Chapter Text
A pair of well-polished shoes drag through the sun-lit grass. Scuffs blemish their skin, evidence of their fight against the forest’s roots and rocks. Zhongli does not bother to pick up his feet to spare them this bruising; he struggles to simply move. It’s a truly sorry state he finds himself in, his clothing speaking of the poised standard he held himself to in the past, but his movement speaking instead of his utter exhaustion, one which saps the life from his visage. His foot meets with yet another root, sending him stumbling forward slightly. His gait, similarly, is not one befitting of his status, nor of his character.
Long ago, the Traveler had risen against the Cryo Archon and won. The gnosis in his chest, a dull reminder of his inhumanity, is a result of that victory. The Traveler brought peace to Teyvat, returned the symbols of power to each land’s god, and then turned her sights on the corruption of the Abyss Order. Against this threat, she too triumphed, as they burrowed deep into the earth’s flesh in retreat. She was a hero deserving of her laurels.
As time went by, the elemental beings of the world fell dormant. The common slime disappeared from sight and memory. People chuckled at the thought of a towering growth of fire, or of a vengeful beast formed from the purest of water. They did not need visions anymore. There was nothing of such nature to protect themselves from.
Zhongli heaves a shaky breath as he marches onwards. In the beginning, there was much he had yet to learn and accept of living as a ‘mortal’. Of these things, the one hardest to come to terms with infiltrated all life: The ever-revolving cycle of love and loss. It and Zhongli had become well-acquainted over the ages. The Archon War had taken the lives of many dear to him, the grief of their passing always to linger. With these bygone individuals, thousands of years were spent in good company. That time could not be described as fleeting.
Therefore, it was difficult to adjust to the sheer speed by which a human life lit and extinguished. Humans were powerful in their fragility, ambition running through their blood, advancing their abilities and circumstances. They understood how quickly their opportunities could disappear. Zhongli recalls his first brush with bereavement in his attempt at a full mortal life. No amount of time had truly healed that wound, and Zhongli had not hoped for it to. He wore his scars as proof that his loved ones were here , breathing the world's air, feeding into its change.
There were two scars he always sought to display: One was left by Guizhong, a first in companionship, witty and tactful in a way he could never be. The image of her smile had embedded itself in Zhongli’s mind millennia ago. He felt the glaze lilies wore her memory well, too.
In mortal life, Zhongli had watched as countless friends deteriorated in body and mind, himself remaining pristine. What was worse were the sudden instances, a life not yet lived departing from this realm.
The other scar was left by Childe. If you hold a starconch to your ear, you might hear it calling his name.
Zhongli bends his head up weakly. He finds himself in a clearing. A glance behind him would reveal a clumsy trail of trampled flowers, their honey-colored petals ground to shreds. Instead, he looks ahead, a tree inches from him. He puts his weight against it, head near its hollow.
"I will be back. Don't lose sleep waiting for me, alright?"
There is a limit to the woe one can hold. It gnaws through the insides, through the heart, and at the soul. Zhongli had had his fill.
Bone-weary, a dragon no larger than a lizard slinks into the hollow of the tree. He could respect that wish, if only to respect that memory, old as it may be.
---
Moonlight floods the clearing, washing its expanse in white. The patch of flowers which covers the forest floor has long since regrown. There is not a soul to be seen, not boar, nor man. All avoid this landmark of sorrow, however unintentional it may be. All but two.
The soft soughing of the wind harshens to a hiss; its force rattles the foliage. It announces the arrival of a boy draped in greens and whites. He hovers above the ground before finding his footing with a sigh.
The boy pads over to the occupied tree with practiced silence. He peers into its hollow, luminous turquoise eyes casting a faint blue-green over the area within. He finds what seems to be nothing more than a lizard, as well as some items, amongst them a damaged ring.
A pause. He recalls leaving most of the trinkets, but not the shards of jewel. Another person must have been here.
He returns his focus to the lizard, reaching into the tree carefully.
"Wake up, you old block-head. This is no time to be resting."
---
Earlier that day, two university students settled in a coffee shop, enjoying their weekend. The noon sun bled in through the wide panes of glass spanning the building. The faint sound of coffee sputtering into a pot came from behind the shop's counter, its scent enveloping the room. Patrons were scattered about the store.
The two students sat at a booth, seated close. One draped themselves across the polished wood of their table languidly, cradling their lidded coffee cup. The other sat properly, chugging a concerning brew with fervor.
"I would tell you to enjoy your drink, but I doubt that's possible with your hell-coffee," Childe commented. He spun his cup around in his hands, examining its surface. One side of the cup had his 'name' hurriedly scrawled on it. 'Axe'. Childe smiled to himself.
"Want to bet I can finish another one before Keqing and Ganyu get here?" Lumine returned. Despite the amount of caffeine in her coffee, she seemed unfazed.
Childe barked a laugh. "And lose my life savings? No thanks." He set his cup aside and propped his head in his hands. "It is a little odd that they aren't here yet, though. Keqing, late? Maybe the world is ending."
As if on cue, the doors of the shop burst open to reveal a disheveled, panting Keqing. In her arms was a sleeping Ganyu, blissfully ignorant of her current circumstances. “I’m sorry. We didn’t intend to be late,” Keqing gasped.
Ignoring the stares of curious customers, she took labored steps towards the booth. She deposited Ganyu in its rounded corner before moving to seat herself, trembling as she gripped the table for stability. “Did you walk over here like that?” Childe asked, watching on.
“I didn’t walk. I ran.” She slumped in her seat, grateful to do something that didn’t involve standing. Beads of sweat slipped down her face.
“You should have let me know. I could have walked back and brought my car,” Childe chided.
Lumine smirked into her cup. “She wouldn’t have accepted. She just wanted an excuse to carry Ganyu,” she remarked, satisfaction growing as the flush painting Keqing’s face grew a shade deeper. Keqing straightened herself to make her case.
“No, I just didn’t want to keep you two waiting any longer,” she stammered. Lumine nodded her head, though she looked wholly unconvinced.
“Uh huh. Tell me what you want and I’ll order for you.”
About 45 minutes later, Ganyu stirred, breaking into an apology the second her post-nap grogginess cleared. The group conversed on trivial topics, only concerned with spending time together. Keqing and Ganyu split a fruit-filled pastry, deemed to be the latter’s ‘punishment’. Lumine made it through two cups of pure evil: unsweetened black coffee with three shots of espresso. Childe finished his less terrifying beverage with no issue.
When they decided to leave, the sun hadn’t quite fallen, but Liyue basked in a fast-dimming glow of orange. Ganyu peered through the shop’s windows fretfully. She turned back to the others, hands fidgeting in her lap. “It’s getting late… I should probably get back to my work.” Keqing hummed in agreement, her own pile of papers waiting patiently in their dorm.
“Wait. I’ll go back with you,” Lumine said as the two began to rise. Items were swiped from the table, metal and plastic knocking against each other as they were placed into bags with varying degrees of care. Ganyu and Keqing made their way to the door as Lumine lagged behind, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration as she tossed her empty cup into a nearby trash can. She huffed in satisfaction as it landed inside with a muted thump .
Then, she turned to Childe, who was rummaging through his bag. “You’re still going on your walk today, right?” she asked, pausing for affirmation. Childe looked up before nodding. “Great. Could you grab some Jueyun Chilis while you’re out? I told someone I would bring them some.”
"Not a problem, princess. We wouldn't want you diving off another cliff," Childe sighed as he heaved his bag over his shoulder.
“I needed those silk flowers. Anyways, I didn’t get hurt. I know my limits, unlike somebody I know,” Lumine added, tapping her chin in feigned thought. She glanced over to the exit, a waiting Keqing tapping at her wrist. “Thank you, genuinely. Don't pick fights," she called as she jogged out the door. Not that he was planning on getting into a fight; more often than not, they came to him. There's a difference.
On the walk back to his apartment, Childe considered the best route to take to the forest. It was the optimal spot for a midnight stroll, but sat on the opposite end of the city. Too far of a drive for a comparatively short walk. A waypoint would be the best form of transportation.
Waypoints, as they existed now, were few and far between. Access to one waypoint was necessary to jump to another, and a farther distance meant a greater sum of mora was required. Additionally, their new system made it so travelling between nations was impossible.
For Childe, money was not a problem; anyone willing to speak to him would find this out quickly. A trip to-and-from wasn’t going to kill his bank account. Besides, a very convenient waypoint sat on the fringe of the forest. Who was he to ignore it?
At his apartment, he padded his bag with stray strips of fabric, estimating how many chilis he could fit in the space. Probably enough, however many that would be.
------
It's a pleasant night, if not oddly windy. The deep blues and greens of the area are flecked with the dazzling white light drizzling from above. Common yellow flowers dot the dense turf, petals bouncing contentedly. An uneven gravel path weaves around them, dirt conquering large chunks of it. Childe takes a deep breath, enjoying the chill that fills his lungs. The refreshing bite of mint grasps his senses.
He tilts his head as an unmistakable scarlet passes his peripheral. Fresh Jueyun Chilis, some of the fruit and attached leaves specked with the nibbles of aphids. Childe whistles a popular jingle as he fishes a pocket tool from his bag, squatting by the plant and separating chili after chili from their stem. The wild ones were smaller than their supermarket variant, but their flavor was much stronger. Whoever was getting these would be paying Lumine less than their worth. With this thought, another chili is tossed onto the growing heap at Childe’s side.
---------
Venti lounges against a tree, his legs spread across a bed of flowers. His lyre is nuzzled cozily in his lap. He tugs its strings with a little more force than necessary.
The dragon before him is as peeved as he is awake. His languid, heavy blinks give away his drowsiness, lessening the effect of his piercing glare on the strumming bard.
"Why have you awoken me," Zhongli inquires. Venti gives a peculiar giggle, his performance becoming frantic before halting entirely.
"You don't want to have a chat, first? Catch up with each other. I have much to fill you in on, but the matter of greatest importance can wait."
"You are troubled. Tell me what issue has arisen," Zhongli insists, the irritation in his voice thinly veiled. His tail beats at the lawn, resulting in more floral casualties and a cloud of dust. Venti rubs at his nose with his sleeve.
"No, no, we have time. You'll never believe this, Morax, currency can be stored on a card now! The marvels of modern technology..," Venti sighs wistfully.
"Barbatos.”
"Okay, okay," Venti waves his hands in front of his face. He straightens his collar and sits tall. "I won't stall any longer, if that is truly what you want… Is that really what you want?"
Venti bristles as he feels geo energy pool beneath him, threatening to erect a pillar. "No need for that, my friend. I won’t keep you in suspense any longer.” He taps his lyre calmly, its form breaking into shards of blue. Venti watches as the fragments fade into nothing before staring back at Zhongli. There’s a newfound sobriety in his gaze.
“A short while ago, I was inspecting a cluster of ruins when a familiar sensation made my neck prickle. It was small enough to be brushed off as simple discomfort, but I decided to chase after its causation. What I found was no larger than a beetle, hopping merrily across the ruin’s stone. It was certainly the teensiest I’ve ever seen,” Venti pinches his fingers together in emphasis. His usual playful tone is lacking in strength. "It was a slime, a compact bundle of dendro."
Zhongli’s pupils narrow, paper-thin. His shock makes itself evident as the clearing bursts into a blaze of gold, emotion coursing through the precious reservoir of his veins, mane bristling. Venti refuses to break eye contact despite the burn settling in his sockets. Instead, he waits, the light slowly relinquishing to the navy shades of dusk.
---------
A sudden gust of wind jostles Childe as he stands. He pays it no mind, flicking a leaf from his shoulder and continuing his trek through the woods. The carved trail he walked had long faded. Childe continues to whistle, the hiss of his tune mingling with the crunch of the dirt beneath his shoes.
Childe stops abruptly. There's another sound. The murmur of conversation, filling the space between every branch and leaf with sound. Childe finds himself moving towards its source.
There is no fear behind his curiosity. No twinge of caution, natural instincts of self-preservation cushioning his decision. For Childe, there is only preparation and action.
As he draws closer, he hears a young voice break into unintelligible yelling. Drawing closer still, he begins to make out what is being said.
"-unmistakably her brother and hyperactive pixie companion! If they're alive and well, then she must-"
Childe's boot lodges itself in some shrubbery, his hand rushing to balance himself against a tree. The noise leads to a startled gasp, two heads snapping to him. A boy in medieval clothing clasps a palm over his mouth. A… dragon scans Childe's frame, body casting a slight yellow hue over its surroundings.
Silence. Childe's eyes dart between the other two. Man, this is awkward.
The boy lowers his hand and purses his lips. "Sorry, we're roleplaying," he offers.
Childe swallows heavily. "Hm," he clears his throat as his voice cracks, "Sorry. Nice costumes. Have a good night." He stumbles backward as he speaks, stepping on several fallen twigs in his getaway.
Venti rolls his eyes and stretches. A pop from his back earns a satisfied exhale. “Kids these days. Any who, I’m most certain that the Traveler has returned. The Dandelion Knight, her trusted colleagues... they seem to have reincarnated as well. I’m confident that the world can adapt to elemental dangers once more if we distribute visions to previous holders and new candidates. For now, our next best step would be to contact... Morax, are you paying attention?”
Zhongli was very obviously not paying attention. Venti channels a burst of anemo in his direction, Zhongli digging his claws into the ground as it roughly tousles him. “I know I said we could relax a bit, but that doesn’t-” Venti’s admonishment is cut off by a pained groan as a geo pillar pierces through the tree he lies against, knocking him upside the head. The poor tree keels over to its side, split from its base haphazardly.
“On second thought, maybe we can continue this tomorrow,” Venti slurs as he slouches forward and slips into unconsciousness.
---------
Lounging in bed, Childe hooks an arm behind his neck, propping his phone up on his chest with his other hand. His thumb twitches over the on-screen keyboard.
[ lumine ]
[ Yes ]
[ i got the chilis u asked for ]
[ Ok cool ]
[ i never said it wouldnt cost u something ]
He could already imagine Lumine’s sigh of displeasure.
[ What do you want ]
[ rate my guitar skills ]
3 dots pulse at the bottom of the screen. Her eventual response was easily anticipated:
[ Fine ]
Childe grins as he rolls out of bed, grabbing a guitar pick off his nightstand.