Chapter Text
The sword handle rested firmly in your hand, it fit perfectly. The weight of the weapon was just right, the carvings just to your taste. As though it was made for you. The metal glinted in the moonlight, bright enough to say it was swallowing it up. And greedily so.
How did it take you so long to remember? At least a hundred years?
But now, it was time to set sail. Away from the Isles of Eternity, to find the second half and break this curse so you may lay yourself to rest.
—
The terrain in Liyue is different in every direction, but all mountains are equally scuffed and stand tall with their own pride, carved carefully by Morax’ hands thousands of years back. In the Bishui Plain, the distances between them are filled with water, deep and never ending pools of bright blue or murky cyan. The surface of most raised isles are askew, perhaps the worst ground to fight on with such steep ascents. There are no railings either, so to fall means to drown. Unless you carry the energy of a thousand men in one body and with it, the motivation of two thousand to climb right back up.
Such is no issue for Childe of course, in his opinion, you may multiply both those numbers by three, add them and have the value of both his strength and motivation. His totally convincing argument made you agree to switch to a more secluded rock isle, a bit further away from your lovely little settlement in Qingce Village. From your perspective, the agreement came from the reluctant kind, it was a looooonnnggg walk here, but he insisted on mastering fights on uneven grounds. Where better to practice than on Liyue’s rocky slopes? You had enough trust in his spatial awareness to not tumble and fall to his certain death when dodging your strikes.
And he didn’t disappoint, in fact, he almost got close to beating you by taking advantage of this terrain. You weren’t as prepared for attacks from above as you thought you were, and when he noticed that, of course he exploited it.
But in the end, he’s the one curled up on the ground with his own arrows stuck in his arms, never quite able to escape the ones you deflect and send right back in the direction you so accurately predict for him to jump in.
“I think we’re done for the day.” You suggest, sheathing your sword before heading over to the miserable scene. Combining Childe’s unquenchable bloodthirst and your more than solid healing capabilities, the common ground was to replicate real fights and commit to more than just a friendly, harmless spar. Of course, no one’s ever lost a limb, but you can count two scars you left on his back and he one on yours.
He winces, feeling the vibrations in the earth from your steps through his battered ribcage and more so in his arm. “Yeah- yeah, I think so-” his delusion fizzles out when he remembers to stop channeling it. Childe opens his eyes to an awfully bright sunset, shielded mildly by the blades of grass before him and your shadow above.
“Do you want me to pull the arrows out now? Or later?”
The wounds in his arm pulsate when he thinks of you tugging them off right away. He’s not squeamish with all that he’s seen, and certainly doesn’t have a low pain tolerance, but right now?.. He feels too beat for that.
You’re already raising your hand toward his shoulder, until he coughs and shakes his head, “give me a minute, comrade..”
You drop it and sit down beside him.
Definitely more than one minute passes as you watch Childe try to regain his composure, and you don’t think much of it at first. Even when he’s coughing more than usual, and looks paler than he probably should. You’re only concerned when he starts spitting blood on the ground beside you.
“Can you stop doing that every time?” You deadpan, watching the effects of an overexerted delusion. He glances up at you with a ‘huh?’ of feigned unknowing. Pushing his limits works with his physical body maybe, but you’re sure it’s different with visions and delusions.
Unfortunately, your friend refuses to hear you out every time you try to explain that.
Eventually the coughing subsides and Childe sits up to pull the arrows out himself, lest you do it with your unforgiving yanks he’s never prepared for.
“So, I heard Lantern Rite’s coming up again?” He holds his arm out to you, waiting for you to do your magic of internally frying him back to health. You take a hold of his hand, your pyro vision glowing to life in use and warm energy flows from you to him.
“Yes, and it’s today.”
“Well, we better get going,” Childe attempts to shoot up, already feeling well enough again to run the miles over to Liyue Harbour, only for you to pull him right back down.
“I’m not done,” you state as your hand burns hot and he starts feeling like his ribs are melting their cracks back together. It's uncomfortable enough for him to tightly wring his fingers around your hand.
Such is the prize of life, you suppose. Healing may be just as painful as the injury, if not worse.
Nearing the end, he vellicates his hand from yours, sweating an awful amount for such a chilly winter night. “You can stop cooking me.”
“You're still–”
“Yeah, well, the festivities wait for no one!” He declares brightly, back on his feet with a hand over the bruise on his chest you know still sits there. You could say he's cradling it almost, but before you can voice that rising question, he holds that same hand out for you again, only to help you get up this time.
“You just wanna see Zhongli,” shaking your head at the eager Harbinger, you accept his hand and rise up as well.
—
In old fashion, what comes from a fine dine with Zhongli is always at least one drunk buffoon, this pattern has stayed true to itself for the hundreds of years you’ve spent in Liyue by now. Akin to how your tolerance for alcohol never rose, so it’s not hard to guess who drew the short end of the stick at a table of two gods, a Snezhnayan, a pharmacist and a ‘non-entity’ in Liyue.
Well, in theory, it should have been you, the third god, residing across the table from the real culprit; Venti, the true hero who honored the pattern’s legacy in practice.
Archons bless your self-restraint, because osmanthus wine certainly tastes good, but you draw the line at getting tipsy since you know how talkative you may get. Well, you know for sure that Morax and Barbatos aren’t blessing you, but maybe other gods may have some sympathy to set the table with bitter drinks next time.
At the end of the reunion, Yelan and Childe have to split the bill. Something that also never seems to change is the fact that all gods at this very table are broke. Fly wallet broke. Even the retired god of.. mora. And since Baizhu didn’t eat or drink anything, he had nothing to contribute.
They both exchange very different glances with Zhongli. Childe doesn’t seem to mind at all (used to it after all) and Yelan.. you really hope Morax sleeps with two eyes open tonight, if he sleeps at all.
Childe walks out of Wanmin Restaurant ahead of you, twirling into the night breeze after having danced with maybe a few glasses too many. “It’s a wonderful night, [name],” he sighs so freely of himself, his eyes having been fixed on the sky since opening the door. Oh, how he’s anticipating the quarrels between the lights in the sky.
“You seem awfully relaxed.” You can’t bite down the chuckle, feeling just as open to the world. You ponder where to head to watch the fireworks.
“Don’t you want to light a lantern?”
Make a wish?
“They’re for the people of Liyue, though.”
You don’t have much to wish for. But every wish you cast, every prayer you uttered in this land, they worshipped death and gained you no blessings.
Tartaglia smiles solemnly at you when you gaze upon the stars. “You are a person of Liyue, no?” He asks that question despite knowing the answer very well.
Maybe you’ve become good friends with many people here, even now on the streets, you recognize faces by the stalls from here and far alike. Xiangling, who probably just started her break, doesn't stand too far from you. Or Xinyan, who’s rushing over to her and waving to both you and Childe in passing. In the restaurant you just left, all the four people still remaining there are technically your friends. A bit further away you even see Cyno and Tighnari strolling around, acquaintances from the neighbouring nation.
You’ve lived here for so long that you could go as far as to say you know everyone in this city in some way, shape or form.
Alas, they come and go as their life span allows them.
“No, I moved here some years ago, I wouldn’t call myself a local yet.” You lie to his face with a friendly upwards pull of your lips, he receives it just as forced as it really is.
And Childe laughs it off, changing the topic. “I think we should head to the outskirts of the city, there is no hope to see anything scenic in this sea of people.”
“I’ll have to agree with you on that,” you follow his swift steps, finding yourself becoming a professional climber for the second time today. Except you’re hopping over the rooftops now, and not hiking across mountains. The route he takes seems awfully familiar, even from above. Soon you realize he’s headed for the Northland Bank.
“Aren’t you afraid of being caught up here?” You call after him once you spot men of the Millelith below on the balconies.
Ignoring the fact that Childe being afraid of pretty much anything is a ridiculous thought in the first place, he stops on the edge of a green rooftop to reply (definitely not to catch his breath).
“It’s a happy day, everyone is drinking, and this is probably not an original idea.” He huffs and tries to keep his wheezing to an inaudible minimum.
That reminds you of that edgy adeptus, the guy you only ever see on rooftops. Xiao?
Slipping back into your head with thoughts you absently glance around. But one look at the sky convinces you, it’s kinda nice here.
You turn to Childe who’s clutching at his chest again. “Let’s just sit down here, the view is clear.”
And indeed, he doesn’t see too many people in this part of the harbour, it’s not too noisy. Most of all, the lanterns feel so magical from here.
Wordlessly he takes the five steps over to you and sits down on the green tiles. “I’ve never even really looked at this part of town apart from Northland Bank..” Tartaglia looks to his right, able to see the dreaded building that tried to tie him down with paperwork.
“Lantern Rite always feels like I’m looking at an ocean of sorts.” Festivities of all kinds just coax a smile out of you with blooming warmth, the reflections of the lanterns shimmer in your eyes.
“It’s a sea of lanterns and stars,” Childe stares at you during your entrancement with the sky. And for the love of all the gods in Teyvat, he can’t tear his eyes away. As if your eyes are the sea of stars he threw his heart into, and now the lanterns bloom in it, and he can’t get out a word about it, how gorgeous it looks. He can’t do anything about it, really.