#rex lapis is a whole identity crisis

[dandelion-wings]

Finally from the second whumptober list: October 29 ownership/branding - any character BUT the branding/ownership has to be something they're doing to protect the other person / Brand Or Die

Thank you for lighting my brain on fire with this one, holy shit. Sorting out who I would do it with was really the hardest part, there's so much potential, especially delving into AUs, but I think this was the best canon option and of course you knew it was coming because I could not shut up. XD

---

Xiao is not surprised by the attack. He had not known its time or its place, but the fact of it had been inevitable. Morax and his yaksha generals cannot shelter him forever.

He is alone on the training field, practicing in the generals' absence. They are on the battlefield, serving Morax against his enemies. Xiao should be there too, but Morax has deemed him not yet fit--had dismissed him when he presented himself among the yaksha on the battle's eve, telling him that he must mend completely before he enters the fight in his savior's name. So all Xiao can do is train until he regains the strength he lost after his hated last master's defeat, and hope for Morax's swift approval of his efforts.

The attackers, it seems, mean to give him no chance to try and repay his debt on the field of battle. It is not only Morax whom he owes a debt to, after all. That debt is one of gratitude; the one that he owes these people is one of guilt.

It's because of both debts that he doesn't fight back. While the Millelith are on the field of battle too, some of these are Morax's people: injured soldiers or yaksha who have been held back as Xiao was, or civilians inexpertly wielding weapons or expertly wielding tools of the farmers' trade. They are under Morax's protection, and it would be unbearably shameful to harm them. The others may not be under his guardianship, may be bound to other gods, but they are people Xiao has wronged, too. From their resentment alone he knows these are the comrades and kin of the many righteous souls he was once forced to slaughter.

He does retreat, step by step, lifting his spear only to block strikes with the shaft, ducking or side-stepping others. Not all are so easily turned away. By the time he's backed up to the wall of the training grounds, he's already covered with dozens of minor wounds, cuts and bruises and gouges where borrowed blades or swinging hoes found their mark. His attackers crowd in, and there's no longer room to sidestep--not without bowling over the teary-eyed, half-grown child on his left, or the fierce-faced old woman to his right.

A one-armed yaksha right in front of him wrenches his spear from his hands with her good arm. "My whole division," she hisses, eyes glowing with fury, "every one of them."

"My father," the child says, fierce-faced through his tears, and, "My daughter," says the woman. Xiao tilts his head back as the yaksha spins the spear, feeling the weight of their massed resentment seizing at his throat. He doesn't wish to die. If he had, Morax's hand, outheld, would not have been such a blessing. But he knows that he deserves it, that Morax's act had been an unthinkable grace.

As his own spear is leveled against him, Xiao tilts his head back, baring his throat. Then there's a sudden clatter from the gates to the right, and a sudden scramble amid the outraged group, and then Bosacius is in amid them, roaring remonstrations, flinging the yaksha who'd taken his spear from him to the ground. Xiao sags against the wall, lets his head fall, and closes his eyes.

He should feel grateful for this rescue, as he had for Morax's outstretched hand. Yet the unsatisfied resentment all around him grinds against his soul like broken glass.

---

Morax stands before an assembly of allies just as furious as he is, even if none of them can shake the ground with their rage. Their alliance is a precarious one, for Celestia has made clear that only one with power of their scope can be left alive at the end of its holy war. Just as Morax has built a seal against the thought of that when he sits in peaceful moments with Guizhong, he typically walls it away when dealing with these allies.

How they cope he does not know. All of them are in agreement as to how gods should treat their mortal dependents; thus they have agreed to remain allied until circumstances leave them no other choice. Right now, though, the ire crackling between them makes him wonder if at least one is contemplating an earlier break.

"I will not *punish* my people for attempting to do what you already should have done," says that most furious god, smoke swirling about their ashen form.

(Three years from now one of their own yaksha, much-beloved, will die in a stratagem Morax devises, and they will be crushed beneath Azhdaha's power when they try to assassinate Morax in revenge. Morax will make contracts with all of their remaining yaksha who do not follow their lead, and eventually all those who survive the War and its aftermath will willingly perish in the Chasm, redeeming that ancient breach.)

"They have already suffered enough," says another, more reasonable, whose grainy skin crunches at every movement. "I am willing to forbid them from another such attempt, but punishment will only harden their resentment."

(Five years from now he will sacrifice himself to guard his people's retreat from Osial, begging Bonanus to carry his plea that Morax take on his people's care. Morax will accept that final contract, and they will become fishers and sailors, the ones whose knowledge helps build Liyue Harbor when the Guili Plains flood.)

Nails that glitter like clearwater jade flash as the third gestures wordlessly to the God of Sand, silently echoing his sentiments.

(Eleven years from now she will depart in silence and fade away, pouring herself into the waters of Lisha, willing to diminish herself to avoid Celestia's edict and in the end losing all recognizable sense of who she once was. Morax will allow her people to build a shrine to her by the waters, and long after they have forgotten he will go now and then himself to burn incense to her memory.)

The God of Ash is not content with the conciliation--and it is conciliation; Morax can see the narrowed gem-like eyes and the stiffness of restraint--of the other two. They start forward, eyes flashing like embers. "What right did you have in the first place, Morax, to spare him? It was never only your people that he slaughtered. My own territory was also on *that* god's borders, and was just as much a battlefront! Yaksha I loved killed or dismembered at his hand, whole villages of mine lost to his appetite for dreams, and you let him live without even asking us?"

"Morax is not the first to have seized an enemy's yaksha as spoils of their defeat," Guizhong says, but even her calming smile and pointed look cannot soothe the smoke swelling out and beginning to fill the room.

Morax lets the ground shudder again beneath his feet. "I made a contract with Alatus. Whatever you may think I should have done, I cannot break it now."

"No," says the God of Sand, before the smoke can begin to choke them or the floor itself crack. "But your contracts with your yaksha require them only to defend *your* people from harm. I don't think it's unreasonable to ask that in this case, you require of him another, asking that all of ours be safe as well."

The God of Shells nods, ornaments of noctilucous jade and coral chiming in her hair. "And we will witness its making."

"Very well."

By Bosacius' report, Xiao had already refused to harm their people, not only Morax's own. The request isn't only reasonable; he doesn't doubt that his newest yaksha will welcome it. He has seen the weight of guilt in Xiao's eyes already. Had he not demanded his service in repayment for sparing his life, he doubts Xiao would ever have risen from where he knelt the moment after his last master's death, offering himself up to Morax's spear.

"And I will invoke another contract," the God of Ash says, "since you value those more than you value our goodwill. The one between us dictates the punishment of those of your underlings who without provocation harm our own. It does not limit that harm to what is done in your service. I will allow my comrades to let him off lightly, as he is no longer *that* god's yaksha, but at the very least, you will make clear that he is now yours."

"How so?" asks Guizhong, her gaze sharp, as she puts a gentle hand on Morax's arm.

"By inscribing both your first contract and this second directly into his flesh. I could demand his death!" they hiss before Morax can roar his denial. "If you agree to all our terms, I will be merciful, and demand only this."

This time, the floor does crack, tiles parting in twain. Yet Morax can feel the clauses of the contract draw tight as the God of Ash invokes them, binding him more firmly than any rope. It is his will that spoke them into being; it is his power that goes with them if he breaks them from within.

"Very well," he says, and this time it is not a polite concession, but a dragon's angry growl, resonating within the smoke.

---

Morax is angry, and Xiao does not know why.

He outlines the terms of the contracts he is bound by, and has no choice but to bind Xiao by in turn, in a voice that drops now and then into a growl. So, too, does the ground shake beneath him as he does. Xiao had dropped to his knees the moment he entered Morax's presence, and so he does not stumble and lose his footing, but each little tremor makes him bow his head lower, useless as it seems to appease this rumbling rage.

However it might show around them, though, Morax restrains it enough to touch Xiao only gently, his grip firm but not at all tight. He raises Xiao's chin as if he's handling some precious object, and forces Xiao to meet his eyes. Xiao resists the urge to close them. This is Morax's will.

"Do you agree to this contract?" Morax asks.

Xiao is confused by the question, but he has been asked for an answer. "As my lord wishes," he says, lowering his gaze, since Morax's hold on him prevents him from bowing his head.

The ground shakes again, harder. His answer has not softened his god's anger either. But Morax's grip stays perfectly steady, not tightening one iota. "Then we will go and have it witnessed," he says in a voice like a mountain readying an avalanche.

---

There are no other witnesses but the other three gods and Guizhong at his side. Morax would have fought for that if he had to. Xiao could be a great general of yaksha someday, should his spirit mend from the damage done to it, and Morax would not have those he might lead witness his torment. Not even his other generals, who have taken Xiao under their wing; Guizhong had whispered that it might be better for them not to witness it either, for the sake of Xiao's pride.

Pride is not something Xiao's wounded spirit is capable of, but she isn't wrong. That will come with mending. Morax would not have him look back then and feel this shames him in front of those who wish to welcome him as their brother-in-arms.

Xiao strips to the waist without hesitation when Morax instructs him to bare his skin. He starts to drop to his knees, to bow his head. The God of Ash demands that he stand.

"I need a more stable surface," Morax says.

Turning his back to Morax, Xiao says, "I will be so for my lord."

His spine is a straight line of determination, but for all the firmness in his voice, it comes out flat. The resentment swirling around this room is strong enough that even Morax can feel it; a yaksha, far more sensitive, must feel deeply oppressed. A god's resentment is a powerful thing, and these three carry not just their own wounds but those of all their followers.

"Very well," Morax says, with the weight of the contract he's forging, and raises his hand to draw it across the small of Xiao's back.

The first stroke runs at an angle across Xiao's spine. His skin shivers under Morax's stroke. Power flows with it, out of Morax's fingertips and into his flesh, twisting and hardening it, leaving a raised thick line that isn't a burn but twists like one into a keloid scar. Unlike a scar, Morax knows it still aches with the weight of his power. Such alteration of flesh only slowly becomes bearable, and never entirely loses its feeling.

Aside from the involuntary twitch, Xiao does not move at all. He stares straight ahead. From behind Morax can't see his face. He wouldn't be surprised if it's impassive; Xiao's tendency towards stoicism has been clear since his first day in Morax's keeping.

Without raising his fingertips from Xiao's skin, he draws the next line, shorter, slanted upwards in the other direction. The keloid lines left behind are reddened, but darkening quickly to rusted brown. When they finally heal, they'll be amber. Morax has inscribed contracts in this way before. All of the previous have been upon the unwilling.

Three more lines, each shorter than the last, all connected together in one folding triangular shape. A contract such as this does not need to be inscribed in words to be binding. Not when it's Morax's power that makes it such. The stamp of Geo is all that is necessary, and will double, for the God of Ash's satisfaction, as a brand.

Morax raises his hand a few inches. "So," he says, a dragon's growl, letting the floor shake for a second while there's no risk it will make Xiao stumble and mar the pattern. "That affirms the first contract. I will begin the second."

Words, clauses, careful phrasings pile up in his mind, stones building the unyielding wall that will bar Xiao from harming the people of any allied gods. Morax sets his fingertips back against Xiao's skin.

---

The God of Ash is staring at Xiao with a hunger that is both like and unlike Xiao's previous master. *That* god had delighted in the pain Xiao caused others, sometimes demanding he drag prisoners into the court and dispose of them exactly as instructed, slowly and exactingly or swiftly and messily at turns. When the whim had struck and no prisoners were at hand, Xiao had also suffered for that delight. There is something of that in this god's burning eyes.

It isn't, though, quite the same. Xiao doesn't dare to meet that gaze, knows it would only offend further; instead he fixes his own on the far wall, looking past all three of Morax's allies. He stills himself as he had stilled himself when his previous master had looked around the court for someone to enact that suffering upon. He has never been certain how to act under torture. If he stood impassive, his past master had made it worse in order to draw out a reaction; when he let it show too early, the punishment for weakness had been just as bad. But staying expressionless when he was doling it out always seemed to bore that god faster, just a little, so that he had to inflict slightly less pain to those he killed.

Morax is the god of Geo. Xiao hopes that a stone face is what he wants.

The first line feels like a wall dropped upon the base of his spine. It's only his control of Anemo that keeps Xiao from gasping. He pulls air in and out, slow and steady, as Morax continues the pattern.

Pain is familiar. That doesn't make it any less unpleasant, but it does make it easier to bear. What hangs heavier on Xiao's shoulders is the weight of resentment in the room. That of his attackers' has been festering in his chest since that failed attack, dragging at each breath. Having their gods before him, the focus of all their angry prayers, increases that weight tenfold.

The weight of all his sins. Those angry prayers are pleas for a justice that Morax has chosen to exempt him from. Xiao knows that he deserves even more punishment than this.

But *Morax* has chosen to exempt him. And by doing so, he has taken any choice away from Xiao. All Xiao can do is the will of his new master, the one who spared him in battle, the one who gave him a name, the one who took his service in exchange. It is Morax's will that he lives. The contract Morax is inscribing upon his flesh is its testimony.

Therefore, it is Xiao's obligation to accept this weight, and refuse to let it crush him. No matter what his sins might deserve.

Each line carries equal weight to the first, driving into the small of his back with all the force that Morax can bring to bear. Such force has carved valleys and uprooted mountains, raised cities and drawn the dragon Azhdaha from the earth. Xiao breathes in and out, long and slow, gaze still pinned on the wall beyond but slowly going unfocused as all his concentration centers in on bearing it.

Morax lifts his hand. Xiao is only half-aware of the ground shaking, or what he's saying. He's intimately aware of the sigil of his new god, and agonizingly aware of the one inscribed upon his back. He knows that it's only half-finished. There will be more.

"As Rex Lapis, known as Morax, God of Contracts, I make this contract with my yaksha general Alatus, known as Xiao."

Xiao just barely manages not to start. General? He's no general. Morax doesn't even consider him yet fit for the field. But the names are true, and he can feel Morax's power leaning upon him to answer. If this is some contractual loophole that Morax is crafting, all Xiao can do is play along. If it's not... all Xiao can do is answer as Morax desires.

"I, Alatus, make this contract with my lord," he says, making himself look again at the wall. There is an uneven crack in the wood caused by the shaking of the floor; he knows it to be from that tremor just now, because it wasn't there before.

This time, the line drawn across Xiao's back doesn't feel like a wall coming down. It feels like grit ground into a wound, or raw flesh dragged across gravel. The grinding feeling of it doesn't cease when Morax's finger comes to a stop, but continues to build, growing steadily and without surcease.

"As my servant, you will respect the servants of my allies as if they were your own comrades."

"I will, my lord," Xiao says.

The second line is as grating harsh as the first, the same sensation of sharp pebbles poured into his flesh. Continuing to pour, as the first line continues to grind, the pain of it steadily rising high.

"You will protect, defend, and give shelter to the people of my allies as if they were my own people."

"I will, my lord."

As the third line gouges through his flesh, the first two seem almost to feed upon it. The pain is so intense, so grating and blunt, that Xiao could almost imagine it turning into pressure, like gravel is indeed piling up on open wounds, gouging flesh as it sinks deeper.

"You will never turn your strength upon them, or do them harm," Morax says, voice hard and rumbling dragon-loud, "except to defend yourself, and then only in defense."

The weight of the other gods' resentment redoubles, and the God of Ash hisses, something crackling in the sound, like flame being stirred by wind. "*Never*," Xiao gasps out, not sure whether he's choking on his sins or on smoke.

He welcomes the fourth line, the grating, digging agony of it, the first by now truly incomprehensible as anything but pressure if he wishes to stay conscious. The hunger in the God of Ash's eyes isn't delight at all. It's pure and eager hate.

"Should the general Alatus break this contract, his life, and his service with me, are forfeit, by my guarantee."

The last line is almost painless compared to the still-building pressure of those before. Xiao feels like he's floating, light-headed, aware of nothing but the Anemo flowing around him and the screaming agony at the small of his back. He has to consciously force air into his lungs to find breath for an answer.

"As my lord wills," he says, and the escalating pain of the new contract solidifies all at once, all five lines of it hammering into his spine with the implacable weight of stone.

Morax lifts his hand away and catches Xiao easily as he falls. Xiao catches a glimpse of the God of Ash's face before he folds over the solid bar of his lord's arm. Their satisfaction is almost glee, and yet, for the first time Xiao feels a sense of satisfaction in return. A modicum of justice has been done, within the limitations imposed by Morax's will.

Some of the weight of resentment in the room has eased. Not much, not when these gods hold all of their peoples' as well as their own. But witnessing his punishment must have been some salve. As much as being so punished had been for him. The guilt doesn't drag so heavily now.

He tries to stand again, but there's no strength in his limbs. Morax lifts him over his shoulder as easily as if he were a sash being tried on. He is careful not to touch the brand, though Xiao doesn't imagine that his touch would make it hurt any more than it already does.

"Our contract is complete," Morax says. Whether to Xiao or to the other gods, Xiao doesn't know. It must include those others, for Morax turns and strides out of the room with Xiao still over his shoulder, Guizhong a floating presence trailing along behind. Each step shakes the ground.

As they leave the gods' resentment behind entirely, Xiao's breath comes easier, and easier still. The weight of his sins still lies within him, and always well. But its weight is counterbalanced by the weight of his lord's symbol at the base of his spine. Xiao will accept that stamp without question. The pain is nothing against the guarantees that it provides.

[ventofu]

" i know who you pretend i am. "

# (🧸) ZHONGLI ! ☆

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑ ૮₍˶• . • ⑅₎ა currently playing .. ♡ !

washing machine heart by mitski ! ♪♫

pairing: zhongli x f!reader ♡

warnings: angst (lots of it, lots of hurting im not sorry ><) identity crisis, basically zhongli is using you as a rebound but ure okay w it bc u love him <\3), bittersweet ending, mentions of zhongli & guizhong's past, denial and acceptance, toxic relationships, (reader gets manipulated by love :<)

special note: first it was kaeya, now zhongli.. angst is jus so fun to write ig.. or maybe im evil 😄

zhongli was always searching.

you never knew what it was, or who.

if there was a single aspect you've noticed about him, was that he was perceptive. observant and agile as the falcons that would soar above guyun stone forest, carried by their dark wings and quick speed, one may blink and miss their presence. those that fly and merge with the cottonlike clouds, free of setience and worry. ones that harbor similar nature with the carefully crafted xiao lanterns that danced among the stars and the vast atmosphere of the previous lantern rite. honoring the adepti, remembering rex lapis, gracefully embracing liyue with beautiful golden lights and featherlike traces of joy within the gleeful city people, heavy atmosphere lifted as they made their wishes and prayed their silent desires to their god above.

remembering.. retracing.. recalling.. the past. 

after taking in the form of a mortal, one whomst lives in disguise amongst the other clueless humans, one bound by himself rather than a contract, to the mortal world. you've always wondered, was it not taxing for him? had he not tired himself out? not once had you seen an ounce of negligence be bestowed upon liyue, the heavy guard and watchful eye of the geo archon being the pillar that supported the society in its whole.  despite the fact that the well and organized liyue qixing never failed to uphold their business and live up to their names, lady ningguang knew that without rex lapis and his undying devotion, liyue wouldn't be as extravagant and orderly as it is in the present. 

his fingers were always so nimble, so sufficient and quick to do its work. as the blood of liyue's riches drifted in his veins, as the wisdom and fruits of his labor flourished before his eyes, observant and waiting. his words always guaranteed the good of the city that was under his care, always brought you comfort even when he was serious and stoic when dealing with serious matters. he had crafted mora, a creation he bestowed upon liyue and blessed it with wealth. one who would take it for granted, or take this privilege away would have it considered tainting his bloodstream. he was not only rich in mora, but in sentiment,  percipience and sharpness - the theory of being the eldest among the archons was very visible in the way he acted. 

morax. 

from where the currency of liyue had harbored its name, "morax," highly spoken of and respected by all who walk the land. he was occasionally mentioned in casual conversations among the residents, and you, holding the position of being the said archon's lover,  was barely accustomed to the overwhelming amount of attention you garnered simply with your presence. you would always manage to spark  up conversations and you were highly admired by many.  the status you held wasn't much of importance to you, as you truly loved your significant other for who he was. there was no dark intention or monetary gain. you simply loved him.

but along that, a detail not forgotten, was his past. an archon who has lived thousands of years, will always bring with them the pain and torment of the brute agony that was laid in their minds, connected to the heavy responsibility they lifted on their backs. their hands tainted with blood of their past battles, whether of those pledged innocent or guilty. zhongli was praised to have a sharp memory, as pointed and keen as his polearm. as he wielded his weapon,  he wielded his collection of past events and oaths made by him or individuals he met in the past. you proceeded to wonder if such promises were blessings, or a hidden curse.

"should the day ever come that we are not together, you will continue to shine like gold in my memories."

at first, it was innocent, the small and mischievous mumbles and whispers were ones of admiration, sketching you out as a beautiful and blessed woman who graced the land of liyue with her might and intelligence, one that was unique and incomparable. silent murmurs of how you gained the eye of the powerful man by your side, of how you met his standards and managed to impress  him - of how you tipped a mighty being to fall head over heels for your personality, and who you were alone. you were not only a vision from how loving and strong your heart was, but you were graced with looks and pure, unfathomable and untainted beauty, and there was simply no doubt that you beared a resemblance to a goddess. and that's how the pain, the crisis, the deep and wretching pain and grief of the swirling abyss inside you had started. 

they would always mention that your qipao was similar to hers, that the gold lining and intricate designs drastically reminded them of her presence. that the robes that engulfed your frame when you were on calm walks to help ease your mind - the long white billowing sleeves  that covered your hands from the breeze, had her signature engraved unto the soft fabric. or that your interest towards mechanics and engineering was a sign that - "i swear to the geo archon! she must be a reincarnation of  her, there is indeed no other faultless explanation that clarifies the reason his lover is the way she is.. she is her! i bet my soul on it!" 

that your gentle nature, the loving gazes you gave your partner and the subtle kindheartedness you carried - were all delicate distinctions that you were her, her and her. that you no longer were your own person, that you only served the purpose of being the placeholder of a familiar being you were not. from first glance, it seemed to be innocent admiration, honest compliments that compared you to someone at a higher position - but from your peripheral, you knew those hushed conversations were heartless gossip that plagued your brain and made you think you were contaminated with the image of someone else, filled your senses up with lies and blurred your identity, until your reflection started to obscure and a tall and faceless woman took your place. she was above you when it came to everything, above you when it came to invention, innovation, admiration. perhaps, even despite the agonizing pain the thought induced, it allowed you to gain a moment of hurtful epiphany. perhaps.. she was overhead to you when it came to morax's love. 

a higher position you could never reach. a title you could never attain. 

are you actually here?

you blinked. 

who are you?

you inhale.

"miss, are you alright? do you need our staff to fetch you a glass of water?"

oh, that's right. your own name tasted bland and bittersweet on your tounge. your nose scrunched up in distaste and your appetite seemed to shrivel. the name embroidered on your purse stared back at you, as if it were testing your patience. you felt a sickening fire lighting inside you, slowly charring your fragile heart until its pieces crumbled into an inky ashy mess before you. you could barely shake your head at the question, your ears seeming to have been sealed with water, the restaurant personnel's inquiry muffled as you slowly drown, drown.. drown. 

first, it was grief, frustration. you despised anyone mentioning the woman, the one who would haunt your dreams and stare at you and made your knees weak. until your bones hit the linoleum floor and left you to weep. you stared at the confines of your closet and ordered your maids to burn them and never have the beautiful and rich clothes return to their previous places. to be turned into crushed gravel and never find their way back to your belongings. because they weren't yours. were never yours to begin with. they were hers. 

you refused to taint your identity with a long forgotten piece of liyue's past, you refused to succumb to the rumors and meaningless gossip the people had mumbled to each other on the streets. the vendors and workers gathering in a small corner to discuss their newfound information and puzzle pieces they picked up about you. she wasn't you, ignore it, ignore it, ignore it..

no! they don't know you.. they never did.. they simply do not acknowledge your accomplishments yet.. right?

and then you remember, zhongli. he stared at you with such loving eyes, the enticing marigold luring you in and leaving you starstruck, dumbfounded by how caring his soul was. how he cared for you so gently, those same deft fingers tracing your features and softly caressing each freckle, each beauty scar. you close your eyes, flourishing in the moment, relishing in the gentle mood both your hearts shared. as his hand slowly brushed your soft skin, you hear him express, "beloved, open your eyes."

and then you see it.

were you hallucinating? perhaps, this was simply a dark nightmare you would wake up from soon. but no, your mind told you, it felt too real. too close, too near. daydreaming seemed to be a possible option too. you wanted to stand your ground, believe that you were indeed seeing things, and that'll be over soon. this sick and horrible trick your mind was deluged with will soon wither and all would be silent again. the white noise and the painful static ringing in your ears would both subside and you won't have to be engulfed with dark delusions. but at what cost? 

the same topaz like orbs were the same deliverer, the same silent messenger that sent your mind into loops. the same eyes that studied the paperwork at wangsheng funeral parlor, that shaped into moons when he was delighted.. were the same ones that bestowed your fate upon you. your destiny. 

then came, acceptance. 

the dull ache in your chest never subsided, the anguish forming a sea of dilemma and manipulation between the heart and mind. you did not feel relief when you threw out the bottle of fate's yearning, a perfume that has a gentle but lingering fragrance, similar to the dusk mist, one familiar and comforting to zhongli's past. you didn't feel utmost joy from straying away from your visits to guili plains, it only left you with the bitter feeling of yearning. refusing to look at flowers swaying in the wind, turning yourself away from seeing nature in her sweetest confines, did not do your resolve any good. 

your final moments of yourself, of the withering torch you could barely reach - was barely present anymore. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, silent. your eyes did not carry the same light it used to have, like the gems vanquished and left alone an empty and jet black orifice that matched the remaining life in your heart. the woman that you were, she gave up. the captivating and astounding woman who captured zhongli's heart. she was gone. 

you defeatedly chuckled, the glass cracking and leaving you to bleed. you've surrendered. 

you watched as your image slowly morphed into someone else. when you thought you have escaped, that's when she returns and grabs you by the ankles. muffling your distant screaming just like dust. your long hair dyed white, tied up in a bun while the rest fell over your broad shoulders. the robes you watched disintegrate now back and wrapped around your body .. yet no longer suffocating you in their confines. it felt as if.. it belonged there. was this the grueling end of your story? 

were you just someone giving back to their master? to give back in his entirety.. for loving you and caring for you with every fibre of his being.. were you simply serving him? giving your lover the rewards he deserved, after centuries of war and destruction. of duty. just like xiao. perhaps you were simply like him. you were just another vigilant yaksha who aimed to protect her creator. her master. 

maybe it was worth it, in the end, even though it felt as if a knife was piercing itself through your skin, its blade striking at the little remains you had of yourself, it was alright. 

you watched as he tucked the fragile glaze lily behind your ear, its blooming petals adding unto your never dying beauty and complimenting your dazed gaze. you sang a gentle song that echoed the slow trills of your unsaid pain, the guilty pleasure you received from the bittersweet moments you had with your immortal lover. if this was what hell felt like, it was alright. 

because in those lovely golden irises, in that ocean of longing and unread emotions, you saw him in his element. not zhongli, not the body he uses to blend in with the normal, you saw morax. you saw love. 

if you had to suppress your pain to provide his happiness, if you could give him joy and a rash escape to the decades he’s spent living among the citizens of liyue, it was alright.

was it worth it being somebody else?

who knew? maybe this isn't the end of your story. it just needs to be rewritten, but this time, with a different protagonist, a different woman, a different love story.

if you could hold his hand, saw him unfiltered in all his glory, it didn’t matter who you were, it didn’t matter whose name you carried. among the fields of guili plans, he made an oath to love you, even if it isn’t who you wanted it to be. you would pretend, you would become. you were her, you are her, and always will be.

"i love you,

my guizhong."

in those few moments, you knew he found what he was searching for all this time. what he didn’t find in you, he found in somebody else.

morax and guizhong.. zhongli and the love of his life. 

among the grass and the blooming glaze lillies, they were reunited.

[dandelion-wings]

I've had Zhongli for years so I never pay attention to the trials and can't speak on them, but in-game he's a really good shielder and incredibly easy to build since he'll basically just take whatever HP garbage you have lying around and his best weapon if you only care about his shield is a 3star.

The best thing about his shield is it never has to be down unless it breaks (which shouldn't happen if you build him specifically as a shielder and not for his burst damage) because his E is up just before the shield clocks out. He also has resistance shred to every kind of damage (even non-swirlable damage) which is a pretty nice boost and independent of how well you build him. I think a lot of people try to balance his shield and his burst damage (at least that's what a lot of the guides say to do), but I personally don't care about his burst damage since the animation is so incredibly long. So I've just stacked his HP as high as possible and I basically never lose HP except against enemies that can deal damage regardless of shields.

The other shielders I've tried didn't have their E up before or as soon as the shield timed out, which is the biggest difference I've noticed. It's been really nice not having to dodge ever.

😂 You totally didn't ask for this and I'm definitely biased because I only ever want to smash buttons with barely a thought, but Zhongli's definitely the best shielder in the game. I assume in the trial they just tried and failed to balance his shield and his (honestly subpar - he's a 100% support character with the occasional 50k burst) damage.

That is probably what happened, yeah! They had Tenacity of the Millileth on them but of course with trial characters I couldn't see the substats, and the only Misty Dungeon I've done with him so far was the Charged Attack one so they probably did try to balance his attacks and his shields. I'm still not likely to get him any time soon, since I'm so pleased with Xinyan and Thoma as my shielders--Xinyan has Sacrificial Sword (the sacrifice was aesthetics u_u and I'm going to do the same to Noelle when I R5 another one. but the 80% chance of ending CD is so useful), and Thoma has enough Recharge for his E to always be ready when it times out--that I don't really need another right now! (And if I do want a 5-star shielder to have to build, I just got Baizhu. :P)

[dandelion-wings]

Thinking about Verr Goldet again, as I often do (I don’t know why I have imprinted so hard on this one random NPC, but I love her and Wangshu Inn in general). Tonight I’m wondering how she ended up doing her supporting-Xiao work for the Liyue Qixing. Was she assigned, or did she have personal reasons for it? TBH I like the idea of her volunteering for the task, but I also like the idea of her being assigned and not being sure about it up until she sees this sulky and, let’s be real, kind of fucked-up immortal actually look happy for once when he gets handed some almond tofu.

Also, tangentially, while I’m sure there were a bunch of factors in Zhongli’s decision to pass on power, I feel like the Liyue Qixing making that effort for Xiao probably was one of them! Knowing that the humans were acknowledging/making efforts for the only remaining yaksha would probably be a big deal, since Xiao both has a major responsibility and is a major responsibility for Zhongli (because if he gets overwhelmed, then it’s bad news for a lot of Liyue), so that’s... something he’d want to know was being taken care of, I think.

...suddenly imagining Zhongli going in person to check out the Wangshu Inn and just being like. The most critical, demanding guest ever, because he wants to make sure this place is up to snuff.

[dandelion-wings]

[eyes emoji]

[dandelion-wings]

a general concept that I very much enjoy: the archons post-de-Gnosis-ing, experiencing some minor human inconvenience that they've never had to deal with and being like "but this isn't supposed to happen to ME D:"

(especially Zhongli tbh, but I also love the idea that, like, Venti never had hangovers before? what is this and why is it happening? how can wine have consequences)