Chapter Text
Dream
The two of them spent all day traversing the boundless soil of Liyue — from fighting camps of Hilichurls in Jueyen Karst to scaling the peaks of Huaguang Stone Forest for Qingxin. So it must’ve been expected that, after finally arriving at Northland Bank, Childe felt the brunt of his fatigue. The endurance of a mere mortal could not compare to a God’s, particularly that of the martial God Rex Lapis.
Yes — that must’ve been why he was exhausted! Zhongli dragged him cross country all day long. Well, at least it was worth it for that sweet, sweet gliding spectacle. Maybe, rather than just the view, one of these times Zhongli would honor him with a fight; he was most certainly anticipating the fateful day.
As the two of them stepped into the bank, the guard, Vlad, greeted them. Then as they came to the counter, Ekaterina said her hellos. And then Zhongli walked up — Childe could only sigh.
“Mister Zhongli, it’s a pleasure to see you. I see you’ve been with master Childe.”
“Ah — yes. We’ve just been. . .”
Small talk was Zhongli's tiresome habit — that much was indisputable. For someone as short-tempered as Childe, it was an annoyance or, at least, it should’ve been. Zhongli’s voice was pleasantly deep, regardless if he was rambling or not. It lulled and, though Childe didn’t want to admit it, that was so much sexier in bed.
And don’t forget when it was even raspier in the morning. . .
Ekaterina's eyes went wide. Thump — Tartaglia! Swiftly, she rushed to the front of the desk, shouting her master’s name.
Who would expect the vigorous number 11 of the Harbingers to, uncharacteristically, collapse in front of them? Reasonably, when Childe woke, he should be thankful to Zhongli for catching him in his arms. Thank the Archons, that was a concussion avoided! Childe desperately required his head with the Qixing's demands. What was further unusual was, for being a funeral consultant, Zhongli certainly had quick reflexes.
“It — it seems like I have worn him out,” Zhongli said. His amber eyes gawked at the unmoving body of the Harbinger, “Um. . . is this the first time he collapsed? He did not seem exhausted today. Just as usual, ruthlessly slaughtering Hilichurls.”
“It’s — no, but I do not see any bruises or cuts. Did he — did you see him do anything unordinary?” She asked, hands hovering above her superior.
“If you are talking about using his Delusion, no, but I am assuming you’re thinking along the lines of his Foul Legacy Transformation, correct?” Zhongli asked.
“Y-yes — you —”
“Yes, the Traveler informed me,” Zhongli stated. He pushed Childe’s bangs back, feeling the other’s forehead. “Not a fever — a little warm though.”
“He’s used it twice, back to back, recently and, knowing Master Childe’s nature, I thought —”
Zhongli chuckled, “Yeah, he is a bit reckless, a bit unpredictable. If you do not object, I would like to take him back to my place to recover. Seeing that I was the one to push him to exhaustion, it would be improper to leave you with this mess. If you do not mind, of course.”
“No, no — go ahead. I’m sure that would be better. If he wakes up to a stack of papers or someone yelling his name, I’m sure he’ll be more than irritable, and who knows what he’ll do then.” Ekaterina said.
°。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。
His eyesight was impaired. To see was vital, as you could gauge your enemies. That wasn’t saying to hear wasn’t just as indispensable, but in the Fatui, where knowing the art of stealth was nearly a necessity (especially so among the Harbingers), it was a bit lacking compared to sight.
But the Abyss taught him many things, and, it happened to be, appreciating the use of hearing was one of them.
Though whoever was impairing his vision didn’t bother whether they were known or not. They used their hands to cover his eyes rather than say an object, alchemy, or, better yet, a Vision. There were also no restraints. So, he lifted his own hands, feeling the other’s on his face — a woman’s hands, uncalloused. Did this person disregard their life?
A breathy chuckle emerged from the woman’s lips, chiming in his ears. “It seems you woke.”
Yes, this was most definitely a woman, but unknown to Childe. Her voice was too deep to be Skirk’s, too high to be the Tsaritsa’s. It was wispy — almost, in a way, otherworldly.
“State your purpose! You must know who I am.” Childe yelled. He tried to be menacing, but, alas, how could he? Whatever this woman wanted, he was subject to her whims. Then again, he could. . .
That only prompted another laugh, “Of course. All Liyue knows of the man who summoned Osial, Lord of the Vortex, unto their once safe harbor. You summoned discourse and created chaos. For what?”
Abruptly, he grabbed onto her hand, hoping to twist her wrist or perhaps crush her petite frame. How dare she say that to him! What did she know of the situation!? For what — the voice in his head sang. As he grabbed onto her hand, it turned into nothingness. The effort was futile, just like —
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be harsh. You must forgive me.” She said.
Now Childe could finally, somewhat see. Though, the woman's other hand still covered his right eye. Fluffy, white clouds rolled on an azure backdrop. And he was. . . lying in this woman’s — whoever this woman was — lap. Too submissive! What could happen if he got ambushed. The woman, whose blatant disregard for her own life was anxiety-inducing, wasn’t going to initiate a fight. Or was she? Could this be a ploy for her real objective?
Surely, people craved for his spilled blood.
His conscience tempted him to gaze upwards — to look into the face of this, he supposed, persecutor — one who dared to instigate a Harbinger, though only through words. Did she have the battle-hardened faces of Skirk or his beloved Tsarista?
“No one will harm you here — relax.”
His thoughts came to a hurtling stop, enabling him to blurt out stupidity. “D-did — did you read my thoughts?”
“I do not need to read them, not when I can tell by the look on your face. Brutes like you need to learn the importance of wisdom. I say human nature is patterned and, if observed over time, can become predictable to the keen eye. Don’t you agree?” She asked.
For a man entitled unpredictable, for a man who had drastically changed so much, it got him enrolled into the Fatui, he couldn’t say the answer was yes. “No.”
“I see. Would you say, you’re a perfect match for Rex?”
“W-what!? What do you mean?” Childe yelled. “Him? No — he — he — he’s just. . .”
The woman giggled again. Presently with two hands once more, she clutched Childe’s own hands. She leisurely brought them down to his stomach, where they rested intertwined. “Yes, I know very well the lengths Rex would go to — especially when it comes to his people and his duties. You must forgive him. A rock will always be a rock, even 6000 years later.”
“Who are you?” He asked, beginning to feel dazed.
“I’ll tell you next time. For now, let me ask you a question. What are your favorite flowers?”
“Flowers? Nothing grows in Snezhnaya except —”
Ah, yes, the snowdrops his mother used to love. The solitary flowers that would ever grow, only seen a measly few weeks out of the year.
Sleepiness washed over him. . . “I’ll see you again soon.”
°。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。
He had hollered when he opened his eyes.
Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!
He looked to his left, then right. Then and there, he gazed into the eyes of a bluebird, staring right back at him. Wait — where was he? He didn’t keep his windows open. That was just asking for murder! Matter of fact, he locked his windows up, making sure two layers of curtains concealed the glass. He then looked at the duvet and felt the fabric — silk.
The door hastily opened, “Childe are you alright? I heard you yell.”
The bird which was once traipsing around the floor of, evidently, Zhongli’s room had flown away. What was going on with him today — that weird dream or was it a premonition — and why, now that he thought about it was he at Zhongli’s place?
“Is something the matter?” Zhongli asked, his hands hovering around Childe’s body.
“No — ” He said, shaking his head, “It was nothing. I don’t know what came over me, but forget you heard me yell. Okay?” Childe said, keeping his gaze away.
How could he look Zhongli in the eyes!?
“If that is what you wish, but, and I don’t mean to be rude, you should lay back down. I have brewed some tea, so let me go fetch it.” Zhongli said, rushing out the room.
This was — awkward. Earlier, he must’ve passed out. These covers smelled like Zhongli — like silk flowers, but, perhaps, a little more manly like mountains. Dirt? No! Childe decided the obvious — dirt wasn’t pleasant smelling, unlike Zhongli. He brought the covers to his nose, whiffing the powerful, alluring aroma of silk flowers.
Yes, definitely Zhongli’s.
Childe began to put the dots together. Ah, yes! He remembered now, them arriving back at the bank, and that’s when he must’ve. . . Urgh, so embarrassing! Then what did Zhongli do — carry him through the streets? Bridal style? Oh please, Archons no!
He buried his face in the covers. Why?
The door creaked open, “I’m back. I hope you like Chamomile tea. It is known to help people relax and sleep, and I thought you might have been having trouble sleeping, seeing that you. . .”
Zhongli let his words hang.
“Thanks.”
Childe dropped the covers and took hold of the tea plate. It was nothing shy of aesthetic, unquestionably the work of Zhongli. It would make for a better painting or picture rather than serving its actual purpose — drunk as medicine. Though Childe was not having difficulty sleeping, it would be rude to let Zhongli’s work be wasted (or maybe he should, just to spite him). Actually, Childe was having the opposite problem — lethargy had plagued him in the last few days, awfully more often than not. Perhaps, Childe had just been spending too much time staring at the Qixing’s dreadful papers.
What should’ve been a nice getaway ended up as — well, this!
“How does it taste? I was not sure how much chamomile to add; it might be. . . rather potent.” Zhongli said, walking towards the open balcony doors.
It was good. “It’s fine. I’m sorry about — y’know. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“It was nothing. Oh! Before I forget, your mask is sitting on the nightstand to your right. I took it off because — because I thought you would be uncomfortable wearing it in your sleep.”