#lapis' talking corner

[dragonlapis]

I love everything about this card..

But let's not forget about those two in the background doing their own things

A happy day for all...more so Kokoro and Masara! I bet Kokoro's heart is pounding like crazy right now-

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

w.count: 900+ - 'growing old' w this god of old :') (mentions of death of old age!)

morax was a god able to change and alter his appearance at will. he had done so in the past several times. the whole reason he was able to appear as he does is because he had learned to hide away his godly- or even previously lesser-known dragonic- features. of course, he could hide his horns, his tail, and his scales, but there's charactistics that are far more difficult to conceal with such magic. such as his golden vein that run along the expanse of his body. even his geo-darkened arms were able to be altered to the same shade of the rest of his skin.

still, when morax had 'died' and retired as rex lapis to live among his people as simply the wise zhongli, he didn't intend to alter his image for the foreseeable future.

you were the being that had changed his mind.

even though he was more than well aware that you were mortal and he would long outlive you, he never considered his own disposition and how it would look to outsiders. additionally, the thought that you would contemplate leaving him one day when your age catches up to you for that very same reason never crossed his mind.

"wouldn't it be for the best?" you ask him one afternoon when the light of the sun was bright in his golden eyes. "if people see me aging and growing older year by year, but you remain the same... won't that put your identity at risk?" it twists his heart. you weren't chasing him off, you were trying to be reasonable and prepare him for a possible future he couldn't avoid even if he wanted to. you only wish to protect him and his secret. he knows that, but still-

"that is still very far off, my dear," is how he tries to reassure you. however, after you had brought it to his attention, he already made a decision on the 'matter 'problem' which is your human life span. instead of leaving or relocating somewhere where people wouldn't recognize him before coming back in a set amount of time to start all over, zhongli already knows he would choose to stay by your side despite the risks.

zhongli never voiced aloud how the both of you would proceed with his immortality going forward again. he didn't feel the need to bring it up twice and you didn't have it in yourself to ask again; it wasn't like you wanted to leave him in the first place, so you just decided to let the chips fall where they land.

however, the first time you gleam into his own choices was years later. you didn't know when it happened, but somehow his appearance began to slightly shift and alter. along the course of your aging, he mirrored you.

crows feet crinkled in the corners of his eyes. smile lines formed deeper when his lips would curl. his brown hair would gain new grey streaks seemingly overnight. he would soon acquire a cane that would aid him in keeping his daily routine of walking around the harbor (as well as add a touch more elegance into his gait). the veins along his hands would grow to become more noticeable under his gloves as his wedding band continued to sit comfortably on his happily married hand.

zhongli was hardly an actor; but hearing him talk to those younger than you and himself like a proper old man was more amusing than you ever thought it could be.

that was another thing she slowly altered. his voice slowly began to gain more gravel than it did before. he would clear his throat of his 'older age' before speaking with a tone that sounded like a proper human man getting on in years.

it was a beautiful and soothing illusion he decided to show you. but even something kind and wonderful like spending your life growing old with the man you loved since your youth held its pains.

when you were ill, zhongli could do nothing but watch and hope his nursing and the skilled doctors in liyue could bring you back to health. when you got hurt, he couldn't properly relate to your pain as another mortal man could. when your body began to experience real, human pain from aging all he could do is feel like a fraud since all of his aging was just a fabrication of the real thing.

still, even when all those things happened and his identity as a god was thrown back into his face, you always thanked him for doing such kind things for you. you never once called him out for being a fraud, or faking being human. you never frowned at him or scolded his actions. you always just smiled.

even when he sat besides your aged, wrinkled and graceful body as you lay in your bed, you just smiled at him. his fraudulent wrinkled hand that held your authentically aged one still held the affection of a young man in love. the tears that gathered his still vibrant golden eyes still saw the person he loved years ago.

all he did was blink and before he knew it, the person he loved had aged and smiled their life away before his very eyes. the same eyes you begged him never to dilute the hue of.

it wasn't fair just how quickly the human lifespan comes and goes compared to his own. it takes zhongli several long years and another staged 'human' death as and 'old man' before he's able to stand before your grave with the same face you remember meeting a long, long time ago.

this new zhongli kneels before your resting place, fondly with your favorite flower in his gloved hand.

[zhongrin]

𒆙 morax

part 6/8 of ⎡∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺⎦, a zhongli 2023 birthday event

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

𖧷 tags ┈ minors dni, gn!reader, afab!reader, biting/marking, cockwarming, choking but not really, edging, dirty talk, cervix fucking but not really ‘fucking’-, i don’t know how to tag things help

𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓊 ❬ masterlist ❭ 𐫱 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾�� ❬ taglist ❭

“𝓁ord morax! must you keep branding me with these marks?!”

morax blinked owlishly as you barged into his little office. he would have immediately beheaded others who would dare act so boorish, but your presence - nevermind the fact you were glaring at him - would always be welcomed into even the most private corners of his life, so he merely leaned back on his golden throne, abandoning the papers waiting for his approval as he gazed at you like you were the whole universe. his cor lapis-lined tail coiling behind the chair thumped lightly on the ground as he spotted the tokens he had so graciously placed on your skin.

“…. yes?”

the honest answer seemed to have made you double back. you could tell from his clueless expression that he bore no remorse for his actions.

“i must beseech you to restrain yourself. the adepti dare not even raise their heads when i talk to them!“

“but… unlike minerals and other inorganic materials, your skin heals, so naturally i must renew the imprints every now and then. i cannot fathom what made you so displeased? i have taken precautions so the process would be enjoyable to you at the very least… or are you saying that the act was not pleasurable for you after all?”

you had to resist the urge to facepalm, but you couldn’t help the natural reaction of your cheeks starting to sizzle with warmth. morax’s gentle smile lilted into a slightly cheeky grin, and he beckoned you to come over. you both praised and berated yourself inwardly when you obeyed his command like a faithful pup, knowing to seat yourself on his lap.

“are you not proud to bear the proof that you are mine, my dear? if it truly upsets you, i… will try my best to reign in my instincts. but you know how i always seem to lose myself in the heat of the moment…,” his kisses journeyed from your temple down your neck and shoulder, a silent plea for leniency.

it would have been a sweet and innocent gesture if his hands hadn’t wandered above your silken robes.

“my lord….”

“mmm… i’m sorry, darling, it’s the dragon instincts,” he nuzzled lovingly onto the junction of your neck, and you quickly felt both the heat and his arousal rise. quite literally, that was. “your smell mixed with mine is just too tantalizing to ignore. to illustrate, would you be able to pass by a banquet full of your favored delicacies without salivating?”

“perhaps not, but i would be able to refrain from devouring the whole banquet like some greedy buffoon,” you faked a reprimanding tone, eyebrows raised.

“which proves that you are, in some ways, stronger than me,” his arms tightened around you, geo-lined appendages sneakily slipping beneath your garment to rub your inner thighs, before trailing over your dampened underwear, “though it seems to me that you’re putting up a front…”

you were torn between rolling your eyes or blushing in embarrassment, “perish the salacious thoughts. i came straight from the bedchambers, my lord.”

“ah, so these are both your arousal and the remnants of our passionate love last night? how delightful. no wonder you smell like the most fragrant and mouthwatering delicacy in the whole teyvat,” he pressed his lips on one of the hickeys, staring in contemplation at your body nestled on his lap, an idea brewing like the freshest tea in his mind, “say, darling… i know you’re tired, but won’t you at least let this lovestruck lizard steal a morsel from the figurative banquet? just a little arrangement to tide me over until the moon graces our nation.”

“….. i will consider your proposal; enlighten me.”

you really, really should have thought twice about making contracts with a dragon.

seated snugly on top of your beloved’s lap after he had - far too easily, much to his delight and your fervent embarrassment - eased you onto his cocks, his non-dominant hand poised to lightly rub your abdomen, right on the bulge indicating the way he was all nestled inside your tight heat. his other hand had long since left your hip and was in the process of writing some kind paperwork to ensure the construction of what shall be a prosperous harbor sometime in the far future would be going smoothly — or something along that line. he might have sort of meandered about it as he worked, but alas, you were too distracted to actually listen to his words, clenching and squirming like a bunny in heat instead.

morax hummed. momentarily, he set his pen down against the polished sandbearer wood of his desk. his slender fingers reached up to lightly brush and wrap around your throat. your breath hitched, heart soaring like a hummingbird, cunt trembling. he wasn’t even putting any pressure ー just a light touch. a warning. and yet the message was there; even more pronounced with the verbal warning whispered right beside your ear.

"mind your manners, darling."

you nodded with a whimper, gulping and feeling his fingers lightly caressing your pulse point before they detached themselves from your heated skin to curl elegantly around the pen once more. the deity resumed talking as if whatever happened was a delusional wet dream you conjured out of desperation this fine afternoon, but this time, you ceased squirming. he gave you a soft kiss on your nape as a reward. pride permeated your veins, your eyelashes fluttering and fists clenching in an attempt to control yourself.

"not to fret, your patience will be rewarded," he purred, deep and velvety and smooth, his breath tickling your skin, burning your nerves and sending your arousal lurching. perhaps you should have begged for him to relent to his depraved desires and devour the whole banquet instead.

the hand on your tummy trailed upwards to settle on your chest, palming idly before rolling a painfully hard nipple between the calloused pads of his fingers, the gentle movement a complement to the cold sensation of his rings pressing onto soft, sensitive flesh. sparks bloomed like fireworks and slick trickled down your stuffed pussy. yet still, you obeyed with trembling thighs; the only body part moving being your walls, squeezing around his cock, wishing for it to move and bully your sweetest spots with hard and precise series ofー

"so well behaved for me...."

you swore you heard him chuckle.

"my good mate."

he graciously bestowed you a new mark on your neck and a teasing little thrust, just enough for the two heads to peck your cervix like a teasing lover, savoring the enchanting wail falling from your lips.

“oh, this archon can’t wait to utterly ruin you tonight.”

𖧷 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭ ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[drunkenlionwrites]

Lapis Lazuli Warnings: afab g/n reader, slight sacrilege , p in v sex

You feel so devastatingly overwhelmed with sensations that your brain is almost shutting down. The back being pressed to the cold and moist surface of the frescoes-covered wall, the hot body of your lover against your chest, the tail of his slithering between your thighs to then hug your waist possessively while he languidly pushes himself into you.

The air around you is humid, Dan Heng’s exhales near your face only making you feel it stronger. The look in his azure eyes fills you with some kind of primal need and reverence. His skin is velvet under your fingertips. The strands of his hair are nothing but finest silk falling onto your shoulders. The act feels so sinful – a sacrilege of sorts, yet Dan Heng’s breathy grunts beside your ear make you forget everything else. “I see you’re still a sinner in this life, Dan Heng?” you manage to tease him, which grants you a deeper and harder push of his cock into your core.

One more thrust and a chuckle follows. “Don’t antagonize me. You’re the willing participant too, my love.” The sarcasm dripping in his tone, his movements shifting back to agonizingly slow again while his sleek tail wraps tighter around your waist. You whine, trying to shift your hips against Dan Heng at least a little. Naïve. He won’t allow you that. But still, you’re stubborn. “At least I’m not doing it against the relic of my people.”

“Oh, is it so? If I were you, I would know better than that and stop talking now. That is…if you still want me to make you come now.” His voice grew darker, but you knew that some darker parts of him resonated with your taunting.  With a huff you relent, deciding not to dwell on the subject deeper, biting his pointed ear and pressing the head to his shoulder. It served as a sign for Dan Heng to continue with your slow punishment.

Hands running up your thighs with utmost tenderness to only grip them harshly in attempt to bring your lower body even closer to his. Every grind of his length inside you painfully brings you closer and closer to your release. The feeling of his fangs grazing the skin of your neck hard enough to make it bleed doesn’t make it easier on you. The skin where your lower bodies collide is covered in your combined fluids and produces lewd squelching sounds now that make you shiver in the tight hold of your lover. It’s still not enough.

“Please…Please. I need more…I’ll be good to you” you mewled into his shoulder pathetically. Anything to make him move faster inside you.

“So weak now.” he chuckles, biting your neck once again until you cry out. “Well, let this sinner grant you with the long-awaited deliverance then.” he breathes out in your ear, which makes you clench around his length. His pace becomes punishing now, each thrust precise, each touch making you feel sublime, yet somehow dirty. Your pants and moans only encourage Dan Heng to move faster. The stinging pain in your neck and back adds to your pleasure and pushes you closer to your release.

With moans of your name his thrusts become erratic, and you feel him pulsing inside you so deliciously, that it serves as the last stroke before impeding orgasm. You shudder and pulse around his cock, barely registering now how his hot cum fills you. While coming down from your release, panting and holding each other close, Dan Heng smiles in his usual warm way – the corners of his lips slightly upturned, his eyes, now of darkened lapis lazuli color full of adoration. “Well that definitely ‘spiced it up’, right?” you murmured, exhaling.

I'm sorry, this just lived in my head and I needed to spill it out somewhere. Basically reader and Dan Heng are roleplaying here a bit to have rougher sex, but I feel like Dan Heng is still kinda OOC here and he for sure won't be joking about the sins of his past incarnation while fucking at the Scalegorge Waterscape of all places 😂

[himasgod]

Zhongli x Reader

(maybe angst? 0.8k words :p)

Where Zhongli and you talk about mortality in the rite of ascension of an adeptus

The hall of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was plunged into solemn silence. The crackling of candles and the soft scent of incense filled the air as you stood beside Zhongli, watching as Hu Tao made the final preparations. The Rite of the Ascension of an Adeptus was not something you saw every day; it was a unique ceremony, marked by perfection in every detail, from the attire to the weather. Nothing could go wrong. And yet, you felt like something inside you had already begun to crumble.

Zhongli, with his usual composure, watched you from the corner of his eye. His upright, elegant posture reflected centuries of wisdom and experience, but today, there was a shadow in his gaze. Perhaps because this farewell affected not only the Adeptus, but you as well.

“Are you okay?” he asked you, his voice deep, like the echo of a distant mountain. His words, though simple, carried an unwavering weight. You knew that, even if it was silent, he was always watching you, attentive to you in an almost imperceptible way.

You nodded, although you knew your eyes said something else. The farewell of an Adeptus, a being that had coexisted with mortals for millennia, symbolized much more than the departure of a life. It was a reminder of the fragility of existence and how, in the end, everything fades away.

“It is difficult…” you began, hesitating whether to continue. “Watching them leave, when one always thinks that the gods and the Adeptus are immortal, that they will always be there.”

Zhongli was silent for a moment. The candlelight flickered on his face, highlighting the lines of worry in his serene expression. “Adeptus also have their limited time in this world. Although it may not seem so, each of us must, at some point, fulfill our final duty and depart.” His words were cold, like a sentence you could not avoid.

It wasn’t the first time you’d discussed mortality with him. You knew that Zhongli, or rather Rex Lapis, had made his own choice: to leave his position as the Geo Archon and live among mortals. However, that decision didn’t eliminate the gap you felt between the two of you. He was eternal, while you were just a mortal, bound by time.

“And you? Will you one day leave too?” The words escaped your lips before you could stop them. You didn’t want to face the possibility of losing him, you didn’t want to admit what that thought did to your heart. But at the same time, you needed to know.

Zhongli stared at you, and in his eyes you saw a mix of understanding and sadness. “I’ve already made my choice,” he said, with a slight sigh. “But the contracts I made with this world have not yet come to an end. When they do, I will also fulfill my own destiny.”

The weight of his words crushed you. You knew he had given up his Gnosis, that he was no longer the god he once was. Yet his connection to Liyue, to mortals, and to the Adeptus, remained a deep and unbreakable bond. And one day, when those bonds were broken, he would be gone too.

The pain of that thought was like a heavy stone on your chest, something you couldn’t ignore. You knew the relationship between the two of you was marked by temporality, but still, you had hoped, perhaps naively, that that moment would never come. “And what will become of me when that moment comes?” you asked in a barely audible whisper, fearing the answer.

Zhongli looked away, gazing at the dancing shadows on the walls of the funeral home. “I will remember you, always. But I am rock, and rock does not change. Only mortals like you are the ones who bring change to this world.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your tears. It was unfair. He had witnessed millennia of history, seen countless people come and go. To him, you were just one part of his long journey, but to you, he was everything.

“How can you say it so casually?” The desperation in your voice was palpable. “How can you speak of my departure as if it were just one of many?”

Zhongli was silent for a long moment. Then, his golden eyes looked at you with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. “Because I have learned, after thousands of years, that holding on only brings suffering. Goodbyes are part of the natural cycle of life. What really matters is the impact we leave on others while we are here.”

You felt helpless, knowing he was right, but still, the bitterness of pain consumed you. “And what impact will I leave on you, Zhongli? Will I be just another memory in your eternity?”

He moved closer to you, his fingers gently brushing your cheek, a gesture filled with affection, but also farewell. “You will be more than that,” he said softly. “You will be a contract in my heart, one I will never break.”

But, even with that promise, you knew that one day he would depart, leaving only the echo of his words and the weight of his absence.

And in that moment, you realized there was no consolation for the void he would leave behind.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[woofwoofwolf]

Motherfucker, it's cold outside

Genshin masterlist: [link]

Xiao x reader

Summary:

Xiao lays awake suffering from his karmic debt until he hears a noise from somwhere in Wangshu Inn, so he goes off to investigate. Or a Christmas themed fic about Xiao talking through a harsh winter night with a stranger

Notes: POV Third Person, they/them pronouns for the reader, told from Xiao's perspective, so that's why it's third person, good old breaking and entering, the birth of our lord and saviour Barbatos? Maybe, I kept it vague, strangers to still being strangers, Big Xiao angst hours, Hurt/Comfort, Xiao's Karmic Debt, Christmas, Sort of?

Word count: 1.174

AO3 Link: [link]

The regular passage of time no longer seemed to apply to Xiao. To him, it was now a luxury, only awarded to the lucky and ungrateful. He laid still, unmoving, completely gripped by an unpassing void, ebbing and flowing with waves of karmic debt. Xiao wallowed in the feeling, insisting to himself that he just had to sit it out like always. A voice in the corner of his mind reminded him that it had been a long time since he had last seen the traveler or Rex Lapis, but he pushed their images out of his head.

His sharp senses roughly pulled him out of the void of pain he was experiencing and grounded him back to his surroundings: Wangshu Inn. The room Verr Goldet had given him especially for nights like these. Night time. A winter storm. And-

An unfamiliar presence breaking in through a window several floors beneath him.

In an instant he vanished and reappeared in the corner of the empty guest rooms, just out of sight from where the intruder had just closed the window back up. The stranger shivered and rubbed their hands together. Were they out there in the storm on their own?

They turned around, but before they could proceed further into the room, Xiao stopped them with his spear pointed in their direction.

The intruder froze when their eyes met. Xiao quickly identified them to be a civilian, visiting Liyue from Mondstadt, judging by their clothes.

“State your business,” Xiao spat. The stranger flinched, but then frowned and stammered out a few sounds trying to find their response.

“Are you serious?” They said, “I’m trying not to freeze out there, that’s what! I just need shelter.”

Xiao frowned and pushed his spear forwards their throat, making them put their hands in the air. “You're lying.” he said, not hesitating for a second. “Why would you enter through a window if you’re not up to anything shady?”

The intruder rolled their eyes at him and Xiao frowned and straightened his back in offense. What a foolish mortal to disregard his threats like that. Perhaps they just didn’t care whether they lived or died.

“I don’t have any money. I was going to sleep outside during this trip but the weather had other plans–” They stopped once their eyes landed on something behind Xiao. “Oh thank Barbatos, a fireplace!”

They carelessly walked around Xiao and hurried over to the unlit fireplace, completely forgetting about the spear that was just pointed at their throat, and busying themselves with kindling a fire. Xiao sighed. Why did he even bother?

“You must not do this very often,” he said, lowering down his weapon.

“Why do you say that?” They replied with a frown, as if they were offended by the critique of their criminal skills.

“If you light a fire, you will alert the staff of your presence.”

They paused for a brief second, giving away the fact that they had not realised this fact, but then continued their busy work nonetheless.

“Well you already know I’m here right?” They looked down at their lap, shoulders tense. “Aren’t you part of the staff?”

“I am not.” He replied curtly. “This is none of my business?”

“Then why are you even here?” They pouted, just as they got a little spark off in the fireplace. It would take a while for this fire to be able to warm their body, especially judging the way they were tending to it, but they already scooted closer to in relief.

Xiao meanwhile, was frozen in place by their words. Why WAS he here? The shock of potential danger had gotten him up and ready to fight, but now that that threat had turned out to be some daft unprepared traveler, why hadn’t he returned to his room?

Now that he thought of it, his karmic debt was suspiciously calm at this moment.

“Well then, aren’t you going to kick me out and let me freeze to death?” Xiao looked back at the stranger as they spoke, their eyes defiant, but still scared despite everything. “What happened to the good old holiday spirit?”

“Holiday?” Xiao asked, raising a brow.

“Ah, I forget they don’t celebrate in Liyue.” The intruder mumbled, throwing some more kindling on the fire.

He then remembered he HAD heard of something like they was describing, including lights, giving each other presents and consuming copious amounts of food and alcohol

“Does… Does Barbatos celebrate this holiday?”

“I- What?” His question had caught them off guard. “Lord Barbatos hasn’t been with us for centuries.”

Xiao let out a heavy sigh. Of course, it was foolish to ask a mortal. Still, he couldn’t imagine Barbatos turning down any celebrations– or alcohol for that matter.

The image of Barbatos smiling amongst many people celebrating this feast stung somehow.

He sheathed his spear in defeat. Then, using his anemo powers, he softly guided the flames to grow bigger, causing the stranger to flinch and look back up at him in surprise.

“You can stay in this room,” he said, mentally preparing himself to take responsibility towards Verr Goldet later. “But if you go anywhere else, trust me, I’ll know.”

Several seconds passed. Xiao couldn’t stop the dread that his body felt at the idea of having to return to his suffering at the hand of his karmic debt, no matter how much he mentally scolded himself for it.

Then they cleared their throat, taking Xiao out of his thoughts. “Thank you then, ehm. I promise to stay put.”

They prodded at the fire with the fire poker, causing their previously questionable structure to collapse. Irritation filled Xiao's face.

“You’re doing it wrong.” He said, kneeling down next to them. “You’re a horribly prepared traveler.”

Their shoulders drooped in shame. “I– shut up, okay? I would’ve loved to not have been here either!”

Xiao nodded absent mindedly. They must have their own reasons for not being in Mondstadt then. He took charge of the fire poker and started rearranging the wood, despite their weak protests.

“T-there’s really no need for this…” They pouted.

“You’ll freeze to death if you don’t warm up soon,” he simply stated. “I know that much.”

Minutes passed as they finally accepted his help. He sat by them in silence, before it was broken by the sound of their sobs.

“I-I’m sorry.” they said. “It’s just– I really do wish I was home.”

Xiao looked at them, trying to think of what to say. He wasn’t all that good at comforting humans. The eye contact seemed to have the opposite effect of his intentions as they squirmed under it until finally facing the other way.

“I was planning to cry when you left,” They sobbed. “It’s your fault for staying.”

Xiao sighed, resigning himself to staying. “Tell me about it then?”

They shyly peeked over their shoulder while trying to dry off their tears.

“The holiday. And why are you not home during this time. The morning is hours away, tell me everything.”

------

RIGHT so, this was supposed to be for a secret Santa from @thesteambird that had a word limit of 500...., which as you can see this thing is not. I decided it'd be stupid to scrap outright, so here it is!

I edited it to have they/them pronouns, but I wouldn't be surprised if I fucked that up somewhere, feel free to let me know of any errors if you find them. This isn't THAT thoroughly edited so yeah. Usually I do more character research b4 writing so might be OOC as well, though probably not crazily so imo.

Happy holidays!

Cross posted to AO3

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 14: Rebirth

Contents | Part 13 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) Ellis is beginning to learn that what is meant for her won't pass her by.

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult and sexual themes. Descriptions of periods/menstruation, financial struggles and money talk, discussions of death, grief & loss. Readers must be 18+

Soleil's eyes were the deepest blue, like two shiny, round gems of Lapis Lazuli. You found yourself staring at them in awe as you flicked through photos of her on your computer; even the clumsy editing and dull colour grading unable to diminish their shine. 

Still, Mara was right, the pictures were bad. So bad you couldn't fix them. You huffed and leaned back in the desk chair, staring up at the ceiling of your office, the weird piece of dangling plaster in the corner that hadn't moved the whole time you'd worked there. You hadn't been able to focus in days, couldn't keep still; your mind and body overwrought with a sense of uneasiness that left you with bitten nails and a pain between your shoulder blades.

The chair almost tipped back. You jerked forward and caught yourself before you fell, looking around the room in embarrassment despite there being no one there. You cleared your throat and went back to work, sipping on lukewarm coffee as you typed out a disgruntled email.

There was an ache in your lower back as you sat up straight, a heaviness in your pelvis that made you squirm in search of comfort. You ignored it at first, the pain nothing more than a niggle. But after a few minutes you paused, wondering if it could be something more.

You grabbed your bag and left the office, making your way down the corridor and into the women's bathroom. You locked yourself in a cubicle and hastily unbuttoned your trousers, relief pouring out of you in a heavy sigh when you saw blood in your underwear. 

"Oh, thank god," you whispered to yourself as you sat on the toilet, head falling into your hands. 

You'd only been three days late. But those three days felt like an eternity. Waiting for something, anything; a cramp or the slightest twinge, for a spot to appear on your chin, for your breasts to hurt when you squeezed them. You'd driven yourself mad, checking the foil packets of your pills for one you might have forgotten to take, scrolling back through your period app to work out when you would have ovulated. It would be just your luck - your punishment - the consequences of your sacrilege.

"Thank god, thank god, thank god," you muttered as you rummaged through your bag for a tampon, instead finding a single pantyliner and a packet of paracetamol. 

You huffed and put on the liner, buttoning up your trousers and stepping out of the cubicle. You walked over to the sinks where the free tampons usually sat, breathing out a laugh in disbelief when you found the large basket completely empty.

Dawn was sat behind the reception desk, the empty foyer echoing with the sound of her nails clacking against the computer keyboard. You rubbed your washed hands on the sides of your trousers as you walked over to her. 

"You alright, hun?" she asked, glancing up at you briefly. 

"There's no tampons in the toilets," you replied quietly. 

"Oh yeah, there was a problem with the supplier, something to do with that time I ordered a million by mistake. Delivery won't be here 'til next week I don't think." 

You closed your eyes and sighed. "Okay, I'm going to be out of office for about twenty minutes." 

"Okay love. Get yourself some dark chocolate too; good for cramps." 

You rolled your eyes and laughed. "Thanks." 

The country was five days into a heatwave. The thick, sticky air so close and suffocating you practically had to wade through it as you walked down the street. You hated it; how it made your clothes feel wrong on your body, made your eyes itch and your hair stick to your skin. You would walk past people sitting in pub gardens, their faces glowing as they laughed and drank together, and wonder if the sun somehow felt different to other people. If, to them, its smothering heat was more like a warm kiss.

There was a Boots a few streets over from work. You walked there quickly, stepping inside the air-conditioned shop and sighing as the cool, refreshing air soothed your burning skin. You dawdled down the aisles, basking in the relief from the sun, looking at body washes you didn't need and makeup you already had at home. When you got to your aisle, there was a young woman already there. She was looking at pregnancy tests, a different brand in each hand as she read the boxes carefully. You caught each other's gaze for a moment as you picked up your tampons, exchanging polite smiles, neither knowing whether to be happy or sorry for the other. 

You stood in the queue as a single cashier worked behind the tills. You didn't mind waiting, much preferring to look at the summer weather through a window than be stuck outside in it. There was a man standing over the road that caught your eye; a smart navy blue suit, shirt, tie and full dress shoes. How was he not melting? You watched as he hovered outside the building, straightening a tall signpost that had tilted slightly to one side. 

The queue shifted forward. You took a step closer and looked back out, taking more notice of the building behind him. It was three stories, victorian, ivy climbing over weathered brick and stone. The small front garden was plush and green, with flowers and a wooden bench beneath the front window, a path leading up to the pale blue front door where three separate letter boxes sat beside it. It was flats. 

"Who's next?" the cashier called out. 

You walked up to her, barely able to keep your eyes off the suited man as he took a leather binder from his car and walked back towards the signpost in the front garden. 

"Do you need a bag?" the cashier asked. 

"Er no, no it's okay. Thank you." 

She handed you your receipt and you took the box, walking out of the shop and making your way across the road. 

You stepped up onto the kerb and wandered closer to the building, gazing up at it, trying to figure out which floor held the vacant flat. 

"Hi, are you here for the viewing?" asked the man as he approached you. 

You turned to him in a slight daze, lips parted slightly before letting out a simple "Yes." 

It was like a compulsion. First Father Benedict, now him. Had you not learned your lesson?

"Oh okay great," he said, mopping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. "Sorry, my colleague called in sick this morning so I'm looking after her properties for the day. Haven't got any of her appointment info. I'm Aaron." 

He reached out to shake your hand, his eyes falling on the box of tampons you were holding. You looked down at them, then back up to him, pressing your lips into an awkward smile. 

"Right, well," he said, clearing his throat. "Shall we?" 

You followed him up the path and waited as he unlocked the door. He stepped aside to let you walk in first, closing it behind you.

"We'll be viewing 336C, which is the top floor," he said, pointing up the stairs. 

You looked around the entry hall, at the pretty tiled floor and cork board on the wall pinned with friendly messages and posters, a cute frog-shaped doormat outside 336A. He started up the stairs and you followed, taking in every detail as he continued to speak. 

"So the property is comprised of three flats. One on each floor. It's a converted house so it's had quite a bit of refurb done to alter the layout." He paused on the middle landing to catch his breath and mop his brow again before continuing, flicking through the notes in his folder as he went. "The owners say the neighbours are lovely, they take really good care of the place, as you can see. Area's also great; you've got the high street, bus and train station nearby, low crime, great schools - if that's something you're concerned about." 

You reached the top floor landing, still holding the box of tampons as he unlocked the door to the flat and gestured for you to follow.

"So it's listed as a one bed, one bath," he continued as he wandered into the flat. "But my colleague's written here that there's another room that could be used as a second bedroom if needed. It's just quite small so it's currently being utilised as an office. If you come this way you can see we enter straight into the living space..." 

He was still talking, but you could barely hear him anymore; your mind slipping into a state of awe as you laid eyes on the place for the first time. Your lips parted slightly as you drew in a soft gasp at the sight of a large stained glass window flooding the living area with shafts of iridescent light. It made you think of the church, of Father Benedict, but most of all, it made you think of serenity, of joy and of home.

You walked over to it, running your fingers over the lead ridges separating the pieces of coloured glass, how they swirled into flowers and hearts and ribbons, soaking in the sun's rays and turning them the most stunning shades of greens, pinks and gold. 

"It's a really lovely property, very unique," said Aaron. "Open but still cozy, lots of natural light. If you come through here I'll show you the kitchen." 

You turned around as he opened a door on the other side of the room, following him into a small kitchen and listening as he reeled off information from his folder. He took you through to a small alcove at the back of the flat, the bedrooms and bathroom neatly tucked away inside, letting you wander around as he spoke.  

"You've not said a lot," he laughed nervously as you walked back into the living area. 

"Sorry, I'm just... I wasn't expecting to like it this much."

"Oh, well that's good to hear. It is a really nice place. Would it just be you living here or is there a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Kids? Flatmates?" 

"It would just be me." 

He nodded. "I think it's the perfect size for one. Can just see you now, sitting by that window reading a book, coffee in hand." 

You smiled, pausing for a moment and swallowing hard. "C-can you just remind me how much it's going for... per month?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry it's er- This one isn't a rental. It's for sale." 

Your heart shattered, falling to pieces in your chest. You licked your lips, keeping your face straight. "Right, sorry, I don't know why I said that. I've been looking at rentals as well, must have got mixed up." 

"That's alright." He smiled and flicked a page in his folder. "This is listed for... £175,000." 

And just like that, the pieces in your chest turned to dust. 

"Okay, great, thank you," you said. "Well, I'll erm, I go away and y'know, speak to my... people and... yeah." 

He nodded and took a business card from his pocket, handing it to you with a smile. You placed it on the box of tampons, holding it there with your thumb as he began to walk you out. You turned back, taking one last look at the place before the door closed, a strange feeling of homesickness coming over you. 

"Can I just ask how much mortgage payments would be?" you asked as you followed him down the stairs. 

"Well I'm sure your broker will know better than I would," he replied. "But usually if you put up a 10% deposit, let's say 25 years, you're looking at something quite reasonable. Depends how good your mortgage is." 

"10%... So... £17,500...?" 

"Yep." 

"Right, okay, easy enough."

"I can't tell if you're joking or not," he laughed. 

"Everyone says that." 

You couldn't stop thinking about the flat. Every day after work, you would walk past it, just to check it hadn't been sold yet, as though there was any way you would ever be able to buy it. You would daydream about sitting at the window, just like Aaron said, book in hand, watching rain patter against the multicoloured glass. You furnished the place in your head, chose paints and tiles and cushions, imagined people coming over and saying 'wow, Ellis, you're so lucky to have such a beautiful home'. 

But you weren't the lottery-winning type. Weren't the kind of person to come up with an idea that made millions, or meet someone so rich that £17.5K would be like lending someone a fiver. It was unattainable. A dream. Another reminder that you were so far behind where you thought you would be by now. 

A car horn beeped, then beeped again a few moments later. You checked your reflection in the mirror and opened the front door. 

"Mum, Mara's here, I'm going," you shouted. 

"Okay, love," she called back from upstairs. 

You ran down the path, opening the passenger door of Mara's big, pristinely white car and climbing inside. She hated the heat too, the air-con blasting so strong it raised the hairs on your arms. 

"Hi," you said.

"Hi," she replied, eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. "Seatbelt." 

"Yes, yes, I know." 

She waited until you'd strapped yourself in before pulling away, the car engine so smooth and quiet you could barely hear it. 

You glanced over your shoulder into the back. "No baby?" 

"No, funnily enough I am allowed to leave the house without her," she replied sarcastically. 

You rolled your eyes and looked out the passenger window. "I take it you're still pissed off with me for convincing you to come today?" 

"Yep." 

You laughed halfheartedly. 

She looked over at you for a moment, then back to the road. "What's up with you?" 

You sighed, hesitating to speak.

"Tell me," she insisted. 

"I just..." You took a deep breath. "I'm losing hope that I'm ever going to get on my feet again." 

She pulled into traffic, taking extra care to look around before speeding up. "What do you mean? It's only been, what, like a month?"

"Yeah I know. Just feels hopeless though. Like, I found a place. The perfect place. Beautiful, safe, quiet, walking distance from work. Only to find out it's for sale, not to let." 

"Well that doesn't make it hopeless. Nathan and I have a really good broker, I can ask him to do the numbers for you, shop around and see if anywhere would offer you a mortgage-"

"Unless you can find a way of pulling £17,500 out of my arse, there's honestly no point." 

"Is that the deposit?" 

"Mhm." 

She paused before huffing to herself. "This fucking economy. Ridiculous." 

"It's fine. I went and viewed another flat yesterday which is to let."

"Oh, well see, there you go." 

"Mm. It's right round the corner from where that girl got murdered last year, which is nice. The hallway smelled like piss and weed and it was so small I could cook my dinner, take a shit and watch TV all at the same time. But beggars can't be choosers, so..."

She stifled a laugh, trying to hide it with a cough. "You're not actually going to take it, are you?" 

"I don't know. I can't get that other place out of my head, but I can't stay with mum forever. It just made me feel so shit how out of reach it is for me. Like my future is just so bleak and..." 

You felt yourself getting choked up, the lump in your throat catching you by surprise. You never cried, especially not in front of your sister. You rubbed your mouth to disguise your trembling lip, clearing your throat and turning away from her. 

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, adjusting her sunglasses as she drove. "What's meant for you won't pass you by," she said. 

You remained quiet for a while, inhaling through your nose, filling your lungs to the brim and letting it flow out again slowly. 

"Oh, I looked at Soleil's photos for you," you said, changing the subject.

"And? I'm right aren't I, they look like shit." 

"Yeah they're fucking awful." 

"I told you. I'm fuming, Ellis. I danced around like a twat in that studio just to get her to smile for the camera." 

You laughed. "I've sent an email to the head office to get you another session for free." 

"Oh... Thank you," she said with a grateful surprise. "Can I request you edit them? I don't trust anyone else." 

You smiled to yourself but didn't dare let her see. "Yeah, I'll make sure they come to me." 

You pulled up into the church carpark, climbing out into the sickly heat with a synchronised groan. Mara walked around the car to meet you, fixing the straps of her maxi dress and hoisting her bag on her shoulder. 

"I can't believe I agreed to this," she mumbled. 

"It's fine, I've been before, they're not that bad," you replied, beginning the walk towards the parish pub.

"Not that bad? I couldn't think of anything worse than doing circle time with a bunch of miserable people moaning about their problems." 

"You're so compassionate, Mara." 

She growled, fixing the strap of her dress again. "I'm telling you now, I'm not speaking at this thing. I'll introduce myself and that's it. And if anyone mistakes me for your mother I will walk out." 

You made it to the pub, walking inside to find it bustling with regulars, familiar faces you'd come to know from church. 

"My god," said Mara, leaning in to talk quietly. "It's a Tuesday afternoon, why aren't people at work?" 

"We're not at work either..." 

She pushed her sunglasses onto her head. "Fair point." 

You gestured towards the back. She walked through a small group of people near the bar, the crowd parting effortless in her presence. You'd always found her aura fascinating; how commanding yet charming, terrifying yet charismatic she could be. People always said you looked alike, how similar you were in some ways, and you couldn't help but wonder if Mara was who you could have been if you hadn't spent so much of your life scared to be noticed. 

She stopped at the door to the back room, reading the sign and turning to you. "Do we knock?" 

"No, just go in," you replied. 

She opened the door and stepped inside. The circle of chairs was almost full, their eyes all glancing up at you in unison. You walked in behind her, your gaze immediately falling on Father Benedict, the corners of your mouth pulling into an involuntary smile.

"Sorry we're late," said Mara. "We can leave if we're interrupting." 

"Not at all," he replied cheerily, standing up to greet you. 

"Nice try," you muttered. 

She elbowed you in the side before smiling at him kindly. He shook her hand and directed her to a seat. Then he turned to you, taking your hand in his and shaking it like a perfect gentleman. 

"Ellis," he said, eyes creasing at the corners.

"Father," you replied, stifling a smirk.

"I believe many of you know Ellis already," he said, turning to the group. "And this is her sister Mara." 

You sat next to each other on the far side of the circle, saying hello as everyone greeted you quietly. 

"You haven't missed much," he said as he sat back down opposite you, crossing one leg over the other and brushing his hair back away from his face. "We were just talking about how our weeks have been since the last meeting. Sandra, would you like to continue what you were saying?" 

The older woman nodded and cleared her throat. "As I said, my granddaughter asked me if I could make some cakes for her school bake sale. Usually I'd have just done them for her and dropped them off, but I thought about what you said Father, about not shutting ourselves off. So I invited her to come and make them with me." 

"Oh, that's lovely," he said, a genuine smile on his face. 

"It was. She came 'round and we baked and talked about Harold. She remembered stories about him that even I'd forgot, it was a wonderful afternoon." 

There was a murmur of kind words around the room. Mara sat quietly. 

"Could you have imagined a few months ago you would've been able to do that?" asked Father Benedict.

"I know," she giggled proudly.

"I suppose that's another reason why these groups can be so helpful," he said. "We're not all going to be at the same stage in our grief, sometimes it can be encouraging to see people who may be further along than we are. It can provide us that hope that we will get there too." 

You loved how confidently he spoke. How easily he could lead a group of people and have them listening with such intent. It was a charm that didn't come with the job; it was innate, as natural to him as breathing. You envied it, almost as much as you admired it. 

"You brought up something interesting there, Sandra," he continued. "Something I actually wanted to touch on today. And that is remembering those we've lost through speaking about how they lived. When we talk of Jesus Christ-"

"Fucking hell," Mara mumbled under her breath. 

You turned to look at her, laughing quietly. 

"Yes we talk of how he died for our sins," he continued. "His death is important and we celebrate and give thanks to him for his sacrifice. But if we think about the size of the bible, the amount of stories we have of his life starting right from birth, the words he shared and the incredible things he did, those are abundantly more significant to his memory and why we choose to serve and follow his word." 

Everyone nodded in agreement while you and Mara remained still. 

"And we tell the stories of his life freely and openly and happily. We are eager to share. So why not do the same with those we actually had the privilege to know and love and be loved by." He leaned back slightly in his chair. "Why don't we go around and share one fun fact or story about our departed loved ones? Marion, would you like to start?" 

Mara glared at you from the corner of her eye. You shrugged awkwardly. 

"My dad loved practical jokes," Marion began. "I remember one time my mum was in the kitchen and my dad started screaming from upstairs 'Mary, get up here quick! There's a huge leak in the bathroom!' She ran up the stairs so fast she fell up them. Only to get to the bathroom and find my dad laughing his head off because he'd put a big leek from our vegetable patch on the toilet. Y'know... Leek, leak..."  

Everyone chuckled. 

Father Benedict gave a warm smile. "Sounds like he had a great sense of humour." 

"He did. Drove my mum mad, though." 

"That's the best kind of relationship." 

You glanced across the circle at him. He caught your eye, just for a moment, before moving onto the next person. 

Mara grew more and more irritable with every person who gave a story, Father Benedict's attention like an avalanche tumbling further towards her.

"Mara," he finally said. 

You stilled, waiting with a mixture of curiosity and concern. 

"You're new here today," he said. "So before we hear your story, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?" 

"Oh no, that's okay," she replied. 

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, creating deep lines in his cheeks, a curve in his cupid's bow. "Are you sure?" He kept his eyes on her, unwaveringly confident.

She cleared her throat. You turned your head to look at her, brow furrowing in shock. 

"I'm Mara," she said reluctantly. "I am Ellis' older sister. I have a husband and a daughter and I work for a large car manufacturing company."

"Okay, good, we're glad you're here, Mara," he said. "Do you have a story you'd like to share?" 

Her mouth tightened, and you began to feel like this was a mistake. He said this would be good for her, but he didn't know her like you did. He didn't grow up scared to utter your brother's name in case it upset her. You wanted to grab her hand and tell her you were going. She was right, this was a stupid idea.

"No, that's okay," she said. 

"I know it can be daunting, speaking about such a sensitive topic in front of strangers. May I ask who you lost?" 

She crossed one leg over the other, resting her hands on her knee. "My brother," she muttered. 

"How long ago?" 

She cleared her throat, glaring at him, knowing full well he already knew. "When I was twenty-one. He was twenty-four." 

Your eyes fell to your hands as you picked at your cuticle to avoid looking at her.

"Were you close?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I get the feeling you still find it difficult to talk about him..."

She didn't respond. You peered up to find them staring at each other in a silent standoff. 

"It can be helpful to examine why we struggle to reminisce about those that are no longer with us," he said, addressing everyone. "Is it anger? Guilt? Are we uncomfortable when confronted with feelings of sadness and grief? We talk a lot in these sessions about acceptance, about trusting that God has wrapped his arms around our loved ones and will reunite us with them one day. But that doesn't necessarily fix the sorrow we feel while having to live without them."

He stood up and walked to the table at the back, picking up a bottle of water and unscrewing the lid. 

"When I lost my brother," he continued, taking a large sip. "I built a wall around myself for a long time. I believed that wall was there to protect me from the pain, from the guilt and grief. But in protecting myself, I realised all I was really doing was diminishing his memory. It wasn't until I accepted it was okay to laugh and smile when talking about him, that I began to heal. I realised it was still okay to take the mick out of him and call him an idiot and say how much he got on my nerves, because that's who he was, those were the parts of him that lived on." He sat back down, placing the bottle under his chair. "Which is why I find this a great opportunity for us to speak positively about those we've lost." 

"I have a story," you said. 

He turned his attention to you and smiled. "Let's hear it." 

"My brother Cain..." you began tentatively. "Our brother. He was twelve years older than me so by the time I started secondary school he was already in his early twenties. I erm, I suppose you could say I was a bit weird in school..." 

Father Benedict's mouth twitched with a smirk, he rubbed his lips with the tips of his fingers to disguise it.

"There was a group of girls who'd been picking on me, and I let it slip to Cain. He was... livid. So the next day, school finished and as usual, these girls were standing at the gates saying nasty things to me. Next minute he pulled up in the car, walked over to them and told them if they ever so much as looked at me again he'd beat up their dads." 

You started laughing, the image of him comically shaking his fist at a group of eleven-year-olds still so vivid in your mind. You looked over at Mara to find her chuckling quietly, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I should say the church doesn't condone violence," said Father Benedict, making everyone laugh. 

"He was usually so gentle," said Mara. "He'd never hit anyone in his life which is why it was so funny." 

"And it worked," you said. "They never bothered me again." 

"Mara...?" said Father Benedict. "Any other stories come to mind?" 

She sighed, thinking for a moment. "Cain was... really funny. But what made him endearing was how comfortable he was in his own skin." 

You looked at her from the corner of your eye, scared to move in case it made her stop talking. 

"He er- We... We went on holiday to Spain one year. I was fifteen so he must've been... eighteen?" She turned to you. "You were about to turn six. Do you remember it?" 

You shook your head. "Vaguely." 

"Anyway, he erm- We were staying in one of those hotels that did entertainment at night, they'd get guests involved, all that. We'd just had dinner and we'd sat down for the show and realised Cain still wasn't back from the toilet. Mum sent dad looking for him, he wasn't in there, not in the room either, he literally couldn't find him anywhere on the complex. So they were just about to go and tell the hotel staff he was missing, when the entertainment started." She paused, laughing slightly to herself. "It was... a drag night. The host came out, started doing a routine to RuPaul's Supermodel, and out came a group of male guests in full drag. And there was Cain, dancing away; wig, dress, high heels and the worst makeup you've ever seen."

She was giggling now, her face bright, glowing with the memory. 

Father Benedict gave a deep, throaty chuckle. "Do you see parts of him in yourself?" 

"God no- Sorry, didn't mean to take the lord's name in vein. Just... no. I'm pragmatic and stiff and ordinary. He was vibrant and insouciant, clever and charming and unbelievably gorgeous yet so... weird." She turned to you. "You remind me of him. A lot."

Some may have taken that as an insult, a backhanded compliment. But to you, it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said. 

"You're not ordinary," you said.

"More ordinary than you," she replied.

You laughed. "I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing." 

The heatwave had yielded, like a fever that finally broke. The air was still warm, but the sky was grey, the scent of minerals and musk rising from the pavement as rain threatened to fall. You got off the bus and made the short walk to your mother's house, thankful to be done with another week of work. 

Nathan's car was parked on the street outside the house, and you groaned at the prospect of another 'family dinner'. The first drops of warm rain began to spit. You titled your head back, letting it pepper your face, soothing the slight burn across your cheeks. 

You opened the front door and stepped inside to find Mara and Nathan sitting in the living room, furrowing your brow when they both fell silent. 

"Have I interrupted something?" you asked.

Nathan stood up. "I'll leave you two to talk."

You narrowed your eyes as he disappeared into the kitchen, giving Mara a dubious look as you sat down on the couch. 

"What have I done?" you asked. 

"Nothing," she said. 

"Where's mum?" 

"In the kitchen with the baby."

"Has something bad happened?" 

"No, fucking hell Ellis just relax." She laughed as she sat up straight, crossing one leg over the other and turning her body to face you. "Nathan and I have been talking."

"Are you breaking up? That's a shame, I like him." 

"No." She sighed. "We're not breaking- can you just... let me talk?" 

You stayed quiet, relaxing back into the couch and waiting for her to continue. 

"We've been talking with our broker and he's managed to get you an agreement in principle for a mortgage."

You stared at her in confusion. 

"He can't go any further until he speaks with you, obviously, but he's confident he can get you accepted." She cleared her throat. "Of course, you'll need to put in an offer, he recommends going straight in at asking price, then we can-"

"Wait, wait, wait. What?" 

"The flat." 

"M-mara." You sat up, leaning forward slightly. "I appreciate you doing all of that, but... It's pointless. I can't afford-"

"We're going to give you the deposit," she interrupted quickly. "It won't be a loan, it'll be a gift. So you don't have to worry about paying it back. We'll also cover any fees and help you with furnishing if you need it." 

You sat there in silence, lips parted, eyes glassy with confusion.

"Ellis...?" 

"How rich are you?" 

"Fuck sake, mate, focus." 

"Sorry, I just- It's... Why?" 

"Why what?" 

"Why would you do that for me?" 

"Because I'm your sister," she said firmly. 

You paused, your breathing shallow as you tried to quiet your racing thoughts. "Mara, I can't accept that." 

"Why not?" 

"Because it's too much. It's... So much money. I can't take that from you." 

"Yes you can." 

"No, I can't." 

"Do you want to live with mum forever? Or in the pissy murder flat?" 

"Obviously not, but-"

"Then here you go, we're giving you the fresh start you need." 

"Mara, I can't," you said, your voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. 

"Yes. You. Can. Let me do this one thing for you." 

"I... I need to think about it."

"What is there to think about?" 

"I don't know, I just need to... think. Thank you, honestly, thank you. But I need to..."

She sighed, leaning back into the couch. "Okay. Then think about it. But just know the longer you take, the more you're risking the flat being snapped up by someone else." 

You stood up but your legs felt like jelly, almost giving way beneath you. You walked slowly to the stairs, clinging to the banister as you climbed them. You were dreaming, you had to be. 

You made it to your room, closing the door and pulling out your phone with shaking hands, pressing Father Benedict's name and holding the phone to your ear. 

"Hello?" he answered.

You hadn't seen him since the grief meeting four days earlier, his voice a welcomed comfort as it melted through the phone. 

"Hi," you said. "Are you busy?" 

"No, just catching up on some paperwork in the office. Are you alright?" 

"Do you think I could come and see you? I could do with some... guidance?" 

"Really? Is that code for something?" 

"No," you exhaled a laugh. "I just need an ear, maybe some advice." 

"Okay," he said sceptically. "Are you sure you're alright?" 

"Yeah. I'll be there soon." 

The taxi pulled up outside the church. You climbed out and made your way onto the grounds, walking down the rain-speckled path as the warm breeze carried the scent of flowers and damp earth.

You walked around to the side door, tapping your knuckles against it and waiting, looking over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one saw you. He pushed open the door and let you inside, greeting you with a handsome smile. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to the elbows, but his collar was still fastened tight around his neck. His hair was curlier than usual, a slight sunburn across the bridge of his nose.

He took you into his office, sitting back down behind his desk and returning to the mound of papers in front of him. You dropped down onto the couch facing him, watching his fingers grip the pen as he scribbled his signature, the veins protruding in his forearms as he moved.

"So what's wrong?" he asked. "You sounded worried on the phone."

"Not worried, just confused. I don't- Does the bible say anything about accepting big gifts?" 

He stopped writing and glanced over at you, brows coming together over his pale eyes. "You're not being bribed, are you?" 

"No," you laughed. "My sister... She's offered to give me money for a flat. A lot of money." 

"Well that's great." 

"Is it?"

He leaned back in his chair, fingers clasped together in his lap. "The bible says 'God loves a cheerful giver'."

"So..."

"So why do you care what the bible says?" he laughed. "You're not catholic, you don't believe in any of it." 

"I know but I... Sometimes I just think it would be easier if I had some sort of faith, y'know, something to live my life by, to consult when I need to make big decisions." 

"You don't need to be religious to have faith." He stood up, walking around the desk and leaning back against it. "Faith is about dedicating yourself to something bigger than yourself. There are no rules to say that something has to be a god." 

"What else is there?" 

"I don't know; community, philanthropy, love, justice, fucking extraterrestrials." 

You dropped your head and laughed. He walked over and sat down beside you.

"If faith is what you need in order to live your life then you'll find it," he said.

You looked at him for a moment, before sighing and rolling your eyes.

"Was that not helpful?" he laughed.

"I just want to be told what to do." 

"You want me to tell you what to do?" 

"Please." 

"Take the money, Ellis." He said softly. "Why punish yourself any further?" 

"Because how do I ever repay her for something like that?" 

"I'm sure she's not looking for repayment. She loves you, she wants you to be happy." 

You stayed quiet, looking around the room for a moment before rolling your shoulders with a tired groan.  He reached out and placed his large hand on the back of your neck, massaging it with his fingers. You closed your eyes and relaxed into the firm pressure.

"Do you want to stay while I finish my work?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, eyes still closed. 

He gave one final squeeze and let go, standing up and returning to his desk. 

You curled your legs underneath yourself, resting your head on the arm of the couch as you watched him work. It was hard not to imagine the two of you in that flat; you relaxing on the couch while he worked at the table by the window, bathed in light from the coloured glass, comfy clothes and a cigarette in his mouth. 

Your eyelids grew heavy as you imagined him pulling you to your feet, kissing you and laughing as you danced around the flat to Van Morrison. And you wouldn't have to leave if you didn't want to, because it was yours.

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[endursent]

- God Shattering Star

【 content; morax | rex lapis x reader , slow burn , mutual pining , multi-chapter , archon war period , afab!reader 】

【 note; read on ao3 】

【 word count; 4.808 | previous chapter - next chapter | masterlist 】

- Chapter 4 - Exudation

Biggest mistake you’ve made in a while.

  The little path was overgrown with bushes, trees and little cute flowers that you had leaned closer to inspect… and immediately souring your sightseeing was a spider the size of your palm and fingers landing on your head. 

  You don’t think you’ve run so fast in your entire life—maybe. 

  You still felt small tickling sensations on your nape hours after, your spine shuddering at the mere thought that the spider could still be there. Just in case, you had to pat along your back the best you could every ten minutes to ease your nerves, and thankfully you never found anything crawling inside your clothes. What a terrifying way to start your exploring… The rest was fine, you had some street food for lunch, some type of thin-dough wrapped around folded stirred eggs and an incredible chilli sauce nearly marinated in the eggs, it was warm and soft, almost fluffy as it broke down in your mouth. 

  Even after hours of sightseeing and almost being knocked down by the dense crowds of the city a handful of times, you’re still not sure you’ll be used to so many people in one place anytime soon, you start to head back to the palaces. Most of the afflicted have been cured and there’s mostly work left for a proper doctor that you have little knowledge and skill in handling, it’s likely you’ll be heading back home soon. Maybe you’ll stay around the capital for a while, explore it properly over the course of a few days and learn some recipes from the locals, the little village could do with some more varied foods. 

  The sun is still high in the sky and you don’t want to head home just yet, so you have a look around one of the larger streets to find something–perhaps an afternoon tea? You could do with a light snack before scaling the thousand steps back up to the palaces. 

  The streets haven’t scaled back at all, there’s still seven people across the streets building-to-building in endless rows, some elbowing past in a hurry while others stop to look at stalls or talk to vendors–the air has grown a noticeable grilling scent, as the doughy foods of the earlier day have sold out, and vendors begin to lay sticks of vegetables, meats or seafoods over fire. You barely managed to slip between people to get to a large house that caught your attention. Instead of the stone walls and brown wood, this building has very distinctive red wooden beams and a black roof in place of a deep brown. 

  It stands out so distinctively that it couldn’t just be some family house.

  And you were right, the doors are wide open and music seeps into the streets from open windows. You walked into the largest teahouse you’ve seen in your life, it was large from the outside and across the street, sure, but it felt much larger once you looked up after stepping inside. Nearly all the tables you could see were full of people, either conversing quietly in the corners or along the walls or watching silently the closer they got to the stage. 

  Upon that stage are three people, a woman with her hair gently taken back and tied with a string, only a few strands hovering over her hands that play a guzheng with gentle tugs of her fingers. A second woman stands on the stage wearing elaborate robes, the inner layers a rich blue with intricate stitching that formed winds and clouds climbing up the smooth fabric, paler blues decorate her shoulders and arms where a thin silk cloth sways with her movements. Right of the two women is a man holding an erhu, his hand was still at the moment as the woman with the guzheng plucks the strings in a soft rhythm.

  Your attention is taken from the stage as a server approaches you to guide you to a table, you nearly have to tear your eyes from the three as you follow the server to the second floor. From the height, you can see the stage clearly, red hand railing spotless and polished being the only barrier preventing you from falling down and breaking your wrists as you lean over it to watch closer. 

  The singer turns her back to the teahouse and raises a hand towards the painted panels set against the wall, it depicts high mountains in a dark blue-grey hue with dark clouds in a similar colour wafting above. Below the mountain are green fields and small houses, spread across what is likely supposed to be hours of travel between, with streams leaking from the mountaintops and down past the fertile land. 

  The language she uses is hard to discern, it’s an old tale in the form of an poem–and while you can read and write just fine… your skills in picking apart poetry and understanding it’s depth could be better, you recall the old archivist trying to slip in books of lore and myth in between your already ceiling high stacks of study, but you set them back when you found them. He never quite forgave you for depriving him of a second head to put into old dusty books. 

   The man finally moves his hand, the long draw of the erhu seems to glide with the singer’s robes as she spins back to the hundred eyes watching the performance. She recounts the directions of winds as they glide over the mountain, how the villages below at the foot of it are depraved of rain and that their crops and people are weak. Some parts of the poem go over your head, using old words you’ve never heard before to describe… the moon? No, some type of celestial object. You dip your finger in the chilli sauce on the table and draw the characters on the panels down on your napkin. There are four on each panel between the mountain and clouds, but you’re not entirely sure what they mean. Chilli sauce doesn’t make for good ink, but it’s good enough… provided you find proper paper to move it to soon. 

  The singer brings her hands to her chest and describes a path of cultivation and reflection, how she felt drawn to the high skies and scaled the highest mountain she could find to reach them, until she reached past the skies and to the heavens. She was so fond of the villages at the foot of the mountain that she brought rain and moisture to them every season, she defeated monsters and held the mountains during heavy quakes to prevent them from falling onto the farms. 

  There was no real conclusion to the story, you pieced together that it must be an old tale of a protective god of a certain region, probably still worshipped to this day and the tale is recounting her ascension and blessing. You wonder if that person is real, it’s not so unbelievable; but she was never named, and neither were the villages or the region.

  You finally make it up the final steps to the palaces, while you’re used to being on your feet all day, it somehow feels different when exploring a new place, you’re not this tired after some hours of work. But you also usually walk on flat floors, and not the slanted grounds of a city that leans on a mountain. Whew. 

  You’re in desperate need of a change of clothes, maybe a wash as well, and thus you headed for your room. It was one of many in a long hallway on the second floor of one of the buildings littered between the two palaces. You wonder if everyone has their own little rooms or if there are barracks anywhere, maybe you have a fancy little room for yourself because you’re technically a guest. 

  Closing the door behind you, you walk over to the window and slide it open to allow some fresh air inside. The sun is beginning to sink down in the sky, the hue of a peachy colour tinting above the horizon catch your attention, the way it blends excellently with the pink pedals of one of the larger trees in the back gardens makes you stop and stare for a while, the soft pedals sway with the light breeze and you can hear the water run along the stream surrounding the garden, one of the many gardens surrounding the palaces. 

  It’s a much brighter and livelier scenery than that of the village… always shadowed by thick trees, darkness settling earlier because of the high mountain. 

  Which one is better is a lengthy debate that you could have with yourself. But for now, it’s time to wash. 

  Time passes by slowly as the last patients leave the ward, you spend most of your time carrying baskets of sheets to the laundry or counting supplies. Setting down a heavy basket on the floor in the massive laundry room in the corner of the palaces’ grounds, you let out a heaved breath, all this carrying is making your back ache. It’s been about three days since you ventured into the city for the first time, and you’ve been wanting to go out for another day again. 

  Another heavy basket with dried linens is set in front of you. 

  You give the laundry woman a near pleading look. She only smiles.

  Ground Mender turns to you when you finally come back after taking a small break in the staircase. “You’re back, there’s another four baskets to take upstairs,” she hums and jots something down on a piece of paper laid over a wooden plank. “Come on, Ming Hui takes two at a time,” she waves her hand towards you, as if to tell you to hurry up.

  You’re starting to suspect Ming Hui’s “human status”, no way a kid half your height can carry two at a time, but you saw her jog up the stairs like it was nothing. Deciding to stall for time and hope she comes down and takes two of the four baskets left, you peek at what Ground Mender is writing down. It looks like a normal checklist, nothing strange. 

  “So… did anything happen?” you pull the basket in a circle on the floor. 

  “Happen?”

  “You know, was there an accident?” 

  Ground Mender stares at you, as if waiting for you to elaborate. You wave your hand vaguely. “Well, when we were out a few days ago, we were interrupted by a messenger saying something had come up…”

  You realised in the last days that you didn’t really ask how Rex Lapis likes to be addressed, and that you didn’t say his name or title at all when you were out in the city! Not that you know his name… does anyone? Surely someone does. The Millelith and servants in the palaces refer to him as ‘my lord’ or other formal addresses, but the Adepti usually call him Rex Lapis… though they have a closer relationship with him than someone in the kitchens does. You really need to ask someone, preferably the man himself. 

   The Adeptus taps the end of her brush against her chin. “Hm. When… problems, or difficult occurrences arise, he is often called. The world outside of the city walls is unpredictable and ever-changing, even the lands within the Guili Assembly aren’t entirely safe or under control, as I’m sure you know.” You almost jump in surprise as Ming Hui walks past you and grabs one basket, slinging it around her shoulders and onto her back, then takes another one and does the same, positioning the second over her chest before leaving again… are they just putting rocks in your baskets? “Lands outside of our borders change hands often, and none of them have survived and lived as prosperously as we have. The medical knowledge and even gadgets crafted in the capital is centuries ahead of our neighbours.”

  The southern border is close to the village you stayed in last, and a few years ago you lived in a fishing village for five months on the edge of land to the east. Watching the dark skies and raging tides of the ocean beyond the protection of the Guili Assembly had been intimidating. A boat that sails into the ocean claimed by another god disappears beyond the uneven sea, and never returns. “So… you think something bad might’ve happened?”

  “Depends,” she gives a slight raise of her shoulders. “‘Bad’ can mean many things. Perhaps there was simply an accident, or there was an attack.”

  You stare at her. “You can’t tell me.”

  “Nothing is preventing me, maybe if you carry those baskets up within four minutes you’ll earn it,” she turns her attention back to the checklist, you know it’s not interesting enough for her full attention. Ground Mender gives and Ground Mender takes, do your job well and she’ll give you a full pot of food… try to shirk your duties (carrying baskets) or pile them on others (making Ming Hui do it) and you don’t get dessert.

  You suppose you won’t get out of some back-breaking labour… 

  Ground Mender was gone by the time you came back twenty minutes later–one basket taking ten minutes to carry–and so you gave up trying to ask her. Sunlight didn’t have much left in the day anyway, so you dragged your poor feet up the stairs one more time to leave the hall. 

  You were barely out the door from the spiralling stairs when a woman walking down the hallway took a sharp turn to walk to you… and plops a heavy box in your arms. She says nothing and grabs the sleeve at your bicep, practically dragging you along with her.

  Huh?!

  “What?? What’s in the box? Who are you? Where are we going?” you had entirely zoned out during your long trek up the stairs, finding yourself in this situation after letting go of the reins for two minutes. 

  “Questions, so many,” she sounds a bridge between annoyed and disappointed, as if she didn’t want you to ask questions—or talk at all—and only stopped once you were in the western gardens. They are smaller and more secluded than the back gardens, the trees closer to each other and denser. The woman opens the box—which you are still holding with both hands—it’s tall enough to cover you from navel to nose. She rummages around, and all you could see were pieces of metal, wood, some weird contraptions and circular, flat glass stacked on one side. 

  You blink at her. “Are you going to answer any of them?”

  The woman finally seemed to find what she was looking for and set it on the grass next to her, she takes the box from your hands and sets it down as well before handing you a wooden board. It wasn’t much bigger than your head. “Hold this above your head.”

  She picks up the device from the ground and walks a few steps back, enough so that there is a sizeable distance between the two of you. She adjusts her red-rimmed glasses and holds the triangular device at arms length. She nudges it up, as if to tell you to lift the board.

  Reluctantly, you hold the sides of the wood with both hands and lift it up. “Like thi—wuah—?!!”

  As soon as you did, the device in her hand made a sharp noise and the board flew from your hands, hitting the back of your knees as the long rope connecting the device in the woman’s hand stopped it from flying back and away from you, the rope resting over your shoulder instead. With the back of your knees kicked in by the wood, you stumble to the grass, hands barely catching the ground before you eat dirt.

  “No need to prostrate, it’s a simple device,” she hums and looks down at the strange gadget in her hand as she fiddles with it. 

  “…” you want to toss the board back at her. 

  The woman takes another board from the box and holds it towards you, but you push back at it. “Can you tell me who you are first? What was that?”

  “Cloud Retainer. That was a grappling hook—prototype,  now take it,” she pushes it back towards you. 

  Are you an Adeptus magnet? Granted this is your first random encounter, but you don’t feel like normal palace workers get roped into shenanigans like this…

  Or maybe you got roped into it because everyone else fled or hid to not get roped into this. 

  “… okay,” you give in. Maybe if you engage, she won’t shoot that ‘grappling hook’ at you and drag you back kicking and screaming. With throbbing knees and green stains on your robe, you stand up again and hold the board above your head. 

  From the box, this time, comes a flapping noise, and as Cloud Retainer folds her arms it flies up—a dragonfly-shaped device made from wood and stone rises a head above Cloud Retainer, her long dark hair sways with the gusts of the flapping as she raises her hand and snaps her finger. 

  This time, you grip the board harder and feel it tug with four thunk sounds, the fly shoots thin darts into it and penetrate the wood, dripping a thin liquid behind you from the tips. The fly hovers back down and you begin to lower the board by bringing it down over your head—but Cloud Retainer was quick to cross the distance between you and grab your wrist. “Careful,” she says sharply, face a hair's width from you. “The darts are imbued with poison, why are you moving it over your head?”

   She says it as if you were just supposed to know the darts were poisoned—how could you have seen the dripping liquid behind your head? 

  She takes the board from you—around your head instead of over it—and lets go of you. “Hm,” she flips the board in her hands, long fingers flicking at the side of a needle, the liquid dripping into the grass below. “Good.” Cloud retainer tosses the board into the box and picks it up, turning away from you. Is she leaving?

  “Hey, wait—” you want to know what those gadgets are! 

  Before you can follow her, or she can turn around, she stops. You stop. 

  You feel prickling up your spine, and Cloud Retainer sets the box down. 

  A low rumble sounds in the ground, you instinctively bend your knees as you feel the ground shiver and shake subtly, you know an earthquake when you feel it, Liyue has no shortage of earthquakes. The shaking seems small and steady, a low rumble tickling your ankles—but Cloud Retainer quickly approaches you and takes your shoulders, pushing you down to a crouching position. “More is coming,” she warns. The words had barely left her mouth then the earth tugs beneath you, like a rug pulled under your feet. You hear a distant shout and scream of surprise as the rumble shakes the earth violently.  

  It’s terrifying, no matter how you try to hold the ground with your hands, grab at blades of grass or dig your fingers into the soil, the violent thrashing of the ground ensures your human top-heavy body tumbles down. You duck your head instinctively as you hear something heavy fall to the ground, but slender hands hold you still, preventing you from trying to move positions. 

  The sound of the earth rumbles so deep that you feel it in your heart, it makes your bones thrum and organs quiver, a terrible loss of control of the one thing that allows a steady mind and calm control; solid, still ground.

  It lasts for three minutes in total, followed by three tugs of weaker aftershocks. Cloud Retainer doesn’t let you raise your head until the tremors have stopped entirely—you’re dizzy and disoriented as the earth stills and you’re free to move, causing you to fall back on your ass. Thankfully, you managed a squatting position at the end, so the blow to your behind wasn’t too bad. “W-what was that?” you surprise even yourself with a stutter in your voice. 

  Cloud Retainer stood up, looking to the peak of the high mountain above the city, then down to the ground. “This wasn’t a natural earthquake…” she raises a hand to her chin, a curled finger tapping the pale skin. “Hm.”

  She looks at you, up and down, then back up to the skies. They’re clear today, a pink colour as the sun disappears behind the mountains. After a moment of considering… she leaves. 

  You’re still gathering your wits and balance, so you don’t call after her or follow. You’ve experienced earthquakes before, but nothing so violent and so long .

  After gathering your senses, you left the gardens to see everyone in the palace picking up things that had fallen down. Vases and pottery broken, baskets and miscellaneous items that aren’t usually nailed down have their contents thrown across the floor. Two attendants rush past you with parchment that seems to have ink spilled all over it as they shout for someone, you round a corner and see a Millelith guard knelt by a person sat by a wall. 

  “Does it hurt?” the soldier asks, hand resting on the attendant’s shin. 

  She shakes her head, hands trembling slightly as she holds her foot and ankle with a near death grip. “No, that’s what’s scary, it doesn’t hurt at all…!”

  You can’t stop yourself from stopping by them, leaning down next to them. “Is your ankle…” you trail off once you see it–her ankle is swollen, it’s thicker than her calf! “Why are you just sitting here, you need to be taken to the healers,” you try to pry her hands from the swelling, holding it so tightly isn’t doing it any favours. But the girl holds fast.

  “No, no, no! I don’t want to move, I don’t feel pain now, but I’m sure I will if I try to stand!” she shakes her head rapidly, hair slapping against her red cheeks. 

  The Millelith soldier gives you a defeated look. “I offered to carry her… well, after I tried to just pick her up…” your eyes caught a handful of hair on the floor. Ouch. 

  You try to seem like you know what you’re doing, but all of your ‘knowledge’ comes from assumptions and having watched the healers in the ward for the last weeks. “Listen… your ankle is most likely broken, and this amount of swelling is really bad, it could cut off blood circulation to your foot–and it’ll have to be chopped off!” you slap your open hand onto your forearm, as if to imitate chopping. “That’s much worse than some throbbing on the way to a doctor!

  The girl and soldier share a look, her eyes wide and his eyebrows knitted. He nods and the girl bites her lip, considering it for a moment before she makes a brave shout to pep herself up. “Arghh!! Okay, okay! Let’s go quick! Run, hold me!” she grabs the Millelith soldier, who reacts quickly and scoops her up, running off as she pounds on the poor man’s shoulder to distract from any pain she was surely feeling. 

  Relieved that you managed to convince her, you stand up and see the toppled stairs she had likely been standing on, as well as a spilled bucket of soapy water and a duster. What terrible timing.

  Making it to the open palace grounds, it was less of a mess than the more decorated hallways and open rooms. It was mostly greenery and paths. Despite your tiredness from the long day, you spent the rest of it helping where you could. Despite the clutter of smaller things falling to the ground and breaking, the palace walls, buildings and paths are unbroken, not a crack to be seen or bump from raised or moved ground. As you put some broken ceramics into a tightly woven wool bag, you see two men opening a long scroll that looks like it belongs hanging on a wall, one holds it up while the other draws complicated characters from top to bottom, the strokes connecting in a fancy technique that make the meaning hard to understand. The man holding the scroll presses the top and bottom closely to the wall and the creamy paper shimmers with a golden light, it quivers in gentle waves before it seems to disappear, or fade into the wall. It’s difficult to see from a distance. 

  You quickly continue before they notice you. Not because you think you weren’t supposed to see what they had done… maybe. Who knows?

   Dragging your feet up the stairs to your room hours later, too many hours after sunset, you barely made it–you had to hoist yourself up the steps by using your arms to pull your body up by grabbing the third step up from your feet’s position–before collapsing onto your bed, not even able to stand for a second more to lock the door. 

  With your face smushed into the round pillow and body spread on the mattress, you were powerless to the divine pull of sleep. You’ll feel gross in the morning for sleeping in your clothes and shoes… but you can’t justify the effort to yourself to even sit up. That’s future you’s problem.

  Stone and wood litter the ground, buildings toppled and ground split open. It takes three men to pull a single one up from the deep cracks in the earth, rope tied around his already injured bodies to haul him up over the edge and onto green grass. Shouts for the nearby healer to hurry their examination of another injured to come tend to that one, too few hands for so many wounds. 

  What could have been recovered, has been. Hundreds of weapons and armour broken or crushed, provisions suddenly halved, only four buildings have roofs; it isn’t nearly enough to keep so many warm, safe or fed. Three minutes toppled months of preparation, took thirty lives that are still buried beneath heavy walls of stone, crumbled against the ground that can’t be raised by mere strength of body. 

  He rests a hand behind his back, fist closed as his other rubs strands of hair between his fingers. The soft glow at the end lights up the dark material covering his fingers, stretching up his arms and shoulders, sewn to the rest of the robe. 

  Morax looks up, eyes leaving his hand as the clouds above part for the first time in two days, the moon is yet elusive but a peek of the dotted night sky greets the earth. Stars that remain still and eternal, the endless nights he has raised his gaze to see the very same sky that has always been there, unchanging and static. It moves around them in the same direction it always has, with the same rhythmic twinkling of distant lights. A pale moon hidden behind thinning clouds, a body that has only one phase, unchanging of a full reflection. 

  The shaking wasn’t created by himself, nor was it a natural movement of stone and land. He felt the rush of energy before the earth shook–whether it was from the clash of strengths in warmer lands west of the high peaks of Liyue or not was hard to tell; it was a momentary flash that was gone quicker than an eyelid’s blink. 

  His hand lowers and joins the other behind his back, Morax has precious little moments to gather his thoughts in these times and uses the opportunity when it arises.

  The air is nearly still, only a soft breeze brushing against skin near intimately that gives no reason to suspect a change in the air any time soon with the slow thinning of clouds above.

  Which made the sudden thundering pulse of energy even more jarring.

  It shook the misty peaks and caused waves to rise higher against beaches even on the other side of Liyue, an explosion of a form and soul shattering that lit the sky golden, before shimmering gilded ash rained from the heavens, scattering the fallen essence across the land and drifting with the breeze–as if the soft wind had been unaffected by the heavy loss of condensed energy that now fell to the soil, the waters and the stone. Settling over the earth like a blanket of dust, the land of gold and home of mora covered in essence the same colour as its lifeblood.

  Distant shouts of surprise and alarm sounded below, footsteps hurrying across the ground as wounded were ushered inside the remaining buildings that barely withstood the day’s tremors before the golden dust could settle on their shoulders. Doors are shut and windows closed firmly, not letting a single speck enter the small space occupied by so many vulnerable. 

  Morax turns west, soft flakes of gold drift away from him as they fall to the ground, not a single one touching his skin or robe. 

  Another candidate to the thrones of the Heavens has fallen.

[paimonial-rage]

of hopes and prayers - zhongli

ship: zhongli x reader

synopsis: in which alcohol brings about a moment of vulnerability

notes: a short deleted scene of bookkeeping!verse that takes place immediately after but it’s better than drinking alone with references to blasphemous assumptions

"You know,” you began as you walked to your homes, “I'm not sure if you heard that day, but one time I told Meng and the Ferrylady that Rex Lapis would never sit alone listening to tales of his life. After thinking about it more, I think I was a bit shortsighted to say that."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"They say that Liyue is 3,700 years old, but Rex Lapis is even older than that. He's one of the oldest gods in all of Teyvat. How many people do you think he's outlived? How many friends had he said goodbye to throughout his life? It wasn't as if he could leave either. He was the Geo archon. It was his duty to watch over Liyue, its people, the adepti... Being forced to see people come and go... I can't help but imagine how lonely of an existence that must have been. Dealing with that, maybe it would be easier to just reminisce alone. That way it would hurt less when they leave... at least, that's what I imagine.”

He chuckled.

“Did you perhaps come to that conclusion after our conversation this evening?”

You shook your head, “No, but I can’t say you didn’t play a part in it. Thinking about it makes me think… makes me hope…”

You bit your lip, lapsing into silence. There was a reason you brought this up. You had more to say, but… You cursed as you felt tears begin to gather at the corners of your eyes. You blamed it on the alcohol. Really, you shouldn’t be getting so emotional over such a childish thought, but with the moon shining beautifully in the sky and crickets chirping around you, honesty found itself coaxed to your lips.

“It makes me hope that he wasn’t alone. That he had someone at his side that he could talk to, not out of duty or respect, but as a friend. That someone was there for him on beautiful nights like this.”

You hated the way your voice wavered, unintentionally letting frustration weave its way between your words. It was stupid thought, a foolish thought of a naive mortal. It probably was an insult to project such immature emotions onto beings like the gods. And yet the more you thought about it, the more sorrow weighed at your heart. You felt a tear slip down your cheek.

“I would think so,” he replied.

It was such a simple statement from your companion, and yet as his shared sentiments sunk in, more tears began to flow. It was embarrassing, it was frustrating, you wanted to die. His words really shouldn’t have meant as much as they did. He was supposedly a mere mortal like you, but… The relief that filled your chest was almost impossible to bear. All you could do was cry.

A chuckle came as a finger brushed your tears away. You could barely hold his gaze for a second before you looked away in embarrassment. You felt your face begin to flush and your heart begin to beat. Did he really have to look at you like that? With amusement? With an undeniable warmth that turned his amber eyes positively molten?

“I’m sure he was very thankful for them too.”

[introvert-celeste]

Friendships I wish we could have seen/seen more of in SU:

JASPER AND AMETHYST - this comes as a surprise to no one, especially those who have followed me for awhile

Amethyst and Lapis - they would've took HELLA naps

Bismuth and Jasper - they're both super beefy, they both love fighting, they both love puns. They would go from bitter rivals to besties after just one fight. Maybe even more 😉

Steven and Peedee - I just love all the potential for silly Peedee / Pink Diamond (PD) parallels

Steven, Connie, and Peedee - Peedee would be the much-needed voice of reason for Steven and Connie to ignore. A very responsible third wheel.

Nephrite and Steven - she was literally in the first episode and was a recurring character in Steven's healing corruption journey. I need more.

Lapis, Peridot, and Jasper - I wish we could have gotten more Homeworld squad after Jailbreak but before Peri joined the CGs, but alas, Malachite happened.

Peridot and Garnet - I just think they're neat. I wish I could be an aroace gremlin to a tall, badass lesbian

Lapis and Jasper - It would be funny to see them trying so hard to be normal around each other but Jasper just can't, CANNOT talk to Lapis without bringing up Malachite. She doesn't want to talk about it, but she just can't stop herself.

All four of the main Pearls - sounds fun in theory but Pearl and Yelp would immediately start arguing while Volley and Bloop dissociate in a corner. It would be sad but funny, as most Pearl scenes tend to be.

Amethyst and Volley - they would have so much fun doing human stuff together, until Ame starts to notice similarities between Volley and Rose, and then it starts to get weird.

Greg and Vidalia - idk I just like their dynamic. Greg needs more interactions with human adults.

[ruumirmir]

Reprise of a rolling mist

Part 1 Part 2 (soon)

☽◯☾ Summary - You, the revered God of Healing and Mist, one of the oldest friends of Zhongli, are not one to be easily taken down, but alas, in the Archon war of brutal massacres, you can’t escape death for long.  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ☽◯☾ Characters - Zhongli, (minor) Cloud Retainer, (minor) Madame Ping ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ☽◯☾ Tags - Zhongli x Reader || Gender Neutral || Angst || Eventual happy ending || Description of blood, violence, and fatal injuries || Mention of death   ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ☽◯☾ Word count - 1.2k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ☽◯☾ Rumour◇ says - my first ever fanfic to be published on tumblr. In case you haven’t seen my previous post, please do! It has some context in it. I hope i did peepaw some justice,, as much as I love him, it was slightly hard to pin his personality down especially in this wild scenario. I’ll probably belt out the part 2 really soon cause I’m done with it, just gotta decorate the post lmao.

‎• ——————————————————————— The nearby corpse of a beast twitches once before falling still. The loud ringing in your head gets louder by the passing minute. Mouth set into a grimace, you roll onto your back and hack out a wet cough.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It's hard to breathe with a gaping hole in your torso, still fresh and bloody. Your half-lidded eyes focus onto a speck of ash, floating up to melt into the night air. ‎  ‎

‎ ‎ ‎

The God of War doesn’t fear. No. He is the one who’s feared. And yet...

“No...”, Morax kneels there, watching his old friend, laid upon the charred grass.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

Your once lustrous hair, now melds into the soot-stained ground, tainted by blood and grime. Your breaths come shallow and short. For all the dust and debris left in the battle's wake, Mt. Tianheng had a pleasant breeze to offer.

His palm find its way to yours; cold to the touch. Fingers tighten around you, and the clarity slowly returns to your hazy eyes.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

The stench of burnt flesh permeates the air. His gaze lingers over the yawning cavity in your body; charred at the edges. From such a pair of gods, its not Morax who wields the power to heal and mend. It’s not you who possesses the energy to do so.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ And so. his hands tremble uselessly over your gut, or the lack thereof.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

His most trusted. His closest companion. His oldest friend... The one who shares countless memories with him. The one who had promised to do so for many more years to come.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

"M-morax," his name spoken like a sigh. The corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile. Your stomach flares in pain when you fight back a strangled whine. "I am... not your burden to bear amidst a battle."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

He sits by you, pained. “Hush... do not strain yourself by talking.” You lie before him, bleeding.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

“O great Rex Lapis, won't you be kind? Won't you be wise? Renounce your lands and people? Spare us all a calamity from befalling those subjects of yours? It’s the least of your payment... for eons of slaughter caused by your hands”

A great many creatures had cackled, with many more swarming in. The seething mass of... beastly wasps, misshapen and overgrown, were all too eager for a massacre. A hivemind; disgustingly coordinated in brains and brawn. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

By the first rumbling of his meteorite that bombed over Mt. Tianheng, a familiar billowing mist had rolled forward to assist. Whether in your solid body, or a lashing mist, it was hard to quell the pyro gnats. ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

The grass is stained red by now.  He takes your hand and grips it tight, to his chest. You brush your fingers over his bruised knuckles.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ By the second rumbling of raining spears, Morax’s harsh orders had sent the adepti and yakshas scrambling towards the unprotected city of Liyue. . . . By the third rumbling of his shield molding around you... a flaming projectile had already shot clean through your torso.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

You need to fight to keep your eyes open.  From a simple flesh wound... what a joke. Your not the admired deity of recovery, just in name, are you?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Your fingers twitch, tightening around his robes. "Help me sit upright..."

His sharp exhale falls upon your brows, and with the utmost softest touch, You’re pulled up against his torso. Your head sags against his shoulder, where you can feel the thick pool of sorrow under his skin.

"Please... I do not want to cause you more hurt," The words fall hollow from his lips. He holds you up gently, and you can finally focus on his face.  … where you’re met with a wet shine to his eyes.

"What... are you trying to do?" His mouth trembles downwards ever so slightly.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

But you... you break out in a rebellious smile, don’t you?

The pain is unbearable. And you laugh all the harder for it. Sweat beads your forehead, and your fingers dig into his arm when he presses into your stomach to slow the bleeding. You bite out a groan. It burns.

"Don't look at me like that Morax", you pant. "This... this is but child’s play for a healer of my caliber...."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

Yet, your life trickles out like the grains of sand in an hourglass, and your vision flickers. 

He wipes the blood off your lip, clearly vexed, "You are still yourself, I see. Even as you lay here, near death, you are still joking."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

"Just... won’t you humor me one last time?" You rasp out, feeling faint. All sensations except the gritting pain have left already. "Lend me some energy- so my body can return to what it once was..."

"Because... I, the Healer God of Mist, am alone the revered��one... who holds mortality at my fingertips..." your voice breaks towards the end, but you still flash a smile of dogged arrogance, don’t you? (There is nothing but a theory borne from your feverish thoughts.)

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

He gazes at you; minutes away from the end. The god who holds no regrets, who has not one ounce of fear in their voice. (You have never been more terrified of death, for you only know how to run from it.) With a melancholy rustle of feathers, comes another soft voice, "Ever so conceited, until the very end...”, Cloud retainer murmurs into the night.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

His skin glows alight, veins illuminated on his chest and arms. His gnosis ignites for your fanatical whims. It always did.  "How could I ever refuse you...?", his trembling voice, so quiet. You’re met with a familiar embrace.

‎ … ‎ ‎ ‎ “If mortals pray to gods in their time of need, who does a god pray to?”

Two drops fall to your neck, rolling away until they wet your clothes.

“No one.” His smile is soft, and voice raspy. “A god can only pray to himself... but, he may have hope in others.” ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

Your body slowly starts to dissipate into millions of droplets of condensation that scatter into the air, where the wind blows parts of you away, and away. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The soft tunes of a zither ring out into the air, permeating the atmosphere with a slow melody. An adeptus sits atop a nearby rock, her eyes downcast.

ah. ‘Ping's zither’, you sigh. ‘How kind of her.’

And he smiles through his tears.

Isn't it beautiful?

A great rolling mist dissolves into the air. With dust and ash in the air, it swirls and rises up and above. The wasted grassland is littered with thousands of droplets that shimmer like stars as the moonlight reflects off them. It is as beautiful. as it is empty.

On a night like this, Streetward rambler’s tune graces the wind, until her fingers bleed. Cloud Retainer sheds no tears, but know that she holds your memory well.

And you, Rex Lapis,

Morax,

you weep for me.

Taglist - @ainescribe ||  @theorchardcollective  || @flos-historia​ || @nightrayseishina ||  @thesparklingwriter

[dragonlapis]

Here's an idea I just had

Madoka's dad discovering magical girl by finding an injured one and takes her home to help her heal up...Depending if Madoka is a magical girl or not will depend on her reactions...I'll assume said injured girl is different from the holy quintet

[dark-night-hero]

Getting to know my... genshin edition.

The one I started playing genshin for:

Diluc Ragnvindr, my love so sweet I will never the way you pulled me away from Valorant into playing genshin impact when I saw that one fanart of you.

The one I stayed for:

Kaeya Alberich, my darling, my sweetheart. I have no other ways to describe you but the reason why I manage to make it this far. I'm dramatic as f. Funny how I came because of your brother but the moment you show up in the screen while I'm playing I knew you are my type.

My current main:

Heizou Shikanoin, if it isn't my lovely child detective. I'm sorry I could not give you the best thing that was suitable for you but it's okay, it'll work out somehow.

The one I wish was my main / My future main:

Ayato Kamisato as the one I wish is my main but I don't have a good team let alone artifacts to give him. And yes, I have him. And yes, he is a good display on my teapot. Dainsleif as my future main so please please please please please make him playable.

The first character I made a fanfic for:

Diluc Ragnvindr, it just happened that his birthday was around the corner when I started playing genshin impact and because he was my first crush in genshin that I made him a bday fic HAHA it's the HOME ff.

The one whom I've made the most fanfic|imagines|drabbles|one shot:

Morax | Rex Lapis | Zhongli, maybe it was because of his interesting lore, something me and my cousin have talked about just this morning. I cannot stop writing, nor do I think I would ever ran out of ideal although most of it is angst because Zhongli is such a angst material, about this guy. His lore is very interesting as he is connected to quite a number of people/beings in the game, living up to his name as the former geo archon, he was a man who went through alot, lost a lot and gained a lot. He knows something yet keeps it disclosed only to himself mostly because of the contracts. He is such an interesting character with an angst material background.

The one I wish to write about:

Dainsleif, personally I think I can make something about him rn but most of the time I depend on the lore of the character before I started writing so that I can use their lore angst them to make them lore realistic. But right now I think that we are still lacking a lot of information about this guy sooooo yeah. Al Haitham on the other hand, I don't but I am yet to reach the Sumeru archon quest so I am yet to analyse his character and his lore. I have a few things in mind for him but for now, it is just my wish to write for him as I am yet to put it into words, on screen and paper.

My overall favourite character(s):

Ayato Kamisato and Kaeya Alberich. Yes, they are two. And I love them equally (..... i think, yes, i think.) That I cannot chose to pick one out of the two of them so might as well have a tie on top of my list.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

: I do not own the used pictures. Credits to it's own respective artist, and if the artist wants it to be taken down, I will gladly do so hihi.

[1800naveen]

An artist gets bullied for accurately portraying the utm scenes and calling out Rhys for sa right now. And guess what? The artist is a Feysand stan.

I fucking hate these stans. They can’t even handle the slightest criticism towards their beloved ship

NO BECAUSE I SAW THAT ART A COUPLE OF HOURS AGO! ARE YOU SERIOUS?

LEAVE ARTISTS ALONE CHALLENGE: IMPOSSIBLE!!

No but in all seriousness, this is a problem and it's got to stop.

Bullying and insulting artists when they're one of the people that bring words to life is insane. They put out their hard work and you want to criticize them for that?

SOME Feysand stans are very ignorant and it's clear you bitches are suffering from dementia. Since you DUMB SHITS can't be bothered to look up the original source material or read between the lines or use your brain (but the way they act, you don't use it often), I have it down just for moments like this. I gotta stay locked and loaded with the proof.

From the neck up, I was regal: my face was adorned with cosmetics—rouge on my lips, a smearing of gold dust on my eyelids, kohl lining my eyes—and my hair was coiled around a small golden diadem imbedded with lapis lazuli. But from the neck down, I was a heathen god’s plaything. They had continued the pattern of the tattoo on my arm, and once the blue-black paint had dried, they placed on me a gauzy white dress. Chapter 39

He smiled, and extended the goblet again. “Drink. You’ll need it.” Drink, my mind echoed, and my fingers stirred, moving toward the goblet. No. No, Alis said not to drink the wine here—wine that was different from that joyous, freeing solstice wine. “No,” I said, and some faeries who were watching us from a safe distance chuckled. “Drink,” he said, and my traitorous fingers latched onto the goblet. Chapter 39.

I awoke in my cell, still clad in that handkerchief he called a dress. Everything was spinning so badly that I barely made it to the corner before I vomited. Again. And again. When I’d emptied my stomach, I crawled to the opposite corner of the cell and collapsed. Sleep came fitfully as the world continued to twirl violently around me. I was tied to a spinning wheel, going around and around and around— Needless to say, I was sick a fair amount that day. Chapter 39.

“What happened?” I got out, even though I wasn’t sure I truly wanted the answer. My memory was a dark blur of wild music. Lucien drew back. “I don’t think you want to know.” I studied the few smudges on my waist, marks that looked like hands had held me. Chapter 39.

“Who did that to me?” I asked quietly, my eyes tracing the arc of the spoiled paint. “Who do you think?” My heart clenched and I looked at the floor. “Did—did Tamlin see it?” Lucien nodded. “Rhys was only doing it to get a rise out of him.”

TO GET A RISE OUT OF HIM. Rhysand had no business doing this to Feyre.

Lucien let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his red hair. “He had you dance for him for most of the night. And when you weren’t dancing, you were sitting in his lap.” chapter 39.

I NEED FEYRE TO BE FREED!

We reached the throne room, and I braced myself to be drugged and disgraced again.

HERE IT IS, LADIES AMD AND GENTS. WORDS FROM FEYRE ARCHERON HERSELF.

Sarah may have retconned this series to hell and back but the first book will always be there.

The way people talk about him, you would think he's Jesus Christ. EW, I'M REMEMBERING THAT POST THAT SAID "Do you have time to talk about our Lord and Savior, Rhysus Christ?" ALL OF Y'ALL GOING TO HELL.

If this post happens to offend you, suck my dick and wipe your mouth when you're done.

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Ezana Concept Art

Concept art and translations for Ezana! Translation notes and image id under the cut.

Translation notes:

On the first page when Ikushima is talking about how he feels pressure to make his drawings beautiful, he's actually saying something more like "Usually with sexy woman I go 'I'm obligated to/I must make them beautiful!'... " but no matter how I phrased it the wording felt awkward in English, so I changed the sentence to go without the quotes.

There's a note on the second page above the monochrome sketch that was pretty hard to read (the middle character in particular might have been scribbled out?), so I kind of guessed at the rough meaning from the surrounding characters. The first kanji seems to be 玄, which has the general meaning of "mysterious, occultness, black, deep, profound," and the third kanji seems to be 器, which has the general meaning of "utensil, vessel, receptacle, implement, instrument, ability, container, tool, set". I went with "mysterious staff" as the meaning of the kanji together, also working off of the fact that it's. um. pointing at a staff that seems vaguely mysterious.

"Call forth the rain" was more literally just "rain," but it uses a particle at the end that has a vaguely commanding/requesting vibe to it, so I added extra words to convey that.

There's a part on the second page where I write "SHAMAN" in all caps. On that particular line, "Shaman" was written out using English phonetics, whereas on the rest of the page when I use the word it's the Japanese word for an equivalent concept.

"Lines like a weather map" is literally "isobar pattern". I'm assuming that most people aren't familiar with the word "isobar" (including myself) but from a brief google search, isobars are the lines that show up on a map when weather forecasts are trying to show the range of a storm and the barometric pressure specifically. Since it's (probably) not a commonly-known word, I just wrote out the "weather map" stuff instead.

"Sexy as it sounds" is a weird one. I think it's a portion of this phrase, which is defined as, "not existing despite seeming like it should", but just uses some different particles at the end which I'm assuming make it non-negative (e.g., "as sexy as it should be"). But I couldn't find a ton of examples of how the phrase is used though or what the differences in particles would be, so I just kind of went with the auto-translation I got from Deepl.

Image id:

[id: Multiple images from the Triangle Strategy artbook surrounding Ezana Qlinka. There is a page with a large colored portrait of her, along with a smaller line drawing in the corner. There are two illustrator's notes at the bottom: the first is, "Ezana has a really lovely ethnic design. Actually, after the character's portrait was completed, Mr. Ikushima redid all the linework, which added a lot to the character's beauty! (Yoshiura Rina)" and the second is, "Ezana is primitive, spiritual, and also a mysterious kind of character. With sexy women I usually feel pressure to make them beautiful, but strangely she was very easy to draw. I like how the natural colors are interspersed with the lapis lazuli. (Ikushima Naoki)". On the second page, the top half has several drawings of Ezana in a design close to her canon one. It is titled, "Weather Manipulator (Shaman)". There is one drawing where Ezana is without her headdress, captioned, "If there are different ranks of shaman, I think it'd be fine to start out without the headdress." There is a note pointing to her headress labeled, "Sheep's skull with some parts cut off," and another that reads, "Horns. Red and blue cord is coiled." Another note points to a full sheep skull and reads, "Origin. It's been shaved away starting at about this area." It points to roughly the middle of it. Another note points to a feather ruff she wears, labeled, "Crow feathers". Her staff is labeled, "A staff with elements similar to a dreamcatcher". There is a portrait of her from the back, with a note reading, "Back of the dress is open." The second half of the page is titled, "Weather Manipulator (Shaman) Large Brainstorming WIP". There are 5 drawings, each of a different potential design. The first is similar to her canon design, but with darker skin and a black dress. The second is very colorful, and has the notes, "Hear the song from the wind and go into a trance" as well as "Lines like a weather map" and "I think it would look better if the saturation was lowered a little or the colors were narrowed down a bit." The third drawing has a purple cloak with eyes on it, and seems to be throwing seeds into the air, captioned, "Sowing seeds toward the sky." The fourth design uses more pastels/bright colors, and has a drum at her hip. She seems to be saying, "Thunder!" and there is a note that reads, "Beat the cover and let it resonate through the air." The fifth drawing is of a woman wearing a full mask and a heavy cloak made of grass fibers. It has several bullet points including, "Weather Manipulator (Shaman)," "Female SHAMAN", "Indigenous - Separate wind and lightning magic", and "As sexy as it sounds." She holds a staff which is labeled, "Mysterious Staff" and also has a note reading, "Indigenous". She seems to be saying, "Bring forth the rain..." There are two illustrator's notes on the bottom. The first reads, "Mr. Asano requested that I add in leopard print, and I thought about how I could make it unique. (Naoki Ikushima)" and the second reads, "Looking at it again, it's a really sexy outfit. And it's great in battle! (Tomoya Asano)" /end id]

[siderealscribblings]

Goin back to back this weekend; have some early access Games of Divinity

-------

By the time Makoto touched down in the merchant district, he was reasonably sure he had shaken Furina’s gardes and any nosy Tri-Commission officers that were looking for him. He didn’t care to be fussed over by would-be babysitters and he didn’t want to involve Miko unless he absolutely had to. Makoto held grudges like misers held money, and the one against Miko he held close to his heart.  

Touching down in an alleyway, Makoto vaulted a row of boxes and slipped into the bustling crowd. The streets were packed with vendors selling everything from hand-cut cor lapis jewelry to fried dough balls from Mondstadt. Dialects from all corners of the world floated above music playing from cafes and street performers drew small crowds that made navigating the streets difficult. It was easy to get lost in the crowd by tugging his hat down and following a pack of mercenaries from Sumeru. Makoto’s contact didn’t give him an address but he didn’t need one; he just strained his ears listening for a familiar melody. Every bard worth their salt would be performing this weekend; he just needed to listen until found the one he was looking for. 

“A foreign prince wandering alone in a mysterious country…that sounds like the start of a good story.”

A warm wind jostled Makoto’s earrings and he turned to meet a slender young man dressed in dandelion green and sipping on a frozen drink through a straw. 

“Or a bad light novel,” Makoto said, watching Venti lick some of the blue syrup off his hand. “What the hell is that and where did you get it?” 

“It’s a firewine slush; snagged it from one of the merchants down the road,” Venti replied, taking a long drag through the straw with a wince. “Ahh, coldcoldcold!” 

“Every day I wake up and regret accepting your patronage,” Makoto sighed, accepting an arm around his shoulder with only mild squirming.

People touching him was new and unusual, but Barbatos had no concept of personal space and hadn’t since Makoto had first made the god’s acquaintance behind a stack of wine barrels in Ritou. Living his life in a golden cage made it hard to make actual friends and he had to take companionship where he could get it. At least Venti didn’t kiss his ass like his courtiers did; it was actually refreshing to have someone unafraid to call Makoto an idiot to his face. 

“Come on, we all know I’m the best thing that happened to you, chickadee,” Venti said, flicking the Anemo Vision dangling from Makoto’s necklace. “You get here okay?”

“Well enough; I landed on Focalors’ palace and got an earful from her,” Makoto snickered. 

“Oh, you met Her Royal Sogginess already?” Venti said, swinging in front of Makoto and walking backwards so they could talk. “How did you find her?” 

“...short.” 

“You’re one to talk.” 

“You’re one to talk about me talking,” Makoto sniffed. “What are you doing out here; you told me to find you playing in a tavern.” 

“I was…andthentheythrewmeout,” Venti muttered, busying his mouth with more alcohol. 

“For what?” 

“Upstaging the other talent, I imagine,” Venti sighed airily. “The music of gods is not easily appreciated by mortals who only want hurdy-gurdy dance music about women with fat bottoms-” 

“You need to stop drinking,” Makoto said, snatching the nearly empty mug away from Venti and taking a sniff. “Yech, this smells like a blueberry pissed in a jar of rubbing alcohol.” 

“Tastes like it too,” Venti burped. “Still the only thing in this city with any punch to it…where’s Miko?”

“Fraternizing with Focalors I guess,” Makoto shrugged. “How the hell should I know?” 

“I said bring her,” Venti sighed. 

“I’m not her bloody babysitter,”  Makoto sneered. “After two weeks on a boat, I need a break from Guuji Yae’s wit…or what passes for it.” 

“I thought I told you this was serious?” Venti said, as seriously as someone with blue slushee lips could. 

“If it’s so serious, why are you drunk?” 

“Because it’s serious!” Venti hissed, grabbing Makoto’s elbow and dragging him down a side-street away from the bustling crowds. “Look, in all likelihood, everything is going to be sunshine and kittens; cold wars are cold because nobody wants them to get hot. We just need to make a few sparks, swing our metaphorical spears around—literal spears in Morax’s case—and hope everything stabilizes before the party ends!” 

“...and if it doesn’t?” Makoto asked. 

“To be honest…I haven’t thought that far ahead; I got to the call-Morax part of the plan and hopefully he will help me out with the next part,” Venti said brightly. “Relax; all you need to do is look pretty and try not to make too many enemies at the punch table.” 

“I can promise to do neither,” Makoto grumbled. “When is that old snake supposed to get here?” 

“Who are you referring to as a snake?” Makoto looked up, spying a slender figure with green hair perched on the ledge of a rooftop. 

“None of your concern,” Makoto sighed, shooing the stranger away and receiving a cold glare in return. “We’re in the middle of something; kindly find some other rooftop to haunt before I-” 

“Hang on, I know that voice!” Venti cried, snatching Makoto’s hat and using it to shield his eyes from the sun. “...hey, it is Xiao! What’s it been, twenty-five years since I last saw you?” 

“Twenty seven,” Xiao replied, hopping off the roof and landing light as a feather next to Venti. “Morax made no mention of your invitation to this gala…what are you doing here?” 

“Getting drunk,” Venti and Makoto replied at the same time. 

“That was a given,” Xiao sighed, looking Makoto up and down. “Who is this?” 

“Someone you should speak to with a little more respect,” Makoto said.

“Should I?” Xiao replied icily. 

“Heyyyyy let me introduce you guys!” Venti said, stepping between them before they could violently introduce themselves. “Makoto, Xiao; Xiao, Makoto. There, we’re all friends now.

“Are we?” Makoto asked. 

“You guys are both beloved and cherished Chosen of Anemo, so that practically makes us family!” Venti said, throwing his arms around both of their necks. “Where’s your man, Xiao?” 

“My…oh.” Xiao rolled his eyes. “Morax elected not to attend this gala to avoid ruffling the Hydro Sovereign's feathers…which I find remarkably considerate given that the last time he was here he was rudely assaulted by Neuvillette for no reason.” 

“The Hydro Sovereign?” Makoto echoed. “You told me he was a dragon, you didn’t tell me he was a Sovereign. Don’t tell me that fairy tale from Enkonomiya has any legitimate weight.” 

“It’s got more than weight; it has a big, scary dragon like all good fairy tales do,” Venti chuckled. “Speaking of dragons, I figured since Xiao was here, Morax would be as well but I haven’t seen scale or tail of that old sidewinder since I got here.” 

“Maybe he’s not coming; Miko said she spoke to someone from the Qixing before getting back on the boat, but for all I know she just moped around the bars until it was time to leave again,” Makoto shrugged.

“Wait, wait, are you telling me Morax might not have gotten my message?!” Venti hissed, grabbing Makoto’s lapels. 

“If you were that worried, you should have crawled out from a wine bottle and asked him yourself!” Makoto said, slapping Venti’s hands away. 

“Well why did you leave it up to Miko?! You should have gone yourself!” Venti snapped, poking Makoto in the chest. 

“Hi Qixing, it’s me, the son of the Raiden Shogun who nobody has heard about; please believe me and take me to your god!” Makoto sneered. “Miko is the only one of us with any goddamn clout!” 

“So you made her do your dirty work?!” 

“You’re making me do your dirty work; how is that any different?!” 

“Because you are my strongest-” Venti glanced at Xiao. “Second strongest soldier!” 

“Second strongest?!” 

“You’ve only had your Vision for ten years!” 

“I’ll show you second strongest you little-” 

“Oof, let go!” Xiao had witnessed many battles in his life, but the feeble struggle between two skinny little dandies was far and away the most pathetic fight he had ever seen. 

Lo and behold the Anemo Archon, Xiao thought, watching Venti fail to escape Makoto’s headlock. Thank Celestia Morax behaves with a little more dignity…I can’t imagine pledging myself to someone like-

“Psst, what’s going on?” 

“Barbatos and his new pet project are in the middle of-” Xiao flinched as he suddenly recognized the voice, whipping around to come face-to-face with a pair of glowing red eyes. “Wh-What are you doing here?” 

“Aiya, you ghost us for six months and that’s the first thing out of your mouth when you see me again?” Hu Tao sighed. “You might want to brush up on your manners before you meet Lady Furina; they’re touchy about manners in this country.” 

“Hey, is that Unbound Flame?” Venti’s voice was muffled by the cape Makoto had pulled over his head but a quick elbow to his gut freed him long enough to right his outfit. 

“It’s Hu Tao these days,” Hu Tao said. 

“Since when?” Venti asked. 

“Since the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s last director died and his ‘granddaughter’ took over the family business,” Hu Tao said cheerfully. “It pays to have mortals who will give you a cover story every once and a while. You still go by Venti?” 

“Why mess with a classic?” Venti chuckled. “On the subject of names, the oaf in the straw hat is-” 

“Makoto,” Makoto said, adjusting his hat with as much dignity as he could. “Let me guess, this lady is another random spirit from Liyue?” 

“Mmhmm!” Hu Tao said, eyes flickering as she leaned uncomfortably close and cocked her head. “And what does that make you? Not a god…not a person…not a spirit…and not an animal, unless you’re hiding a tail under that coat-” 

“A-Animal?”

“Nothing to be ashamed of; I was a butterfly before I learned to grow a body,” Hu Tao remarked, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “You with Miko’s crew?” 

“She is with my crew, not the other way around!” Makoto insisted. “I have higher rank than she does; she’s just along to-” 

“Uh-huh, you’re very special,” Venti said, patting Makoto on the cheek absentmindedly. “Where’s your man, butterfly?” 

“Looking for you, songbird,” Hu Tao sighed, flicking a ring on her thumb inlaid with glowing golden stone. The ring pulsed, a wave of golden light rippling out and pinging off a heavy gold stone hanging off Xiao’s waist before spreading out and into the crowd.  “You are the biggest pain in the butt to get a hold of.” 

“You came here with Morax?” Xiao interjected. “He made me swear on his name to not start trouble in Fontaine; his presence here makes it very difficult to keep that promise.” 

“We’re not the ones starting trouble,” Hu Tao sighed. “Look, we have reason to believe that-” 

“Shhhh!” Venti hissed, pulling Hu Tao deeper into the alleyway and nervously glancing around the street. “Don’t blow our cover…look, I would have told Morax about this last month so he could change his travel plans. But I got caught and had to lie low for a while. The fact that I made it here without my braids getting torn off is a small miracle, but-” 

Venti grabbed Xiao’s lapel, dragging him in and hissing something in his ear before he could be pushed off. 

“...what?” Xiao said flatly. “You’re sure?” 

“Nope…but I hope to be very soon,” Venti said. “And if I am sure, I hope to have someone taller and much stronger than me by my side to help prevent it. I would have liked the Shogun to be here as well, but-” 

“=you will have to make due with me.” Makoto glanced behind him, craning his neck up at a tall, immaculately dressed young man who somehow felt older than the stones beneath his feet. Venti was an Archon; Makoto had been birthed from an Archon’s power. Yet this man was different from both of them; even the air that Makoto had become attuned to seemed heavier in his presence and he carried himself like someone who had seen and slain worse things than Makoto could even imagine. 

The magnitude of Morax in the flesh was somehow diminished by the tower of doughnuts he carried around on a large wooden stick. 

“You’re here?” Xiao said, stumbling forward and moving to bow until Zhongli caught him under one arm. “I-I thought you were staying home.” 

“Apologies for the sudden change of plans but someone said this was urgent,” Zhongli said, eyes turning to Venti. “Barbatos.” 

“Morax,” Venti said, glancing at the tower of doughnuts Zhongli carried with him.“Have you been looking for doughnuts this whole time?” 

“I was looking for you; I look less suspicious if I pretend to be a partygoer,” Zhongli said, turning to Makoto with a curious cock of his head. “...Makoto, I presume?” 

“Rex…Lapis…Morax, or whatever you’re called,” Makoto said, attempting to maintain some of his dignity in the presence of someone older than even his mother. 

“Rex Lapis Morax…that’s a bit much, even for me,” Zhongli said with a thoughtful nod, offering his rod of donuts to Hu Tao. “You look like your mother.” 

“Not as much as I used to, thanks to your friend,” Makoto laughed bitterly, nodding in Venti’s direction. “Please tell me you don’t plan on fighting with a donut stick.” 

“Course not; I plan on fighting with a doughnut stick,” Hu Tao said, dumping the doughnuts on the ground and spinning the stick between her fingers. “Ooh, cherrywood; you know what I like!” 

“And here I was concerned that you didn’t bring any weapons,” Makoto sighed. “While we’re at it, does anyone want to get a sausage on a stick or a pretzel as a backup-ow!” 

Makoto winced as Hu Tao clocked him in the nose with the tip of her stick.  

“You’re trying to be funny, but I was burying angry ghosts with toothpicks while your mama was still learning to swing a spear,” Hu Tao said, tucking the stick into her belt. 

“I can vouch for that; it was…interesting to watch,” Zhongli mused, lost in a violent memory before realizing where he was. “All that to say, we ought to speak somewhere more private…” 

Snapping his fingers, a large brown and gold teapot materialized in front of him, hovering in the air suspended by small clouds. 

“...do you have teacups to go with that?” Makoto asked as Zhongli took the lid off the pot. “Or do we have to take turns sipping from the-hey!” 

Venti pushed him forward, watching as a cloud of mist swirled around him and sucked him into the teapot. 

“...Anemo exalts the strangest people,” Zhongli said.

“Hey, being an absolute weirdo is a prerequisite for receiving any Vision, including Geo Visions,” Venti huffed, watching as Zhongli replaced the lid on the teapot and banished it again with a snap of his fingers. “Are we not going in with him?” 

“...eventually,” Zhongli said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Before we do…tell me how you suspect someone is planning to kill the Hydro Archon.”