[Each moment is stretched thin by the anticipation of violence. Zhongli's heart races, and his mind is calculating every possible outcome. He had expected Tartaglia to relish the confrontation, to seek the thrill of a challenge. But as the Harbinger steps closer, his demeanor shifts, the playful menace replaced by something else entirely.
Zhongli stares at Tartaglia for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. For two moments, the world narrows to the space between them, the knife clattering to the floor an unexpected and disarming gesture. Tartaglia leans over him, hands in his pockets, his posture deceptively casual. The restlessness in his foot betrays the coiled energy ready to spring at a moment's notice. Perhaps he sees him as too meek to be a decent fight.
Zhongli is taken aback, his mind reeling. He expected a tussle, a struggle for dominance. Instead, Tartaglia's words and actions suggest something different, something Zhongli hadn't anticipated. He braces himself against the wall, slowly rising to his feet, his eyes never leaving Tartaglia's.]
I... I have a dog, [he says, the words sounding pitiful to his ears but they are the truth. His mind races as he nods, understanding the unspoken message. He bows in thanks, a slow and deliberate movement, never breaking eye contact with Tartaglia.]
Thank you, Lord Harbinger, [Zhongli murmurs, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He takes a step toward the exit, his movements cautious and deliberate, the weight of Tartaglia's gaze heavy on his back.
Just as he thinks he's made it, his foot slips on the ice scattered across the floor. The world tilts, and he is going down hard. Zhongli is already imagining the cold seeping through his clothes as he eventually lands. The irony of the situation isn't lost on him, a wry smile tugging at his lips even as he struggles to regain his footing. Rex Lapis, assassin, leader, don. Too struck by his plans to forget his own group's trap, his excellent footwork not enough to catch him and brace himself from an embarrassing landing.] Ah—!
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Zhongli stares at Tartaglia for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. For two moments, the world narrows to the space between them, the knife clattering to the floor an unexpected and disarming gesture. Tartaglia leans over him, hands in his pockets, his posture deceptively casual. The restlessness in his foot betrays the coiled energy ready to spring at a moment's notice. Perhaps he sees him as too meek to be a decent fight.
Zhongli is taken aback, his mind reeling. He expected a tussle, a struggle for dominance. Instead, Tartaglia's words and actions suggest something different, something Zhongli hadn't anticipated. He braces himself against the wall, slowly rising to his feet, his eyes never leaving Tartaglia's.]
I... I have a dog, [he says, the words sounding pitiful to his ears but they are the truth. His mind races as he nods, understanding the unspoken message. He bows in thanks, a slow and deliberate movement, never breaking eye contact with Tartaglia.]
Thank you, Lord Harbinger, [Zhongli murmurs, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He takes a step toward the exit, his movements cautious and deliberate, the weight of Tartaglia's gaze heavy on his back.
Just as he thinks he's made it, his foot slips on the ice scattered across the floor. The world tilts, and he is going down hard. Zhongli is already imagining the cold seeping through his clothes as he eventually lands. The irony of the situation isn't lost on him, a wry smile tugging at his lips even as he struggles to regain his footing. Rex Lapis, assassin, leader, don. Too struck by his plans to forget his own group's trap, his excellent footwork not enough to catch him and brace himself from an embarrassing landing.] Ah—!