Mafia AU

[misfittoys]

[ A tale of two people leading double-lives and the inevitable misunderstandings that follow ]

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[arcaico]

[The room is a decaying theatre of shadows and blood. Every creak of the floorboards and flicker of the dim, yellowed lights seem to conspire against their mission. Zhongli moves with deliberate but reluctant grace, predatorially seasoned but disliking his return to it. Each step a testament to the weight of years and the burdens of leadership, that wear him down bit by bit by bit. It's not so much the weight of the weapons he bears, the stench of blood he sheds, but the ache grating the voices of those around him.

The body on the floor is nothing but a punctuation mark in the long, tragic tale of Osial's betrayal.

The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder and the metallic tang of spilled blood. Morax stands at the precipice of heart, as much as it is about power. The underbelly of Liyue is a labyrinthine expanse of loyalty and deceit, where the shimmer of gold masks the darkness within men's hearts. It is a realm he has governed with a hand that is both iron and merciful, a paradox that Osial has sought to exploit. Sky Bracer had been the embodiment of the Syndicate’s core values—values that Osial has tried to erode.

The memories of Sky Bracer’s sacrifice still linger, a haunting echo in the corridors of Zhongli's mind. The bitterness of betrayal stings like a blade, a wound that festers subtly. He had taken Osial under his wing, nurtured his ambitions, and watched with a paternal pride as the young man thrived. That pride had turned to ashes, a stark reminder of the fragility of trust.

Yet, amidst this chaos, Azhdaha stands beside him, a constant presence as reliable as the mountains. Zhongli feels a warmth in his chest, a pillar of unwavering strength, a beacon in the murky depths of their world. Their bond is forged in the fires of countless battles, tempered by moments of quiet moments of tea, of stories, of stargazing.

Azhdaha's voice cuts through the silence, a grounding force that pulls Zhongli from his reverie. The concern and exasperation in those words are a melody he has come to rely on, a reminder that even in the darkest corners, he is not alone.]

Indeed. Osial believes he can undermine our foundation. But he underestimates the strength of our bonds.

[Zhongli’s gaze sweeps the room, seeking within every shadow for a potential threat. The remnants of Osial's presence lurk, goading them forward. Yet, it is not fear that stirs within him, but a profound sense of purpose. He has ruled Liyue’s underworld with a vision of stability and prosperity, of contracts honored and lives protected. Osial’s betrayal is a wound, surely, but it is also a challenge to be met.

He steps closer to Azhdaha, the subtle brush of their shoulders a silent reassurance. The warmth of Azhdaha's presence is a balm to his soul, a reminder that even amidst betrayal and bloodshed, there is still a light that guides him. In the short moment of silence, Zhongli can see the fire in Azhdaha’s gaze, the unspoken promise of protection and solidarity. He feels a profound sense of gratitude for the man standing beside him.] We will reclaim what was lost. We will restore the balance. And we will remind him that the dragons' eyes see all.

Follow me, [he says, his voice carrying the authority of a leader but the warmth of a confidant.] Osial may think he knows this place. But I was the one to first show it to him.

[dragonfell]

[ When Morax brushes shoulders with him, Azhdaha leans into the faint touch offering himself as a place for the other to lean upon, a support that would not crumble no matter how violent or different the world spun around them. It is not even a conscious thought so much as it is act of muscle memory— an ingrained habit after years of walking this path together. On yellowed scrolls of parchment that Morax had always favored, Azhdaha had offered his eternal service to Rex Lapis. Signed and sealed and kept safe like all of his other contracts. But that was just a formality, a pebble in the foundation of their shared efforts and dreams for the many years that they had spent together.

As cliche as it sounded, Morax had been the one to bring light to Azhdaha's darkness. He would follow the other to the ends of the earth. Which made Osial's betrayal that much more bitter to stomach. That he would squander Morax's generosity so. And worse yet, use it to hurt him. ]

Osial is a fool. But a crafty one at that.

[ What Morax had bartered through fairness and principles, Osial had bought through avarice and grandeur accompanied by risks that would inevitably result in someone paying the price. As long as Osial was fluid enough to dodge the consequences of his actions, then the house of cards remained standing. Perhaps even looking more fortified and plentiful than what Rex Lapis had to offer.

Surely there was a generous bounty on Morax's head even as the two of them crept farther and farther into the serpent's layer. And though many would not succeed, all it would take was one. One misstep. One miscalculation. One chance of a thousand or a hundred thousand or a million.

(A chance that would not happen under Azhdaha's watch.)

He falls into step behind Morax even before he is asked to follow. As if there was anywhere else for him to be beside the right hand of Rex Lapis. ]

It is a pity really that he succumbed to his own pride and greed. But there is no mercy for those who renege upon their contracts.

[ The polished floors are damp the further in they go, and in the distance there is a haunting dripping sound that echoes through the hallways.

For many quiet moments, they pass no more guards and meet no resistance. The only sign of life around them are the hastily ransacked rooms of panicked traders and merchants and other non-combatants (those who knew better than to stick around in the rising tension between two dons). It is only when they approach the core of the complex which would house Osial and his lieutenants that the disorderly chaos stops. The water is now an inch deep, enough to catch their reflection across its surface as they walk.

Drip. Drip. Drip. ]

[arcaico]

[The corridor ahead looms, an expanse of shadows and secrets, where each step sends ripples through the shallow water, distorting their reflections into ghostly apparitions. The dripping sound a countdown to the inevitable confrontation.

Mind mapping out the intricacies of the building he had once known so well, every twist and turn is a journey through memories, both bitter and sweet, of the times he had spent molding Osial into what he had hoped would be a beacon for their cause. The irony that this very place would become a den of treachery is not lost on him.

With each step, he can feel Azhdaha’s unwavering presence behind him, a steadfast guardian. The warmth from their brief touch lingers, a brush of solidarity and protection. Zhongli’s thoughts drift thankfully to the countless moments they have shared, the battles fought side by side, the silent nights of strategy and camaraderie.

Osial’s ambition has twisted this place, turning it into a labyrinth of deceit. Zhongli knows that their path is fraught with danger, and that every corner could conceal another threat. Yet, he feels no fear, and part of it is due to his steadfast companion.]

This way, [Zhongli murmurs. He glances back at Azhdaha, the shadows casting their features in stark relief.] Stay close, [he says, the words holding a depth of meaning beyond the immediate danger. It is a plea, a command, and a promise all at once.]

[dragonfell]

[ The hallway grows dimmer and damper the farther the two progress until the main source of light is two old-fashioned lanterns lit around a sturdy sandalwood door. The end of the hallway and their ultimate destination. There's something else there, too— or rather someone else. A person that makes Azhdaha raise his weapon and train it on the figure even as she holds up two hands in a show of non-aggression.

Dark inky hair like the moonless ocean at midnight cascades down her shoulders. The ornamentation on her dress and silver jewelry draping over her form announces her rank within this place— for there was only one who held such a high position of trust in the Sea Serpent's court. Osial's confidant. His right hand and some would even say his better half.

Beisht raises her piercing blue eyes towards Zhongli, lips pursed in the hint of a frown in realization of just who had appeared upon her husband's doorstep. ]

"Rex Lapis."

[ There's an undertone of a hiss to her words as if even being cordial in such a dire situation taxes her patience before she remembers herself. ]

"To what we owe the honor of a visit from the Lord himself to our humble establishment—? Is what I would say under normal circumstances, but these are hardly normal times."

[ With a slight incline of her head: ]

"I wish to propose a contract."

[arcaico]

[Zhongli regards her with a calm, unflinching gaze, the weight of time and more time of experience settling over him like a mantle. The name she speaks—Rex Lapis—is a title he wears with the same gravity as the foundations he once shaped, the ease with which he shattered others. It is a name that carries the weight of the contracts he has upheld, the lives he has changed, and the hardships he has endured.

Allowing her words to hang in the air like a mist that has yet to settle, he studies her, noting the subtle tension in her posture, the way her gaze flickers between him and Azhdaha. She is calculating, weighing her options even as she speaks.]


A contract, [he repeats softly, the words rolling off his tongue with the practiced ease of one who has spoken them countless times. He steps forward, the shallow water rippling around his feet, the soft sound filling the silence. Zhongli’s expression remains inscrutable, a mask of granite that betrays nothing of the thoughts swirling beneath. A contract—how fitting, he muses, that in this moment of treachery and bloodshed, Beisht would turn to the very foundation upon which he has built his legacy, but how interesting that she'd pick that.] You know well the weight of such an offer, Beisht.


[His voice, calm, measured, an undercurrent of steel beneath the surface. The warmth he had reserved for Azhdaha moments before is gone, replaced by the cold, unyielding resolve of Rex Lapis. Zhongli’s gaze locks onto Beisht’s, his eyes like molten gold.] You stand before me, seeking to negotiate in a time when trust has been shattered and oaths have been broken. Why should I entertain such a proposal, when it comes from the very heart of betrayal?

[There is no anger in his tone, no bitterness—only the cold, hard logic of a man who has spent what felt like lifetimes navigating the treacherous waters of Liyue’s underworld. But beneath that logic lies something deeper, a flicker of the pain and disappointment that Osial’s betrayal has wrought. It is a scar that may never fully heal.

But Zhongli is not a man to be swayed by emotion alone. He is Rex Lapis, the arbiter of contracts, and the guardian of Liyue’s secrets. And he will hear Beisht’s proposal, weighing it with the same meticulous care he has applied to every contract before it. For in the world of shadows and blood, the value of a contract is determined not by the words alone, but by the truth that lies beneath them. And it is as Rex Lapis that he orders:]

Speak.

[dragonfell]

[ Beisht, like her husband, was a woman with a sharp tongue and a wicked pride. To swallow both now was taking visible effort as she kept her chin high under Rex Lapis's piercing gaze. ]

"I would not be standing here if I didn't understand the gravity of the situation. After all, the easier path might have been to lie in wait and take my chances with an ambush. These four walls were built with your hands, but they have been fortified with Osial's might. Perhaps we would have had the advantage."

[ She sighs low and long, shoulders slumping as she continues to keep that gaze, not cowed, but accepting. The extension of an olive branch. ]

"But what does that get the both of us? More bloodshed. More corpses.

I stand before you now because even at the heart of betrayal, you look to the future and not to the past. I beseech not your emotions, but your logic. A battle here will cost much to both sides, so let us find a common ground that we can both walk away from this. Allow me and mine to leave Liyue, exiled if you prefer, to lands more suited to us of the sea. And allow us to offer recompense for what you have already lost.

If you will entertain that, then speak I will to what is in the best interest of us both."

[ There's another brush of shoulder to Morax's right, feather-light and too small to be noticed by Beisht. It's both a warning and a vow. A warning that she is not to be trusted, for unlike Morax, Azhdaha's loyalty lay at the feet of a person, not of contracts. He did not forgive and he did not forget, and the sorrow that Osial had caused Morax was enough for him to chase the man to the ends of the earth so he could not harm Morax again. For Azhdaha knew the person behind the mask, perhaps more intimately than anyone else. How his voice held firm even when his heart was breaking.

And thus was the vow— to protect Morax in this den of serpents and all that he loved and stood for. To make sure that he returned to the rest of the Adepti safe and sound. But most importantly, to make sure that he would not make a decision that would only drive the knife of this betrayal in further, carving a wound so deep that it may never heal. ]

[arcaico]

[To rule the syndicate means to quickly learn how to stand like a monolith, to wield the weight of the situation pressing down to guide him through conflict, through harsh decisions, through change. Her words echo through the corridor, her voice a strange mix of pride and desperation, a plea wrapped in the cold logic that she knows he values above all else. But for all of Beisht’s careful words, for all her calculated reasoning, Zhongli can see the cracks beneath her polished exterior, the strain of swallowing her pride in the face of the inevitable.

He listens, his expression as still as stone, but beneath the surface something churns. Her offer is tempting—an end to bloodshed, a way to avoid further loss. He is no stranger to the seductive pull of easy solutions. He has seen too many men, too many lives, twisted and broken by the pursuit of convenience over principle. And as much as he wishes to end this conflict without further bloodshed, he knows that some things cannot be bargained away.]

A common ground. [He allows the words to weigh and press down on all who stand in this narrow corridor.] What precedent would this set, Beisht, if I were to leave the blood that has already been shed alone? What would this teach those who look to us?

[His golden eyes bore into hers, searching for any flicker of hesitation, any sign that she might falter under the weight of what he is asking.]

Would Sky Bracer have wanted it? [As cold and sharp as the blade that took his life, cutting through the air with ruthless precision. It is a dagger he wields with purpose, but it is also a wound that bleeds within him, a pain he does not show but feels deep within his heart. Sometimes you need to hold a weapon by its blade to use it as a shield.

There is a brief, almost imperceptible pause—a moment where the cold logic of Rex Lapis wrestles with the deep well of emotion he keeps buried beneath his stony exterior. But before the silence can stretch too long, he feels it: a gentle brush of a shoulder against his own, a reminder of his unwavering presence at his side. A wall that will support him when he is most tired, who will propel him forward, who will shield him from the harshness of the world with arms, eyes, and words.

Zhongli allows himself a brief moment to draw strength from that touch, from the knowledge that he is not alone in this dark and treacherous place. Azhdaha, who has always been there, steadfast as the mountains, is a presence that grounds him, reminds him of the person behind the mask of Rex Lapis. The person who carries the weight of these decisions, the person who must live with the consequences of them.

He wonders, in the quiet corners of his mind, if Beisht has done this—brushed Osial’s arm as she set out in his defense, whispered reassurances into his ear, as Azhdaha has done for him countless times. Does she feel the same burden he feels? Does she understand the gravity of what she is asking?]

Does Osial know you are here? [Zhongli asks, but this time, whispered. Even so, while question is direct, and there is no softness in it, no warmth, it's still one that may change things. It is a demand for truth, for clarity. Because despite the offer she presents, despite the logic she tries to appeal to, Zhongli needs to know—needs to understand—whether this is an act of desperation or one of cunning.]

[dragonfell]

[ The pause is all she needs to spin her web — a crack is all water needs to begin to wear away stone. She does not need or want the warmth of Morax's generosity having found wealth and power in the arms of another. And emotions were fickle unpredictable— just as Osial had been ever since Morax had started to tighten the noose around his operation.

Her beloved would not understand. Or no— that's not quite right.

He would not be able to do what needed to be done. ]

"He does not."

"Too busy is he building fortifications to force your hand and lying traps to slow your progress. A number that is greater than even Morax and his Right Eye can escape unscathed. But alas, also not enough to guarantee his escape."

[ She takes one step to the side, hand still raised in plain sight as if to give them passage to the room behind her. The flickering lanterns cast dark shadows across her face, cast darker shadows still across Morax and Azhdaha. ]

"If it is the thirst of vengeance for blood that has already been shed, then by all means— I cannot stop you the same as I can not return to you what you have lost. Let the king and his knight continue ever so dutifully forward.

However, if it compensation and lost esteem you wish to regain, that is much more open to negotiation. I believe I have something that you want. Something worth looking the other way for in addition to what else you might ask of me."

[arcaico]

[Golden eyes fixed on her as though she were a serpent coiled in the shadows, waiting for her to strike. Beneath her polished exterior lies the cunning mind of someone who knows exactly what she gambles—and what she stands to gain.

When she confesses that Osial does not know she is here, Zhongli’s gaze does not waver, but the subtle shift in his posture—a fraction of a step forward, a tilt of his chin—speaks volumes. His mind is already fitting her words into the puzzle of this conflict.

Osial, ever prideful, ever reckless, has left himself exposed by this absence. Yet, the serpent’s wife stands before him offering a deal—not out of loyalty to her husband but out of a calculated self-preservation that reeks of betrayal. It is a betrayal within a betrayal, one that could tip the scales in his favor or sink them both into chaos.

He can feel Azhdaha’s steady gaze on him, the faint brush of his companion’s earlier touch still grounding him. Zhongli tilts his head ever so slightly.] What you propose is not a contract but a gamble. A bid that betrays not just your husband but the very foundation of trust you stand upon.

[He steps forward, stops a few mere feet from her now, and the light catches the edges of his face, illuminating the faint lines etched into his features by how tiresome this ordeal has all been. His voice softens, but the cold edge remains, cutting as cleanly as any blade.] Would you betray him as easily as he betrayed me,? Or does this betrayal wound you as deeply as mine does me?

[He glances over his shoulder at Azhdaha, the faintest flicker of trust passing between them before he turns back to Beisht.] You believe you hold something I want, [he continues, his tone still calm, still cold.] Then speak plainly, Beisht. If there is any truth to your words, I will hear it. But know this—if your offer insults the spilt blood, if it mocks the memory of Sky Bracer, I will not hesitate to remind you of the cost of betrayal.