( it isn't that he thinks that xiao deserves the weight which he bears on his shoulders--and yet, all the same, he does not know a way to rob him of it, or a way to make him understand that his debts have already been paid. that is something that xiao has to contend with, within himself; that is something that even his own hands, his own claws, his own knives, his polearm or any of his tools, cannot take away from him, and as much as it pains him, he knows, too, that it is something that xiao needs. it is what grounds him to this place, he thinks, something that cements him into his care--after all, he cannot make it up to the people of liyue without, of course, being here in liyue to do so. such a thing brings him some measure of selfish comfort: xiao will remain here, with him, one constant that means more than he thinks he can put into words.
he likes the way xiao kneels, and yet doesn't, at all--there is a hierarchy to be respected, but respect is something that is earned. he doesn't know if he should be privy to it, yet; the body of his lover sinks further into the mud and dirt just beyond them, and yet here he is, standing tall above a relatively young adeptus soul, who crouches as if to crowd himself into his own golden shadow. )
I forgive you. ( --which is to say that, really, he doesn't believe xiao is in need of forgiveness for anything at all. but it's important to give to xiao what he asks for, no matter what it is. ) Come.
( there is more that needs to be done, here, more time that needs to be spent, away from everyone else--he imagines they only have a small amount of it, that soon there will be cranes perched there, watching over them with a critical eye; soon, horns will shimmer in the moonlight, soon everyone will want to pay their respects. he isn't sure he can even contend with such a thing. to do so is to make it all a very severe part of his reality.
so he wades around xiao, moves further into the water, until wearing the cloak is more of a hindrance than it is a boon--he shrugs out of it, leaves it away on a rock that he moves past, until the water soaks up to his waist, until he can ease down into it and let it lap up at his bare shoulders. it feels like he may just dip his head beneath the surface and not come back up again; the pool isn't so deep, but he can wish it to be. )
Have I ever asked anything unfair, of you?
( it's after a moment of silence--his back is still turned to xiao, and he hopes that he isn't still kneeling. one of his damp hands reaches up from beneath the water to pull at the band that guizhong put into his hair, earlier in the day; all of it spills out into the water, unbound. )
[ a disappointment, perhaps, xiao yet remains kneeling with his head bowed with a solemnity most often consecrated to shame. in time, in centuries, that shame will not erode but it will be offset by a stalwart sort of pride from protecting liyue for so long and honoring the contract that saved him from enslavement while also giving him new and unexpected purpose. gold that threads from the geo archon's fingertips, across the arches of his feet, up his human-shaped limbs...xiao associates them with the good earth as much as a sun. so it shocks him to his core, especially as he is now, to hear that question. he finds himself transfixed by the soft loving unraveling of the god's hair, finds himself standing as if possessed and taking a few agitated steps forward. even so, the water barely moves around him, what little way it gives more as if it has been kissed by the wind than a body's forward motion.
to his returned shame, his voice wavers. ]
No. Not once.
[ an adeptus is not a human and is also not a god. but a heart is a heart. it wells full, blooms, or breaks in turn. at present, xiao's feels as this last. not for himself but for his god. his lord. his master. there are only so many words and none of them quite right because that he should ever address him directly seems so out of hand it puts his hair on end. but here they are, the sky melting into the water as if they are one entity of grief holding his god together.
and it hurts.
though he remains standing, xiao's eyes lower, downcast, and from above it might seem as if they are closed. ]
My lord...your coming was this one's salvation.
[ through the earth, salvation. through the sky, freedom. his gifts or blessings have been immense. the yaksha understands this; he wishes his god would understand too. a soft breath causes the newly cut ends of his hair to fly up slow and thoughtful. ]
If we are to speak of unfairness...I believe you witnessed that part of this one's existence.
[ a holdover indeed from that time, someday xiao will nearly if not completely grow out of his broken speech, the objectifying nature of what it is to speak about oneself as if one is not oneself despite the words. his old master instated this and in some ways still has some grasp on him beyond death. that is the nature of scars and much like his karma, xiao bears it as he feels he deserves to for his crimes however forced into them he was. yet it is progress of a kind perhaps, in the shadow-light of a being as good as guizhong's death, that these two remain alive. there must be someone to take steps into the future, to see that the future is there at all to reach. a god. a guardian. vigilance.
so when xiao speaks of his old master, he is almost as quiet as silence, but it is not in fear; it is in honesty.
this is the most he has spoken in a very, very long time. it feels strange. ]
( there is no way to deny such a thing: of course what he had witnessed had been terrifying, in the sense that it had been so unjust that it had truly floored him, at the sight; and he has seen so many things, has become numb, in some ways, to the cruelty of gods, just as the cruelty of humans, as though such a thing can only be mimicked once it comes from something high above. there are a great many things about the world that he is unable to change, and a great many injustices that he may never see--and yet the dream, as always, has been to create a place of their people; a place where law and order will be bestowed to all those who are willing to live under it. there will be a sense of fairness, and a sense of justice, and a sense that things will only be allowed under the most equal of laws that benefit all parties. that had been what they had always been after--and seeing the state with which xiao had lived, there, under the thumb of someone who didn't deserve him at all? it had only fueled his desires.
some of him, of course, had been fueled by an anger so ripe and livid that it had cut through the ground itself. he cannot deny that he also has his own shortcomings to work on.
but could he really be such a great thing? perhaps it is the one trouble that guizhong has left him with, now: never a doubt as to her affections for him, or the gentle way that she would offer solutions when he had been too hard-headed to see past his own determinations, but she had always assured him that he would become a god that would be worthy of the respect of his people, that would be worthy of leading their small little harbor village to something great. she had always had the encouragement that he needed, and now--like this? can he even deserve such a thing? how can she keep him on the right path if she's not here at all?
it troubles him. it troubles him in the way that xiao seems so desperately determined to bend himself under his shadow, the way that he thinks that he should give him his loyalty no matter what he is or what he does. true, xiao himself has said he never asked anything unfair of him: but that is a very solid yet, that lingers between them.
the water is cold, around his shoulders. he pushes himself back up, standing tall, in its depths; his hair falls down his naked back like it's heavier than stone, messy and stuck up around his frame. )
If I may, then, ask you one such unfair thing, for now.
( --some measure of humor in his voice, despite himself. )
If the others come looking for me... Tell them that I have left to attend to something direly important. Do not tell them that you have seen me.
I will... take to the air, for awhile. Perhaps it will lift my spirits.
[ to xiao this is not an unfair request but the once gold winged adeptus has a perhaps skewed idea of fair and unfair. he knows it even as he is also willing to say that it does not matter. his allegiance to the god before him is replete. the weight of rex lapis from his posture to the water that clings to him to the grief wreathed around him as some kind of invisible tangible truth; the weight of gravity. xiao would not claim to understand. it is not in his ability to do so.
what is in his ability, however, is to bow his head before his master and softly intone, ]
It will be as you wish.
[ his lord's 'true' form is beautiful. the yaksha finds comfort in the great dragon's existence even as it stirs at a well buried, snow-covered part of his own heart that misses his own wings and the sky carding through them. when he kneels, the water rippling out is soft and kind in a way that even war-ridden, so much of liyue is. how great liyue will become under rex lapis, who will one day be known only as zhongli and 'dead' as the age of mortals prospers, will never be a surprise to xiao. if his eyes are overwhelmed in gold, this is the nature of a bond of the savior and the saved but, perhaps more than that: that which is worthy of loyalty. to outsiders, xiao's behavior might seem blind but it couldn't be further from the truth.
no decision is without its specific core, roots like ancient trees touching places of the world shut off more and more. it all stems from somewhere.
so too does the yaksha's heart and the weapon of himself.
if he can give his lord the privacy he needs in his mourning, then he will. if he can give him his utility as a weapon in the war that remains or any new wars ahead, then he will. not blindly but deliberate; sincere;
— and as close to a kind of love as maybe he will ever know. that's loyalty of a kind, if you will. ]
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no subject
he likes the way xiao kneels, and yet doesn't, at all--there is a hierarchy to be respected, but respect is something that is earned. he doesn't know if he should be privy to it, yet; the body of his lover sinks further into the mud and dirt just beyond them, and yet here he is, standing tall above a relatively young adeptus soul, who crouches as if to crowd himself into his own golden shadow. )
I forgive you. ( --which is to say that, really, he doesn't believe xiao is in need of forgiveness for anything at all. but it's important to give to xiao what he asks for, no matter what it is. ) Come.
( there is more that needs to be done, here, more time that needs to be spent, away from everyone else--he imagines they only have a small amount of it, that soon there will be cranes perched there, watching over them with a critical eye; soon, horns will shimmer in the moonlight, soon everyone will want to pay their respects. he isn't sure he can even contend with such a thing. to do so is to make it all a very severe part of his reality.
so he wades around xiao, moves further into the water, until wearing the cloak is more of a hindrance than it is a boon--he shrugs out of it, leaves it away on a rock that he moves past, until the water soaks up to his waist, until he can ease down into it and let it lap up at his bare shoulders. it feels like he may just dip his head beneath the surface and not come back up again; the pool isn't so deep, but he can wish it to be. )
Have I ever asked anything unfair, of you?
( it's after a moment of silence--his back is still turned to xiao, and he hopes that he isn't still kneeling. one of his damp hands reaches up from beneath the water to pull at the band that guizhong put into his hair, earlier in the day; all of it spills out into the water, unbound. )
Be honest. I would like to know.
no subject
to his returned shame, his voice wavers. ]
No. Not once.
[ an adeptus is not a human and is also not a god. but a heart is a heart. it wells full, blooms, or breaks in turn. at present, xiao's feels as this last. not for himself but for his god. his lord. his master. there are only so many words and none of them quite right because that he should ever address him directly seems so out of hand it puts his hair on end. but here they are, the sky melting into the water as if they are one entity of grief holding his god together.
and it hurts.
though he remains standing, xiao's eyes lower, downcast, and from above it might seem as if they are closed. ]
My lord...your coming was this one's salvation.
[ through the earth, salvation. through the sky, freedom. his gifts or blessings have been immense. the yaksha understands this; he wishes his god would understand too. a soft breath causes the newly cut ends of his hair to fly up slow and thoughtful. ]
If we are to speak of unfairness...I believe you witnessed that part of this one's existence.
[ a holdover indeed from that time, someday xiao will nearly if not completely grow out of his broken speech, the objectifying nature of what it is to speak about oneself as if one is not oneself despite the words. his old master instated this and in some ways still has some grasp on him beyond death. that is the nature of scars and much like his karma, xiao bears it as he feels he deserves to for his crimes however forced into them he was. yet it is progress of a kind perhaps, in the shadow-light of a being as good as guizhong's death, that these two remain alive. there must be someone to take steps into the future, to see that the future is there at all to reach. a god. a guardian. vigilance.
so when xiao speaks of his old master, he is almost as quiet as silence, but it is not in fear; it is in honesty.
this is the most he has spoken in a very, very long time. it feels strange. ]
no subject
some of him, of course, had been fueled by an anger so ripe and livid that it had cut through the ground itself. he cannot deny that he also has his own shortcomings to work on.
but could he really be such a great thing? perhaps it is the one trouble that guizhong has left him with, now: never a doubt as to her affections for him, or the gentle way that she would offer solutions when he had been too hard-headed to see past his own determinations, but she had always assured him that he would become a god that would be worthy of the respect of his people, that would be worthy of leading their small little harbor village to something great. she had always had the encouragement that he needed, and now--like this? can he even deserve such a thing? how can she keep him on the right path if she's not here at all?
it troubles him. it troubles him in the way that xiao seems so desperately determined to bend himself under his shadow, the way that he thinks that he should give him his loyalty no matter what he is or what he does. true, xiao himself has said he never asked anything unfair of him: but that is a very solid yet, that lingers between them.
the water is cold, around his shoulders. he pushes himself back up, standing tall, in its depths; his hair falls down his naked back like it's heavier than stone, messy and stuck up around his frame. )
If I may, then, ask you one such unfair thing, for now.
( --some measure of humor in his voice, despite himself. )
If the others come looking for me... Tell them that I have left to attend to something direly important. Do not tell them that you have seen me.
I will... take to the air, for awhile. Perhaps it will lift my spirits.
no subject
what is in his ability, however, is to bow his head before his master and softly intone, ]
It will be as you wish.
[ his lord's 'true' form is beautiful. the yaksha finds comfort in the great dragon's existence even as it stirs at a well buried, snow-covered part of his own heart that misses his own wings and the sky carding through them. when he kneels, the water rippling out is soft and kind in a way that even war-ridden, so much of liyue is. how great liyue will become under rex lapis, who will one day be known only as zhongli and 'dead' as the age of mortals prospers, will never be a surprise to xiao. if his eyes are overwhelmed in gold, this is the nature of a bond of the savior and the saved but, perhaps more than that: that which is worthy of loyalty. to outsiders, xiao's behavior might seem blind but it couldn't be further from the truth.
no decision is without its specific core, roots like ancient trees touching places of the world shut off more and more. it all stems from somewhere.
so too does the yaksha's heart and the weapon of himself.
if he can give his lord the privacy he needs in his mourning, then he will. if he can give him his utility as a weapon in the war that remains or any new wars ahead, then he will. not blindly but deliberate; sincere;
— and as close to a kind of love as maybe he will ever know. that's loyalty of a kind, if you will. ]