Chapter Text
Azhdaha took a deep breath in, standing in the heart of Liyue, eyes closed, basking in the familiarity of his surroundings- yet the beautiful differences that struck his stimuli, exposing him to just how much time has passed. He opened them again, returning each staring face with a big goofy smile, ecstatic to be back within the realm of humanity, ground embracing his footsteps like a long awaited family reunion. They hummed with joy, singing with welcome and sending their memories his way.
The great man got to his knees, still taller than he should be, pressing a hand to the ground and closing his eyes once again
He felt the stares of humans- but he didn’t mind. They were just observing as he does.
That’s right, Azhdaha, just *observing*.
He hummed out a breath of relief, feeling his element’s messages all the more, allowing the celebration from within Teyvat to fill his being, a slight glow taking to the geo markings across his body- as if he didn’t stand out enough already.
“Excuse me, sir-?” a man's voice.
Retuo took another pause before opening his eyes and standing, turning to face the millelith guard, who’s eyes widened in astonishment at the other’s stature; he cast a shadow over the poor guard.
“Yes, my lovely… What is your name, young man?”
“Uh– My name is Fengyan, of the Millelith, sir!” he straightens with a stomp, a greeting.
“Young Fengyan of the Millelith,” Retuo bowed his head; the Geo Sovereign bowed before a human, “Pleased to meet you! I am Azhdaha- of Teyvat!” He raised his head again, sporting a smile.
*Ah, yes, Retuo! You are doing lovely, fooling this cute little being so well!* He hummed to himself, pleased.
Fengyan’s expression became slightly confused, however he maintained composure,
“Well, *Azhdaha of Teyvat*- I must ask why you were kneeling in the middle of the road; it is a hindrance to others around you, as well as suspicious.”
Azhdaha then looked around at the people coming and going, realising; ah yes! How could the dragon be so dense! Of course, this is not the place for kneeling! It is a place to walk, for humans to travel on. Much like insects; the majority seem to follow such strict paths. Of course.
“My apologies!” The sovereign answered, sincere and booming, “I will remember this in the future- Thank you for your help, dear human Fengyan of the Millelith!” The soldier nodded with a parting gesture, turning to leave, “Wait-! Might I ask if you know a Zhongli? Perhaps a man- or woman– or even a young child– A Zhongli, at all?”+
The man visibly had gears turning in his head, before it seemingly clicked and he let out a long, “*Ohhhhh!*” of realisation.
“You’re Zhongli’s acquaintance? That makes sense. I do not know where he is, but I do wish you luck in your search.”
A small bow, and Fengyan left to continue his patrol route.
Azhdaha felt his heart flutter with both excitement and nervous energy; he truly hoped the Zhongli in question was *His Zhongli*- His beloved *Sun*. He could feel the ground below him compliment his innocent excitement, like a gathering of friends all jumping for joy together.
It had been so long.
There was so much he didn’t understand.
Gaming is a relentlessly hard worker; it’s almost harder to make him rest than it is to make him do the work. He’s efficient, and he doesn’t complain. Although he doesn’t dislike his work in any way, his work ethic is sourced less from pride in his work and more good manners (he can thank his family for that), and the need to fund his performances. The Lantern Rite had thrown his dancing into the public spotlight, even making it into some Fontainan newspaper. He’d burst into happy tears over that one, punching the air with glee. Even so, these things don’t just come about magically.
With that being said, even he needs a break. Travel is exhausting– and he does really, really love Liyue. Plus, he just can’t stay away from Xiangling or her cooking for long. Her joy is contagious, and her food is irresistible. So, to Wanmin he is headed.
Hearing the slight confusion– after all, with a voice like that, he’s sure half of Liyue heard – he stops in his tracks, hands stuffed in his pockets. He knows where Zhongli is at this time of day; he’s either at the Funeral Parlor or the market, and judging by the fact he just passed through the market and didn’t hear anyone groaning or complaining about him forgetting his wallet *again,* he’s gonna take a guess and say that he’s at work.
He might as well stop to tell the guy, he thinks, turning around. After all, the guy must be–
An adeptus. The guy must be an Adeptus, that’s undeniable. Of course his voice was so noticeable.
It’s not the first time he’s seen one– Xianyun is hardly disguised, and with the way she speaks about Zhongli, he doesn’t doubt that the consultant is not human himself. Now, with this man looking for him, that’s all but confirmed.
“Uh,” He manages, tripping over his own shock for a moment, before quickly speed-walking over to the Adeptus, waving his hand. “Sir! I know where he is,”
He looks all the way up at him, restraining his awe to the best of his ability.
“Hi! I’m Gaming– I can help you! He works at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor,” He says, turning and pointing down the street. “It’s not very far– but it's sort of tucked away in this little corner. I can show you the way!!”
He offers a smile.
Azhdaha looked down at Gaming, feeling the need to crouch down to his level.
So, naturally, he did so.
“Why hello, little one!” his smile was more than obvious within his voice.
Retuo could hardly contain his excitement at meeting such a kind and small human! Wow, they haven’t changed a bit– Well, that’s not true. But regardless, the Sovereign was on cloud nine at not only seeing but speaking to so many humans so far today. He had missed this the most- beaten out only by his Morax, of course- a sense of nostalgia flowing through him and breathing even more excitement into the being.
He looked Gaming up and down, admiring his entire attire- what a fine young man, and clearly one who would go far- he liked him more than any other human he had met to date.
But a part of him became bitter with sadness; how much had he missed out on, truly?
Azhdaha’s smile faltered ever so slightly.
How many decades has it been? Centuries, even? How much time had passed, back within that cage of darkness. His eyes were rendered useless, and his mind was shoved into a landslide of constant fear and outrage. He had spent so long waiting for his Sun, he had found him, and he had lost him again.
Would he lose him for a second time?
He was having some doubts now, unable to fathom the grief attached to the thought alone.
The familiar poison of sadness clotted his mind, whispering ideas of roaming to the dragon;
Why find Morax just to risk losing him again?
Would he even remember you, Retuo? It has been so long.
Perhaps he wants nothing to do with you- you did unleash such an unsightly rage upon him, and even forced him into confining you back under the ground– could you imagine how agonizing that was for the one who remembered it?
Maybe it was best if you stayed dead to him.
His being groaned with confliction and a deep sense of sadness.
The ground comforted him, tiny pebbles gravitating towards the Geo Sovereign, attempting to wrap themselves around his bare feet made of stone. They unleashed a flurry of reassurance and more memories, this time the ones of a certain Archon; with each of his steps he filled the ground with such heavy sorrow, burred far within his mind- it took the deepest of rock shouting up to it’s Father for Azhdaha to hear even a fraction of the depth that his love had felt.
Sorrow.
Such a lonely sorrow.
Greif.
Such lonely grief.
Retuo had to meet his Sun.
He didn’t realize how much he, in turn, missed his Moon.
Azhdaha’s smile reformed, calmer than before, voice softer now, “I would be honoured, Gaming. I am Azhdaha, pleased to meet you, kind and fiery young man.”
Gaming’s smile widens.
Were the words from a human elder – or even an Adeptus, like Xianyun – they would be… embarrassing, for lack of a better word. An affection on the same level of a grandma pinching your cheeks and going on about what an outstanding young man you are.
Somehow, Gaming is spared from embarrassment: this Azhdaha’s joy is contagious, and his words feel deeply believable. He feels the pebbles shift, the very earth seeming to gravitate toward the Adeptus, and Gaming feels he understands rocks, at this moment. Who wouldn’t want to be around one so bright, and yet soft? In these brief moments alone, Gaming knows it so: he’s never met anyone like this, and he never will again.
Adepti are so, so strange. He admires the wisdom of beings so long-lived, but so often that wisdom creates apathy. This Azhdaha, who Gaming swears he’s heard of, passing by the storyteller once or twice, who tells repeated stories so often now, thanks to Zhongli’s repeated requests, radiates a joy that the other Adeptus just lack.
Other humans, even.
“Thank you! And, it’s really no problem! Like I said, it’s not far at all. I’m certain he’s there– if he’s not, I have a few other good guesses. Are you friends?”
He begins to walk, motioning for Azhdaha to follow.
“He’s a consultant.” Gaming starts. Azhdhaha quite obviously hasn’t been around the Harbor– some context may be appreciated. “He talks to the families of the deceased and helps them decide what to do. The Director– Miss Hu – sends him on errands a lot, though. There’s a chance he’s busy on one of those…but, honestly, I could find him! This place isn’t super big, y’know?”
The walk is indeed short. The most difficult part is navigating to the building itself, which feels almost hidden, as if the owner did not want it to be found. Considering all the signs covered in fast, messy writing directing visitors there for a buy one coffin, get one free! deal, that idea has not been upheld.
Gaming stops at the steps, not wanting to get too close. A Funeral Parlor can be a quiet, sad place, after all. He wouldn’t want to interrupt too much, if he can help it.
“You might have to talk to Miss Hu first. I’m not sure where Zhongli’s office is.”
Gaming looks up at Azhdaha. The building is a bit small…Azhdaha may be too tall.
“Do you want me to go in and ask for you? Or are you okay doing it yourself?”
Azhdaha followed, listening intently with that smile still plastered on his face.
Friends?
Why, yes of course.
Morax- more specifically now, Zhongli- was the Sovereign’s other half, the two piecing together the cycles of night and day. Their beings were cosmically connected, playing a song for one another that would be heard by only their ears. They would forever be connected, on such a visceral level that even the most divine of all could not interfere. They would spend their entire lives waiting for one another, sailing across any ocean to hopefully land ashore somewhere together, taking apart and reforming a new vessel to sail across on together, under the light of both the moon and the sun.
“You could say that,” he finally answered, tone wrapped in a layered blanket of admiration.
Mor- Zhongli - now worked as a ‘consultant ’- how strange.
Eerie.
But fitting.
The God had seen so much death, and had felt so much grief; he wondered how these beings have humanized the man so– they must’ve afterall, for it had been too long that these eyes have been without their creator. He must’ve changed, must’ve grown into Retuo’s predictions.
Must’ve.
Human life was so temporary, and Morax had found it so meaningless- like its transience was to grip its beauty and rip it from itself. He hoped that Zhongli had learned to appreciate its burst of lure, the way a sun setting would make you straighten in hopes of catching its rays for just a fraction longer. That desperation, though the word came with too many negative connotations to suffice. It was a beautiful and primitive longing that always made Azhdaha infatuated with mortals of all sorts.
Such a conflicting thing, with such a short life.
Humans were beautiful.
“Thank you for the information, young Gaming,” he spoke, letting out a chuckle from within his depths, like a landslide of joy, “No, it is not big! You are quite right. This world is vast in comparison.”
Azhdaha measured himself to the doorframe in his mind and couldn’t help but laugh!
How was he going to fit?
He would figure it out.
“No worries, young man. I appreciate your assistance.” A monstrous hand is placed on the teen’s shoulder, though only about three digits could fit, “Never let the suffering of this world taint your soul; it is pure and it ruminates in rivers of gold. I expect nothing but abundance for a being like you.”
He felt the ground hum in agreement, vibrations of compliments stirring up like a chorus of endearment as his children nodded and murmured.
Gaming laughs, almost out of shock.
“Um, thank you! Really! Good luck, Mr. Azhdaha,” He says, fumbling on the pronunciation a little bit. He stands for a moment, but once he sees Hu Tao practically kicking the doors open, eager for the ‘customer’ approaching her parlor, he decides the situation is handled enough for him to make his leave.
“Hello there– woah!” Hu Tao shouts, rushing up to the man and coming to a harsh stop, nearly tripping onto her face before managing to throw her arms out and save herself. “Aiya! Forgive me, we don’t get Adeptus very often! If it’s an Adeptus funeral you’re looking for, you need Mr. Zhongli. He knows those old rituals better than the books we’ve got,”
A pause.
“Oh!” She clasps her hands together. “I am sorry for your loss, sir. Let’s make this a celebration as grand as their life.”
Zhongli tends to ignore Hu Tao’s frequent ramblings. He listens only occasionally, picking up bits and pieces that he can use to his advantage in their very frequent little battles. He would not have the office he has now, quiet and all to himself, if it were not for a very, very long battle of sorts involving pranks he has had on his mind for about a hundred years, just waiting for the perfect victim. Her attacks were just as brutal– he often wonders if she gets her little spirit friends to tell her all the ideas they’ve held for years in death, unable to act out.
In a sense, that would bring them closer to moving on. So, if one looks at it from the right angle, their many, many fights are a true blessing to the dead and living alike.
But this catches his attention. And how could it not? Zhongli has been burdened with awareness today; the same kind of shift that Liyue had experienced when Osial’s seal was broken. But that, Zhongli had known, had put all the pieces in place for.
Even so, Osial’s presence was sickly. A reminder of the days and nights spent struggling against the might of the ocean, feeling as if he had learned to drown in spite of never needing air to begin with.
But this feeling is strange. Worse, in a way, for it’s almost so…mundane, it makes him wonder if this being is simply good at disguising itself. The danger he can’t identify has always been the worst– his body tells him he is at ease. His body tells him there is no threat here. But a feeling like this, a change in the world like this, a seal has been broken, should indicate a great, terrible danger.
If he cannot trust his body, then what can he do but ignore it? Wait for disaster to strike?
Hu Tao outside, exclaiming shock at the supposed death of an Adeptus, of which there are so few– that must be the start of this danger he cannot sense, and yet, the elements are balanced. He may not be able to hear the rocks, but he can feel Geo energy, and it is so intense today that if he were sensitive to the elements like the Traveler or a vision user, it may be suffocating.
To Zhongli, it is like a blanket.
He leans forward in his desk, pen abandoned, paperwork ignored. Though he may misread this presence as a friend, he knows better than to blindly trust his instincts.
He listens in.
Retuo allows Gaming to leave, turning to face Hu Tao. He smiled, finding her blazing presence a unique one; one after another, these humans have made the Sovereign of Geo hum with pleasure, like a child inspecting new toys. How fun they all were, in their own… Silly ways!
What would have been his heart pounded to life at the sound of his name, Zhongli , geo markings pulsing stronger with it.
“Funeral?” he tilted his head, crouching down, sporting a look of confusion–
Ah, yes!
This place deals with death, as young Gaming had said.
“No, no!” Azhdaha’s voice boomed, loud and demanding to be heard, though leaving a sense of calm in its wake, “I apologize, I do not require a funeral of any sorts. You must be little Miss Hu.”
Azhdaha bowed his head, strands of his hair falling in front of his broad, stone covered shoulders from the motion.
“I am simply here to meet an old friend, I am no Adeptus; merely a human. You may call me Azhdaha.”
His heart continued to pound, growing more demanding with each rush of golden blood; Zhongli, it chanted, Zhongli, Zhongli, Zhongli-! It was relentless, filling the dragon with a sense of fear he didn’t anticipate.
What if, truly, the Archon wanted nothing to do with him? What if, truly, Zhongli felt differently towards him- it had been so long… Their last meeting was less than ideal. He wished he could turn back all those years and steady his shaking hands. What if the emotions left by his tracks meant nothing to how he felt now? Afterall, Retuo had said so himself, these humans have most likely humanized him.
What if, as a human did, the Geo Archon wished to forget him?
“Is…”
His voice lowered, now shrouded by confliction and fear– the emotion brought forth shattered memories of darkness and aggression. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the timeline, but what he had been able to salvage during the peak of his erosion was unpleasant at best; a lament of fury; a fist of destruction; eyes full of fear.
Beautiful eyes of Cor Lapis tethered by terror.
Retuo swallowed, but the ball in the back of his throat did not falter.
The ground attempted to soothe, hushed lullabies radiating against his feet. The dragon did not raise his head just yet, eyes instead closing as he remained crouched in place.
Maybe, just maybe, if the being of stone stayed as frozen as a boulder, he could escape this moment. If he simply did not add further context- did not speak his name– Zhongli — he wouldn’t have to meet the former eroded Sovereign with such hate in his eyes- or worse, terror.
Maybe, if Azhdaha froze, he could freeze time along with him.
“Zhongli. I… Am looking for Mister Zhongli. Is he in?”
The part of him that stood at that dock, moon hung high in the sky, beckoning for the tide to lick further up the sand and crash against rock, spoke on his behalf. It clutched at the bottle of wine in one hand and breathed in the scent of the flowers he held in the other, peering out across the endless water.
It waited.
It yearned.
It called out for him.
For his Sun.
Azhdaha. Sure. Because that was the kind of name a totally-not-adeptus would use. Even ‘Houzhang and Jiehu’ tried a little harder than that. It doesn’t bother her any; if anything, it’s funny, and she thinks she’s gotten pretty good at spotting Adeptus nowadays, seeing as so many have moved to the Harbor as of late. Even if Azhdaha here had chosen a fitting name, he’d still be rather obvious.
“Oh! My apologies, Azhdaha. I am! Very nice to meet you.” She offers a grin. It’s no wonder the man has come here; Adeptus are drawn to Zhongli like magnets. Even normal people are, really. Even Fatui Harbingers. It’s just about the millionth time this month somebody has come asking if Zhongli is here.
“I’ll go get him. Feel free to steal him for the day– it’s his day off! I haven’t been able to force him out of his office. This is really a blessing!”
She turns and disappears back into the parlor, marching up to Zhongli’s desk and jumping into a lecture about his stubbornness, urging him to go greet the man outside and, for Rex Lapis’ sake, not come back.
Zhongli nods, although he doesn’t hear a word she says, fixed on what he had heard. He rises from his seat, hands gathering up his paperwork shakily, uncharacteristically clumsy as he drops a few to the floor, sighing in frustration. He quickly bends to grab it, stuffing them all in their rightful place without care for proper organization and walking past Hu Tao with evident urgency, muttering excuse me and pardon me and, regretfully, move to any staff in his way.
He hadn’t really listened to the conversation. Not as well as he should have, lost in his own shock at the voice which he had heard, unable to stop the trembling in his hands for the first time in a very, very long time.
There is a very real possibility that he is imagining things. Though his erosion was slowed greatly by his ‘death,’ giving him peace of mind that nearly put a stop to it entirely, something like erosion is truly a matter of time. It will eat at him whether he is at peace or not; after all, Azhdaha had been at peace, as far as he knew.
He is well past forgetting. He had been aware of his symptoms for some time– this is why he chose to step down. So then, this would be next, he fears. Confusion. Memories surfacing where they should not, unable to distinguish them from reality. It is indeed possible that no friend waits for him out there, only an ordinary customer, and Zhongli has simply begun to lose his mind.
He’s afraid, in that case, that he would not know what to do.
He is just afraid.
How cruel that the thing that may spell out his approaching insanity is Retuo's voice.
This fear – this terrible shaking that has him slowly pushing open the doors, not wanting to see his suspicions confirmed, feels so pathetic it makes him nauseous. He has spent a short, but impactful time in this ‘mortal’ form, and the calm it has brought him he would not trade for the world. But he does, a little, worry that he has grown weaker. Morax would not shake like this.
As he walks onto the stone steps, he tries to bury his emotions. If he were any more upset, the stone beneath his feet would crack.
Very few times have his emotions ever had more control than he wanted them to. But he cannot help but gasp, freezing in place.
Retuo.
His Moon.
Many things, he has learned not to think about. Whether it be Guizhong or Azhdaha – he has learned to separate them in a way. Iron Tongue Tian may tell his stories. He may speak of the Goddess of Dust, may speak on the contract he and Retuo signed, and it will bring him no heartache. These things are Morax’s stories, inaccurate and dramatized.
In these, he finds himself able to take some sense of humor in these memories. The inaccuracies, the truths. And what good stories they make, with such quality messages given to the audience. These stories inform his people, and he knows his friends would love most that their memory contributes to human culture in the way it does.
It is easy to look at a memory that way. A very good story. These feelings he had buried as Morax, even as Zhongli, he does not dare return to.
But they strike him now, brutal and lonely, and he so wishes to run and hide from them, shatter the earth at his feet and command it to swallow him whole; seal himself below ground, so that he will never have to put anyone else there ever again.
But Retuo is right here.
He doesn’t want to leave him.
He doesn't want to hurt him. Again.
He can’t win that fight. He will lose. He will lose.
But why would Retuo appear in human form if he meant any harm? As Kun Jun, he wandered the Harbor for some time causing no damage at all. This was not Kun Jun or Jiu, not pieces of Azhdaha, but just Azhdaha. If he had wanted to hurt Liyue, or wanted to hurt Morax, he would have. He simply stands here, apparently asked to see him.
Retuo is here.
Morax knows he must exercise caution. Even if he is given this moment of good, Retuo will leave again. He would be a fool to run and hug him, to do anything other than keep cold and rational, to throw his heart at someone who will hold it so very gently, but leave with it and never return.
Zhongli doesn’t know anything at all. He just wants Retuo, wants to hold him forever, wants to take them both underground, if he must, squeeze him so tight it bruises, make him stay forever.
He can’t do anything at all. A statue, drowning in indecision: he realizes with horror that he cannot move.
He just stares, beginning to shake again.
Retuo stared.
Morax.
Zhongli.
He felt the earth beneath his feet itself go silent, ground stilling, allowing a moment's peace to bask within such light; it bared its breast to the sky and breathed in the gust of warmth that fell down upon it. Teyvat’s heart paused for just a flicker, her lips parting in disbelief. It echoed out a murmur of greeting, geo energy redirecting and flowing directly into the soles of the Archon’s shoes, like a wave of golden light, even the riverbed stirred in front of the funeral parlour, bubbles floating up to the surface, water growing dirtied in elation.
Azhdaha didn’t move either, stone under him reforming the road itself and attempting to wrap itself up the sides of his feet more obviously now.
The gentle crumbling and clanking sounded like a lullaby to the Dragon’s ears.
“Zhongli,” he finally breathed, voice lower than ever before.
He felt something within him burst forth like a meteorite, erupting his chest as one would to soil; the crater within his soul is filled by such a vibrant warmth he could only call it love.
But…
No…
Something was wrong.
Something wasn’t as beautiful.
The meteorite groaned, displeased.
Something was interrupting his happiness.
Like lightning snapping to a rod of metal, Retuo internally recoiled at the fear and apprehension stemming from Zhongli.
Physically, even, wobbling on his two legs.
Azhdaha dropped down to his knees, forehead bashing against the disturbed paved entrance with a thunderous SLAM! , the mineral surface of his human form splitting like skin to reveal a small splattering of thick gold.
He felt no pain.
Solid.
Firm.
“Mor- Zhongli, I come to beg for your forgiveness. I come to plead for your grace. I come with the acceptance that my fate may be beneath the ground if you order it so; I come to confess my love and existence to you once again.”
He wished to stand, to tackle the man in an embrace tight enough to sew together the loss of time. Azhdaha wished to hold him just one more time, wished to bear witness to him beam that gentle smile. He would give it all up- would forfeit to the erosion once again- if just to hear that laugh. Golden tears bled from his stolen eyes— that’s what they were, stolen; for Azhdaha was unworthy.
The Sovereign shoved his head deeper into the ground, surface parting in response, Teyvat blossoming into wild vibrations of worry;
Keep your head up, dear Retuo!
Do not shame yourself!
Look that star in the eyes!
Azhdaha choked out a human sound of agonized grief, such pain suffocated beneath confusion and disease, covered with bewilderment and excitement. The love, sorrow, and loneliness now beckoned it forth, like a mother to her kin. Come now, it urged, a darkness slowly consuming his mind, ruminate within your sins, and pray to Rex Lapis, as a human would– didn’t you crave to act as one, Retuo? He let out the noise again.
Azhdaha sobbed before Zhongli.
His tears pooled around him, staining the ground indefinitely, turning cobblestone to gold ore, thick and viscid.
“Tai Yang,” he managed, “Forgive me, for I knew not what I was doing.”
Zhongli watches helplessly as Azhdaha collapses.
“Stop–” he hisses, involuntarily, lacking the composure of a God. His voice is sharp and brutal, and he fears even a small word like that carries far too much power . He must correct his mistake, must tell Azhdaha to rise, to look him in the eyes, to stop this groveling.
Stand, he thinks, but that, too, is a command.
No. Get up. Enough.
Orders. They are orders. He does not want to reaffirm Azhdaha’s foolishness, this completely false notion that the Dragon – the one who created the stone they stand on – is somehow beneath him. Azhdaha crawled out of a prison Morax put him in and begs to be given the satisfaction of rejection. Acceptance that he may put him right back. All to have his word heard.
Like a human. Like so many humans.
He has always despised it. On their knees, crying. Wanting forgiveness he cannot give, wanting blood, wanting their lover to return from overseas, wanting their son to have a good day at school, wanting their mother to get out of bed–
The cruel, unfeeling God of Contracts, tells them all no.
He cannot breathe.
He’s never needed to. But now, he feels lungs that aren't there beginning to ache, phantom hands clawing and squeezing at his neck. Every prayer unanswered, as good as a no. Every person who died praying, he denied. If Eternity is closest to the Heavenly Principles, then contracts, order, falls right behind.
Celestia gave him life, forced him to fight for it, and left him the embodiment of their values. A representative of that which erodes him.
Tai Yang.
Zhongli is dying. He feels himself dying.
He is inseparable from Godhood.
Forgive me, for I knew not what I was doing.
Is this what Retuo thinks of him?
Zhongli made a mistake somewhere. How could he not know they are equals? They have always stood on the same ground– but now, Retuo kneels, and Zhongli stands, paralyzed by his own pointless suffocation. He can draw no air in, and it is an unbearable agony, with no end in sight. The hands tighten around his throat – why does it hurt so much to be robbed of air he does not need?
He feels the guilt rise in his throat. Nauseous. Sick. Pathetic. Commanding like a God, projecting Celestia’s cruelty onto one who lived before even them, and sick, like a mortal.
He is the knife in Retuo’s back. The hands at his neck are his own. He chokes on his self-loathing– who does he pray to? When does he get to grovel?
He steps forward, stopping before Azhdaha and getting down to his level, with much more caution compared to Azhdaha’s violent drop, not wanting to startle him at all.
Look at me, he almost says.
“Can you look at me?” He says instead.
He must right his wrong. He searches his memories for his mistake, but he sees nothing– is he too blind to see it? Whatever he had done to make his Moon think of him this way?
“I can’t forgive you,” He says, quietly. “You did no wrong.”
He sighs, bringing a shaking hand to rest upon the dragon’s shoulder.
“I could not put you back if I wanted to; I lack the energy, now. I have lived too long– I have done it too many times. I will not do it again. And you– you have lived a life so long I cannot possibly fathom. You existed before me. You will exist after me. Do not tether your worth to me like this,”
His words are well-spoken, but he feels as if they are clawing their way out of his throat. He still can’t breathe.
“Forgive yourself. I was never angry, Retuo,”
He squeezes his shoulder.
How can he fix what he has broken?
Azhdaha’s mind is fractured; now, not by erosion, but the more natural progression of time. He cannot see himself as he is. Cannot fathom that Morax would not despise him.
“I love you.” He says, because it is true, and because Morax would never say it.
“I love you,” He says, because he does not know when Azhdaha is leaving. Again.
He will fix this. He just needs some time to think– before Azhdaha leaves, he will find some way to show him the truth. That they deserve to stand side by side. That he is sorry. That he loves him.
Azhdaha’s great body shook with sobs, mind swarming and dissolving within the golden river he cried; memories whizzed around him in a flurry of chaos, Zhongli’s voice being swallowed within their currents. The earth groaned, ground beginning to wobble ever so slightly, water beyond the harbor quivering with unease. An unrest within Teyvat bubbled and swelled, demanding to be heard– Retuo’s great depths wanted to burst forth, pushing the very crust of the earth up to the sky; Destruction.
His grief demanded destruction.
Azhdaha wanted nothing more than peace .
He wanted nothing more than to have the Archon rest atop his own august dragon form, curled up tight. He wanted nothing more than to hold Guizhong’s small form, gentle and endearing. He wanted nothing more than to press his head against theirs- to spend an eternity looking up to the stars, speaking nothing and breathing in sync. He wished for his family- for Xiao and the rest of the Yaksha, for Cloud Retainer, for Mountain Shaper, for Moon Carver, and for Madame Ping. He lamented a sorrowful cry from within the ground, dirt stirring in the distance, rocks tumbling within the mountains, crystals refracting in the Chasm.
His body began to solidify and threaten to grow, form becoming unstable, jagged minerals erupting from his forearms and jutting out from within his human spine, pushing against his so-called skin.
The hand is like a beacon in the night; his lighthouse, coaxing him to shore. Come, it sang across the wind, Take refuge here, for I wait for your return.
His breath shudders and Teyvat calms once again.
There is a long pause.
The air is thick and still, the tears slowing and sparing the ground. The markings that webbed across his vessel pulsed brightly, glowing with a hum of reassurance. His tail shifts ever so slightly, leaves slowly turning over to a warm pink. His hair, which had begun to cluster and solidify, softened once again, separating back into individual strands. His body grumbled and retracted the stone attempting to jab through his back, calming the burst of rock around his forearms.
Calm.
Teyvat exhaled.
She calmed.
Azhdaha moved without thinking, tackling the other in an embrace tight enough to hurt.
The dragon let out a soft sound not unlike a squeak, black eyes with golden disks of Core Lapis squeezed shut.
“I love you,” he responded, voice rushed and filled with unearthed tenderness. “Never leave me again, Tai Yang, never again– I wouldn’t dare hurt or scare you again– It’s gone, the erosion is gone, my dearest Sun. We have an eternity– We have forever—”
His huge cheek is nuzzled against the other’s face, like a great big lion.
Azhdaha missed him so, finally feeling him in his arms again, finally getting to hear the words he always wished for even while they roamed Teyvat together.
His tail flared into a stunning array of pinks and reds and burnt oranges of happiness, wagging ever so slightly.
“Oh how you’ve changed, my Tai Yang- You are such a beautiful human.”
His voice is soft, gentle, saved for just Zhongli’s ears.
“You still chose to use Zhongli- It feels like old times, my friend.”
Zhongli can breathe again. He would hug Azhdaha back, if his arms were not trapped, so he simply allows himself to enjoy it. He leans into the touch best he can, but it is not needed– Retuo squeezes him so tightly he’s half-certain if he were a mortal, he would break.
He has forgotten this feeling.
The images are clear, their time together perfectly preserved in his near eternal memory, but the feelings have long faded, as they are wont to do. That perfect memory has given him the rare privilege of perceiving each and every moment as significant. Each relationship is as important as the last, but they are not the same. His life has not been devoid of love, or joy, or comfort while Retuo has been gone. But it has been devoid of Retuo’s love, Retuo’s joy, and Retuo’s comfort.
Feelings long forgotten rise to the surface, and the Lord of Geo is shattered. His shield is broken at once, all the years and years of practiced apathy ripped away from him faster than he can process. He laughs, in spite of himself, because he loves Azhdaha so very much, and it is so like him to hold him like this, his tail a vibrant mix of color. The laugh morphs into a sob before he can stop it, and soon he is crying. Really, truly crying, like he never has before. A human function– it does not come naturally to him, but it did now. His vision blurs, and he moves slightly until he has an arm free, grasping desperately onto Azhdaha while he cries, loudly and unashamedly.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
He does not say it, but as the Sovereign hears what all rocks have to say, he hopes Azhdaha hears it anyways.
Such a beautiful human.
He’s not certain of that. But he has been changed by humanity; that Azhdaha can tell with only a look is both embarrassing and reassuring.
He only hopes his new, relaxed personality is not too harsh of a change. The entire Harbor must be a shock on its own– does Azhdaha know the fighting is through? No more battles to be won? Liyue is safe! Not just from war, but anything at all. Humanity has grown, he wants to scream! They fought off a God on their own!
They don’t need me anymore! It is the most beautiful thing in the world!
He is consumed by pride. So many things he wants to tell Azhdaha– he wants to tell him about the great battle. About faking his death. About the people he’s met. About Xiao and Traveler. It all demands to be spoken, everything he wants to say is tangled up and desperately trying to claw its way out. With his thoughts as disorganized as they are, he can't manage a single word.
He must take it one at a time. There is no rush, anymore.
Azhdaha is here to stay.
“I missed you too.” He says, struggling to get his words through perfectly. He has never had to speak through tears, and it is, evidently, a learned skill. He pauses to take another breath. He must seem nothing like Morax, like this.
It feels good.
“Everyday, Retuo. The Harbor is so beautiful– the people will love you. You will love them. You–”
He loses his words again.
The sound of Zhongli’s cries felt foreign, yet welcomed beyond words. His tears of gold are embraced, flowing onto his shoulders and chest, the Dragon’s hug becoming softer, yet still maintaining the stern comfort and reassurance as before.He felt the Archon’s– the former Archon’s– thoughts river towards him.
Retuo embraced it all, calming like never before.