[ Something inside Ajax violently twists again as he continues to look down on Zhongli, expression perfectly kept as a bored sneer. No mention of his family (not the younger brothers and sisters that he has painstakingly watched over through the years). No one waiting for the consultant when he came home after this tangled mess. It seems unfair— that Ajax should get to go home to the warmth of family and siblings (even if his parents might fear him and the lies he tells his siblings get harder each time) while Zhongli was left so bereft.
(Being called Lord Harbinger only further adds to the way his skin crawls, his boot scuffing the floor in one particularly violent tap.)
And that's where the encounter should have ended — both of them leaving via separate exits of the stage while Tartaglia rolled his eyes that Zhongli did not even take with him the knife he so generously provided him. No preservation instincts. None at all!
Except...
Except—
Ajax sees Zhongli stumble out of the corner of his eye. Sees and knows that he should do nothing. Tartaglia is the Tsaritsa's Vanguard known for his ferocity on the battlefield. A disinterest in those deemed lesser is truthful to him and his character, but to assist the enemy (for on the battlefield, people were guilty until proven innocent) would cause a stir if word were to spread. Tarnish his already dented reputation.
But Ajax wouldn't stand for it. Naive smitten Ajax who had given up the idealism of his dreams so Tartaglia could practically provide for his family was desperate to cling to this one last thing. The only bit of normalcy that he had left in his life. Ill-advised and probably doomed to fail, he just cannot let go of Zhongli. (So he would just have to make sure that Zhongli didn't say anything. That is the compromise.)
So while Ajax would have caught Zhongli around the waist and righted him carefully with gentle touches and soft words— Tartaglia catches him by the scruff of the neck, fingers wrapped tight as he yanks him back on his feet, once more crowding into his space with the press of the metal edge of his mask to Zhongli's ear as he speaks. ]
Walk away from this. All of this. And don't look back.
[ Tartaglia squeezes once, just long enough to steal one of Zhongli's breaths, before he lets go and steps back. ]
no subject
(Being called Lord Harbinger only further adds to the way his skin crawls, his boot scuffing the floor in one particularly violent tap.)
And that's where the encounter should have ended — both of them leaving via separate exits of the stage while Tartaglia rolled his eyes that Zhongli did not even take with him the knife he so generously provided him. No preservation instincts. None at all!
Except...
Except—
Ajax sees Zhongli stumble out of the corner of his eye. Sees and knows that he should do nothing. Tartaglia is the Tsaritsa's Vanguard known for his ferocity on the battlefield. A disinterest in those deemed lesser is truthful to him and his character, but to assist the enemy (for on the battlefield, people were guilty until proven innocent) would cause a stir if word were to spread. Tarnish his already dented reputation.
But Ajax wouldn't stand for it. Naive smitten Ajax who had given up the idealism of his dreams so Tartaglia could practically provide for his family was desperate to cling to this one last thing. The only bit of normalcy that he had left in his life. Ill-advised and probably doomed to fail, he just cannot let go of Zhongli. (So he would just have to make sure that Zhongli didn't say anything. That is the compromise.)
So while Ajax would have caught Zhongli around the waist and righted him carefully with gentle touches and soft words— Tartaglia catches him by the scruff of the neck, fingers wrapped tight as he yanks him back on his feet, once more crowding into his space with the press of the metal edge of his mask to Zhongli's ear as he speaks. ]
Walk away from this. All of this. And don't look back.
[ Tartaglia squeezes once, just long enough to steal one of Zhongli's breaths, before he lets go and steps back. ]