i need MISERY and SADNESS and ANGST !
reader absolutely sobbing to bird xiao. i mean fucking wailing, man.
our birdie was going about his usual business, peeping around, looking for any possible dangers, maybe bring back a nice acorn. once he’s done, he’ll fly back to us, glad to report — (chirp a few times) — that the area is safe.
but instead of finding you eagerly awaiting him with an outstretched hand, he finds you curled in on yourself, stifling sobs.
he lands on the ground in front of you, worriedly hopping past the squirrels and deer nudging various forest tributes to you. he peeps once, but you don’t respond. he peeps a second time, and this warrants an answer.
you weakly unfurl yourself, willing your head upwards.
xiao now notices the state of your clothes. tattered, dirty, and dampened with what he hopes is just a peculiar blue juice.
he then meets a pair of reddened, glossy eyes. your cheek was scratched, and your now visible hands badly scraped. he chirps in concern, flapping his wings and hopping closer to your face.
that same face scrunches once again, as you curl your head back into your knees. as another sob escapes, you only wordlessly produce a few almonds from your pocket. you only whimpered an apology as a deer laid at your feet.
the almonds were not what he wanted. he did not need an apology for- what? a lack of attention? no, none of that. he only wanted you to be happy. how had he failed you again? he was a disgrace to the adepti, he was surely deserving of avid punishment. perhaps the loss of a finger would serve well. or two, after all, he had been too selfish and ignorant to save you. why was he even aIive? why was he ever even born? such a faiIure should never have been —
his inner monologue was cut off by an offering of a hand instead. you shakily nudged him with your index finger, making him release a squeak.
“hey.. i said i’m fine, right? please eat. you’re always so hungry.”
you sniffled.
“i can find some plants, and-“
but the sobs only continued.
“and fix it..”
your hand went limp as your cries shook your body. you didn’t even bother to weep silently anymore.
the squirrels chittered, the approaching raccoon held a rock in its small hands as an offering. a deer sniffed your head as you curled into fetal position again.
“i didn’t want this- i- i didn’t want to—”
i was just having fun, why did- how did it come this far?-”
a rabbit hopped closer.
“i want to go home. i miss my mom, i miss my dad, i miss their hugs-”
the deer at your feet nudged your leg.
“why can’t i just die aIready?”
xiao squealed, flapping his little wings furiously. he chirped and chirped, trying to bring you back to your senses.
he’d seen this thing time and time again- the form taken by relinquishment. once the thought was spoken, it could only end in misfortune.
he knew this was only a psychological effect, of course. to lose a battle when a small part of you wants to. to become careless and fall asleep on a thinly frozen lake. or, to intentionally cause one’s own end.
but that would not stop him from bringing you charms of good fortune in the following days. talisman to ward off draining spirits, necklaces and bracelets he personally imbued with evil-vanquishing power.
it did not stop him from distancing himself from you, in fear his karmic binds had effected you. that they were having the same effect on you as his siblings- as himself.
he had to protect you.
it was his duty.
-owl anon RAAAHH
i’m sorry this got so long, my thumbs go *taptaptaptap* on my keyboard while i just watch
oh…. you get it.
(under the readmore because my fingers tend to go)
xiao blessing small pebbles with adeptal energy, ignoring how it stings his hands as he wraps it in a leaf. as the one enchanting the stone, he’s granted a small amount of grace, but protection charms always tended to hiss at his karma.
he picks it up with his claws, flapping up and into the skies of liyue. he always brings you small gifts, and he knows you keep them, at least for a little while. he’s not sure if the magic is absorbed into you, if it fades, or if you simply lose them—some small part of him is satisfied at the image of mountain shaper being repelled by a simple stone—but he brings them to you faithfully. you always greet him the same way, and anticipation begins to bubbles under his skin at the thought.
he loves seeing you.
…but not like this.
your tree is more crowded than usual, various small wildlife surrounding you. nothing big, nothing threatening—the deer hesitate at the treeline, huffing and pawing at the ground—but worrying for certain.
he gives his same warning cry he always does, but you don’t step out to greet him. he has to duck beneath the leaves, and he sees you… crying.
he freezes, dropping a few inches in his shock, but quickly recovers.
(he can’t hesitate. he can’t pause. there’s no time for his own problems when you are in pain-)
he lands on your arm, bumping his head to yours and giving you a small chirp.
(please be okay. please be okay. please let the teal grass around you be lighting, or his bird eyes. please.)
another bump. another chirp. he reaches and pulls a leaf from your hair, turning to drop it away, and when he looks back you managed to lift your head.
he can’t stop the way he jumps, flapping to regain his balance at the smear of blue across your face.
“oh… hello there, little friend.”
he can’t even bring himself to be as happy as he normally is at your voice.
you take the wrapped rock from your claws, both you and the leaf unfurling. the blue stone glitters, and you smile slightly. from his new perch on your wrist and your shift in posture, he can’t help but notice more and more tragic details about you.
a slash across your waist, the cloth of your shirt clinging to your skin. the dirt across your skin, the tracks of tears down your cheeks.
“th-“ you cough, and the stone in your hand pulses outside of your view. “thank you, pretty bird.”
some part of him hopes that the stone brings you some joy. that you can absorb some of his magic- hell, he’d enchant it again if he needed to, expending every drop of energy he had of it meant you didn’t have to cry.
but not even the beauty of the earth can mend the tragedy of betrayal.
if anything, you cry more, curling up again in an attempt to hide from the world that wanted you dead. concerned cheeps slip from his beak as easily as the rabbits and birds around you hop closer. none dare to get as close as he, but acorns and river stones and pushed towards you, a ring of offerings surrounding their god.
“sorry,” you stutter, your voice choked, and he wonders why you’re apologizing. “i- i still-“ another sob. xiao feels like crying himself.
(he has no right to be distraught. not when he’s the blade you fear)
“here,” you manage, offering up a shaking handful of crushed almonds. you still have him your food, you still went through the strain and effort of crushing them so he could eat them in this form- even after the adepti had injured you, you still found it in yourself to help him?
(you didn’t know he was an adeptus. he was still lying to you. he hasn’t even taken any serious action, he couldn’t even try and help you when you still helped and cooed over and loved him-)
“do- do you-“ your voice hitched and broke, and he chirped, hopping up your arm. how he wished he could comfort you properly. how he wished he wasn’t a coward, that he could do more. “i know it isn’t enough, i-“ fresh tears welled in your eyes, and he had the feeling the pain ran deeper than your skin. “i’m sorry.”
you were sorry? why? he didn’t need an apology, he- if anything he should apologize. you deserved his offerings and apologies, you deserved his effort- and he couldn’t even give you that. he couldn’t even do what he was meant to, he wasted air with every breath, he spent his time protecting the citizens that hurt you. you shouldn’t be giving you his food, he should be giving you his blade, his armor, his mask, his- his faith.
he didn’t deserve to cry. but when he took a look at his own actions, he couldn’t help but think that he should be the one with blood on his skin, with ragged clothes and heaving breaths.
(he should be dead for what he allowed to happen to you.)
“please eat,” you sobbed, nudging him with the hand holding the almonds. “i can- i’m- you can trust me.”
(you shouldn’t trust him.)
“please…”
he hated seeing you cry. he hated hearing your sobs and knowing he was indirectly part of the cause. he hated that he was too much of a coward to take any serious action, he hated that he still stood besides your enemies, he hated that some of your blood fell on his hands, hated that every ounce of strength he had was one that you didn’t, and it was his fault. at least partially.
(entirely.)
your cries took words, pleads to the wildlife for a world they didn’t know, people and names you begged to carry you from your position.
“i just wanted to have fun.” you should be. you should be dressed in gold with jewelry of silver, you should be smiling and dancing with the ones you had blessed, traveling nations not as a fugitive, but as a god. “i never meant to come here. i never meant to be a problem.”
he hates that he knows you’d be safer in your previous world. he hates it. he hates it. he hates the adepti, he hates the millelith, the knights, the matra, he hates every blade that dared to cross your skin.
(he hates himself. he hates that he’s never done enough. he hates that he’s still so much of a coward he can’t take any action, not even against himself. he should turn his spear on himself, for allowing such heresy.)
you sniffled, harshly wiping at your eyes.
“god, why can’t i just die?”
ice frosted xiao’s veins.
he would understand if you were angry. he would understand if your tears were of frustration, if you beat at the ground instead of your aggressor’s bones, if you wanted to shout and take out your anger on the sky. he’d offer himself for your wrath—at least then he could finally be of service—but for you to wish to offer your life?
for you to be convinced that the death of a god was the only solution for the falsehood of another…
how long had this thought been in your head? how long had you offhandedly thought of letting yourself be captured, be slain, of giving up what you had blessed upon so many? how many times had you debating letting a wound get worse, of allowing infection to rid you of the thorns of this world?
xiao hopped up your arm, cooing sadly and curling into your neck.
he wished he could do more. he wished that he could hold you with human arms, he wished he could give you faith in your own creations, he wished he could whisk you away and take on the world himself, that he could fight on your behalf, that you would remain safe and if anything, he would be the one to die.
“don’t cry,” you said shakily, awkwardly reaching to pet over his wings.
how could he not, when his god had forsaken everything, including themself?
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