hydrangeabloom | (no subject)

[ It's cold here, icy wind biting through the multiple layers of Zhongli's finely tailored suit. Strange - it had always been warm enough for him before. Warm enough that he can recall the lilt of a voice laughing 'How can you wear that in the middle of summer and not melt, you old fossil?'. There is no face to accompany the voice; no name to match. There has not been for years now for many people. A sea of nameless featureless faces with only bits of word or color to distinguish them from the people around them. This one in particular had more definition than most - bright pops of red flowers, a swirl of butterflies. They-- no she, definitely, she had been someone close. Someone important.

But she, like the days(?) ~~weeks~~ ~~months~~ spent wandering the icy capital of Snezhanaya had blended into one smooth solid stretch of time. Featureless like a precious stone polished by the touch of time. Only one thing pierced the fog like the bright beacon of a lighthouse - a faded photograph well worn from the touch of his gloved fingers. An old photograph from an early Kamera model, long considered an antique, of a young man wading calf-deep into the ocean with a beautiful blue and white spiral shell clutched in his hand. He's half turned to the camera, laugh almost tangible as a red mask hangs from equally vibrant red hair. Childe. Zhongli knows that is his name though he knows not where the picture was taken or how he knows that he the man in somewhere in the the Cryo capital. He just knows. Knows that he's here.

In the beginning, he'd had no luck finding "Childe". In fact, most inquiries into his whereabouts were met with either astonished looks or demeaning laughter. "Who does this foreigner think he is asking for one of Her Majesty's Harbingers? Asking for Lord Tartaglia?" And no matter how Zhongli gently corrected that he was looking for "Childe", not this Tartaglia, the looks only become more credulous, the laughter that much louder.

That is until one day, he stumbled across a young man and woman, hands clasped together as eyes widened at him between two matching silver masks. "Xiansheng..." they had whispered before ushering him to the palace, placating any who approached with talk of official business and hurriedly shoving him into side hallways when those wearing regal ankle-length coats of snow walked past.

The woman (Nadia) clears her throat as the man (Vlad) knocks on a heavy-set ornamented door they had arrived to after an unknowable number of twists and turns. Zhongli stares at the three-petaled design carved beneath the door knocker, something itching in the back of his mind before it thrums into a headache that he experiences more often than not. ]

"Lord Harbinger. You have a visitor."

Edited 2023-04-11 05:00 (UTC)

[ A vacation. What a strange word and concept for someone who had been vigilant over his nation for close to three millennia. Sure, he had delegated duties, rested, even hibernated on the rare occassion, but Morax had never left Liyue except for political reasons. Certainly never for pleasure.

Yet that is what Zhongli sorely needed as he stood forlornly at the edge of the pier of Liyue harbor, watching the water lap at the wooden posts. Perhaps he had listened to one too many retellings of Rex Lapis's deeds at Third-Round Knockout. Perhaps he missed the warm chatter and companionship of the Traveler and Paimon once they had left to their next destination. Perhaps he just needed a change of pace. Either way, he was restless. So very very restless. That is what humans did once they retired, didn't they? Vacation.

And thus, Zhongli found himself nestled between the towering dark trees and dazzling purple flowers of Inazuma. He poked at a sakura blossom curiously with one curled claw, the electricity tingling down his arm as the swirl of purple light bobbed in place. Beautiful. Breathtaking. And not at all what he was used to in Liyue.

Wandering father into the forest, Zhongli stops near an old abandoned shrine, the red of the wood faded to almost grey from neglect and the two stone fox statues overgrown with a thick tangle of vines and weeds. Just looking at the structure made Zhongli feel an ache of loneliness in his bones. He remembered the brave kitsune warrior who used to tend to this place more than five centuries ago, brash and vibrant and able to give the current miko of the Grand Narukami Shrine a witty barb that was hard to recover from. Did she really not survive the cataclysm that happen 500 years ago?

It takes some time, but Zhongli begins to diligently tidy up the shrine. The vines he can take care of with a quick hack and slash from his spear. But the exterior, well, surely he can procure the proper paint to breathe life back into this place his next visit. Appeased for the moment, he sits down near the shrine, long bronze tail coiling around his ankles as he unpacks the bento he brought with him on the trip.

It would be nice, of course, if he had another person to share it with (why had he brought two portions in the first place?). But being here, among old friends was enough to ease his spirit. So with a raised cup of sake which he places carefully on this lip of the shrine: ]

May your stories be passed down from generation to generation until the final chariot of the sun no longer brings light to the land of Teyvat.

❖ The road that they walk on is paved in gold ❖

❖ Kitsune Monogatari ❖