Chapter Text
The Market Fair is hosted once a year, on a wide stretch of land right outside the borders of Liyue Harbour. It spans over the course of three days, and every day different stalls are set up with different things on sale.
Today is day three, the final day. Morax has made it a habit to attend all three days every year, but the third day is always the busiest.
Merchants, both local and those who have travelled days to join in, are all spread out in a large patch of flat land. Stalls have been set up in every open space available, leaving only a rough path bare as potential customers roam around. Almost everything is on sale. There are stalls of flowers to rolls of clothes to hand-crafted furniture. One fancy stall painted a rich, deep red sells chopsticks with intricate designs hand-carved into each and every one. Another stall, more simple in appearance, sells clay dolls. An old man sits on a small stool in front of his display, working on one in front of a small crowd.
Further in, there are more interactive stalls. A member of staff leads a customer into a caravan that offers palm-reading services. Another stall selling fish has a wooden pool out front where a handful of children are crouched to touch the fish inside.
Morax is never looking for anything in particular when he wanders, but walking down through the stalls is a rather enjoyable experience in itself; the market does nothing but grow in size and scale every time it is hosted.
He is just stepping away from a stall selling dyed cloth when awed chattering catches his attention and something gold and glowing and feathered catches his eye. Two stalls down, a small crowd of half a dozen people are gathered around a display. Morax approaches, drawn in by something that tugs at his chest.
A glass display is shackled into the ground. Sitting inside is a circular ring netted with strings, a pretty ornament he has not come across before. What truly calls to him, however, are the gold feathers hanging off of the hoop.
A merchant is quick to wander over and stand beside him. “You appear to have a keen eye for beauty, sir,” the man says, in lieu of a greeting.
Morax dips his head in acknowledgement before he goes back to inspecting the decoration. "These feathers are real and appear to be bird feathers," he notes curiously. "However, I do not recognise the breed."
"Ah yes! This item is called a dreamcatcher, and the feathers used are acquired specially for its creation. There’ll be an auction in a bit for one." The last part is tagged as an afterthought. "In fact, if you choose to linger a while longer, dear customer, I believe you'll be able to catch a glimpse of the mythical creature it is extracted from."
Mythical creature. Of course . Morax carefully keeps his face blank as he says, "I see.” he turns to where the merchant is gesturing. The caravans have been positioned so that there is a circular clearing in the middle of them. A few men are setting up what looks like a small stage. “Thank you.”
The merchant nods with a smile then glances around before he flaunts over to an elderly couple also admiring the display from a distance. Morax notes the way he breezes past a group of younger adults excitedly whispering while gesturing at the display and steps around a pair of children admiring with fascination in their eyes.
Morax is rather well-dressed. The elderly couple, too, are rather adorned with subtle but valuable-looking accessories. If Morax were anyone else, he would have rolled his eyes.
The crowd continues to come and go. A few others, stopped by the merchant, hang around as the preparations continue. What looks like a box is rolled onto the stage, covered in a dark cloth.
At exactly three, a man steps up onto the stage. A few backstage staff run around at the foot of the stage as the man approaches the front and clears his throat. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention for a few minutes? Afterwards, I assure you, your decision to stay will be made willingly by you.”
People close enough to hear turn towards the man on the stage. The man continues calling out empty greetings as a small crowd gathers. Once satisfied with the crowd, the man begins to speak. “I'd like to start by saying that I hope you've had a pleasant day so far…"
The crowd, attracted by the number of people gathered, continues to grow. A child tugs on the hand of her father’s hand until they have joined the audience then whispers something that makes the older man pick her up to place her on his shoulders. A young couple wordlessly abandons the disgruntled shopkeeper of another stand halfway through his explanation of a perfume he is selling.
“...Now, let's not delay any further and get on to the main event! Perhaps many of you have caught sight of our magnificent display out front. In fact, for most of you, perhaps that is the reason you are here at all!”
The cloth is pulled off of the box on the stage. A dreamcatcher almost identical to the one on display in the storefront sits inside. The gold feathers glisten like jewels and reflect rays of gold light onto the front of the merchant’s suit. The crowd instantly goes quiet, so suddenly, so abruptly , that Morax suspects that that in itself might be an effect the feathers are having on the humans. He narrows his eyes.
“Dreamcatchers are said to give their owners good dreams! However, what makes this particular dreamcatcher special, is the feathers used to make it. They’re harvested from a creature of dreams, and ensure you are visited by nothing but good dreams at night and perhaps even when you are awake. Nightmares will never haunt you if you have this beauty hanging over your bed.”
Bad dreams do not kill people, but Morax assumes the people who visit exhibitions like the one currently being held are rich people who are willing to spend money on trinkets like this.
Also…There is a thought he has been trying to suppress, to urge himself to not jump to conclusions, but it is clawing just beneath his consciousness.
“Now, the harvesting of the feathers is extremely difficult, thus making this dreamcatcher one of a kind and very, very valuable. The auction to purchase it will begin at one hundred and fifty thousand mora.”
A murmur goes up around the crowd. Morax thinks back to another stall he had been at just earlier, which sold handcrafted instruments for around the same price. Clearly, the audience does not believe this dreamcatcher to hold the same value.
The merchant, however, does not seem put off by the overall reaction of the crowd. “I do not expect you to just take my word, ladies and gentlemen." He gestures with his hand and a caravan covered in drapes is rolled onto the space beside the stage. “So, before we begin, I would like to introduce to you our little guest, who kindly donated its feathers to the creation of this beautiful item.”
The drapes are tugged off with a practised flourish and Morax feels his breath leave his lungs. The crowd begins to murmur as the cloth flutters to the ground, forgotten.
A young boy – what appears to be a young boy – kneels in the middle of the cage, chained down with more restraints than one might think necessary for someone already trapped behind bars. Still, the merchants are good at what they do and the cuffs look more like accessories than they do restraints.
What immediately catches Morax’s attention, however, is the two massive wings, as wide as the boy is tall, that sprout from the boy’s bare back. They are spread wide, showing off their sheer size, and are held up by chains connected to metal bolts he can see peeking out from between its alula feathers.
From colouring alone, it is obvious that the feathers of the dreamcatcher had been harvested from him.
An Adeptus, probably of avian roots.
The creature does not show any signs of acknowledging its surroundings. Morax does not like the implications.
The merchant steps closer to the caravan and begins to methodically grope through long feathers from between the bars. Both the Adeptus and the wing weakly flinch away but the man simply follows with his hand. He picks out a single gold feather, grips the back of the Adeptus’ neck and braces himself. He pulls hard.
The Adeptus lets out a cry as the feather is yanked free. He jerks once. When the man releases his hold on his neck, he goes limp. The man moves back to the front of the stage and lifts the feather into the light, showing it off to the gathered audience.
The feather is a beautiful gradient of gold, a hint translucent at the tip and a darker shade towards the base.
No one seems to care about the sound of pain that had been yanked out of the creature alongside it; all anyone cares about now is the Illuminated Beast currently sitting in a cage, and the possibility of owning a trinket made from its feathers.
Humans are unnecessarily cruel, sometimes, and the worst part is that most of the time they don’t even know it.
The showing off of the Adeptus has ignited something with the crowd and the bids come in like an avalanche.
Morax cannot help it. In fact, he does not even realise he has done anything until suddenly, everything is quiet. Morax glances around when he realises that all sounds of the carnival, all sounds of life , have vanished.
The humans all lay on the floor, as though they had collapsed on the spot. Morax does not even have to lift his head and look for a threat; he knows it is him.
Uncapped, the presence of a powerful Adepti is enough to bring humans to their knees. Morax, if he were not careful, could outright kill. At least the humans are all merely unconscious, not dead.
Morax clenches his fist, curling his claws into his palm and willing the change to go away. He has not lost control like this in a long, long time.
A branch above him rustles. A bird chirps, uncaring of everything that had erupted right beneath it.
It is strange for his surroundings to be so void of human activities. Morax has been living among humans for a while now, and one thing he has learnt is that humans, even when they are not talking, make noise as a part of their day-to-day lives.
The bird chirps again. Something moves in the corner of Morax’s gaze, catching his attention.
The Adeptus is staring blankly above Morax’s head. When the bird gives one last chirp before taking off in a flutter of wings, the Adeptus slowly moves his head as he follows it with his eyes until it flies over a caravan and vanishes from sight.
The Adeptus tilts his head, as though not understanding where it had gone. He slumps in his bindings. A few heartbeats later, however, he once again sluggishly moves his head and Morax finds himself staring into unblinking, gold eyes.
Morax cannot tell for how long the Adeptus had been in the clutches of humans, but perhaps he recognises a fellow Adeptus. Morax makes his way towards the cage, carefully avoiding sprawled limbs as he goes. He inspects the cage under the Adeptus’ unwavering, blank gaze, then simply wills the mechanism in the bars to move. It does so with a soft click that makes the Adeptus flinch, and the middle section of the front bars falls open outwards.
Morax leans into the cage to inspect the restraints. The chains stringing him up are holding up most of his weight and look simple enough. The Adeptus is wearing a collar infused with some sort of adeptal power he does not recognise on the spot. Morax reaches out, slow enough that the Adeptus can follow his motion, and gently shifts through gold feathers until he can clearly see the metal embedded into his wings.
The Adeptus is trembling but he does not attempt to fight. Morax does not like the implications but is momentarily grateful as he inspects the metal.
It appears to be largely two parts, a nut that goes straight through bone, and the bolt on the other side holding it in place. Morax taps the mechanism with a claw and it disintegrates on the spot. The Adeptus lets out a cry as, with nothing holding it up, his wing sags onto the ground. Morax makes quick work of the other one before he undoes the rest of the restraints stringing the Adeptus up.
The Adeptus collapses forward, limp and as though he cannot support himself, and Morax catches him under his arms. He carefully retreats backwards, bringing the Adeptus with him. He has to stop, however, when the Adeptus’ massive gold wings catch on the edges of the opening. The wings twitch but the Adeptus makes no move to shift them out of the way.
Morax adjusts his hold on the Adeptus so that he can free a hand. He reaches out and touches a bar and the entirety of the front side of the cage falls apart.
None of the humans have shown any signs of waking up just yet. Morax takes his time adjusting the Adeptus, carefully making sure his wings will not be crushed in any way before he pulls the Adeptus off the cage platform and into his arms.
The Adeptus lets out a soft, raspy sound. Perhaps it is trying to speak. Morax hushes it gently as he straightens. "You are free now," he promises. "Close your eyes. Rest. When you open them, things will be better."
The Adeptus releases another scratchy sound from the back of his throat but sinks into his hold. Morax gently shifts his head with a shoulder, so that the Adeptus has his head tucked into the junction between Morax's head and neck and is curled into his chest.
"Sleep," Morax says again and the Adeptus goes under. He stays still for a few more moments just to make sure as he glances around one last time.
It appears that, at least, every single human in attendance at the market is out cold. No one has wandered over in a state of fear and confusion. No one has stirred. He does not know for how long they will be unconscious, but he feels better to leave now than to stay and find out.
There is no hiding that something happened, not with so many humans involved, but he can keep his involvement hidden from the incident by simply not being here when the people begin to awaken. The missing Adeptus, however, will be noticed. Perhaps people will be sent out to hunt him down.
Morax pats down the wave of rage that once again begins to build. Instead, he eyes the cage with disdain. After a thought, he orders the metal parts to distort and twist into itself, destroying the enclosure utterly. He is satisfied only once it is nothing but dust and allows his anger to settle alongside the fluttering of specks onto the earth.
Clutching the unconscious Adeptus tighter to his chest, Morax leaves the silent market behind.