For Archon's Sake

For The Dancing And The Dreaming

Zhongli was a man of his word but...he had always been known to allow different maneuvers and loopholes when making a contract.

He had only said he would wake Childe. He had never specified the timing.

When the archon first opened his eyes, he just laid there quietly in the dark, observing the lines and panes of Childe's body illuminated by the breaking dawn. Scars- some newer and some a thin, pale keepsake of his battles -marked themselves all over his upper body. Zhongli was sure there were more.

"Did you know some mortals take pride in the fact that they do not have the luxury of enhanced healing as we do?" Venti said, knocking back his sixth bottle of wine and smiling as he wiped his mouth. "They wear their injuries as badges of honor!" Zhongli crinkled his nose. "I know that you are the god of freedom and wind, but surely there's a point where even your imagination has to stop. That is a ridiculous notion." He narrowed his eyes as the god began to ask for another round. "And stop draining the barkeep dry. Other patrons would like to enjoy the wine you covet so much." Venti laughed as he held up his hands. "I would think you the god of Fontaine with how much you go on about fairness and justice, Morax." Zhongli crossed his arms. "The contracts I oversee all require fairness and justice for the parties involved. Our domains overlap more than you think, Barbatos." Venti leaned his head against his hand and said nothing for a moment, eyes twinkling in a way that usually signaled trouble. Zhongli frowned. "What, bard?"

Venti's lips quirked as he picked up his lyre and strummed. The patrons grew quieter as they marveled at the lilting melody his fingers coaxed out. It was something dreamy but wistful, and it made Zhongli's heart twinge for reasons unknown to him. When he finished, the barkeep offered him another drink "on the house", much to Zhongli's chagrin. The bard sipped from his wine, drumming his fingers on the counter as he put it down. "You say that a god's domain overlaps with another's more than we think?" A sly smile as Venti raised his glass toward Zhongli. "Then believe me when I say, I cannot wait until freedom's wind finds itself at your shores."

Zhongli's looked up at the ceiling. How right Barbatos had been. He had always taken pride in his post, had always thought that envying the life of a mortal was foolish and vain. And where did that lead him? Trading his power away for a chance at freedom. His breath caught as Childe turned over, his nose crinkling in his sleep. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to wake him up with barely-there kisses and a silent thanks to whatever power above had created such a gift. But...

We're only using each other, after all.

So Zhongli swallowed the thoughts bubbling inside him, and carefully rose from the bed. And as he quietly padded to the kitchen, it finally hit him. Why the song pouring from Barbatos' lyre had struck him so.

It was wanting. It was dreaming. And most of all, it sang of something just beyond his reach.

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"You should probably wake up. I would hate to see you in trouble with your superiors."

Childe's eyes opened blearily, focusing until they registered a hand. A hand that was holding an omelet, covered in some kind of spicy red sauce. He slowly stretched, forcing himself up and grimacing as he moved. Zhongli put the plate down as his eyes widened. "Did I hurt-" "How many times do I have to tell you that I am not some porcelain doll," Childe rasped, his voice still adjusting to waking. "I will be fine." Zhongli shook his head as Childe started scarfing down his breakfast. "Water," Childe coughed, reaching for the nightstand. Zhongli beat him to it, and Childe greedily drank as the consultant tugged his pants on. They both eyed the ruined overcoat, and Childe raked his hand through his hair. "You can borrow something of mine. I think we're about the same size." Zhongli walked over to his closet and hesitated as he held the doorknob. "Does that not send a message?" Childe yawned and peeled the covers off himself, noting the way Zhongli had to lift his gaze skyward. He smirked. "Whoever has a problem, tell them to come and see me about it."

He swaggered towards his wardrobe, surveying his clothing until he found a long-sleeved maroon blouse and a navy blue sash to go with it. Zhongli blanched as Childe held it up to him, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. "This will definitely make a splash don't you think?"

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Childe was whistling as he surveyed Northland Bank. The staff was in a frenzy with the Lantern Rite Festival coming up. There were so many transactions to review and approve, sponsorships and revenue contracts to finalize before the event...he almost felt bad for the workers. He even offered to help a frazzled teller lug boxes of papers to his office, but the man firmly declined and continued huffing his way down the hall with them. Childe sighed. This wasn't his area of expertise.

"Sir? A visitor here for you!" Visitors usually meant a headache. Visitors usually meant more misconduct reports. He straightened and turned towards the voice, hoping his face masked his annoyance. "Greetings. What can I-" He did a double-take as Aether and Paimon faced him, the former holding a little boy's hand. A little boy with an unmistakable shock of ginger hair. The boy smiled and waved, jumping up with glee. "Big Brother! I found nice people like you told me to, and they brought me right to you!"

Childe gulped, and mustered a light laugh. This was almost certainly going to end in a misconduct report.

Teucer had come from Snezhnayah to see his brother.