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Not one for casual carnage, Xiao kept mostly to himself in the weeks leading up to the Traveler's last day in Teyvat. He could take his pick of reasons to recuse himself: Morax was no longer involved, there wasn't a soul left to save in Liyue, he'd survived enough bloodshed to last himself another millennia. Who could fault him for that?
"Look who's here anyway," Venti poked him in the arm. "Like clockwork, you are. Now that's what I call a vigilant yaksha."
"Write a ballad for this vigilant yaksha, then," he poked Venti back. "Aren't you good at those?"
Venti's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe next time."
Together they sat on a wooden precipice, the ridge of what was once the roof of the Wangshu Inn. Several lines of geometry here had smoothened out in the last fifty years. New growth on the third level had finally sunk back into old growth on the second, any pattern of human civilization ebbing away with it. In spite of that, on some days Xiao could still hear the echo of Huai'an pacing from lobby to balcony, the click-clack of Verr Goldet's fingernails tapping against the tiles of her abacus.
"You could've left first." He didn't have to gesture toward the sky for Venti to understand what he'd meant by that. Celestia. They could've both left yesterday. The Traveler had not impolitely insisted on it, but...
"Where's the fun in that?" Venti chuckled. "And here I thought you'd always wanted to watch the world end with me."
"Only you," he conceded. It was always only you, he didn't say.
Though there was nothing stopping him from folding, he supposed. Things could go wrong & he would not be here to witness it tomorrow. Still the idea did not bring him any relief.