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As a God of contracts, Morax was one who never had trouble keeping silent. He didn’t particularly enjoy lying, much less hiding the truth from those who may benefit from it, but a promise is sacred. A promise is one you mustn’t break. Something holy in the sense it was supposed to be revered like he was, more often than not. A contract is a written promise that has the expectation of being fair and equal terms. Both parties sacrifice something; both parties gain something. It's a compromise in and of itself, something that both chains and liberates. Morax knew how to limit himself. He knew how to weave between good and evil, and stay neutral, no matter how much guilt he would burden himself with, just for the efforts of staying blameless.
The warrior God, the warmonger that is Rex Lapis, has never once settled for mercy. Once one was a threat, there was very little that could change his mind from subjugating them. He often couldn't force himself to forgive, even when he understood it to be necessary. He couldn't forgive the perpetrators that trespassed his territory with malicious intent, the complacent onlookers who were able to put up a fight but didn't, and mostly himself, for bringing death and destruction in the form of heavenly judgment. The king in his name has always felt superfluous.
Everyone knew The Prime Adeptus was an omen of good wealth and prosperity. He, together with the rest of the adepti, worked closely together to establish what is now known as Liyue, and make sure the people stay fed and clothed. He brought the revolutionary inventions to light with the rest of the adepti; the currency the entirety of Teyvat uses, the art of storytelling and history as we know it, and the essence of cuisine, all together. The Prime Adeptus was the benevolent leader, the back to which the people of Liyue looked to, a giant mountain that rose beyond the heavens, far out of reach. He knew how to learn trades, and become one with rituals and tradition. He was the sheer representation of that culmination. He was the centre of their culture, the idol upon which his people prayed for good fortune, and the unanimous symbol of peace. His perfection shone as brilliantly as the rising sun, never once faltering. He could never falter or stop.
He had many names, all coagulating with the pride and regrets he carried, but to his love, he was known by only one.
"Zhongli!"
The figure was bouncing towards him, a small woman with a mischievous look in her eyes. He once used to be called the same thing by someone similarly dear to him, but however one could compare the two, their differences are what made them all the more lovable. Zhongli could only hope that the words locked up in the dusted memories he had would now finally be able to be revealed, and put away in a display case. History from that long ago should be placed in museums, where it belongs, so it can be remembered and honoured but not relived.
Hu Tao was mortal and lived like each day was her last. The way she looked at him made him feel like he, too, could have a normal existence, without the burdens he knew he was responsible for. Chestnut brown hair, in two pigtails, running like silken rivers down her back, from the mountain that was her Director hat. A keepsake from her grandfather, a sign she had history and burdens to wear as well.
Their love was new, and Zhongli only just got appointed as her consultant, her right-hand man in all matters. A partner in crime, work, and love. It had a nice ring to it, no matter how often he mumbled it to himself to convince himself it was true.
"Are we ready to go?"
"Most certainly, Director Hu."
She pouted without losing the twinkle in her gaze. "We're on a date! You should call me something less formal, Mr. Stick up the ass."
"Alright, Hu Tao." The smile in his voice betrayed his attempt at being cool.
It was barely spring, and they found themselves just on the precipice of the threshold between life and death. Winter has not yet passed, but in the Harbour, there was no snow to be seen. They weaved between the people, now one with the crowd, through the streets of Liyue as they knew it. The day was unsurprisingly busy, given their destination was popular. The plum blossoms have started to bloom, right in the suburbs of Liyue Harbour, and they have become the bearer of the annual festival. Seeing their beauty along the remains of white purity was something everyone should experience. Good fortune lay in drinking wine and enjoying poems under their beloved gaze.
Zhongli was carrying the wine, while Hu Tao was marching forward steadily. She held his hand, dragging him faster and closer to their end goal. She was moving forward, beyond the people, into the snow. She chattered about squirrels and nuts, specifically those that could be bought in packets the entire way. Zhongli could just barely keep up with her energy, but he didn't mind one bit. They eventually reached a thinned-out crowd and found a spot underneath one of the trees to set up a blanket and the wine.
"There! Now it's time for the main event~."
Zhongli could only laugh as he leisurely opened the bottle. Hu Tao was laying down on the blanket, her hair still spilling onto the ground that still had the occasional spot of snow. He could recognize her thinking face, deep in contemplation about something. He assumed it was the poetry she was writing in her head, as she always was. It was either that or something unprecedented to the point of being unpredictable.
In his long existence, unpredictability was good. It gave way to much more dynamic encounters with the world. He could not place her in any boxes, nor would she ever try to do so for him.
Zhongli wondered whether he should put boxes around his entity, regardless. If Rex Lapis, Morax, and The Prime Adeptus were to be considered dead; would he grant them the same courtesy of a museum display? Would he be willing to accept freezing his own time, forever to put away what has once been centre stage? Would he be able to live as just a man at all?
He was not afraid of erosion. Once he may have been avoidant of it, but now, it is a natural part of the cycle. If he so must die, then he will gladly accept it. Death is just another end to his long list of stories.
Zhongli was not afraid of death.
He poured wine into the cups he brought, and when he was done, he took a sip of his own. Hu Tao left hers right where he placed it, still enjoying the tranquillity of the moment. She didn't say anything, as if she knew that Zhongli himself was in turmoil. Perhaps she knew that he encompassed all his other names as well. Maybe it was simpler than that.
Maybe it didn't matter what names he carried before, as long as he gave a name to them.
The wind blew just hard enough so that petals and blossoms would fall. Some happened inside of the wine cups, while others on the blanket and their persons. Zhongli managed to catch a beautifully crimson one in the air; almost as if it landed straight into his hands.
Putting the plum blossom in her hair was an impulse he could not contain. Her, noticing it, could only grin in smug satisfaction.
"I look cute, don't I?"
A chuckle rose out of him. "Indeed you do, my love."
Her smile only brightened, as she raised her hand to boop his nose. Zhongli could swear that might've been the moment he knew he was going to marry her.
Before he knew it, he leaned in more and whispered a poem in her ear:
「百花头上开，冰雪寒中见。
霜月定相知，先识春风面。」
[ Translation found online so you don't have to look it up:
Bloom ahead of hundreds of flowers,
Appear in the cold of snow and ice.
The frost and the moon are sure to know you,
Being the first to see the face of the spring breeze.
- Xin Qiji ]
And the way she snuggled up to his frame, her arms around his neck in an embrace, and kissed him tenderly, made him realize she is the true coming of spring within deep winter.