#A Little Taste Of Oolong || Drabbles

[jadedindreamz]

-tag dump

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[ajadedflame]

Oh ride on that furious beast Oh glide on that mountain fire

What a Revelator. What a Revelator.

Speak it now. Speak it true. It comes from a higher voice.

Bathe in the light of Him as those who once did upon His grace. Those who once walked among the sky but fallen they are as their wings died.

Such a way to watch them wither. She hid long ago in the bygone era. A call of a King entranced to come hither. None does she listen to now. It is just a sea of humans among the world. The ones the other God did not enjoy. The God of darkness he proclaims to be but all in all he is a King of hell’s misery.

Her steps are unbridled in determined prophecy. They are sketchy little things. Sketchy little bugs who skitter around lowly and moan for a god who descended into nothing. A waste of time for her to hear them. Crying out their vengeance but she says nothing. Why raise a word to the same, the never ending echo of that sweet revenge?

Detroit bustles. She sees the city in a new age long since surviving the Babylonian. It’s quite a thrill really. How easy they all blend together. How easy they forget great temples and vast kingdoms. Beneath their feet reigns a hell cracked but she took no part of this war. Why dip toes in something when it wouldn’t do good? Outcomes vary. Just ask the sentries of their fallen.

She leans in the frame of brick and mortar. The weathered texture grazes her palm where she waits. Idle and watching the passerby gives sustenance to her curiosity. Lowly are those who do not see evil nor see good. Their wars wage on and on it’s true. The problem with them is they have no idea what good or evil actually is. For anyone taking notice of her? She’s nobody. A face in the crowd that doesn’t stand out to many. She downplays her style. That’s a start. The fashion of humans is curious indeed, casual and nondescript.

“I knew you’d be here.”

Jade tilts her head towards the husky tone. Silken even as the tall figure looms up behind her. Coming up as he does leaves her hardly surprised. He does have a flair for stealth.

“This is where I asked you to meet,” she corrects his assumption. Leave it to male demons to play their cards in a way that gives them the best hand. Decks are nowhere near as overpowering as dicks in this instance. “Nice of you to be discreet.” She turns around, fabric shifting against her waist where his hand rests. Her eyes lower over his attire. “Can hardly say the same for your appearance.”

“Beige and salmon are my colors,” the man insists with a dip of his head. He places a kiss to her lips. A seal for the mighty hell lord. “I’d envy if you didn’t greet me that way in return.”

She snorted. “Funny of you.” Placing a palm against his jaw, she shoved his head aside and stepped down the alleyway. “I’m not here for a romantic tryst. Nor am I in the mood for your games, Envy!” Snapping, she jolted her head in his direction, unnatural movement coupled only with the flare of fire in her eyes. Emerald flame. A spark barely there before it dissipates again. It’s something he finds intriguing or worth his attention at any rate. This isn’t the first time he’s decided to embark his jealous charm on her. He might do this with everyone who seemingly has it better than him. Considering who set him out here on Earth it should sate his cardinal sin enough for now.

“What did I do to gain your wrath?” Envy asks with a bow his head. His eyes lift, dark chocolate skimming over her. “It does better than true Wrath. Traitor to the King.”

“Leviathan. What did he tell you?”

“Quick to ask my task aren’t you? Oh Jade. Jewel of the Nile. Did you let it turn red as your green envy showed?”

She glared. “You think you’re smart.”

“If I wasn’t,” the man in beige cream drawled, stepping close. “You wouldn’t enjoy our talks. Or our correspondence now. Which I think is the most important thing. Oh and - Callum. Not Envy.”

“Callum.” Jade repeated as she crossed arms over her chest. “Very human of you.”

“It was either that or Caleb. And I think that’s taken up by pitifiul Lust.” Throwing it out, Envy or Callum as he has chosen as his human moniker, doesn’t mince words. His hatred might be confused with Wrath at times. Lately he is morphing ever closer to Pride at points but his envy is too great to ever transition. Unlike the Pride who became Wrath but still helped his useless brothers. “I’m here on official order of the King.”

“Lucifer is dead.”

“Is he?” Callum countered. He smiled.

Jade didn’t return it but it was a sign. Her eyes spoke the truth better than silken words on the tongue. “Do your mission then without telling me. I have something to do. Something that may turn the tide.”

“Mysterious,” he whispered. “I like mystery. I like you. Unknown goddess of the underground.”

She ignored his attempt. As handsome as Envy is she’ll not indulge on that. There are greater things at stake. There are bigger prophecies. It’s only just beginning. A beginning to an end.

other muse: @detroitfortune

[cherrywoes]

pu-ehr dante. (zhongli x reader.)

title: pu-ehr dante.

summary: immortality is sometimes a curse, and you find yourself wanting to share it with zhongli, but never have the courage to do so.

pairing: zhongli x traveler!reader.

word count: 0.912k

requests: open. (nsfw + sfw accepted.)

a/n: the reader is the traveler, but older in appearance, and is a god themselves. this is my first time writing zhongli so please be nice! it's really just a drabble to help me learn more about the characters, so feel free to send me some headcanon or drabble requests if you wish! (pls keep it to legal characters like diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli, xiao, etc.)

THE CLOSEST THING YOU could compare the Geo Archon to was a star—beautiful in all the right ways, mysterious in nature, a permanent fixture in everyday life, and yet almost completely unreachable. Zhongli, as you knew him, was an eloquent speaker, with a wealth of knowledge to his advantage that you could never compare to; but you had noticed, over the course of several months and more than a handful of visits to Liyue in that time, that he was almost as emotionally closed off as Xiao, but in a different way. Of course, you did not fault him for this: being close to humans as an immortal being was hard for him, most likely. But you were not human and you were most certainly not mortal—most people did, primarily those from Mondstadt, believe you were just a human from another world, and you were content to let them believe as such. Even Paimon, as fond as you were of her, was better off unknowing of your origins.

But Zhongli, however hesitant he was to open up to you, might prove to be the exception.

Your visits were often sparsed throughout your various visits to Liyue, whether it be for supplies, rest, bounties, or even simple errands for those outside the city. You always made a point to visit Zhongli whenever you were able, because despite being ‘human’ once more, the Geo Archon was most positively aimless when not properly occupied. After the fiasco with the Fatui had been properly handled, he had not much else to do besides wait for your company, you knew, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Besides devouring literature, tending to funeral rites, and forgetting the occasional mora or two, he had no other purpose—you compared him to Venti oftentimes when time passed you by on your adventures, but their situations were vastly different, in hindsight. Where Venti was no longer needed by the citizens of Mondstadt, Zhongli would forever be a permanent fixture in the culture of Liyue, no matter the effort put through to see his exuvia ‘passed’.

Your most recent trip to Liyue brought with you a new tea; one that was expensive, but reminded you strongly of Zhongli. A mature, black tea, with notes of honeybush, cardamom, and orange peels—the flavor was strong when you steeped it too long, and slightly bitter, but with a little sugar and a dash of honey, it was completely neutralized. The vendor had advised a small portion of milk, but you found that it removed the flavor entirely and perhaps only preferred it in almond oolong, paired with white monkey tea leaves, when you found it in stock.

It was no accident that you had brought it with you to your visit with Zhongli. After all, he did have an appreciation for whatever you brought him, even if it was something he didn’t have a use for—your tastes were naturally exquisite, being from another world, and a god at that, so he had no issue trying or using what you brought him. At least, you assumed so; he was particularly difficult to read at times, even when it seemed he was being open and honest.

Paimon, fortunately, found the tea foul and wasn’t the biggest supporter of it; she liked the taste, but found the price unfair and preferred the almond oolong in the long run because it was sweeter. It also didn’t help that the pu-ehr dante upset her many stomachs, something you hadn’t known about until recently.

“This is for me?” Zhongli held the tin in his hands carefully, as if he thought it would break. Which you were sure it would, given enough force. You had taken care to package it in a fine tin (which was not tin at all, but porcelain) and spent a nice chunk of mora on it in the process. You were not above spending millions of mora on a gift if it was one you thought would be appreciated, though Paimon was almost always angry with you for it.

It was perhaps the key difference between yourself and Zhongli regarding mora; you had too much and he too little, or forgot it most of the time.

“Yes.” You gently stirred in a small block of sugar into your tea. Chamomile, for soothing nerves and aiding in peaceful sleep. You noticed he made a point to serve it when you came from a particularly awful mission. “It reminded me of you, and so I figured you might like it. I hope you do, besides; it was quite expensive.”

Zhongli looked up at you in mild surprise. “Of course. Anything you bring me I like, [Name].”

You paused in bringing your tea cup to your mouth momentarily. It was the first time you had heard him say something remotely fond, with a tinge of emotion in it that you couldn’t place. You resumed drinking your tea, however, finding yourself unsettled by the display, however verbal it was.

“Would you wish to hear another story before you depart?” He suggested, watching you lower your tea cup and fidget in your seat. “There are quite a few I’ve discovered that might interest you.”

“Yes, please.” You nodded, paying attention as he began the narration of his tale.

Maybe another day, you lamented. You would tell him another day.

[vinodiriso]

Kou/cha. [HANMEI]

@mita-rashi requested a HanMei drabble, something like two weeks ago. This is my headcanon of how they first met. Enjoy.

NOTES:

1: Mei in Chinese can be written with either the character 美 (meaning ‘beautiful’) or the character 梅 (meaning ‘plum’, Japanese: ‘ume’).

Hanzo had already done something for that woman in the handful of months he had spent in the Overwatch base, after the night he faced Genji in combat. Most of the times, it was heavy lifting... literally. He was used to carry around boxes of stuff from his sea days, and he always managed to come across the lab when there was some weighty science machines to move. He never actually cared about it, it was just some minor chores and nothing was ever so hefty to trouble him.

The archer didn’t give much thought to the white-coat-wearing people that needed his help, the only thing that stroke him as odd was how nice one of them was to him. It was not like she was baking him cookies, that be written down, but at least she didn’t shoot him those sour looks he got from various other agents, like that cowboy wannabe or the punk hairdo.

That afternoon, Hanzo was coming fresh out of the shower after an entire morning of shooting practice. He made his way into the base’s small kitchen and started looking for his secret stash, until he heard a voice from behind him: “please, can you take the box on the second from top shelf?”

Hanzo complied without further questioning and grabbed it. He turned to give it to the person requesting it, only to be met by one of the scientists he had helped various times. He didn’t remember her name… not like it was news. He was bad with names, with memories, everything was always a blurry fog.

“There you go,” he mumbled, his words were gentle but his tone wasn’t. She didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you. Can you make a little room for me too?”

Hanzo stepped to the side and the woman entered the small kitchen. Hanzo returned to his activity of retrieving his belongings. Finally he found the box he was looking for, behind a can of coffee (ugh, he hated coffee). He uncorked it and the amazing, full scent of tea leaves invaded his nostrils.

It was really hard in their days to find actual tea leaves and not extracts, or flavoured tea bags. Agriculture was on the brink of collapse after ways to create synthetic food with cheap processes were invented. Real food costed a hell of a lot money nowadays, and those tea leaves were a most expensive treasure for Hanzo; he rarely shared it with anyone.

“Bai Jiguan, right?” the woman commented with a giggle. “You have a good taste for tea.”

“Huh,” Hanzo commented. “You recognized it by smell alone?”

“My family was in tea shipping when I was little,” she explained, “I was basically raised drinking tea. A habit that stuck. You?”

“My mother,” he said, simply. Why was he even replying to that? It was a personal question.

“I see. And what teas do you enjoy?”

“Huh,” Hanzo was really not used to speak that much. “Oolong tea and… black tea.”

“Oh, so you gonna love this one!” the woman chirped as she opened her own box. Hanzo inhaled the beautiful scent in a deep breath.

“Golden Monkey.”

“That’s right. I’ve never met someone that could guess by scent and not taste, haha!”

Hanzo nodded. He didn’t know what to reply to that, so he didn’t.

“By the way, I haven’t introduced myself. I am Mei-Ling Zhou, nice to meet you, Hanzo,” she didn’t actually say ‘Hanzo’, in her mouth it sounded something like ‘Bhanshoo’. Still, Hanzo could pick up his name even if it had been butchered by a person that clearly couldn’t pronounce it.

“How do you know my name?” Hanzo’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You are Genji’s brother, right? I have never seen him under the mask but I have always imagined he would look something like you do. And McCree said that Genji’s brother always has this… very… troubled face. You fit the description.”

Hanzo doubted someone like McCree would ever say ‘troubled face’, let alone when referring to him. Still, as much as he was irked (for no reason in particular, really, he should have expected to be a juicy piece of gossips for Overwatch agents after his arrival), she tried to soften the blow. She didn’t call him ‘asshole’ face-to-face; Hanzo appreciated tact, even if affected, even if Hanzo himself wasn’t the most tactful person around.

“Mh,” he replied. He rummaged his mind in search for something to say only to be met with failure.  Without anything else to add, he just stuck to filling the boiler. Mei was measuring her serving of dried leaves: she dropped three teaspoons of Golden Monkey in a small porcelain teapot. It looked extremely frail and extremely precious. Hanzo did not have to wander off with imagination to guess it was a real Chinese handcraft. After all, her name was Zhou, was it not?

“It’s a family heirloom,” Mei stated, looking back at him. She didn’t mention the fact she had perceived Hanzo’s gaze or his interest in that tiny object, but still it was worth of praise to be that keen-minded. It took him by surprise. “I always have it with me, wherever I go. My father had it made for me when I was born.”

She showed him the Chinese characters painted on the side.

“Oh, so it’s ‘Mei’ as in ‘beautiful’. I thought it was ‘plum’.” 1

She widened her eyes at his reply, regardless of how stoic. “You can read Chinese?”

“Yes, I picked it up… on the road,” he didn’t mention his life in Taiwan. Too personal.

“How do you read this in Japanese?”

“Uh… ‘bi’. It means ‘beauty’ in Japanese.”

“How do you say ‘beautiful’?”

Hanzo puckered his lips as he recalled the word. It had been such a long time since he had spoken his native language. “Mh… ‘utsukushii’. But it’s the same kanji. It’s… complicated.”

Mei giggled. It was a surprisingly wholesome sound. Hanzo was confused. “I guessed so. Careful, I think the water is ready.”

Hanzo resumed from his deep thoughts of how weird her laugh had him feeling. He grabbed his own tea box, ready to just drop a spoonful in his cup, but Mei stopped him. “Huh-huh. If you are having tea with a Chinese person, I will have you follow the rules. Here.”

She gave him another teapot she recovered from one of the lower cabinets. It was much less fancier than her one, it was a faux terracotta-looking steel thing, but it would have served its purpose. “Do you know how to do it?”

Hanzo nodded. Yes, his mother had taught him many years ago. On top of that, he had seen many people do it. Three teaspoons inside the pot, then fill it with hot water, not boiling. Wait 5 seconds, pour, and throw the water away (the taste is too strong and, at the same time, not rich enough, it’s a bad batch). Refill the teapot, wait 20 seconds (or 40, if one likes a very strong flavour) and eventually pour the serving.

They completed the process in utter silence, without saying a word, almost in symbiosis, so coordinated were the two as they performed each action. It looked very mechanical, on Hanzo’s part, Mei on the other hand was more relaxed and her gestures were a display of an ancient art. Sure, that wasn’t the sophisticated tea ceremony Kung-fu masters invented millennia before, but it was still core to their countries’ traditions. A waste to let it go forgotten, as far as Hanzo was concerned.

“I love this smell,” Mei eventually broke the silence. “Isn’t it… gorgeous?”

Hanzo had to agree. It was one of the few things he enjoyed the most, a moment for relaxation he was used to consume alone, but Mei’s company was strangely… not-unnerving. It wasn’t as peaceful as the solitude of his home, solitary and companionless, but it was a little warmer than his despondency. Soon, Hanzo abandoned that road of thoughts: Mei was a little too perceptive and he didn’t want her to get inside his mind that far.

They sat at one of the table in the dining hall, facing one another. Hanzo wasn’t looking at her, he was quietly sipping his tea. She was squirming a little, as if she was trying really hard to find something to say. It was annoying, how some people couldn’t appreciate a moment of silence. It was rare for that room to be soundless, empty. The mere grazing of their mugs on the table and the soft drinking sounds were a balm for a… troubled mind. He used her word. So he did have a troubled face, after all, if those were the thoughts springing behind it.

Yet, despite of Hanzo’s unappreciative judgement, Mei did not speak a word for long. However, he could feel her gaze on him, studying him, curious as everyone of the freak that killed his own brother. That’s why he preferred staying alone. It wasn’t as annoying when he was the one to despise himself.

“Is it good?” Mei asked.

“What?”

“The tea. You’re glowering.”

“I always look like this,” was his reply. Quite impolite.

Mei gave him a little scorned smile. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have pried. It’s just that… it seems a little counterproductive to drink tea only to be sour, no?”

Hanzo wasn’t pleased by her statement. Maybe because she was right? “The way I drink tea is none of your business.”

The woman did not answer at his rude shutdown. Hanzo looked at her. She was so normal. Brown eyes, brown hair. She wore glasses. She had dainty little fingers wrapped around her cup, tapping on it so gently. Her hairpin was fashionable and elaborate, with a dangling little snowflake charm. The way she blew on steaming tea was cute.

She raised her eyes only to encounter his, staring. She smiled again. “You really like the teapot, don’t you?”

“Huh?” right next to her cup, there it laid her teapot. She probably misinterpreted the direction of Hanzo’s look, which was a blessing: too many things to explain if she had guessed the archer was indeed observing her. “It’s a fine piece of art.”

The smile on her lips grew a little larger. “Yeah, it’s very cute.”

Mei looked up, her brow creasing as she was trying to recall something… “kawaii?”

Hanzo huffed instinctively in a diverted manner. That was so random it amused him, even if it was really not that cultured humour; her pronunciation and the nonsense of the situation turned it comical. And that expression too, he admitted, was funny.

“Oh, so you can laugh,” Mei teased him. “I thought you were paralysed with that grimace. You should laugh more often. There is a glitter in your eyes when you do. You look… less troubled.”

“You can see people right through, can’t you?” Hanzo was sarcastic.

“I guess it’s what happens when you don’t stop at the surface and bother trying and understand the person you are talking to,” Mei was serious. “Do you ever try, Hanzo? To understand others?”

Oh, that sting. He was immediately thrown back at how he thought it would be hard for her to stay quiet, but she did, then even earlier, how he assumed she knew about him because she had gossiped about him. Maybe, just maybe, she remembered his name from when he had helped the other scientists.

All of a sudden, it became harder to look back at her. Coward.

“Mei!” a panting white coat came in running. “Jackson…!”

She sighed. “Got it. I am coming.”

She took one long sip, then she came to her feet. She looked back at him, biting her lower lip, as if she wanted to add something else. Hanzo prayed she didn’t, he couldn’t bear more humiliation, even if it was unintended as hers.

“See you around?” Mei murmured, giving him yet one soft grin.

“Ha,” Hanzo replied. And, for once, he really meant it.

[ajadedflame]

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