It's warm here in Zapolyarny Palace in the heart of the kingdom of Cryo. Warm here in Childe's arms where Zhongli burrows the frigid temperature of his face into the crook of the Eleventh's shoulder as gloved hands clutch almost desperately at his shoulder blades. It's warm. Warm and inviting and cozy when previously it had been long stretches of featureless cold and white and gold.
Zhongli lets out a shuddering breath, eyes wet with an emotion he cannot identify as he clings and clings and clings to Childe like a buoy on the ocean. His voice is stretched thin and wavering, cracked and unused to displaying anything but the careful veneer of politeness as he asked and asked and asked for a sign or a hint or a clue of where he was supposed to go.
But now he's here. Now he's safe. Now he's where he is meant to be. ]
Childe--
Childe, I missed you. I missed---
[ The clatter of ceramic on a worn wooden table as Xiangling (yes, he remembers her name now) set down her newest creation for them to try in front of Chef Mao's (him as well) proud visage. The smell of salt and steamed soup of ham and bamboo. The frustrated grumble of his companion as the two chopsticks slipped past each other in an unfortunate x, leaving the dumpling precariously held between them to land on the table with a sad wet plop. Wanmin. Black Perch Stew. Fullmoon egg. ]
I missed---
[ His companion's boisterous laughter as Zhongli stared down at the empty cavern of his pockets, wallet forgotten for the umpteenth time. The disappointed look on Master Bolai's face (no longer just the shopkeeper underneath the docks) that twisted into appeasement as a heavy bag of mora was tossed onto the counter, definitely more than the asking price for the centuries year old tea set laid with jade as clear and blue as the harbor's waters. Noctilucous Jade. Wanyou Boutique. Feiyun Slope. ]
I missed---
[ "I'm not a bad guy! …Okay perhaps I'm kind of a bad guy."
"When paying— Well, when getting others to pay for him, he neither looks at the price tag nor his wallet."
"To my mind, battle scars are medals of honor — the true mark of a warrior. I don't go covering them up." ]
I want to stay... I want to stay, so---
[ Like a lens coming into focus, Zhongli can see and hear and remember so much more. Names, faces, places, events -- all those tiny details that used to slip through his fingers, Childe catches in his and returns to him. Ah, but there's so much still missing. Some much time unaccounted for. Zhongli remembers nothing of his time before he took up consulting for the Parlor. Remembers nothing after parting from the Traveler at the gates of the harbor with the skies darkening to an ominous grey. And yet it was still so much more than what he had before. So much that no words can convey just how much this means to Zhongli. For surely the next measly two words that fall from him lips come up dreadfully short (but he has nothing else to say nothing else to express his gratitude, and so---) ]
no subject
It's warm here in Zapolyarny Palace in the heart of the kingdom of Cryo. Warm here in Childe's arms where Zhongli burrows the frigid temperature of his face into the crook of the Eleventh's shoulder as gloved hands clutch almost desperately at his shoulder blades. It's warm. Warm and inviting and cozy when previously it had been long stretches of featureless cold and white and gold.
Zhongli lets out a shuddering breath, eyes wet with an emotion he cannot identify as he clings and clings and clings to Childe like a buoy on the ocean. His voice is stretched thin and wavering, cracked and unused to displaying anything but the careful veneer of politeness as he asked and asked and asked for a sign or a hint or a clue of where he was supposed to go.
But now he's here. Now he's safe. Now he's where he is meant to be. ]
Childe--
Childe, I missed you. I missed---
[ The clatter of ceramic on a worn wooden table as Xiangling (yes, he remembers her name now) set down her newest creation for them to try in front of Chef Mao's (him as well) proud visage. The smell of salt and steamed soup of ham and bamboo. The frustrated grumble of his companion as the two chopsticks slipped past each other in an unfortunate x, leaving the dumpling precariously held between them to land on the table with a sad wet plop. Wanmin. Black Perch Stew. Fullmoon egg. ]
I missed---
[ His companion's boisterous laughter as Zhongli stared down at the empty cavern of his pockets, wallet forgotten for the umpteenth time. The disappointed look on Master Bolai's face (no longer just the shopkeeper underneath the docks) that twisted into appeasement as a heavy bag of mora was tossed onto the counter, definitely more than the asking price for the centuries year old tea set laid with jade as clear and blue as the harbor's waters. Noctilucous Jade. Wanyou Boutique. Feiyun Slope. ]
I missed---
[ "I'm not a bad guy! …Okay perhaps I'm kind of a bad guy."
"When paying— Well, when getting others to pay for him, he neither looks at the price tag nor his wallet."
"To my mind, battle scars are medals of honor — the true mark of a warrior. I don't go covering them up." ]
I want to stay... I want to stay, so---
[ Like a lens coming into focus, Zhongli can see and hear and remember so much more. Names, faces, places, events -- all those tiny details that used to slip through his fingers, Childe catches in his and returns to him. Ah, but there's so much still missing. Some much time unaccounted for. Zhongli remembers nothing of his time before he took up consulting for the Parlor. Remembers nothing after parting from the Traveler at the gates of the harbor with the skies darkening to an ominous grey. And yet it was still so much more than what he had before. So much that no words can convey just how much this means to Zhongli. For surely the next measly two words that fall from him lips come up dreadfully short (but he has nothing else to say nothing else to express his gratitude, and so---) ]
Thank you.