Work Text:
Barbatos considered annoying the hell out of Morax a sport (maybe an extreme sport).
It was downright satisfying to crack the ever calculated and cold blockhead into a grimacing mess that Morax himself wouldn't imagine making, although this favorite sport of Barbatos would result in a few boulders yeeted at him the moment his last feather exited the Adeptus Abode.
That day, however, Celestial probably decided to punish his affinity for mischief and unapologetic demeanors. Barbatos could feel Lady Luck left his side in a laughing fit-possibly after slapping him across the face-when the sound of crashing porcelain pierced his eardrums and echoed through his brains.
His large wings had apparently caught into something.
This something was not another something, just like the other somethings that Rex Lapis lovingly hoarde-- collected and displayed in his abode.
Shattered pieces of celadon glimmered in the yellow sunlight, reflecting a pair of horror-struck emerald orbs and another pair of cor lapis--
Venti turned around so fast that he feared his neck might snap.
Morax stared at Barbatos, and then at the sorry mess of broken jade, and then locked at Barbatos.
Barbatos had pulled enough stunts (in both quantity and variety) to recognize the predicament he was in. Morax, although large and intimidating and adorned with battle scars, was a big softie. A few grunts and complaints and loving insults, and Barbatos would be pardoned of all his stunts. This time, Morax was quiet. Deadly quiet. Except his eyes which stormed and swirled with all sorts of emotions and threats.
"Barbatos..."
Morax once told him the Thirty-Six Stratagems*, in which the strategy Morax recommended to people like him was the last one—to run away.
"Where are you going!?"
Geo infused arms caught his braids and yanked him away from the closest window. Barbatos lost his footing on the window frame and fell butt-first onto the wooden floor.
"W...wait! I can explain!" Celestia! Barbatos always knew he would be the first to part among seven of them, but not like this! Those historians would definitely speculate his death in the most insulting way possible! And his soon-to-be-executioner was gripping his braids with a vice grip, now with both hands.
"... calm down Barbatos..."
"Why the hell should I? No man is calm when he is 'bout to be struck with the wrath of the rock!" Barbatos struggled messily against Morax's arms, his tiny hands grabbing and securing the base of his braids, as if the Anemo Archon thought they were going to be ripped off.
"... you are not going to die... I don't shed blood inside my abode........ damn you Barbatos...... " Barbatos stopped and turned a pair of impossibly big eyes to lock with Morax's. The storm was still raging, albeit less vigorous than before, but that void of wrath was filled by something calm, cunning and mischievous? Barbatos blinked. Not good news, but undoubtedly better than the worst scenario which was him being killed by a neighboring God, a fellow Seven, a close friend.
"Ok.... Morax..." Barbatos let go of his braids. Morax also unclenches his fists. Damn... the areas where Morax's hands had clamped onto his braids were effectively flattened into something like canned hair. As long as Barbatos would not end up being canned, or cauterized---
Oh Archons, calm down Barbatos, you're a God too!
As if Morax could feel the Anemo Archon's anxiety, he slowly raised a hand to brush a few sweat-drenched strands out of that moon face, and tucked them behind the ears. Then he patted Barbatos' head comfortingly.
"... it's just a vase..." Barbatos stared. Morax exhaled, closed his eyes and rubbed the crease between his eyebrows "... it was a priceless treasure... the only of its kind... but what's done is done. And, we both know this is not the first nor the last time you break something in my place."
Ehe.
"You just don't change, do you?" Morax sighed for the nth time that day, but there dwelled speckles of fondness in that deep rumble. Barbatos guessed that he didn't dislike that at all. Maybe he shouldn't have freaked out so badly- "Luckily I have thought about a day like today, and I have prepared a punishment for you." —Excuse me. What?
Barbatos blinked. Well... it was fair. The erred had to be judged and punished. That was how life worked. Whatever Morax had in store for him, he would face it and run away with practiced ease, just like the previous times.
Morax grabbed Barbatos' wrist and dragged him up the three-step stairs, to an ample and intricately sculptured seat that Barbatos assumed was the Dragon Throne. With his Geo hand not leaving the Anemo Archon's wrist, Morax dug through a drawer on the desk with the other hand and pulled out a single sheet of thick, high quality paper. The Geo Archon motioned it towards Barbatos, who eyed the thin piece of cellulose fiber for one good second before taking it slowly with two fingers.
"It's not gonna bite."
"Shut up blockhead."
This was apparently some sort of form. "Self-criticism Statement". Definitely not another contract then. Good.
"To put simply, it's a statement to demonstrate your repentance" Morax spoke, his lips just curved slightly enough to be recognized as a smile by close observers like Barbatos "I have no doubts that you would write a heart-felt apology, considering your sincerely apologetic expressions after breaking my celadon vase."
This buffoon!
He had the nerve to instill laugh in every syllable and not caring to conceal it!
Barbatos gripped the poor form and half-shoved it into the waistband of his scandalous white shorts.
Alright then. If Morax wanted to play the game, how could Barbatos, the God of Songs and the Friend, pass the opportunity to live up to his many names?
--
Morax smiled inwardly.
He didn't expect Barbatos to take this 'punishment' seriously. The Geo Archon only asked for a self-criticism statement because he was tired of throwing boulders at Barbatos only for them to miss and damage the infrastructure built tirelessly by Liyue people.
Morax held the heavy envelop with the seal of the Anemo Archon and dismissed the little birdie that acted as a deliveryman on behalf of the Archon.
Maybe this was another prank by Barbatos. Maybe there wouldn't be a single line of apology in these paper. Morax chuckled. Regardless of what it was, he was beyond curious. Maybe work can be delayed a little.
Calloused fingers slowly pried open the mouth of the envelop and pulled out a few high quality paper adorned with calligraphy.
"Self-reflection statement
Dearest Rex Lapis—the adored, almighty and powerful Geo Archon—the wise, learnt and strong Morax—the boring, brutish buffoon that I, the Anemo Archon, has the honor of neighboring..."
Ah. This was to be expected.
"... I am Barbatos, real name unknown, age unknown, birthday probably unknown, address changing by the second. As the Archon of Mondstadt, the city of freedom, songs and wind, I have a burning desire to spread positivity and work-life balance ideals to my beloved--"
Blockhead.
But the word was crossed out with a single flawless line and was perfectly readable regardless. Morax snickered. The little brat.
"--friend and neighbor. Therefore, two days ago, dated 21/10/xxxx, I decided to drop by for a cultured exchange between gods of two nations...."
Barbatos called his irresponsible drinking sessions and outrageous energy 'cultured'. Morax wondered if this was a culture difference.
"... That was a chilly afternoon of a typical autumn day, with golden rays kissing our skins and birds chirping to the melody of fruitful harvest. Rex Lapis and I were engaged in an intellectual discussion, as expected every time we pay each other a visit..."
A laugh broke from Morax's lips.
"... Rex Lapix himself was so engrossed in our charming conversation that he lost track of time. With regret, he excused himself to retreat to his private chambers to make tea which he could use the following day...."
If Morax didn't know better, he would have thought Barbatos met up with a different Morax. He did excuse himself, but not to make tea. In fact, Barbatos shouldn't have been able to speculate his moves.
"That was when the purple-gold curtain of clouds pulled itself aside to reveal the most spectacular constellations floating amongst the endless pit of the universe. At that moment, I felt as if the constellations aligned themselves to deliver a divine message: Barbatos, it's time to dance..."
Morax blinked.
"As if there existed a being that could resist the temptation of freedom! As if my dearest Morax's furniture has grown legs and made space for me to prove my talent, my call, my desire for freedom..."
Why were the font a little bigger in the repetitive parts?
"... and right at that moment, I realized I have made too big a mistake..."
Ah, the font returned to its original size.
"... Just like how the gods have witnessed a flower's bloom in admiration at a bard's music, and a swan's doom in envy of the bard's grace, I—Barbatos—have witnessed a vase's jealousy at my moves that it couldn't help but crash itself..."
An article from Sumeru suggested that this was a typical victim-blaming bullshit. Morax carried on.
"... and then Morax stormed in like a shooting star that was always 5 seconds too late for a wish. He then gave me the kindest glance, like a mother to a child, like a teacher to a mischievous but lovable student, like Director Hu to a coffined client..."
Morax choked on air.
"... His eyes changed me, making me beat myself mentally. Maybe in your eyes, I have nothing but a dissipated, self-indulged, good-for-nothing leech, but you should also know that I do not wish myself to be so. As people always say, the kind of company I keep makes the kind of person I am ;-)"
It took Morax one good second (at the emoji) to understand the implications.
"But what can I say? As a rule, the perpetrator has to be punished, and I am happy, albeit ashamed, to write this perfectly sincere apology statement as well as accept any punishment that could calm your blood pressure, for I am not ready to write a statement on a grandfather's untimely death."
Sighed.
Flipped.
"Sincerely yours,
Barbatos
Mondstadt's Best Bard
Address: Windrise Tree, 3rd branch from bottom up (the residence can be moved without notice)
Emergency contacts: Dvalin, Andrius (only in extreme urgency)"
Morax put the proclaimed self-criticism statement down.
He rested his back on the dragon throne.
Frowned.
Zhongli smiled. The wind tangoed with his earring.
Would that bard come again soon? He wondered.