@a-venti-sized-problem :: "Did you miss me~?"
The voice that rang out through the crowd of people was...familiar. Familiar in ways that were, perhaps, not meant to be so nostalgic. Perhaps he was hearing things. Perhaps he was wishing that he heard the voice speak, and there was nothing left to discover. Nothing left to address or focus on. He could continue, as he was, and tend to the people of Liyue. Guide them through another day under the name Rex Lapis.
It is only after he turns, to properly dissuade the rise of emotions in his chest, that he finds his initial assessment incorrect. That the voice he had heard did, in fact, exist, and the owner of said voice was, in fact, very much alive. Standing in front of him as though his disappearance after all these years meant nothing. Behaving as he always had, as if missing out on five hundred years was natural for one such as he.
Barbatos, the God of Freedom within Monstadt and the Anemo Archon. Barbatos, his friend of many, many long years-- and the only one that lived to co-exist alongside him within the present day.
He pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of the other. Blinking, just once, and confirming his existence with a soft hum.
Where did he go? The friend that would appear, at the very least, once a month with a bottle of wine in hand? The Archon that would occasionally ask him for advice or come to him with a story of his own? Where he had been all this time? The Geo Archon may not express himself much in the same way as that of his most charismatic counterpart, but admitting that he ‘missed’ the other seemed like an absolutely horrible understatement.
“...I see that you’ve returned,” he breathes at last; a simple, neutral response that he feels is best for the moment; even despite the rumbling in his chest - threatening to crack through his stone exterior. “Welcome back, Barbatos.”
Was it strange to feel anger?
Was it strange to feel despair?
He should be relieved. Grateful that the other still lived. Glad that he could spend another unmeasured amount of years at his side. He had a friend again. Had him returned, no less, and carrying on as though no time had passed at all.
And yet...the years were filled with mourning. Each one that passed, only further solidified the conclusion he had reached; Barbatos was dead, and another friend had been lost.
Turning where he stood, and stepping away from the cliffside, he makes his way down the mountain he currently stood on. Felt that there was simply no need for more words at the moment. Not unless Barbatos felt that they had more to discuss.
