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monoceros-vulpes · 2 months

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tell me the ginjax lore….

oh em gee i'm so glad you asked. :yippie: cw list in the tagsies

Approx. 3.5 years ago, Tartaglia stayed in Liyue, overseeing affairs for the upcoming seizing of the Geo gnosis. During his stay closely affiliated with the Northland Bank, he caught wind of trade affairs between Port Ormos and Liyue Harbor. Although his orders technically were to stay put and not cause any more problems, well, he couldn't resist.

After his initial investigation, it seemed like some diplomatic issue he shouldn't stick his nose in. A large business deal that got held up quickly led to hostility between the two companies. The deeper he dug into the case, the deeper it seemed to run. Theft, sabotage, fraud, espionage. The works. The more he looked into it, the weirder it only seemed to get.

He left Liyue for a few weeks, camping in the Sumeru forest, seeing what information he could gather. He got in touch with a few different people, who claimed to know about the workings of both companies. The case also seemed to involve an underground network of poachers, supplying a gambling fighting ring in Liyue he knew the Millelith had been trying to shut down for years.

Between the four informants he was talking to, the number of discrepancies between them quickly added up. Someone was lying, and he didn’t know if it was one of the companies, one of his informants, or both.

He met the older woman in a bar. She had briefed on the history of the Liyuean company, and their connections to the animal fighting ring. She told him of an upcoming fight held in two days' time, where it would be held, and what he’d have to do if he wished to see for himself. As she continued to speak, watching the liquid in her glass swirl, Tartaglia frowned. She had said something that caught him— a slip of her tongue, a blunder.

He confronted her, asking her what made her think she could blatantly lie to his face. She dismissed his concerns, this was only what she had heard, after all. He pressed, cornering her, until he heard a scream from outside, followed by a loud crash. He turned to look at the closed blinds of the bar, but when he turned to face the woman again, she was gone. He cursed, shoving himself away from the table and pushing the door open, looking for where the sound had come from. Nothing was out of the ordinary at all. The customers stared in confusion as he quietly went back to his seat.

Left confused by the interaction, he soon returned to his tent. In all honesty, he wasn't sure if he was right when he confronted her over such a small discrepancy, but there was no doubt about her reaction. She was involved, one way or another. Just who was she exactly?

He decided to go to the location with a harebrained idea, hoping his assumptions were right. (if not, he could probably fight his way out of the mess he's gotten himself into.) He knew the risks. The chance he would get ambushed wasn’t zero, and the higher that chance was, the more likely he was on the right path.

He paid the fees at the door, taking the provided and securing it over his eyes before descending the steps into the underground pit. The interior was dark, lit by only lanterns hung around the posts. A wooden fence separated the pit from the audience on three sides alongside a thick chain net, bolted both to the ceiling and the floor. The arena continued to fill.

He kept on guard, both for the ambush and for his former informant, but neither showed face. To his right, the end opposite where he came in, the doors opened to reveal two cages being wheeled in. Both held rishboland tigers— one with a blue collar around its neck and the other, red. The fourth side of the chain net was bolted to the floor. The staff readied themselves with their sedative-tipped darts as the tigers were released, and the fight began.

He notices one of the staff turn to him, aiming their blowgun. Without a moment’s hesitation, he draws his bow, shooting the pipe out of their hands.

Midway through the fight, he’s shot at with a blowgun— simple and effective for neutralising their target. However, this is also No.11 of the Fatui Harbingers, codename Childe (but he also goes by Tartaglia). The bystanders move out of the way, some making for the door as he summons his hydro weaponry.

He defeats them with ease, looking around the arena as his weapons evaporate. Many have left, leaving the building half empty. The bystanders all had their eyes on him, talking amongst themselves. None seemed to pay attention to the sedated tigers, lying in their cages. Tartaglia scans the room, looking for any other potential threat. His eyes catch another’s— golden, almost shining in the dim lighting. It smiles at him, seemingly unbothered by the commotion and the restless crowd, before it disappears into the crowd.

The game of cat and mouse ensues, though Tartaglia isn’t quite sure if he’s playing the cat or the mouse. As soon as he thinks he’s getting close to a break, his lead slips away faster than a baby loach. He’s frustrated, knowing he’s being toyed with. The situation doesn’t seem to improve either. After all these months, he hardly knows more than he did when he first started getting involved. It feels like he’s getting intentionally left out of the loop, and he has no doubt in his mind it had something to do with the person with the golden eyes— his former informant.

Tartaglia was outside his tent, pacing. He was running out of time. He would be needed in Liyue soon, and this whole arrangement would have to be put on hold until the gnosis was seized, and he had to sail back to Snezhnaya to report to the Tsaritsa. That is, if he’s not immediately deployed again.

He heard rustling in the foliage, and a small fox stepped into the clearing, just visible in the firelight. Tartaglia smiled, recognising the animal. He took a portion of meat he sliced off from his own, tossing it at the animal. It flinched, disappearing into the leaves for a moment, but returned shortly, sniffing at the raw meat before taking it in its jaws. Tartaglia watched as it tore apart the scraps, before deciding it was probably about time for him to eat as well.

He met the fox weeks ago, finding it caught in a snare trap. It seemed too injured to move, looking roughed up before it even got caught in the trap. He rinsed its wounds, leaving scraps of raw meat and fish out for it, until it got better again.

Once it finished, it remained lying at the edge of the clearing, opposite the fire from him. It’d never allowed him close enough to check its wounds since it was well enough to evade him, but it seemed to be improving. He spoke to the animal, telling it about how he would have to leave soon, that it would have to hunt for itself again soon, and about his recent run-in with the golden-eyed person. Despite the frustration it caused, he couldn’t deny he enjoyed the chase.

The fox stood, half-limping closer to him, sniffing the ground as it approached him. He didn’t move, not wanting to startle the animal, even when it lay down by his side, curling its tail around itself.

The change of pace from the recent events was nice, welcoming the company of the fox. He glanced over his fur, taking note of how his injuries were healing. He reached a hand out to touch when a branch snapped in the forest surrounding the clearing. The fox tensed, jumping up to crouch at the suspected threat. He nocked an arrow into his bow, aiming it in the direction the sound came from.

“What have you spotted?” he asked the fox, keeping his voice low. The fox growled, its fur standing on end.

Tartaglia scanned the forest, searching the trees for anything. He kept his footsteps light as he moved closer to the edge of the clearing. After a few moments, he spotted a figure beyond the treeline.

“Looks like we’ve got a guest,” he murmured. He heard a rustle and saw that the fox had dashed off back into the underbrush. When he turned back, he drew his bow, holding it to the figure.

“Wait, wait.” He put his hands in the air, revealing himself to the firelight. He didn’t seem scared at all. “That fox you were with. Is it yours?”

He questioned the man, growing irritated at his careless attitude and his insistence on keeping Tartaglia in the dark. The man claimed the fox to be a demon, claiming it to tell lies, that it brought nothing but calamity and ruin. He had been following the fox for the better of two hours, leading to this campsite. And now Tartaglia had been the one to allow it to escape. However, despite his tall tales, it was his own foolishness that led him to land on the other end of his arrow.

He put away his bow and looked around, looking to see if the fox had reappeared. The campsite was empty, though not to his surprise, considering their rude drop-by visitor. He ran a hair through his messy hair.

“And to think I’d get to have a peaceful night. What a fool I am,” he sighed.

He took one last look at the body, seeing the fox sniffing where the arrow had pierced his skull. It didn’t look particularly scared, more curious than anything. He wiped down the arrow before returning it to his quiver. “Sorry, he was getting on my nerves,” he spoke to the fox.

It only ruffled its fur in response, slipping away and reappearing by the fire at the campsite.

“Mind telling me what that was all about?” he asked, taking a seat nearby.

Unsurprisingly, the fox didn’t acknowledge his words, curled up in front of the fire.

“Hey, don’t play coy with me. I asked you a question.” He frowned, leaning closer to the fox. “I know you can hear me.”

“You are quite incessant, are you?” it spoke, not turning to face him. In fact, it flicked its tail to cover its snout as if dismissing the conversation.

Tartaglia’s eyes widened slightly, not expecting it to actually speak. He’s bluffed enough these past months though, it hardly mattered. He smiled, his intrigue outweighing any hesitance.

“So you do understand me after all. Mind explaining why that guy was after you?

“... He’s irritated that I've interfered in his dealings.��

“How exactly have you interfered?”

“Ah, so it’s your turn to play dumb now, isn’t it?” Tartaglia could only roll his eyes, smiling at his reply, equal parts amused and irritated.

“I want to understand your situation.”

The fox lifted its head, its golden eyes meeting Tartaglia’s blue ones.

“You’ve watched it with your very eyes. Your investigation has been a thorn in my side for months.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the fox spoke, watching his movements as he began to put the pieces together. With a flick of its tails, its form shifted to that of an older woman.

“Was this your plan all along?”

He frowned, studying her face, his mind racing.

“So, after all this time… all of the people I was chasing were… you?”

She cracked, laughing.

“What, the fox you’ve been nursing to health? You’re surprised?”

Its form shifted again, taking on the body of a young man— a form he hadn’t seen before. His hair was a vibrant red, more so than in his fox form, and his eyes a gleaming golden hue.

“You… you have been so fascinating to watch. I thought you would’ve given up by now. You enchant me.”

He crawled closer, closing the space between them. An uncomfortable yet familiar feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, watching as he slinked into his lap and looked at him intently.

“Months of careful planning, arranging my pieces just so, and you—” a sound left his throat, what could almost be described as a laugh— “you think you can disassemble everything with your little investigation? You’ve caused quite a mess for me, you know.”

Tartaglia’s breath caught in his throat as the creature moved closer, hovering just above his body. If his thoughts were less a tangled mess, he would probably be more concerned with the flush spreading across his skin. He let out a low scoff, attempting to keep up his usual bravado.

“A mess? Is that so? You haven’t made things easy for either, fox.”

He tilted his head, resting his cheek against Tartaglia’s lap, laying across it like some kind of cat and watching him with a mischievous expression.

“I haven’t made it too difficult for you, have I? You’ve managed to keep up.”

The taller man couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the creature’s display. It was strangely endearing in an odd way, and he found himself running a hand through the creature’s bright red hair. The long strands glided smoothly through his fingers, and he watched as the creature’s eyes closed, content.

“You realise you haven’t made my life very easy either,” he spoke. “Chasing around a fox for months, wasting my time and energy. You’re like a never-ending game. Every time I think I’m getting close, you slip through my fingers like water. I don’t even have your name.”

“Gin.”

He raised his eyebrow, his hand still in his hair.

“Is that your real name… or just another of your many faces?”

“My real name.”

Tartaglia frowned. He never expected to get such a straight answer from the boy who’s been leading him on a wild goose chase for his own entertainment. It didn’t look like he was lying, though.

“And the catch is…?”

“No catch,” he replied simply. “You’ve made this more fun than I anticipated. There’s no need to deceive you further.”

“Fun?” he huffed in mild disbelief. “You’ve made a fool of me, leading me on to chase you. I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

“You don’t seem very mad about it.”

“I should be.” He sighed, continuing to idly thread his fingers through the other’s hair. “As infuriating as you’ve been for me, I’d have to admit there’s a little thrill in this game we’ve been playing. It’s not every day I encounter someone like you.”

The boy’s eyes opened, looking up at him as he spoke, lacking the distinct teasing tone.

“You’ll have to go soon.”

He sighed, looking away from him and into the fire. He had a job to do, a duty to uphold, and yet…

“Don’t remind me.”

“How long do you have?”

“... A few days, at most. I can’t put it off any longer.” He sighed, shaking his head as he looked back down at him. “Why? Miss me already?”

“Will you help me?”

He raised an eyebrow at his question, curiosity piqued. He was almost certain he’d regret asking this, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Help you with what?”

“The trade route. That’s what you wanted, right? To put an end to this?”

Tartaglia’s expression shifted somewhere between surprise and scepticism at his suggestion. The very thing he’d been chasing for months with little progress, and now he’s suggesting to put an end to it in only a few days?

“And how exactly are we doing that? It’s not just a simple problem to solve, you know.” He scoffed.

“They’ve already done the damage to themselves. It’ll just take a little… push, and it’ll come crumbling down.”

He thought it over, weighing the pros and cons. A part of him was still wary of the creature’s plans, but another part of him had its interest thoroughly piqued.

“A spark to ignite the wildfire?” He chuckled slightly, a sly smile spreading across his face. “I can’t say I’m not interested, but… what’s in it for you?”

“A game is best with a satisfying ending, no?” he laughed softly, nothing short of amused at his reply.

“You’re strange, you know that? Sure, I’ll help you. But there’s one condition.”

Curiosity sparkled in Gin’s eye, intrigued by this decision. He expected him to just go along with it, in all honesty.

“Yes?”

Tartaglia leaned down, his face hovering inches from Gin’s.

“When this is all over, I won’t let you slip away again so easily. I’ll find you again, and I’ll catch you.”

“Is that a promise?”

Tartaglia’s smirk widened slightly, something else passing in his eyes for a moment, a silent agreement forming between them. He tucked back a loose strand of hair before leaning back against the tree.

“Alright, what’s your plan?”

Gin explained it all to him— it was almost foolproof on Tartaglia’s end, and he wasn’t sure whether it was a compliment to Gin’s planning or an insult to Tartaglia’s ability to execute orders. Nevertheless, it was certainly… out there, but he supposed everything would soon fall into place.

“You really have a knack for sticking your nose wherever it doesn’t belong, huh?”

“I’m starting to think you like that.”

“What can I say? It’s not every day I get wrapped up in this.” His hand rested on the other’s head, a hint of a fond smile on his face. The boy nuzzled into him, relaxed.

“... You really promise to find me again?” He held up his pinky, and Tartaglia took it after only a moment.

“If you make a promise, you keep it, if you make a mistake, you apologise. And if you give someone a dream, you defend it till the very end.”

Gin held his finger for a few moments longer, staring at where their hands were touching.

“... You have to take off your gloves. It doesn’t count if you don’t.”

Tartaglia rolled his eyes, taking off his glove and linking their pinkies again, feeling the warmth of Gin’s skin on his.

“There. I promise. I’ll find you no matter what— if only to give you hell for running away from me for so long in the first place.”

“Good,” he smiled, shifting back away from him. “Until then.”

And with that, the little red fox disappeared back into the forest.

#cw animal fighting. wildlife poaching. murder in cold blood.#and tartagliary #tl;dr toxic yaoi #less in this one. it gets bad during the intentional courtship arc but it mellows out again #NOT PROOFREAD because i cannot be bothered. no beta we die like [redacted]#.> exsanguis larva #.> ask #.> doll

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monoceros-vulpes · 3 months

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give me the answrrs to all of those questions rn with ur ginger freako

— 😋

oh em gee i am so glad you asked

Who had to cross a language barrier for f/o? Did they learn for you, or did you learn for them? Or did you both try to learn each other's language together? Did one of you speak the other's language at all to help translate, or at least understand even if they didn't speak it? Or did you both consult the Googles and Rosetta Rock?? Was it frustrating from the time it took to talk to each other, endearing for the effort, or both? Were you/they very willing, or did it take some convincing or some reason for you/them to learn?

We spoke the same language (Teyvat common) but he taught me some Snezhnayan once we were locked in locked in so I could talk to his family more. I didn't mind at all, and like. considering I've been learning Russian irl bc of him.

Afterwards, did they have nicknames/pet names for you that they learned, or ones you were finally able to translate and understand what they were calling you? How did they respond when you found out?

Лисичка (Lisichka, little fox) was the worst one, from him to me. He hinted at what it meant a lot but it took me a long time to figure out 😓 i bit him

What about if they thought they were calling you one thing but were actually calling you something else the whole time without realizing it? How did that go??

I've done this so many times. I keep thinking he's saying one thing when he's saying another it's so bad. I however am so paranoid abt speaking in front of him and his family i simply have never slipped up 👍

Did you find and use nicknames/pet names from their language, or accidentally call them something you weren't meaning to? What did f/o think of them? Did you ever mean for them know what you'd been calling them if they were finally able to translate the things you called them?

I called him родной (rodnoy, soulmate, lit. blood family) once, he lowkey freaked out. He uses it a lot for me now that he knows I see him like that. Also муженек (muzhenek, hubby, lit. husband). That was more intentional though 😋 he made me repeat it until it wasn't a word to me anymore

Have there been any goofy instances where you and/or f/o had trouble with the barrier of your words? Thinking you were talking about one thing when the other person was going off about something else? Embarrassing yourself/themself in front of everyone else who spoke the opposite language? Saying something obscene or ridiculous to the other? Just plain miscommunication that took forever to get over?

I think reading would be really bad. He sends me a letter and I have to stare at it for a million years to figure out what it says. His letter handwriting and his teaching handwriting do NOT look the same. what are these glyphs you present to me. Not with him specifically but his family speaks so fast and I'm scared to ask them to slow down. They think I'm more fluent than I am. Oh. Also. Лисичка (Lisichka, little fox) also translates to лисичка (Lisichka, Chanterelle mushroom)

How fluent are you and/or your f/o with the other's language now? Are you/they a pro, still sound like a rookie, or pretty intermediate? Can you/they hold a whole conversation, or only small phrases or words? Does it sound broken to the other, but understandable enough to get by? What about writing the other language, or reading for things? If you guys went to the other language's origin, how well do you think each other would get around?

It's okay. Nothing flashy, but enough to get around. I play the foreigner card a lot and I will continue to no matter how long I have to live here. I don't really speak a lot to begin with, and even then it's more convenient to have conversations in common...

#.> exsanguis larva #.> ask #.> doll

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