendations on that account. Not much of an ale connoisseur myself.”

The wistful look in his eyes, the soft smile, the nostalgic way he talks about his homeland, all serves to only make her want to go even more. Hearing the passion for a place from someone who loves it, rather than the disdain from someone who's had a terrible time, will always be a better selling point, and now she's damn determined to get there one day.

"North is fine by me," she says with a small flick of her hair back over her shoulder. "Way I figure it, since I can survive on the Dragonspine without anything extra to keep me warm, I can survive in Snezhnaya. I might still bring a jacket anyway." There's the rumor about her family that's taken up space in the back of her mind when she thinks about going back to the Dragonspine, but she always tells people she's just warm-blooded or something, and that's why she doesn't need more clothing and a torch and to stay near the lights along the way.

The desert isn't as terrible, mostly just disgustingly hot to the people that aren't accustomed to it. But its heat hasn't got the same depth as the cold on the Dragonspine. That mountain can kill any who aren't prepared for it, and Dehya had gone in prepared only to find out it didn't affect her like it did others.

"Oh, you're talking my language even more now, I can't wait to try some. Sumeru has some really vibrant kinds of pickling, usually in vinegar, so it smells a lot when doing it. Some restaurants and shops serve primarily pickled vegetables, but it isn't overly common outside of that. We have plenty of dehydrated fruits, vegetables, and meats if you're going through the desert, and the forests are full of plants and animals.

"Have you been to Sumeru before? If not, you're in for a treat. I can show you some of the best places for spice and heat, get that snowy mouth of your sizzling in a different way than the peppers here."

At Childe's gesture, Dehya moves around the sailors and follows him to the shop where a chef works in front of an open counter. The streets had already smelled good from all of the cooked food being put out in time for dinner, but, getting closer, she feels her mouth watering. "Anything meat and spicy sounds incredible. And a hearty ale, if they have it. Any recommendations? She turns her head towards Childe, eyebrows raised slightly in question. "Or should I just pick anything and see how it goes down?"

[inhumanheresy]

“I’ve known this place though winter cold and summer mud, Mama; you know that the only reason I’d care about its cleanliness is because someone was terribly strict about her children keeping the home tidy.”

Ajax hugs her tight, sinking into the warmth and her love and the simple closeness of an embrace. The part of him that remembers these hugs always forgets that he’s long been an adult, and is always surprised at how easily he can sling his arms around her. He supposes he'll always feel that way.

“Leaving at this time? Should I lay my bet on venison then, or rabbit?” His tone and smile are cheerful but he doubts that he’ll still be around whenever Papa hauls back the day’s dinner. Midday is the worst time for ice fishing — Papa taught him as much years ago — so Childe bets that he’s gone to walk the snare route. 

It’s for the best, really.

“Either way, sounds like hearty stew’s on the menu.” Childe steps inside as she welcomes him in, kicking excess snow from his boots on the outside of the doorframe before scuffing them acceptably clean on the bristly entryway rug. He looks over at his mother as he bends and kicks up a heel to take them off. “Did you want some help with the vegetables?”

@inhumanheresy \ mother mother.

( 🌿 ) CONCERN CONTINUED TO hang heavy on the matriarch as she took silent note of the hint that plagued her third son , as much as he did his utmost to hide it from the world around him. a mother knows , especially after a long hiatus of being a proper present mother figure in the lives of most of her children. it's been complicated , especially with ajax himself but they've come so far that all is well in the end.

NATALYA LETS OUT a soft chuckle while rolling her eyes as the shorter of the two accepts the hug , giving her third eldest a gentle squeeze 'fore she looked up to him and shook her head. ❝ NO NEED TO apologize , my boy .. i simply would've cleaned up a little more if I knew you were coming by --- but no , your father left but ten minutes ago to catch us some dinner. teucer and tonia went out to play with their friends .. you'll find him before you go off again hm ? he'll be upset if he misses you, ❞ she's relieved that the air in the home would not become stifling with her husband's distrust of ajax's appearance , already moving out of the front door's entryway to allow her boy entry inside.

[inhumanheresy]

Ajax takes the opportunity of Zhongli mulling over what he’s said and asking new questions in return to wrangle more noodles and cucumbers. The dish blunts the edge of his hunger, but he knows better than to gorge himself all at once. Yet another lesson he’d learned from the Abyss, like so many others.

It didn’t even take his master to teach him; a bounty of meat and a pool of ‘water’ that turned out to be more rancid than usual did that on their own separate occasions.

“Sashko— ah, Aleksandr, my oldest brother — tried the hardest of the three. He’s the one that would play swords with me when I was little-little, and I think he might have felt responsible in some way.” His brows pinch and furrow, lips thinning. “He snuck out after one uneventful day to follow me, both wanting to make sure I wasn’t killing the neighbors’ livestock and to see if there was something he could do that might work where all else hadn’t.

“When he caught up after following my trail, there was…” One chopstick scrapes along the edge of his bowl in the quiet. “...there was a lot of blood and viscera. Me with a rusted, bloodied shortsword stuck into the snow, gore up to my elbows and splattered across my front, blood dripping down my chin. One wolf dead with its ribcage pried open and another bled out not too far away.”

He nudges his noodles around with his chopsticks, then spears a thin cucumber straight through. “For context, riftwolves are relatively common in the Abyss. They taste like burning tar, but they can be sustenance.” Crunch goes the cucumber. “Anything that’s even a semblance of ‘living’ can. And the only way to find something close to untainted water is to extract the core of a creature with a strong hydro alignment, then consume it.

“Sometimes, when I felt like I wasn’t getting something that I needed, I… fell back on knowledge and patterns that I’d learned. It didn’t work, not in such an entirely different place, but at the time, I… I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t think of what else to do.

“Sashko never wanted to speak to me again after that night. I can’t blame him either. I can well imagine the sight I made when his lantern-light fell across me.”

Zhongli has so far listened with redoubtable resolve. This doesn’t stop Ajax from watching him either straight on or out the corner of his eye for every flinch, every change in expression that could indicate his feelings and whether they lean towards pity or abhorrence, especially when he drags to light such brutal, inhumane memories.

He still watches even when he can answer a question that sloughs off his skin rather than cuts like a knife wedged between his plating. 

“It is! Well, in a manner of speaking.” Ajax smiles, tone fond and amused but still carrying that tinge of sadness in its wake. “My parents were at their wits’ end when it came to how to deal with me. No discipline that had worked on me beforehand even gave me a moment’s pause and nothing new they tried did either. 

“Chores couldn’t make a dent in my endurance since I knew what real exhaustion was. What friends I’d had when I was little had already distanced themselves from me by that point. Take away a favourite belonging? I’m a middle child, I’m used to sharing, and if something was really important, I could simply steal it back under the cover of night. I’d never needed to be spanked before I fell, so a switch to my backside for the first time was laughably ineffective.

“One day, I got into a fight that escalated. Badly. I nearly killed two adults and a handful of older teens. At that point, something needed to be done about me, or who knows how dire the next ‘incident’ would be.” Ajax shrugs. “With all other options exhausted, my father brought me to a Fatui recruitment event. I think he hoped that they’d beat the snot out of me and after the fights I’d slink back home humbled.”

His smile is all bright pride though the hint of sorrow in his expression still remains. “None of them expected me to lay out an entire squad with ease. Soldiers home for a reprieve, too, not some day-watch guards with nothing better to do.

“That caught the eye of the recruiter — a Harbinger, so it happened. Pulcinella was all too happy to snap me up from the coast edge of the ass end of nowhere, and then he tossed me into the bottom ranks of the Fatui with the rest of the recruits and conscripts. From there— well, you know how military training and life goes. Even though that option wasn’t what my father or the rest of my family really wanted for me, it turned out to be the best thing they could’ve done.”

though ajax does not stop eating simply to flash him a grin, his expression does not go amiss, his lips curling slightly as he downs another slice of cucumber. and morax pointedly huffs a laugh of his own, leaning back slightly, chin raised— utterly proud of himself.

" i will surprise you when you are properly awake. " he replies, playfully eyeing the man. " but to try and rouse you from your slumber with the unfamiliar would entirely defeat the purpose. "

and that had been the purpose of his choice, indeed... familiarity meant as a small comfort. that he had chosen lapsang— a tea that they had shared and discussed many times over— had not been simply some fortuitous accident.

the silence between them is markedly comfortable, easy, outlined only by the periodic clinking of a teacup or the tapping of ajax's chopsticks. and when, at last, their conversation begins anew, the atmosphere mostly remains so, blessedly.

and morax will not take these moments for granted.

" chase down wolves? my word... " he breathes, quietly interjects. of course, the man he'd come to know so far, so well— first as childe and then tartaglia proper— had ever made a point to seem perfectly in control, fearless. and so, though it's not necessarily surprising, it is quite the image his words leave to the imagination. and it makes him wonder about something else...

" i imagine your elder siblings tried— and failed— to put a stop to that. "

of course, he would never claim to fully understand the inner workings of a family unit, his own experiences, however similar, still falling far outside of any human norm. still, he is familiar with how close ajax holds his own younger siblings. and so, he's left to wonder, silent: did they, perhaps, carry any regret, feel any guilt, for not guarding him so closely as well?

then again, there comes a pause, hardly uncomfortable. and they each hold their teacups close, thoughtful between sips. the confession that follows requires only a single, swift comment. he needs no further explanation; he understands fully.

" a difference of perspective rather than personage, then. "

and ajax continues, the words seeming to come with relative ease until another, far darker confession passes his lips. and morax patiently listens, quietly wondering if this is, perhaps, the first time he's admitted such a thing to anyone, allowed those words to leave him... those words and their accompanying inferences.

out of respect, he remains still and silent, occasionally sipping his tea, until it is clear that ajax's thoughts— for the moment— are finished. and his reply is purposely simple, given with a gentle shake of his head.

" in truth? it... does not, actually. "

still, to him, that ajax even survived at all remains a testament to his strength of will, any tendencies toward violence aside.

" and that... is how you came into the service of her majesty, then? " he asks gently, though he believes he already knows the answer. after all, it made perfect sense. to anyone ill-equipped to satiate such a burning need to move as he still carries, an army's rigorousness and discipline would most certainly seem a godsend.