ch. xi; 𝘐𝘔𝘗𝘌𝘙𝘈𝘛𝘖𝘙𝘐𝘚.

* im gonna report u !!!! Holds myself

CHAPTER XI   ✧  THE HERO UNTOUCHED BY GODS.
            
            A beast hunkering in its den.  Tongue laving over viscera, the bite of something /other/ than mortal blood spilling from his body.  The sharp tinge of the abyss that's evident even in his veins, in his own cells, in his own making.  He had been challenging the Traveller incessantly recently, and their piteous gaze had only coaxed his ire further before they indulged him.  He is too weak to truly kill them.  For some reason, even as /this/, he has come to grow fond of this wanderer.  Heaving breaths leave him as a consequence, sides ribbed with the bite of their sword and golden crystals etched into the armour.  Golden crystals that looked like--
            
            The beast, a legacy unforetold, only growls at himself.  Bitter and beaten.  He has come to despise the humanity that still clings to his shell, even like this.  He is not Tartaglia, he is not even Childe.  Perhaps he is Ajax, the boy remade.  This form is a gift from his master and he wishes it inherited her hateful nature.
            
            The sound of footsteps has him stirring.  He doubts the sight of some abyssal amalgation would be pleasant to see for some unfortunate passerby, perhaps a worker but oh... oh, no.  Oh.  The smell-- the /stench/.  His head lifts, pearlescent vision ever-seeing and his jaw unhinges in a horrid replica of a grin.  Mocking, at the God's behest.  
            
            (A God no longer, something whispers to him.)
            
            "We've already said our farewells," his voice is unnatural, for this creature was not made to speak.  An animal mimicking human words, clumsy and impossible.  
            
            "You here to do the same?"  A laugh, grating yet delighted, teeth parting further to sink into His throat and--  "Rather egotistical... don't you think?"
            
            !!  @sealedcontracts

⠀⠀days passed filled with further meetings and planning with the now head officials of liyue, but wounded pride and bitter laughs didn't leave his conscience undisturbed. 
            
            on the third day, with most matters dealt with thanks to the unwavering organisation of the new heads of liyue, "zhongli" roamed the streets—making his last goodbyes before welcoming his rebirth earnestly. his last stop was where it started, coming to stand outside the golden house, having access to where all the wealth of liyue was accumulated due to the qixing's grace.
                  however, what was the expected sight of  a revibrating golden gleam and the displayed exuvia once pushing open the doors, was instead disrupted by a hunched form. tall, ghastly, with the dull shine of armour that seemed to swallow light curled in on itself. injured, licking its own wounds. 
            
            stood at the doorway, he doesn't say a word. stays still, until the doors shut, shattering the silence with an echo. when he speaks, its not with authority, but rather factual. he understands, some strays wish not for pity. it's approached, careful and slow.
                "   the golden house shouldn't be taking visitors at this time. i don't suppose you've come to say your farewells to the divine vessel before you.   "

there was a silence that followed the trial of liyue. as the ancient god was put to rest once more, under jutted stone spears and encompassing tidal waves—the now settled ripples from piled golden architecture buried the traces of calamity that momentous night. the people were victorious, and the disaster was subverted. 
                 this sight was enough to bring certainty to the archaic figure stood atop a cliff, as watchful eyes of amber softened in what was... hope. or less naively put, closure. in a distant future where rock would erode to dust, the people would continue to build and thrive without him. back turned as relieved sighs and celebratory applause rang in the far distance, tails of an umber coat whipped in remaining coastal winds, and the silhouette finally descends from his observatory. the rest would be left to the united assemblies to decide, the land's fate was left in their hands.
            
            that night marked officially the last of his godhood, as the contract came to its conclusion. the stage cleared, the play came to its conclusions, and the actors performed in ways that exceeded expectation. once his gnosis was passed to throne of glacial wars, it was no longer a god walking in a false mortal disposition. morax was left, who didn't face that of which was deceived with his colleague so near. an explanation given, identities revealed, but the young harbinger's maimed ego was tangible despite it all. and who was he to extend a hand to that which bites before licking over its own wounds.

/  hi
            
            !!  @angelshre

/         hi

/        :3 xx

/  tf kicks back
            
            !!  @deixuried 

/        kicks.

  [    THE 1ST:   IL CAPITANO.̲    ]
                   001.⠀⤻┃⚔︎      ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ ᵉˣᵉᶜᵘᵗⁱᵒⁿ
            
            
            "⠀⠀when you are stood in my office without knocking,  yes.   though i have no problem promptly removing you.⠀⠀"

“so now you acknowledge me?”
            
            !!  @ilcapitanos

“if you want to be considered a special case,  then go for it.  whatever keeps you happy and  *quiet*.  we have yet to leave the harbour and blood is awfully hard to wash out of wood.  i only gave her a thorough clean a week ago.”
            
            !!  @sealedcontracts

“i’ll rest after i make sure you’re fine.  i’m practically healed anyway,  dottore said so.  i promise.  look—-  you don’t have to.  but if it’s that bad,  then i trust you.”  a shit-eating grin.  “you’re the only vampire i’d do this with.”
            
            !!  @sealedcontracts

⠀⠀ [    VAMPIRE:   MORAX.̲    ]
            ⠀⠀⠀      II.⠀⤻┃◇      ʷᵃⁿᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵏⁱⁿᵍ
            
            
            "⠀⠀taking blood from you in this state isn't the best course of action.   less blood slows the healing of your wounds.  must you make things more difficult for oneself.   go rest.⠀⠀"

“it’s what—-  two puncture wounds if we’re neat with it?  it’s fine.  i’m a young,  spritely man.  you’re thirsty.  i’m here,  more than happy to help.”  
            
            !!  @sealedcontracts

╱╱ ⠀⠀  ⠀⠀it's been years. Decades. Centuries.