Written for a Journey's Rest, a Genshin Self-Care Zine.
Old and quiet,
He drinks his tea.
Morax walks about the harbor, hands tucked behind his back,
Shopkeepers stand around, arms full of items to hack.
“Good job,” says one, “Go and call it a day.”
Morax mills about as he thinks and he weighs
A foreign-like idea, seemingly fresh and new,
Crinkling the corners of his brain as it starts to woo,
“My duties,” he thinks, chin upon his hand,
“Are they done? Have they finished? Is this it for my land?”
Morax watches the bustling Harbor, and the people all around—
And then he laughs.
A once god, retired,
His humans rise beyond.
Zhongli sits in his quaint apartment with a warm mug of tea.
He watches his home rebuild, and the quiet subtleties,
Of what makes humans tick, and gives them their drive,
Zhongli wonders from henceforth what should he for strive.
So close, and yet so far, just toeing the edge of the line
Whilst he waits for some answers and his stars to realign.
The mortal equation is a tricky, and distracting thing:
But Zhongli, for one, just cannot wait to see what the future brings.
His morning is quiet, fingers curled around his mug—
It is nice.
A Harbinger, a Cook,
His boss, the Undertaker.
Zhongli delights in his friends and the company they share,
The days spent with them are the best kind of self-care.
With Childe, it’s the markets for money is his whim
And with his purse in hand, he’ll never have to skim.
Xiangling and her smile, and her trusty wok’s bright blaze,
Food of all his wildest dreams that never fails to amaze.
Then, that darned child who works him to the bone:
Hu Tao with her coupons and deals that only make him groan.
Zhongli’s days are packed, full with kindly charm—
He is never bored.
He walks on tired feet,
Toes digging into the sand.
Zhongli enjoys a nice day out upon on a lengthy stroll,
As he walks across the sandy strip of the Yaoguang Shoal,
He dreams of the ocean and the ever drifting tide,
And ponders his new life as he takes it all in stride.
Later, at the base of Mt. Hulao which rises up so tall,
And at its feet, shimmering flora that spreads about in a sprawl.
He thinks of his old friend Retuo, who lays beneath a tree,
And the Erosion that tugs at his bones, for even Gods are never free.
Zhongli likes it, the creaks and crackles of his joints—
He feels alive.A mountain and a table,
Meant for more than one.
Zhongli sets about to brew tea in the heart of Jueyun Karst,
Which, frankly, to anyone else would seem an act that’s farced.
The water; perfectly heated to quite a near-hot boil,
A pinch of leaves to sit and steep, a wait that’s worth the toil.
And so he sits in his memories of old, a reminder of what he was,
He thinks of his days, now subtle and warm, and how all he ever does,
Is delight in the joy of others, and watch as the Harbor glows,
His retirement has surely proven to be quite the handsome show.
Zhongli’s cup is warm in his hands as he takes a sip—
Then, he smiles.
Those little moments
Are now his future
What a wonderful thing.
Her hands are soft, even if she doesn’t think of them as such.
Long, thin fingers. A narrow palm and the barest slip of a wrist bone. The rest Dunyarzad keeps bandaged away from prying eyes who stare a little too long.
She pulls at them nervously. The bandages. Uncalloused fingertips slip between layers of cotton, fiddling with them. Too soft to have known any true sort of work, most would think, but Dehya is not stupid.
Dunyarzad’s scars are found not on her skin, but rather, her heart, which is thicker-skinned than even Dehya’s mercenary-worn hands. Dehya cannot imagine. Her struggles are simpler, easier to handle. Dunyarzad cannot run from hers and they linger about in scaled patches that serve as a constant reminder.
Dehya watches as she picks at them, brow furrowed with every dig of Dunyarzad’s fingers into her soft skin. Nails leave behind pink crescents, but no bruises. Never bruises, because how would that look on such a proper young lady?
Eyes are always watching and Dunyarzad watches right back, calculating in the way that she observes. Even Dehya doesn’t escape her shrewd gaze.
“My Guardian Knight,” she always calls her, mouth curling around the title. At first, it was a joke, a silly little phrase meant to annoy Dehya. And it did, in the beginning. Dehya was saddled with babysitting instead of knocking skulls together.
But as time eased on, Dunyarzad started saying it a little differently.
Today she says it softly, affectionately. Dunyarzad wears a warm smile and, for a moment, she forgets about those bandages, and the hardened scales that they hide. She is relaxed, happy even when Dehya leans closer, eager for even the barest scrap of her time.
“Yeah,” she says, “I’m here.” Dehya holds out her hand expectantly. A bold choice, something new as of late.
Dunyarzad’s gaze tips down and stares at her palm. When she places her hand into it there is no hesitation, only a soft breath that she looses, and the way that her fingers wrap around Dehya’s palm loosely.
“Dehya,” she says, using her name, her real name, her proper name, hushed as though she wants no one else to know. “Walk with me?”
Always, she thinks. Anything for her, this slip of a girl who just wants a moment of something more.
Diluc gives Kaeya an unexpected gift for his birthday.
--
The clink of a glass as it’s slammed down onto the bar. Aggressive—enough so that others might worry about something shattering—but all Kaeya does is raise an eyebrow.
He leans back in the hard-backed bar chair legs kicked up and boots resting on the table. “Off,” snarls Diluc, lips curled into a nasty scowl.
Kaeya smirks, throwing his arms behind his head in an exaggerated stretch. Makes no move to drop his feet, far too intent on needling Diluc as much as he possibly can. He normally isn’t in the bar at the same time. The moment Kaeya steps in, Diluc sneaks out the back, too awkward to even share a quick glance.
But tonight, he’s stuck around. Suspicious. Kaeya watches him through a narrow-eyed gaze, thumbing his chin as he chills in his chair.
“Off,” repeats Diluc, this time nudging at his ankles.
“You’re no fun.”
“It isn’t about fun, it’s about—” Diluc cuts off his own biting tongue. He rubs at his face, sighing, and then through gritted teeth continues with, “Remove them. Please.”
Oh, that’s a red flag. Diluc does not ask nicely. He doesn’t say please, least of all to him. “What’s wrong?” asks Kaeya, mostly concerned. A smidge amused. Entirely wary.
Diluc snorts. “Nothing. I’m—nothing.”
Kaeya gives him a once over, eye washing from Diluc’s head to toe. “Well, you don’t look sick—”
“I’m not sick.”
“You said please.”
“I have manners.”
Kaeya snorts this time. “You do not.” Diluc has the propriety of an old dog who’s been kicked a few too many times, more likely to snap at fingers than trust a man. He does not do polite, he does rude glares and grudging respect once a person has proven themselves a handful of times.
“And you do?”
Kaeya expects more bite to that but it comes out seemingly amused—enough so that for just a moment, it’s like they’re kids again, pushing and pulling at each other. Nothing but skinned knees and bruised elbows as they tumble across the ground, wrestling as boys do to get out those frustrations. Cut lips and scratches on the face. Teasing and tittering as harmless names are thrown around.
As adults, they just trade snide insults, harsh words laced with poison, and, frankly, Diluc should be happy that Kaeya isn’t about to slip him something that’ll knock him right out. He’s done worse on less whim.
“Certainly more manners than you,” drawls Kaeya. He reaches over and takes the wine glass, swirling the liquid gently before sniffing. Earthy. Tones of chocolate and berries. Sharp and tangy, more tart than bitter. A favorite in Kaeya’s book.
And another red flag.
“You’re up to something,” he finishes, saluting Diluc with his glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. The flavor that bursts on his tongue is definitely a red blend that speaks to Kaeya’s palate.
“I’m not—”
“Wow, so annoyed.” Kaeya rolls his eyes dramatically, waving his hand. “No need to be testy. We’re all friends here, even if you pretend to not be.”
“It’s your birthday,” snaps Diluc.
Oh. Kaeya blinks, momentarily stunned. It isn’t that he forgot, it’s just that he’s so conditioned to swallow down the things that make him twitch. Birthdays are fun things spent with families and considering he’s lacking one, he’d rather just not think about it at all.
But Diluc does. Despite all the nonsense and vitriol that lays thick between them, he’s gone out of his way to give a good gift of alcohol, at least. And no—it isn’t exactly what Kaeya would want. He misses the old days where they were as thick as thieves and did everything together, but—
“Thanks,” he says after a long moment. “You didn’t have to.”
“Of course, I didn’t. I don’t have to give you the time of day, and yet, I find myself here, entertaining your drunk—”
“I’m not drunk.” A pause, another swirl of his glass, and a sip of the wine. “Yet.” Diluc looks none too impressed, a scowl pulled so tight across his face that he resembles his father. “Don’t give me that look.” He hates it, hates it.
Diluc pinches the bridge of his nose. Takes a deep breath, no doubt counting to three, an old trick he used to do when they were bumbling kids. “I don’t have time for your games. Do as you wish. I’ve given you a present. As far as I’m concerned, any expected familial courtesy is done.”
Kaeya reaches out and grabs Diluc’s jacket sleeve without thinking. “Wait,” he says, quiet-like and hesitant.
Diluc does. He stands there stiffly, awkwardly, as if he’s about to run off. But he stays. And then he sits, dropping into the chair opposite, arms crossed over his chest. Kaeya nearly laughs at his cross expression, the way that Diluc’s lips purse as if he’s swallowed a lemon.
“You don’t have to stay.”
“No, I don’t have to.”
“Well, don’t force yourself,” says Kaeya, ruefully.
Diluc’s expression shifts, softening. Most wouldn’t notice, just a twitch of his mouth. But it’s there. “There are worse things I can be forced to do.”
A small peace offering. Kaeya laughs, throwing him a grin that Diluc will find entirely insufferable.
But, he stays, and that’s probably the best birthday present he’s received in years.
Hu Tao needs to file her taxes and Yanfei offers to help. For a price, of course.
Be sure to follow me here on Twitter!
---
It takes forever to corner her.
Hu Tao is slippery; easy to find when she isn’t wanted around and impossible to track down when one actually needs her. And if there’s someone dead around? Even better because she’ll find you instead, offering her services with a wink, a well-punned pitch, and her business card.
Yanfei taps her foot impatiently, the rhythm she strikes against the ground like a heartbeat. “You can’t avoid me forever,” she says a little too loud, drawing the eyes of those passing by. She knows that Hu Tao is there, though. Yanfei can practically taste it.
“Who, I, Hu Tao? Avoiding you?” Bingo. Yanfei turns to her right and finds Hu Tao grinning back, amused.
“There are legal forms for you to fill,” starts Yanfei, already shifting through her bag. “They’ve been past for nearly a month—”
“I do believe that I told Mr. Zhongli to submit those,” replies Hu Tao, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her tone then takes a dry tone. “What else am I paying him for? It’s not as though he prepares—”
“That’s quite enough of that. I don’t need the grisly details of what’s done to your…” A pause as Yanfei wrinkles her nose. “Clients.” Another pause. “And don’t blame Mr. Zhongli! It’s your paperwork, not his—”
Hu Tao rolls her eyes in a dramatic flourish, acting as though legalese is the bane of her existence.
Which it is. And Yanfei gets it—truly she does. Hu Tao runs a tight ship and her business is one of the most legitimate around. There’ll always be dead to lay to rest and there’ll always be people who need that comfort. Yanfei would be terrible at it.
But, it isn’t an excuse to skirt around the bylaws, no matter how enterprising Hu Tao might think it. Hu Tao knows these laws as well as her. Yanfei finally turns to address her again only to find Hu Tao thirty paces down the road, having snuck off without a peep.
Yanfei is quick to follow, her book slapping against her hip as she hurries after. “Hu Tao!”
To her surprise, Hu Tao listens, stopping dead and pivoting on her heels. “So, it’s like this,” she says, meeting Yanfei’s face with a mischievous smirk. “The Parlor’s just been so busy that I kinda forgot. And it isn’t that I don’t want to fill them out, I just—”
“They are tax forms,” cuts in Yanfei. “No one wants to file those but they still do.”
Hu Tao huffs, arms cross over her puffed chest. “I pride myself in following the law, I’ll have you know!” Then, she thumbs her chin in thought. “Actually, that reminds me. I have some questions that you might be able to answer. There’s this client—something about their brother adventuring. They refuse to think about my two-for-one deal even if it’d be good—”
“That would be a flat rate of six thousand Mora.” Yanfei’s smile is a little too sweet to be genuinely nice.
“Oh, you’re no fun.” Hu Tao’s cheeks puff as she pouts, making her look like a chipmunk.
“No one works for free, least of all you. You usually file your taxes—”
“I swear to you, it’s on my list—it’s just that it’s a long list. A long, long list of important things to do and Mr. Zhongli, bless his strangely old-fashioned soul, has been weirdly distracted lately.”
Yanfei blinks. “Mr. Zhongli is usually distracted.” He’s the most distracted man that she knows, head in the clouds, feet barely on the ground. Yanfei’s wondered before how he has never walked right off a cliff, he’s so dense at times.
“More so than usual, then,” says Hu Tao.
Yanfei believes it. Liyue Harbor is still rebuilding in the aftermath of the resurrection of Osial—part of the reason the Wansheng Funeral Parlor has been so very busy. It’s a good time to be in the business of death, morbid as it may be.
“Miss Hu Tao,” says Yanfei gently, “just be honest. You aren’t in trouble. I just need the paperwork sooner than later. And I certainly don’t want to be the one to have to temporarily close the Parlor down because your operating license has been temporarily suspended.”
“Aiyah—” Which is usually an exclamation, but here, Hu Tao sighs it, seemingly aggrieved. “So, it’s kinda dumb.”
“I promise you that it can’t be worse than anything I’ve seen and heard before.” Yanfei’s seen some weird stuff in her long life as legal counsel, some things so bad that she’s blocked them from her mind entirely. In one ear, right out the other.
Until she’s reminded of them, of course.
“Am I crazy, are the forms…you know—different.”
“Different?”
“Funky.” Hu Tao waves a hand vaguely. “Off, I guess. The numbers came out all wrong. And Morax above, I certainly didn’t let Mr. Zhongli run those because he doesn’t know a Mora from a rock. My math’s certainly sound.”
Yanfei taps her chin. “I’m still looking over the new tac addendums that the Qixing passed. Someone has to pay for the Jade Chamber, as you well know. I wasn’t aware that it might affect business seeing that they are primarily private taxes for citizens.”
Hu Tao grunts. “Well, it seems like it did. I’ve been crunching the numbers again to double-check.”
Yanfei pats the book at her side with care. “I wonder,” she says as she thinks, pages and references numbers, and law codes coming to mind.
“Wondering is never a good thing when it comes to you.” Hu Tao regards her suspiciously.
Yanfei turns back to her, a new idea burning a hole in her pocket. “Why don’t we do the forms together?”
Hu Tao blinks and then screeches. “Ehhhh?”
Yanfei winces at the piercing yell that cuts through the air. “It’d be a win-win,” she says, rubbing gently at her forehead. “I help you and you help me. We can do it while sharing a nice lunch. I’m dying to know what’s on Xiangling’s menu today.”
Hu Tao hums as she thinks, licking her parched lips as she watches Yanfei’s face for any twitch of dishonesty. Yanfei tries to not be offended. As if I’d lie.
Not that she doesn’t craft deals to benefit her, of course. That’s just the cost of business. “I swear,” says Yanfei, “no tricks up my sleeve. Only solid legal advice.”
“Might as well. Mr. Zhongli is useless when it comes to this sort of thing. How’s he lived so long? Like, how do you become an adult without knowing the most basic of things?” Hu Tao sighs in exasperation.
Yanfei knows, of course, her mouth curled into a smirk. “You hired him, which means you can fire him.”
Hu Tao doesn’t immediately answer, shooting Yanfei a rather annoyed look. “He makes good tea,” she says.
Yanfei thinks that is a terrible reason for putting up with a subpar employee. She rolls her eyes, foot tapping against the ground, that earlier impatience making its rounds again. “Look, do you want my help or not?”
“I, Hu Tao of the Wansheng Funeral Parlor, happily accept the bargain.” They shake hands, the deal made, and turn for Wanmin Restaurant.
It isn’t until they’re settled into a table there that Yanfei generously quotes a total sum for her impending legal fees.
Cyno visits Gandharva Ville on his day off, pretending that Tighnari isn't the reason.
Follow me on Twitter!
A smooth breeze floats through Gandharva Ville, rustling leaves, caressing sunburnt skin, and soothing overactive minds that are just begging for rest.
Cyno is many things—a scholar, the General Mahamatra, terrible joke maker—but it is here in the Avidya forest where he feels most out of his depth, uncertainty tugging him under. It is strange. He is confident above all and knows that his skills are more than a cut above the rest, they are pristine.
He shuffles his feet, skin itching with awkwardness. “A day off,” he tells himself as he sets down the path. The clear-cut, dusty trail is flanked by trees and the occasional Forest Watcher who gives him a stiff salute. Cyno sighs. He hasn’t even said anything and they walk about him as though they stand on eggshells.
Perhaps if they take a step, the ground will crunch underneath their sandals, not unlike those imaginary shells that drag a grunt from his throat. He is here to rest, not to think of hypotheticals. That is for the likes of—
“Cyno!” Collei’s voice pulls him from his thoughts, and Cyno turns to her instinctually. She stands there, stiff, but with a kind smile on her face.
He greets her with a gentle nod of his head. “Collei.” He knows she is wary—not because she is scared, but rather the sight of him scrounges up bittersweet memories. His presence poisons her and not for the first time, Cyno thinks of her as a girl that is strong beyond her years.
Cyno steps to the side, planning on hedging around her. “If you would just—” She surprises him by reaching out and curling her fingers around his arm. “Collei,” he repeats, his voice tipping soft like the breeze, “you don’t have to force—”
“I want to see you,” she cuts in. A pause, followed by a gentle laugh, like the tinkling of leaves. “Or rather, I’d like to try. I’ve been feeling better and I told myself that I should make more of an effort. You’ve only been kind to me.”
Cyno hesitates before he answers. “It is my day off. I—”
“You?” She blinks back at him with youthful optimism.
“I wanted to…” He thinks of a joke so he doesn’t look so imposing. Even with Collei smiling at him, stiff but at ease, Cyno worries that he might come off accidentally aggressive, an unfortunate side-effect of his position within the Akademiya.
“Relax?”
Cyno looses a breath, nodding in relief. “Times as such are few and far between. I find it quiet here. It’s nice. I can hear myself think—what’s with that look?”
Collei’s gaze has morphed into something amused. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?”
“I am not sure—”
“You aren’t here to visit a certain mutual friend of ours, hm? Someone with, say, adorably pettable ears?”
His blood runs cold the moment it tumbles from her mouth. Collei’s grin is knowing, foxlike with its tilt, her eyes half-lidded mischievously. “I—that’s—no.” The word sounds unconvincing, though, because she is correct.
Cyno explains away his ulterior motive with colorful words like it’s only a day off, but there is little for him in the forest. He’s a desert-dweller who prefers the feel of dusty sand underneath his feet, not the sharp thorns of the underbrush and twigs that snap underneath his toes.
Collei laughs at his expression, lighthearted and airy. “How adorable,” she teases, needling at him. “I would think it more than a mere crush with that look on your face.”
Because it is. Cyno has known Tighnari for years at this point. He’s attractive in his perceptiveness and stubborn pride. In his sharp tongue and precious words that drag groans of annoyance from their peers. Tighnari graduated top of his class and well-respected only to leave the Akademiya for the lush greens of the Dharma Forest.
A slap to the face, all those years, all that study with his keen mind only to become a Forest Watcher. Cyno loves it, loves—
“What’s that in your hand?”
Cyno cradles a bundle between his worn fingers, a handkerchief full of fragrant dried flowers plucked and picked on his adventures. When he shows Collei soft, fluttering gasp floats from her lips. “Oh, he’ll like these,” she says, petting a soft petal, head tilted as she sighs serenely.
If Cyno didn’t know any better, she’s in love with the idea that he is—
Definitely not in love. A weak claim, one he overlooks by claiming that it is merely like. He’s allowed to like a man. That takes little effort and time even if he’s taken an entire day to travel here just to give Tighnari a bag of dried flowers—
“It’s a terrible idea,” mutters Cyno, underwhelmed by his idea of a romantic gesture.
“It’s a great idea,” corrects Collei. She rolls the handkerchief back up and curls his fingers around it. “And, I have it on good authority that Tighnari will love to see you. He talks about you often and gets this soft look on his face—”
“Collei, that is enough.” He snorts, waving away her words. “I don’t need your proselytizing. I know he wants me here, he asked for me to come.”
She blinks and the grin that spreads across her face reeks of impetuousness. Suddenly, Cyno is certain that he’s lucky he’s kept away. He’s never considered the fact that she might be a troublemaker, meddling in the affairs of others. But, then again, he remembers Amber. He shouldn’t be surprised.
Before he can retort, there’s another voice, this one well-spoken and confident. “Oh? What’s this?”
Cyno’s face pinks at the sound and Collei nudges him with an elbow. “Tighnari,” he blurts in a rush. And then nothing else. Why is he awkward? He is never awkward—
“Cyno!” Tighnari’s face tightens with clear affection, the corners of his eyes and mouth crinkling.
Oh, thinks Cyno, his mouth going dry, throat bobbing as he struggles to think of words. It has never been this difficult—not until recently when his feelings snuck up and made themselves unbearably known. When he looks to Collei for help, she is gone, having melted into the brush as though she was never there.
Useless. Annoying. How dare she leave him there alone to fend for himself—though it’s hard to fault her. Collei is the type to just throw herself into a situation and she doesn’t see this as leaving him to the wolves, she sees this as helpful.
“Cyno? What’s with that line in your brow?” Tighnari asks it kindly but his expression watches him critically, searching for any problems that he might find.”
“Tired.” A flimsy excuse. Tighnari’s mouth tips into a subtle frown that most would miss. “It has been a long day and I haven’t yet rested. I paused here to look at the beauty of the forest.”
“Thinking about new jokes, no doubt.” Tighnari doesn’t sound amused by the idea.
It’s an opening and Cyno takes his chance. “Ah, speaking of—”
“No, no.”
“There is a rumor of a large tree, nestled into the slopes of Ardravi Valley. They say that it is the world’s sleepiest tree. What is its name?”
Tighnari doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even blink. His mouth just tenses and he crosses his arms across his chest, ears flickering as he waits in annoyance. Cyno counts one, two, three, allowing for an adequate time to pass before landing the punchline.
“Mesnoozelah.”
“Cyno, I cannot with you—”
“Ah, how about another? I’m finding the trees to be incredibly insightful, muses in their own right. Did you know that Brightwood has a favorite Akademiya study? Geometree—”
“Absolutely absurd,” says Tighnari, reaching out to push at Cyno’s shoulder. The heat of his fingers is blistering, even through the fabric of Cyno’s shirt. “Come on, let’s get you into the village to sit, at least. I’ll brew you some tea. Have you met Karkata yet? It’s an interesting specimen, one outside the usual purview of my expertise, but it’s been useful in field research because…”
Tighnari tugs him down the path, his hand warm against Cyno’s wrist. He talks animatedly and with gusto, words flying quickly as they head deeper into the village. Cyno smiles, finding it cute.
Later, when Cyno is settled into a seat at Tighnari’s home, belly full of food and throat warmed by a hot cup of tea, he remembers his gift. The pouch has been burning a hole in his pocket from the moment he sat down.
Tighnari sits close, quieter now as the night settles in. Their knees touch, friendly, kind, all sorts of pretty words that make Cyno’s heart leap into his throat. “Tighnari,” he says, “I…have a—well, not quite a gift. In my travels, I think of you and it was only natural for me to pick these as the end result.”
He drops the pouch into Tighnari’s hand and watches as the handkerchief is carefully unfolded. Petals of many colors flutter about, dried and curled, smelling sickly sweet like potpourri. Tighnari thumbs through them, studying with a keen, observant eye as though he would any new specimen.
“It isn’t much.”
“I like it,” says Tighnari. His cheeks are pink and he clears his throat. “That is to say, I can’t be everyone at once. I thank you for bringing me field samples to add to my research.”
He reaches out to take Cyno’s hand, though, despite his stilted words that shove of romantic responsibility. Tighnari’s fingers are calloused, rough from his Forest Watching and drawing a bow. He smooths a thumb across Cyno’s palm, tracing the lines in his skin as he thinks.
Cyno’s heart leaps into his throat. He bites at his lips, waiting, but Tighnari is patient in the way that he holds his hand.
And, well, if Tighnari makes the first move and crosses the distance for a kiss, the only one who knows is Cyno, the feel of Tighnari’s soft lips seared into his mind. The trees aren’t gossips for they have no mouths.
kaledo-art
baratheonpilled
jbbartram-illu
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
titsay
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
2087
annaxmalina
areudirty
