[ The return text does not come until many hours later, somewhere in the twilight hours of what some might call late night and others early morning.
Slumped on his own bed with the window still open from his unconventional entry into his own house, Tartaglia stares blankly at the ceiling, shocked into numbness. For surely that is what it must be. He does not remember how he arrived home. He does not recall much of anything except the growing agitation and panic turned despair that had snuffed out like a candle when the very last of the elite had left the venue.
Rex Lapis had been a no show.
His mission had been a failure.
And the only feeling that the Harbinger could even register was the dig of his personal phone into his thigh as the LED lights on the top blinked incessantly at him that he had one unread message.
For fuck's sake.
Had he been in a better mood, Ajax might have thought it quaint how Zhongli's punctuation even in text was perfect. How he signed his own name like a cordial letter as if it wasn't glaringly obvious who had sent the message in the first place.
Unfortunately, Tartaglia can only dredge up a simmering anger— directed mostly at himself. Was the intel bad? Had one of the other Harbingers set him up? He should have doubted being assigned a mission this good and this important after the Fatui had been in a standstill (or more like defensive) as they had not made any progress into Rex Lapis's territory for months. How naive to think they'd get a miraculous shot at him or even worse, that the Tsaritsa would have picked him out of all her Harbingers for the job.
(Tartaglia, you are a fool. And you will certainly come to pay for that sooner rather than later.)
He drags a hand down his face. ]
nice 👍 made it home safe too. sorry for texting so late. cant wait to see you tomorrow 😍
no subject
Slumped on his own bed with the window still open from his unconventional entry into his own house, Tartaglia stares blankly at the ceiling, shocked into numbness. For surely that is what it must be. He does not remember how he arrived home. He does not recall much of anything except the growing agitation and panic turned despair that had snuffed out like a candle when the very last of the elite had left the venue.
Rex Lapis had been a no show.
His mission had been a failure.
And the only feeling that the Harbinger could even register was the dig of his personal phone into his thigh as the LED lights on the top blinked incessantly at him that he had one unread message.
For fuck's sake.
Had he been in a better mood, Ajax might have thought it quaint how Zhongli's punctuation even in text was perfect. How he signed his own name like a cordial letter as if it wasn't glaringly obvious who had sent the message in the first place.
Unfortunately, Tartaglia can only dredge up a simmering anger— directed mostly at himself. Was the intel bad? Had one of the other Harbingers set him up? He should have doubted being assigned a mission this good and this important after the Fatui had been in a standstill (or more like defensive) as they had not made any progress into Rex Lapis's territory for months. How naive to think they'd get a miraculous shot at him or even worse, that the Tsaritsa would have picked him out of all her Harbingers for the job.
(Tartaglia, you are a fool. And you will certainly come to pay for that sooner rather than later.)
He drags a hand down his face. ]
nice 👍 made it home safe too. sorry for texting so late. cant wait to see you tomorrow 😍