[The week has been a whirlwind of strategic maneuvers and relentless planning. The Fatui's influence is mounting in Liyue, their aggressive tactics creating ripples throughout the underworld. Syndicate leaders targeted by the Fatui have begun reaching out, desperate for protection. Even the Qixing have been mobilized, their authority invoked to maintain some semblance of order.
The protocols for this type of event are, for better or worse, already established. Zhongli doesn't need to order these targeted leaders into exile, establishing emergency protocols to ensure the safety of those the syndicate can reach. Some disappear into the shadows, their existences erased with meticulous precision. Others have their deaths faked, elaborate scenarios crafted to make it seem as though they have vanished without a trace. The Fatui, vast and numerous, struggle to keep track of their actions, leading them to claim these mysterious disappearances as their victories.
For a while, the city is frenzied, whispers of the syndicate's lenience and weakness, and the Fatui's ruthlessness spreading like wildfire. Zhongli, however, remains calm, his patience a deadly weapon in itself. He knows that Liyue will right itself in time, the balance restored through careful manipulation and unwavering resolve.
The syndicate's new leaders are readied and brought in, their loyalty currently under tests and proofs. New pieces of the play to show up as if there hadn't been a vacancy at all, their ranks loyal to the bone. They are to take the places of those who have vanished, those who have sold themselves over, their positions fortified by Zhongli's careful planning of years. It is a push and pull that will last for weeks, perhaps months; the Fatui's ruthless advances met with calculated resistance. The syndicate cannot protect everyone immediately, but Zhongli's patience ensures that those seeking shelter under his shield secure their long-term survival.
Even if the whispers of a red-masked horror slither through the darkest parts of the city, terrifying so many that even the youngest of children are scolded about the red mask coming to punish them if they don't eat their vegetables. No one is to be walking alone, even in broad daylight.
As he reviews a report of a mysterious death in the morning newspaper, Zhongli pauses. Something is intriguing about the idea, a potential strategy that could further their cause. He rolls the newspaper and tucks it under his arm, a plan taking shape in his mind as he makes his way to their meeting place, a smile tugging at his lips as he spots Ajax lounging casually on a stone bench outside the museum.]
no subject
The protocols for this type of event are, for better or worse, already established. Zhongli doesn't need to order these targeted leaders into exile, establishing emergency protocols to ensure the safety of those the syndicate can reach. Some disappear into the shadows, their existences erased with meticulous precision. Others have their deaths faked, elaborate scenarios crafted to make it seem as though they have vanished without a trace. The Fatui, vast and numerous, struggle to keep track of their actions, leading them to claim these mysterious disappearances as their victories.
For a while, the city is frenzied, whispers of the syndicate's lenience and weakness, and the Fatui's ruthlessness spreading like wildfire. Zhongli, however, remains calm, his patience a deadly weapon in itself. He knows that Liyue will right itself in time, the balance restored through careful manipulation and unwavering resolve.
The syndicate's new leaders are readied and brought in, their loyalty currently under tests and proofs. New pieces of the play to show up as if there hadn't been a vacancy at all, their ranks loyal to the bone. They are to take the places of those who have vanished, those who have sold themselves over, their positions fortified by Zhongli's careful planning of years. It is a push and pull that will last for weeks, perhaps months; the Fatui's ruthless advances met with calculated resistance. The syndicate cannot protect everyone immediately, but Zhongli's patience ensures that those seeking shelter under his shield secure their long-term survival.
Even if the whispers of a red-masked horror slither through the darkest parts of the city, terrifying so many that even the youngest of children are scolded about the red mask coming to punish them if they don't eat their vegetables. No one is to be walking alone, even in broad daylight.
As he reviews a report of a mysterious death in the morning newspaper, Zhongli pauses. Something is intriguing about the idea, a potential strategy that could further their cause. He rolls the newspaper and tucks it under his arm, a plan taking shape in his mind as he makes his way to their meeting place, a smile tugging at his lips as he spots Ajax lounging casually on a stone bench outside the museum.]
Ajax, it's been a while.