Solidarity ★ Xiao
— ★ Scry: Ecliptic Umbra + Andromeda + Xiao — ★ Genre: Romance + Fluff & Angst + A saving grace appears in the middle of a battle — ★ Concept: You never really saw eye to eye with the Adeptus and vice versa. You're both simply too prideful to bother speaking with the heart. Truth and reassurance comes, however, one adversary later. — ★ Words: 3.5k A/N: Aha, I've always wanted to write two hardheaded people lowkey liking each other but not knowing how to express it so they're just being mad- anyway, do enjoy! Oh- and I changed the prompt a little, the saving grace still appears but it's not exactly in the middle hoho-
Adeptus Xiao, the most (handsome) reticent being to ever exist.
The most loyal to his Archon, the most passionate to his duties, and oh great heavens the most annoying man you’ve come to meet!
“What are you doing here?” as expected, he does not even turn to acknowledge your arrival nor your words, “I thought I made it clear that this territory will be mine to sweep over.”
Amid the battleground, a mitachurl infested with karma disintegrates. Vestiges of its curse are nowhere to be seen—another sign of successful, immaculate exorcism—as the weapon used to slay it is stabbed into the dry earth.
You trace his steps, already feeling under the weather with his response alone.
It’s not even the afternoon!
“You are simply taking too much time for the self-proclaimed swiftest. Can I not answer my concern because I finished before you? I came to investigate.”
Concern is a funny word. Although your words are laced with honest truth, sincerity is a different facet.
If he’s pressed with your insult, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t even turn back, instead, he kicks his polearm back into his hands and makes a beeline towards the next hilichurl camp in view.
“You’re in my way. Perhaps if you leave I can make use of the time instead of squandering by conversing with you. Have you no sense of duty?” his biting retort as always manages to encumber you.
So much for attempting not to be bothered. Never does he fail to get under your skin.
“You… !” he’s already walking away with no intentions to listen to whatever responses you have in store. Isn’t he being the rude one here?
Whatever did you do? His inimical disposition has been going on for centuries. Centuries!
The Conqueror is nowhere to be found by the time—a literal window of a second—your mind kicks in the gear to repine.
Almost as if he’s aware of what’s to come next and fled as soon as possible.
Ugh, how infuriating!
The Adepti knows just how much you two are… explosive in each other’s presence.
Throughout the times everyone has come to reunite—be it for a mere reunion or a summons by Morax—not once have they ever seen any lighthearted conversations be exchanged between you and him.
Ah, but they suppose that one good thing coming out of your partnership is that he’s talked to you more than the rest of the Adepti combined.
Is that really a good thing?
“Uncouth as expected. Perhaps if you refine your attacks a little more you would get less bruises, but I suppose that’s too much, isn’t it?” satirical as ever for his first words in the day.
“Excuse me?”
Did he just say that? To a Yaksha that his dear friend Bosacius mentored? How dare he affront the battle style taught to you—ah this is madness!
“You’re excused.”
“You—!”
Xiao leans off the tree he’s appeared at after ‘checking up’ on your work. What are the odds that he simply did so in retaliation for what you did some time ago?
“There are telltale signs of one of the sealed prisoners resurfacing from the stone forest,” he says, eyeing the nasty bruise on your arm, but does nothing to address it further.
No one can possibly compare to him when it comes to being indifferent—to you—unless necessary.
“Be swift in your work. We’re to patrol Guyun afterward.”
The thought of Guyun Stone Forest does not weigh in your mind for too long—it’s a prison, a regular place to check on—instead, you’re more set on getting the final say on… on anything.
It isn’t a matter of who’s superior, to be honest, it’s just that he always has a bone to pick with you!
How can you not return that twicefold?
“Get back here, Xiao!”
He flickers away into cyan, gone in a fraction of a second, and you’re throwing your arms up in surrender—
“Darn little man!”
—Only to hiss in pain when pain receptors remind you of your recently acquired bruise. Heck, if he hadn’t showed up so suddenly you wouldn’t have gotten hurt!
Surely, if not for the fact that you both have sworn fealty towards the Geo Archon, you would’ve spent the ensuing years seizing each other’s throats.
Not like that doesn’t happen in each and every single sparring session—times where he is just as annoying.
But then again, when is he not?
He doesn’t run out of things to nitpick.
You’d think that since you don’t do it to him then he won’t do it himself, but no. In the end, you jump in on the boat to find minor errors in him, which is rather complicated, but no man is perfect.
Does he view himself as one? Heavens no, that one you can vouch for.
Is he being pedantic?
If he is, he has all the right to be, given his experience goes a hundred year beyond yours, but that does not mean he gets to do it every single damned time—
“I refuse to herald such news in light of you feeling affronted once more, but,” Xiao skids away following an interval between your clashes, “You’ve gotten rather under par. It wasn’t to my notice that you fell out of your prime so gravely.”
What the hell, you stand with a growl. That’s just being mean now! Oh, but I shouldn’t be surprised, really.
His glance towards your weapon—the same as his—isn’t as furtive as he would’ve liked.
“Or perhaps you are not taking this sparring seriously. Where’s your grand lightning?”
The faintest remnant of onyx and cyan flutters about the atmosphere, the revelatory signs of his windy, turbulent power sending a buzz of thrill within you.
Aha? He’s rather pressed today, isn’t he?
You wonder why. Oh, perhaps it’s because I took his serving of almond tofu?
It’s not often that you both decide to fight it out with elements. But if he so wishes… who are you to reject that? It’s been a long time.
Molten gold eyes lock against yours. It is seldom for him to engage in eye contact, but whenever it happens, it’s always acute. Intense.
“Afraid it’ll drown in the winds?” there’s a beat to his voice, challenging—almost domineering.
It makes you grind your teeth.
“Lightning?” the rumble of said element begins with a warmth in your veins before it succeeds with its outward manifestation.
A coat of bright azure, distant from the supposed violet, crackles between your fingers down to the base of your polearm.
Its sound clashes with the squall surrounding the other Yaksha, blanketing the atmosphere until nothing but blue and teal erupts in a skirmish.
You spin your weapon, weaving the harsh, raw element with adept skill. You think you see the corner of his lips tug upward a little, but you’re uncertain.
It can be another show of mockery—and that doesn’t ease you at all.
“I’ll show you lightning.”
If he’s not being annoying, then he’s being adamantly quiet for whatever reason that goes in that head of his. Or he’s thinking of something to throw you off-guard.
Oftentimes he does not talk at all, but there are exceptions when he does and it’s not sarcastic, though it’s as rare as seeing a certain boy be lucky.
Wangshu Inn stands as both of your sanctuaries—or, to be more appropriate, posts. Fronting the faraway shores of the Stone Forest, the main site of interest for centuries ago and centuries to come.
The atmosphere in the said forest nowadays is quite aberrant, hence the austere watch, and consequently, the dull time.
You aren’t used to standing idly but as of now all karma-infested camps in need of exorcising are thoroughly purged.
So what is there to do but stand beside a fellow Yaksha, who has taken it upon himself to be as still and silent as a rock?
“You’re brooding,” quietude answers your observation, “Is this because we couldn’t find out what creature has gotten loose in Guyun and hasn’t made itself known for the past week?”
That sounds about right. It’s shameful to admit but it’s nothing but the truth.
Of course, the rest of the Adepti have been informed of this alarming situation, but dread as you all may, no one is exactly capable of breathing underwater.
Thus, all that can be done is to remain vigilant and end the creature the moment it so breaches past an inch of the water surface.
“Celestias, Xiao, talk to me,” you grumble, stacking the empty plates that once held almond tofu, “Your feathers are ruffled and you’re not even—”
“I don’t think I’ve heard you be sincere in your worries for once.” he bluntly states, eyes flickering to yours.
His voice is oddly loud, not in a noisy fashion. It just seems louder than the usual mutters, and you later realize that it’s because of your closeness.
Perhaps you’ve been too engrossed, too distracted. His shoulder is touching yours, faces turned to look at the other. Despite the only skin contact being that of your shoulders, he emanates a gentle kind of warmth.
A warmth that’s incongruous to his cold hisses and frosty eyes.
A minute passes with him searching your gaze, and in a low voice, he whispers, “It’s…”
Though his voice does not continue, his eyes does, and they trail from yours, to your nose, then to your lips. Immediately, something inside you churns.
There’s an intense need to say something—oh what the hell, your cheeks are warming.
“It’s what. Come on, say it to my face, I’m right here,” he blinks as if coming out of a trance, “It’s off-putting? Exasperating? You—”
“It’s acceptable.” He completes and looks away, discreet with his tiny exhale.
You’re at a loss. Acceptable? What kind of answer is-
“Ugh! You’re so weird!”
“Such disrespect—”
Now, if you’re not at each other’s throats spouting passive aggressive insults—or you’re not sparring with the subtle intent to pummel the other, or you’re not grumbling at his silence and vice versa… then the assumption that you’re both mad is true.
And neither of you are swallowing your pride to even utter a word to cut through the tension and reconcile.
When this happens, usually it’s the elapsing of time that serves as a remedy. You’ve gone far with not speaking to him for half a century. Too much for the humans, but too little for Adepti.
But as a result, this event is also rather complicated.
Despite the urge to grab your hair and pull it out in chagrin whenever you so breathe in his presence, the two of you are surprisingly able to complement and maneuver around each other’s weaknesses on the battlefield.
Which says a lot, for Yakshas are supposed to have no weaknesses.
No matter the blunt dichotomy between, no known Adeptus speaks against your optimum camaraderie.
It is one of a kind. Truly, if one’s only to witness your feats with him in the grounds of war and battle, no one will know of how you both (value) detest one another outside the bartered oaths and promises.
One promise and oath blessed upon you, a comrade, is a call.
The Vigilant Yaksha keeps his word; he will appear to those who says his name.
It’s easy—one syllable; X-i-a-o.
You’ve said it many times, called him countless times.
So why are you not calling him despite being in a situation that can actually take your life?
The crackle of blue lightning befalls like a judgement from Celestia, striking down the abhorrent creature in a single flash upon your command—at the cost of a great repercussion that struck your heart.
It is an expedient you rarely ever use—a double-edged trump card—to impair upon yourself an extensive damage that will be dealt double unto the enemy.
Dangerous as it is, however, it’s a brilliant thing—necessary only now because there will be risks of civilians’ deaths had you not struck the monster down in the small, permitted time frame.
Swift as the beam of lightning and maleficent as the rumble of thunder, your enormous enemy of the waters disperses into nothing—and you drop from the sky.
The wound on your chest, the lethargy in your body, they’re all too immense. Too much, but such are the prices for a marvelous attack, a wonderful save. You’re not the least bit guilty.
Beyond the raging tides, you happen to see an explosion so bright—so golden. Ah- but should you worry about that when you’re splashing against the sea and descending into its blue embrace?
Your comrade in arms… the Vigilant Yaksha, why are you not calling for him?
Is it because of earlier? You wonder as you sink—down, down to the unfathomable deep of the sea, crimson ichor mixing in with the cerulean.
Before Osial revealed himself close to Liyue, before this other creature that has been in hiding for weeks—you think he’s called Shen—emerged from Guyun Stone Forest, there roused an argument like never before.
It had honestly been terrifying, to witness his face contort to show unadulterated anger. You can’t even recall what you fought over. But he’s gone by the wind the second Osial’s appearance is felt.
Plans to follow after have been dropped as soon as another vortex swirled in to reveal your own enemy at the waters of the stone forest.
It’s supposed to be an easy battle—but it had a ship in its clutch, unmoving with the crew trapped in its mirage of false serendipity.
The idea of having casualties isn’t entertained. No room is allowed for it.
The battle ended as quickly as it began, with the crew having washed ashore. Thank heavens they were near shallow water.
But you? Ah, no, you’re far from land.
Xiao—you’ve said his name so many times, far too many to be counted. He might be even sick of it, actually.
Now… now you can’t even whisper it.
Submerged in water isn’t even an excuse, for even if you call for him inside your head, he shall appear.
“Wherever, whenever.”
Those had been his words.
Why again?
Maybe it’s because you don’t wish for him to see you like this; weak, unfitting for a Yaksha that has served Rex Lapis for millenniums.
Maybe it’s because you do not wish to see the disappointment on his face when he berates you for another recklessly acquired wound.
Ah, would he even dare to scold you this time after you singlehandedly defeated one of those shape-shifting water dragons that sunk ships by creating illusions and mirages?
After you saved a crew that’s in its possession whilst the Adepti, Qixing, and the Traveler are fighting Osial?
No, no he won’t... you think.
A fitting demise this is, you mull, losing grip of your consciousness.
Honestly, you’re thankful that you’re slipping this way and not losing air and drowning—or perhaps you already are? You can’t be sure at all… but it’s cold.
So cold… so unlike the warmth you’ve basked in weeks ago.
A throbbing sensation reminiscent of the lightning you conjured lulls you to a state of stasis until the sensation of sinking—of the surrounding water, even, fades into nothingness.
And along with it, your life.
Or maybe not?
Something disrupts the tranquility of the sea that’s hitherto been turbulent. A fissure in the realm of azure, accompanied by a mass of bubbles and—ah, you don’t know anymore.
The darkness—the black—is serene. Feeling such peace almost seems like a crime for a Yaksha who has slain hundreds if not thousands.
It feels odd, verboten for a being of bloodshed, more so because you are aware that you’re leaving someone similar to you behind.
“… up!”
You do wonder how he’ll fare alone.
“[-me]!”
Hasn’t it always been a wish of his to get rid of you?
“Wake up!”
It isn’t long until you are driven back to your senses, awakening to the light as if a forbidden spell of old has succeeded in its incessant endeavors to retrieve your soul before it can pass through the threshold of purgatory.
Temerity is unrestrained, which is valid, given you did just breathe back into life.
Narrowed golden slits are the first things you manage to fixate your eyes on in the blurry haze. That, and the continuous dripping of water upon your cold cheeks that are yet to regain their usual warmth.
Someone is above—who—… !
Saliently moving, you gasp, only to feel something rise from your throat as you push the person away.
Registering the pain in your chest comes with a delay, far too focused on expelling the water that had invaded your lungs and robbed you of air.
Gone with the water, the blur in your eyes follows suit after a couple of blinks. Your head is pounding as well as your heart and boy does it hurt. It hurts.
You can feel it—which means you truly are alive but-
“Why did you not call my name!?”
The cry of pain from being whirled around so abruptly sounds out before you can repress it, eyes pinching shut as dots decorate your vision.
Immediately, you settle for quick, shallow breaths, though it does very little to attenuate the sting.
A flinch is felt, then the heavy grip on your shoulders slackens. Though it’s just for a little bit.
When you reopen your eyes, the Vigilant Yaksha is all that you see.
Xiao has never worn such a face of extreme worry—eyebrows deeply furrowed, lips parted, puffs of breath leaving, and-
“You…” you do not continue the obvious.
His drenched figure, the way his raven hair clings unto his face and how his clothes are a tad shade darker. He had saved you.
“We saw the conclusion of the battle just after Osial was defeated,” he’s breathless, so uncomposed, “It was bright—that raging lightning. You were nowhere to be seen.”
Distraught is not something you expect the man to wear on his face. Ever.
Or mayhap coming from a moment of near death has prompted you to hallucinate; to see him be worried as he appraises your form, to feel his fingers judder upon your skin…
But his voice is a reminder that you are in fact, not hallucinating, and he is here.
“Why would you—such an injudicious attack that would’ve costed you your life had I not-!” he stops, sunken with dread evident in his chunters, “You’re still bleeding.”
I forgot about that, is your honest answer. I can’t seem to point where it hurts, it’s everywhere. You do not sound it though, wary to set the already hysteric Yaksha off more than he already is.
Enfeebled, you are risen from the sandy shores up into a secure hold.
Warm.
You’re in his arms.
It’s nice—that is, if he can just stop holding you so unbearably tight.
“Xiao-“ your voice begins with an embarrassing falter, so unbecoming, so weak.
“Be quiet.”
“Be gentle, then!”
You’re surprised that you have the energy to raise your voice—it’s not that loud, honestly—but he’s much more surprised than you are.
“Hah,” the Yaksha is awfully expressive today, what with his little lopsided smirk, “I’m saving you and all you do is complain? What was I even expecting.”
He sounds relieved.
The blur in your eyes returns, indicative of another possible drift out of consciousness, but you cling onto it harder this time.
You cannot… pass now, certainly not when you’re being carried back to where there is hope that you’ll be saved.
“Thank you.” You say, a little out of it.
Oh no, you’re not a little out of it.
You’re definitely out of it because you can’t help but admire your comrade’s otherworldly beauty as he’s enveloped with tealish winds that aid him in his swift travels.
His eyes meet yours in the briefest of seconds then his lips move to utter something you didn’t catch. Curse admiring him when you’re probably minutes away from fainting.
“What?”
“I said that it’s useless even if you didn’t call me. Though it would’ve been better if you did.”
His hold on you gets tighter again—though he’s much thoughtful this time, and doesn’t grip as hard as he did a while ago.
“What are you getting at?” your world is spinning, “I don’t think I can stay awake for much longer..”
His response comes with a voice that’s uncharacteristically soft.
It lacks jaundice, the sarcasm, the indifference—similar to the time when you were both at the inn, watching over the distant forest of Guyun.
“Even if I harbor ire, I would’ve come to you.”
Adeptus Xiao is a vexing man.
He gets under your nerves and he bites harshly with his critiques. A day doesn’t pass when he does not scowl your way, nor does an hour pass when he does not scoff at your whims.
But outside all of the things that infuriate you—and beyond what makes you maddening to him, there lies a mutual truth neither of you would admit.
“I would’ve saved you, regardless.”
In the end, you will always have his back, and he will have yours.
a/n: sweet, sweet, Xiao. Oh he can be so sweet with his words sometimes he's so pRECIOUS GRRRRRRR-
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