Chapter Text
An adult adeptus ages so slowly, millennia may go by with no visible change.
A child adeptus should grow, perhaps far slower than most mortal creatures, and slower even than a dragon hatchling, but it should grow nevertheless.
Xiao does not grow.
In the beginning, Morax simply assumes his near-perfect abstinence has resulted in near-perfect immortality, to the point where even as a child the passage of time effects little change on his body.
Guizhong, as always, is the one who points out the gap in Morax’s logic.
“He is a hatchling, and a hatchling must grow,” she points out very simply. Then, “You have seen a similar phenomenon in mortal children. Why would you assume adepti children are any different?”
Of course, Morax quickly realises that she is right.
A simple fact of war is that children starve. Children cannot eat gold and wisdom, after all. And even when those on their side have ample food, the children on enemy territory starve. With food scarce and trade nonexistent, it is inevitable. Starved children do not grow, though they also do not have skin as fair and clear as Xiao’s.
Xiao, who, much like a Qilin, is physically unable to ingest any kind of animal produce. He does not eat any cooked food, and has even rejected the fresh fruits and vegetables grown by the people on Guili Plains. Morax has always assumed he eats the plants that grow in Jueyun Karst, though nobody has ever seen him in that area unless there is a battle to be won. (And even then, he can scarcely be seen, though the fruits of his labour are clear as day.) With the way Xiao comes and goes with the wind, surely one cannot fault Morax for thinking that he has simply not been seen on his undoubtedly quick trips.
Guizhong has a theory that they test that very evening.
She gathers the men by the bonfire and they speak of their fallen comrades. It is a solemn affair with no drinking and singing. On nights like this, one can expect even the most robust of soldiers to lose sleep to their dreams.
Everyone on Guili Plains sleeps peacefully. The few who dream, dream only of the sweetest dreams their minds can conjure. As it has been for all the months since the Chi has been put to rest.
Everyone on Guili Plains sleeps, except Morax and Xiao.
He finds Xiao standing atop a watchtower. He is still except for the way his hair and clothes respond to the wind’s caresses. Even when Morax lands beside him and shifts to his human form, he does not twitch.
“Lord Morax,” he says, words and tone perfectly polite. His face and body speak of indifference.
“You do not have to do this,” Morax says, referring to the way Xiao unfailingly keeps watch over the people every night, guarding them from both physical danger and the terrors created by their own minds.
Xiao turns to look at him, utterly confused. “Kneeling or bowing before one’s lord is standard practice. You say you do not want my reverence, fine. But is not a verbal greeting the most basic of etiquette? If you would prefer to be ignored, why do you seek me out?”
He has had a human form for centuries, but until very recently, his only real interaction has been with the Chi. It should not surprise Morax that he speaks of human customs as though he had learnt of them in a book. “You do not have to do anything you do not wish to,” Morax reiterates, “but that is not what I meant. You are allowed to sleep, in the day or in the night, whenever you have no duties. You do not have to keep watch. Not over the land, nor over their dreams.”
There is a long pause where Xiao’s confusion does not fade, and instead only grows. Finally, “What need have I for sleep? If my performance has been unsatisfactory, why do you praise me after a battle? Please speak plainly.”
Morax thinks in despair that he should have brought Guizhong or Cloud Retainer along for this conversation. “Your performance has been more than satisfactory,” he assures quickly, because the last thing anyone needs is for Xiao to attempt to improve himself in that aspect. Even Barbatos and Morax do not reshape the lands so often and so drastically. “This is about my part of the contract.”
“My survival and a loose leash,” Xiao recites, in words that are definitely not the ones in the contract that Morax remembers. “Are you here to tighten it?”
“No!” Celestia, no. He has been at war with no respite for close to a thousand years, and Morax has never before felt this close to crying. He trudges on because no problem is as unbending as he is. “You have to eat and sleep to grow.” And he quickly adds, “Do not ask me why you have to grow.” Because Morax very much does not wish to play the ‘To make you a better fighter’ card, because a, he does not wish to imply that the results Xiao has produced has been anything less than unnervingly perfect, and b, it is not the reason he has to eat and sleep at all. Morax can hardly care less if Xiao decides tomorrow that he never wishes to hold a weapon again. (In fact, he would be so relieved he might cry.)
“I do eat,” Xiao says, and if Morax thought bursting into tears might help him get his point across, he would. The harrowing truth of the matter is that Xiao probably understands tears even less than he does words.
Morax takes a deep breath, and something occurs to him. Maybe… “Do you perhaps enjoy eating nightmares?” Though there is no nutrition in them and they have the most vile taste and eating them naturally causes one to have less than pleasant dreams… if Xiao enjoys them, who is to deny him?
Until now, Xiao has been careful not to express anything less positive than indifference. (If Morax had not seen the way he spoke about the Chi, he would have assumed he was truly indifferent to everything.) That changes now, when he gives him a look that is downright derisive and that, Morax thinks, is well-deserved. It lasts for a full second, before Xiao blinks and all that is left is bewilderment. “Do you… Have I… If…” He clears his throat. “I apologise for consuming the nightmares without your approval. I will not do it again.”
Right. Morax is a god who has been at war for a thousand years. He knows when to make a tactical retreat. “You may do it if you wish,” he says, just in case Xiao really does enjoy the acrid taste of nightmares. Then, “We will continue this conversation next time, with Guizhong and Cloud Retainer present.”
The next time they gather on Mt. Aocang, Morax brings up the starving hatchling.
“All he eats are the nightmares he spends all night guarding the people from,” he informs Cloud Retainer. “Perhaps you would know best how to remedy this.” After all, none knows food better than she.
Cloud Retainer considers for a long moment before she says, “According to the teachings of the older adepti, food is unnecessary. Energy is absorbed from one’s surroundings, and satisfaction comes from within. If he seeks not the enjoyment of food, one does not see why we should force him to partake in our not abundant supplies.”
Guizhong chuckles. “Come now, old friend, speak from your heart.”
She huffs and ruffles her feathers. “You say they have not had nightmares in the months since the Chi? He is gorging himself on them, and he must have been eating those of Qingce Village for many years. Insomnia and nightmare-gorging… that is a vicious cycle indeed.” She stalks to the poolside and gazes at the ripples caused by her angelfish contemplatively.
After a while she continues, “Nobody enjoys nightmares, so there must be a reason he eats them. One can only speculate: Out of guilt, perhaps, if he thinks he owes it to them; perhaps it is a habit stemming from an order given by the Chi – one knows not of any who have eaten nightmares as staple, so one knows not if they may be addictive; perhaps he is a natural dream-walker, and the nightmares disturb his vigil; perhaps he eats them because he cannot sleep either way; perhaps he is simply the most selfless of us all.” She turns and begins stalking back to their table. “Perhaps Rex Lapis would do better to ask him directly. There can be no sure way to remedy this without knowing its cause. However…”
Now she leans over the table and sniffs the pot of stewing Adeptus’s Temptation before sighing in contentment. “Perhaps good food will tempt him.”
Guizhong chuckles again, “He is vegetarian. I’m afraid your favourites will not appeal to him.”
Cloud Retainer simply scoffs, “Ridiculous. He is a bird of prey if one ever saw one.”
Morax volunteers, “He can stomach Qingxin, apples, sunsettia and even stir-fried vegetables, but when offered cooked meat he nearly puked.”
She harrumphs, still unconvinced. “One will believe it when one sees it.”
“We will invite him next time to try your dishes,” Guizhong decides. “Now, tell me about that new mechanism you drafted.”
For a reason unknown even to Morax, he is assigned the task of inviting Xiao to their next gathering.
He finds him crouching on the roof of a watchtower at midafternoon, disapproving eyes watching the men train. When Morax lands beside him, he stands up to greet him. “Lord Morax.”
He waves the deference away, “Will you join us for dinner at dusk? Cloud Retainer has prepared a variety of dishes she feels may appeal to you.”
“I neither require sustenance nor enjoy the act of consuming food. Any food given to me will simply be wasted,” he says matter-of-factly, as though eating for nutrition is a waste of food. Qingce Village has always been a farming village with an excess of fresh water, so Morax knows not where this notion comes from.
“Your presence is requested anyway,” he says. Perhaps he may change his mind about enjoying it after seeing Cloud Retainer’s dishes himself. In any case, Morax’s job is only to ensure that he joins them.
Xiao tilts his head in acknowledgment. “I will be there when you call.”
Cloud Retainer has truly outdone herself. Her soft spot for children is, after all, the reason Guizhong and Morax sought her help in the matter.
She has little Ganyu with her this evening. Her cheeks are rounder than they had been when last Morax saw her not more than a year ago, and her horns shine with a healthy gleam – indeed the image of a child adeptus with a robust appetite. Courtesy of Ganyu’s presence, there is also a variety of fresh plants at the table. If all else fails, at least there is something they know Xiao can eat.
When Cloud Retainer declares that dinner is ready, Morax calls for Xiao.
“Lord Morax.” He arrives with a gentle breeze, subtly wrinkling his nose at the overwhelming smell of cooked food.
“Xiao,” Guizhong greets warmly.
To Morax’s knowledge, the two have not spoken before. The nature of Xiao’s contract is such that he reports to Morax always – and unlike everyone else, his ability has ensured that he has never been in a situation where he has to report to Guizhong due to Morax being elsewhere. Furthermore, he has never seen fit to join in on Guizhong’s social sessions with the army.
Nevertheless, Guizhong’s face is not one that any of their followers would not recognise. Xiao bows low to greet her, “Lady Guizhong.” He bows also to Cloud Retainer, though much more shallowly. “You must be Cloud Retainer, I have looked forward to meeting you.” Finally he turns to Ganyu and nods, “My name is Xiao.”
Guizhong immediately tells him off gently, “None of that. You may simply call me Guizhong.” Morax will be very impressed if that works.
On the other hand, Cloud Retainer preens, “Likewise, hatchling.”
Ganyu scrambles onto a stone stool to peek at him over the table. “Ganyu. Does Xiao have a sacred title?”
Xiao fixes her with his sharp stare, and Morax is amused to see that she does not even cringe, long used to Cloud Retainer’s bird eyes. Her boldness must surprise even Xiao, who simply says, “No, what about you?”
“She is half-adeptus,” Cloud Retainer explains. “Those born this way are not given titles until they perform an exceptional feat.”
“Half…” Xiao’s eyebrows furrow in incomprehension. “Born this way?”
Morax clears his throat. Guizhong quickly comes to the rescue with, “Among the adepti, Morax is also known by the title Rex Lapis,” and Morax not-so-subtly places his cup on the table loudly. Already he knows that any hope of Xiao addressing him casually has just been dashed.
Guizhong smiles at him sweetly. She gestures at the empty space between the two of them. “Have a seat, Xiao.” With nothing but her eyes, she communicates her displeasure at the fact that Xiao does not yet have a title.
Morax is thus left to create a stone stool beside him for Xiao.
“He Who Guards Against and Consumes Nightmares,” Cloud Retainer suggests. “Nightmare Eater.”
Guizhong looks ready to express her displeasure – in words, this time – when Xiao says instead, “Xiao is the name bestowed upon me by Rex Lapis. I am content with it. I do not require anything as frivolous as a title, nor have I done anything to deserve one.” And that’s that.
(Neither of them mention the title given by the Chi – The Golden Winged King. Morax cannot help but think that, even when it comes to interaction amongst people, Xiao is far more perceptive than he lets on.)
Cloud Retainer begins to introduce the dishes to Xiao one by one, and he listens quietly and with wide eyes. At the end of the introduction, all of them look at him expectantly.
Squirming under the attention, he reaches for a fresh Qingxin stem and nibbles it. Then he immediately blanches.
“Qingxin is bitter,” Ganyu pipes up helpfully.
“Is something wrong with it?” asks Morax, who has seen Xiao eat Qingxin expressionlessly before.
He shakes his head, though he puts it down on his plate and does not touch it again. Instead he crosses his hands on his lap and stares at the table with wide eyes.
“Now,” Cloud Retainer chides, though, Morax notes, in a much kinder tone than she would ever use against him or Guizhong, “one will be very offended if you do not have good reason for not trying one’s dishes.”
Xiao lowers his gaze further to stare at his hands instead. His lips tremble. He looks very much on the verge of teleporting away. Morax feels both gratified and guilty – and even a little awed – that his request is the reason the skittish adeptus has not yet fled.
Guizhong gently places her hand, palm up, on the table in front of him. (She is usually far more tactile than this.) “Chin up,” she says. “Will you tell us what you can stomach, and what makes so much food difficult for you?”
When Xiao begins speaking, Morax is reminded once again of all the reasons he admires Guizhong so. He starts with something simple, “I will not eat bird, eggs, fish, or roe.” (Morax, who has been told about his clan, should have thought of that.) Then he continues with the distressing punchline, “I have never been able to eat anything not nourished primarily by the Chi’s waters.” Then, eyes still trained on his hands, he stands up and excuses himself before Guizhong or Cloud Retainer – or Morax, for that matter, though he never knows what to say to Xiao – can break the excruciating silence that follows. “My apologies for wasting your time.”
The wind blows cold, and he is gone.