Chapter Text
Morax seeks Xiao out in the lull between battles, bearing a gift from Guizhong.
Xiao nods in deference, “Rex Lapis.”
He had taken a while to find him – Morax is in tune with his land, but Xiao flits from one end of it to another like a phantom, and Morax does not fly at great speeds without reason lest he alarms anyone – so he gets straight to the point, “If you are visiting the Chi today, will you allow me to walk with you?”
Xiao blinks once at him, slowly. Then he looks to the east, where the sky behind the snow mountain is just beginning to lighten. “It is a little late now to walk there. If it is a walk you desire… we would arrive at the camp in time for the morning meal.”
Morax realises quickly enough that, as is often the case with Xiao, his words are not being understood in the way he meant them. To the God of Contracts, who is more often known for speaking too plainly, an obstacle of this nature is one he is relatively inexperienced with. “I do not wish to disrupt your plans,” he emphasises. “Are you visiting the Chi today?”
Morax does not visit the area often, however, to his knowledge, the apples at the Chi’s shrine are always fresh. That in itself is not evidence that Xiao still visits it every day; the adepti have ways of keeping fruits fresh, and he would not be surprised if the villagers also pay their respects at the shrine.
Xiao’s catlike gaze is assessing as he meets his eyes. Eventually, he says, “I am, though it will be just a moment.”
“When you are done,” Morax decides, “meet me on the peak where his soul is sealed.”
Xiao is already there when he arrives. The first rays of the sun have begun to grace Guili Plains. The people must be stirring now.
It has been a while since it last rained; with the Chi gone, the waters tainted and the forests in the vicinity burned down, it will be many years before this area has a functional ecosystem. Naturally, the pool on the peak is dry. Perhaps Cloud Retainer can help keep the pool filled.
“Too much sun dries water too quickly,” Morax murmurs. “It took Guizhong some time to find it, but she believes this seedling is the one most suitable for your purpose.”
It is with relief that he notes the hatchling no longer baulks at being presented gifts. Instead he carefully accepts the seedling with a look of wonder. Then he meets Morax’s eyes with an unasked question. It occurs now to Morax that neither of them know the first thing about rearing plants. Why was he assigned this task?
Nevertheless, when Xiao seeks his guidance so unquestioningly, Morax can only pretend to be all-knowing. He will confront Guizhong later.
He espies a single Qingxin in bloom upon the stone, at the highest point of this mountain. If a delicate flower such as this can grow here, so can any seedling chosen by Guizhong herself. Thus Morax suggests leaving the seedling upon the stone.
Xiao furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Will not the wind blow the seedling away?”
“Do you not command the wind?” Morax asks, though he makes a dent in the stone, a bed for the seedling.
“I do not,” he says, surprisingly firmly, as he puts the seedling in its bed uncertainly. “The wind and I simply have an agreement.” He tilts his head to observe it from a different angle. “Is this right?”
Possibly, he thinks. “Yes, well done,” he says instead. Guizhong can come and fix it later. Favour done, Morax asks again, “What is it you most desire?”
As expected, Xiao does not refuse to answer this time. Instead he huffs out a breath of laughter, bitter and jagged, and walks to the edge of the summit. “Take a guess.”
Morax has seen the way a starving child watches people walk by with bread in their hands, the way a fish on the beach stares at the receding waves, the way a chained slave gazes at the clouds in the sky.
He sees the way Xiao toes the edge of the cliff, the way he looks out over the horizon, the way he leans forward slightly when he inhales, and Morax fancies he can see the phantom wings spread out behind him.
He does not think much before he takes two steps – first on two feet, then on four – nudges Xiao off the edge, and wraps the length of his body around him as he takes into the sky. When Xiao grabs his mane instinctively, he stretches himself out – because a dragon with no wings flies with its whole body, and he cannot very well steer himself coiled up – and flies higher.
When he makes a short but steep dive, he hears Xiao’s shaky breathing and a whispered, “Apologies, I cannot–” before he is gone.
He did not go far.
Morax finds him in a small cave beside the waterfall where they had locked the Chi’s flesh, standing barefoot in cold waters. He does not greet him when he approaches on two feet.
“I should have asked,” Morax offers, as close to an apology as Xiao might accept. “Were you caught off guard?”
“It seems I am not immune to fear,” Xiao confesses. His voice is steady now but his hands shake still. When they finally stop, he raises his head and meets Morax’s gaze. “Could I trouble you to do that again?”
If Guizhong were here, she would ask, “What scares you?” or something along those lines, in that gentle, unintrusive way Morax will never manage. Guizhong is not here.
The second time he takes Xiao for a flight, Morax does not think too much about it either.
He allows Xiao to sit upon his neck and hold his mane before he takes off. He flies over Qingce Village, back towards Guili Plains. (If he notices the hatchling’s breaths coming out fast and unsteady, he says nothing of it.) The hand in his mane tightens whenever he dives, but it is only when he descends on Guili Plains that he hears a hiccup (‘Don’t–’) and another muffled apology, and he is gone.
There is a whirlwind forming above the barracks below him, faster and more fiercely than the most vicious Eye of Storm. Morax descends and shifts into his human form while he falls through the sharpening blades of wind. (He considers using a shield, but the last thing anyone needs is for a wind to reflect off the shield and hit its source. Millennia of wind may wear down the mountains, but his body of stone can withstand this much and more.)
He lands quietly on the roof of the barracks.
Xiao sits (he never sits unless it is requested of him, preferring to stand or crouch, ever-ready to engage) hunched over and is panting heavily, likely attempting to get the winds under control. Morax half-kneels in front of him, close enough that the winds barely breeze by him. Xiao’s eyes are wide but they do not see him.
“Xiao,” he calls out sharply.
His head jerks up at the call and his eyes find Morax, though they still do not focus. Sweat rolls down the side of his face, and Morax realises that he is gasping for breath, not merely panting.
He reaches out carefully and calls again over the tempest, “Xiao.” When his gloved hand touches Xiao’s shoulder, his wrist is grasped reflexively, but he is neither pushed away nor pulled closer.
Eventually Xiao’s eyes focus on the wrist he is holding, his breathing smoothens slightly, and the winds begin to calm. (The whirlwind had not managed to do more than flatten the roof of the barracks, and Morax thinks in relief that at least Xiao’s reputation amongst the people of Guili Plains would not plummet further for this.) When he finally realises what he is staring at, he lets go and scuffles backwards, and blurts out, “Do you not feel terribly exposed when flying?” His mouth snaps shut, and Morax sees, for the first time, Xiao’s expression of utter mortification. Then he says, “I mean, apologies,” which Morax promptly ignores.
When Morax takes to the sky, all of Liyue can see him, and yet he can barely see the people below him, let alone those leagues away. How could he not feel exposed? But it does not scare him, not the way it seems to scare Xiao. “I have no wings,” he says, “so I am not nearly as easy to shoot down as a gliding eagle.” Ah. Was that something Guizhong would reprimand him for saying? He tries again, “No one is foolish enough to try.”
Thankfully, Xiao does not seem bothered by the comparison he made. “If you should fall on your city, all of it will be gone.”
“When not heading for the enemy I never fly quickly,” Morax assures him. A large dragon racing across the sky is not a good omen, after all. “A simple fall may destroy the roof of a building or two. It will not destroy a city.” Far less harmful than Xiao’s fit of destruction had the potential to be.
“I apologise for that disgraceful display,” Xiao says again, lowering his head.
Morax clicks his tongue once (and resolves never to do it again for it is a decidedly reptilian gesture) in disapproval. Had that been another insensitive comparison? Where is Guizhong when her tact is required?
They stay in silence for a while before Xiao says, “... Shall I stand?”
Despite how Guizhong teases otherwise, Morax is, in fact, capable of learning from his mistakes. So he offers Xiao his hand to help him up.
For a long moment Xiao simply stares at it, and Morax thinks he might disappear with the wind again. But then he looks up to meet his eyes. “If you should ever like to fly again… I am not immune to fear, but I would like to be.”
Morax barely notices his own lips quirk up. “Perhaps not today.”
Xiao does not smile – but his eyes seem to, almost, anyway – when he reaches out to take Morax’s hand. “Not today,” he agrees in a quiet voice.
For now, he thinks as they stand up, perhaps a bowl of almond tofu will do them both some good.