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In the weeks and months following Childe’s gradual recovery from his time in the Abyss, Zhongli had been cautious around him. He was not certain how many details Childe was aware of, or if there was anything that he would find distressing. Now, he would never consider Childe to be anything close to ‘delicate’ or ‘fragile’, but he still wished to tread carefully regardless. He had tried asking about what had happened in the Abyss only once, and Childe had immediately clammed up and turned away, unwilling to speak on the matter.
That was alright. Zhongli would not pressure him to tell if he was not ready for such things.
However, that did not mean that he was expecting the question Childe asked him as they sat for a dinner at Liuli Pavilion when he was well enough to go out to eat.
“How’s Osial been?”
For a moment, Zhongli was startled, his eyes going wide as he paused, chopsticks frozen halfway to his mouth with a bite-sized piece of pork held gingerly between them.
Slowly, he lowered the meat back into the bowl and placed his chopsticks across the top. “I beg your pardon?”
Childe absently waved his hand in the direction of Guyun Stone Forest. “Y’know, Osial. I heard what happened, and it’s safe to say that I never would’ve expected him of all people to come to Liyue’s rescue.”
Though he was not sure who had informed Childe of such things, Zhongli decided against questioning it. He would not be surprised if it was Ganyu, since she had taken to visiting every once in a while. For some reason, she seemed to enjoy discussing the legislation of Snezhnaya with him, and Zhongli always decided to stay out of their way. Childe needed to socialize with more than just him, after all.
“That may be the case, but it does not make me any less bewildered that you are asking regarding his well-being,” Zhongli admitted as he laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table. At that, Childe just laughed.
“Here I thought he was this horrible god that took you away from me, but I was wrong and it turns out it was all your half-improvised plan in the end.” Childe had not stopped attempting to eat as he talked, and Zhongli managed to not flinch when all the noodles Childe had been holding with his chopsticks fell onto the table with a splat. He looked down at them with a grimace, then sighed and shot Zhongli an apologetic glance before scooping them into a napkin.
Zhongli pretended not to see when he just ate them straight off the napkin with his hands and teeth.
He is still recovering, and there is the distinct possibility that his hands were injured, or that they are too shaky to use chopsticks at the moment. It is alright, Zhongli told himself as he inhaled deeply to stay calm and not give in to the urge to simply set his own meal aside for a few minutes and feed Childe himself. However, if it happened again, he would not hesitate to prevent it from happening a third time.
The napkin was set aside, and Childe leaned forward over the table, resting his chin in his hand with a small smile. “I’m not the kind of guy to hold a grudge, though. I just wish I had been able to go all-out while fighting him. Do you think he would let me if I asked?”
“Unfortunately, I believe he is too preoccupied for something of that nature,” Zhongli replied before he took a long sip of his tea. It was brewed to perfection—as expected from an establishment as well known as Liuli Pavilion. It was not too weak, yet not too bitter. The taste was light and smooth, and the aroma was simply divine; all the better to enjoy it to the fullest. Childe had, predictably, downed his entire cup at once when he had accidentally bitten into the meat marinated in a sauce mostly made of jueyun chilis. He was not accustomed to the spices yet, it seemed.
Childe frowned and tapped his finger against his cheekbone. “Too preoccupied? Doing what?”
At that, Zhongli pursed his lips. "Osial… He is… Adjusting."
Childe’s brow furrowed as an expression of confusion overtook the cheeky one he had been sporting only a moment before. This was a difficult topic to explain, however, and Zhongli was unsure of how else to put it.
"Yes,” he said with a nod of his head, deciding to not spend thirty minutes pondering that answer, “that is what I will call it."
“Adjusting,” Childe repeated blankly, his eyes somehow looking even more dead than they usually did. “I saw that he was defending Liyue Harbour during the attack, but what does adjusting have to do with that?”
Zhongli glanced out the window toward the waters of the sea that separated the stone pillars of Guyun from the mainland. “The attack… Yes, that was where it all began.”
Osial stood in Yujing Terrace, watching over the city he could have been a part of—had things been different. The sea breeze smelled different from up here; the fresh yet salty scent was mixed with the different aromas of flowers he hadn’t smelled in centuries. The silk flower, pungent as always, had the strongest and most familiar scent. The lotus blossoms were soft and subtle.
It was the glaze lilies, however, that brought him the most nostalgia. They were gentle and enduring, a smell that would comfort any who sought solace through its petals. For Osial, this was all-too-important. Those flowers had grown everywhere all those years ago, and he still remembered her.
Guizhong, with her long, brown hair that flowed in the wind, dancing and singing amidst a field of glaze lilies. She had picked one and slipped it into his hair, laughing brightly at the contrast between the blue-grey strands and the light sky and darker ocean blues of the flower. He could still remember how she had smiled, and how she had told him that it suited him.
(She had, of course, run off and done the very same thing to Morax immediately after, but Osial had tried to push the jealousy away. As long as she was happy, he would be as well.)
Those were her flowers, and even though he and Morax may not be on the best of terms, Osial respected that he had saved the few he could and had cultivated them so her legacy lived on. Her dust had destroyed the fertile lands and turned them into a marsh, drowning the flowers she had loved so much. It was… nice… to see that they had been preserved and not forgotten.
Walking over to one of them, he twined the stem between his elongated fingers, bending the first of many joints to do so. He would not pick it, though, for there was no goddess anymore to tell him that the flower looked good in his hair.
Footsteps on the cobblestone behind him drew his attention away from the delicate flowers before him. Turning around, Osial let his mask of indifference settle over his face once more, allowing the skin to split through his cheeks and reveal a smile full of baleen. In front of him stood several people, all dressed in the same green uniforms—and though they looked more than nervous to be in his presence, the woman at the front of the group gathered her courage and approached him.
How curious.
“You were left to watch over Liyue Harbour, right?” she stated, clearly already knowing the answer. “Let us help.”
Osial smiled wider and one of the men in the group whimpered slightly. Wonderful. Bringing up his hand, he bent the first three joints in his fingers to look at his nails, seemingly indifferent to their question. The woman refused to back down, even as he appeared to ignore her.
She breathed in deeply, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. “You may look down at us for being human, but we are just as capable as any of the others who are out there right now.”
How curious, indeed.
He sighed and tilted his head to the side, just a bit too far to appear comfortable for mortals, to examine her. Trembling hands… rapid heart rate… eyes flicking between him and the flowers behind him. She was afraid, how cute.
Righting his neck, Osial looked down at her. “Why?”
“Why!?” she sputtered, looking rather taken aback. “We might not have visions, or fancy weapons forged from billets, but we have just as much of a right as they do to defend our home. To you, a god, we probably look weak and pathetic—and maybe we are! But it is only human to want to protect what is ours, and we won’t just give up and sit by quietly even if you refuse.”
Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the crowd, the uniformed mortals deciding to stand together for something they believed in. It was a good example of a mannerism Guizhong had told him about, all those years ago, and perhaps that was the most amusing thing of them all.
Unable to hold it in, Osial threw his head back and laughed. Piercing and layered with many pitches, a whale’s call mixed with the rushing waters of a maelstrom. When he looked back down, they were all very clearly frightened by his unpredictability. Reaching out, he watched her as she froze and her eyes locked onto his hand, growing wider with every bit closer it got.
His fingers met hair, and she blinked in confusion when he simply patted her on the head. “You misunderstand, mortal. I was not asking why you wish to defend your home. I was asking why you think I would look down upon you for your humanity.”
She gaped momentarily, seemingly unable to comprehend the question she was just asked in her shock.
“Well,” she began hesitantly once she found her composure again, “gods and mortals are very different.”
At that, he chuckled. “I believed the same—that mortals were flawed and broken, but I was reminded recently that perhaps we are not so different after all. Perhaps there are things we could stand to learn from humanity, for there may be an interesting form of wisdom found in your transience.”
Guizhong had loved humans. She had treasured them, and she had done everything in her power to help them. Were these people from anywhere other than the city filled by the descendants of those humans she had cherished, he would not have thought twice about rejecting Morax’s request to protect them; but they were, and Osial was not foolish enough to turn down a contract with such high stakes from the God of Contracts himself.
Was it manipulative to have tried to turn things in his favour, even if ever so slightly? Perhaps, but in the end, he would have his freedom, and he would have what was left of Guizhong. If Morax believed that his Yaksha and his lover were worth the threat he could potentially pose once free, he would not argue. Osial had never been stupid, and though he had never been the brains like Guizhong had been, he was perfectly balanced between her and Morax.
It was that same intelligence that told him that these mortals who stood in front of him were serious, and were simply telling him out of a misguided form of courtesy.
“Do you really think it would make any difference to me what you choose to do?” he asked, holding his smile in place even when the woman flinched. “If you wish to fight, then fight. If you wish to cower in your homes, then cower. My actions and my duty here won’t change regardless.”
“Then those of us who can fight will fight, and those of us who can’t will help with other things. You will not find a single member of Liyue’s Adventurers’ Guild cowering.”
She stood strong, staring the god in the eyes, and that was enough to convince him.
He curled a finger, as if beckoning her. “What is your name?”
“Lan.”
Lan. Her attitude reminded him of Guizhong with how she wouldn’t back down. If it was nostalgia that swayed his opinion, who could say.
Osial allowed his smile to drop off his face, his eyes serious and swirling like the currents of the depths. “Well, Lan, just stay out of my way and fight to your heart’s desire.”
And, to his surprise, they had.
Assuming his previous form of a hydra, albeit slightly less powerful than he had once been, Osial rained destruction upon any blasted machine that dared to approach the city Guizhong would have wanted protected. They were unfamiliar things, annoying and loud with their whirring and clanking, but he was a god and they were nothing but man-made machines that crumpled before his might.
The mortals worked efficiently, putting out any fires that were started by their strange flaming attacks. It reminded him of his own hydro bombs, but less sophisticated. Humankind truly had a long way to go before they could even hope to approach the levels of power that the gods had always possessed. However, he couldn’t help but find himself impressed when Lan yelled out orders for the adventurers to keep the fires out, and for others to help with the defence. She was organized and controlling, overseeing her section of the battlefield with grace and wisdom that could only be gained through experience.
Fascinating.
Perhaps he should consider speaking with her once more when this was over and he had attained his freedom. She was truly an interesting mortal, and one worth his attention; and just maybe… he could figure out just why he could see Guizhong within her.
His heads encircled the city, sweeping away any attackers with wide swipes from his necks and pulses of water. All that dared to try and attack Liyue Harbour were swept out to sea to be engulfed forever by the vortex. The screeches and whines of the protesting machines sinking to the bottom of the ocean were music to his ears, and it wasn’t until he saw Morax’s signature meteor fall from the sky that he had any inkling of what the rest of the fight was looking like. That fight, though, was not his. If he was to earn his freedom, and earn the Memory of Dust, he would have to do everything in his power to protect his charge.
Letting himself go, Osial moved on instinct alone to keep away any threats until they finally stopped coming. He opened his eyes, floating in the ocean, and retook his more humanoid form before vanishing back into the depths. It was over, and Morax would find him at his convenience.
Several weeks later, Osial woke up once again, cracking open an eye when he felt Morax’s distinctive energies pulsing at the edges of his domain. Forming from the water itself, he pulled himself from the surf to meet the other god where the rock met the ocean. Morax looked at him with those amber eyes that were still all-too familiar, and Osial grinned.
“So you have come to fulfil your end of the contract,” he said, knowing why they were meeting just as well as Morax did. He held out his arm, and with a wave of Morax’s hand, the remaining shackles fell off.
The power surged through him, and he realized for the first time just how much more he could sense. It had been as if he had been trying to see the world through a thick blanket, but now it was so much clearer. To think that Morax had been powerful enough back then to suppress his instincts like that… fascinating yet terrifying.
“And as for the rest of the payment…” Morax said, summoning a familiar puzzle so it floated above his hand. “Take good care of her. Perhaps it was never meant for me to open, or perhaps it was never meant to be opened at all. I have already said my farewells.”
With that, the puzzle cube drifted lazily over to him, and Osial was suddenly hit by a painful bout of nostalgia at the aura that filled it. It felt like Guizhong, and it was a reminder of everything that he—that they—had lost all those years ago.
Perhaps he hadn’t noticed Osial’s sudden silence, or perhaps he had and was simply ignoring it for another reason, but Morax continued talking. “You are free now, but know that I will not hesitate to reseal you if you turn on my people.”
That caught his attention, and he grinned too widely. “Wouldn’t that be a sight? A dead god fighting one that defended them at his orders.”
Morax’s gaze was firm but not unkind. “I would not take any pleasure in it, Osial, but I would not be afraid of making a scene should the need arise.”
Osial chuckled as the puzzle box swirled around his hand. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of going after your beloved city. I may, however, take this opportunity to see the world that you have deprived me of for so many years.”
He had heard stories in the aftermath of the battle; those of gods, of monsters, and of ancient history long forgotten. So much had changed, and yet so much had stayed the same. He wanted to know it all.
So, naturally, there was only one place to start.
“Excuse me, you want to what!?” Lan exclaimed, looking more confused than anything. “Sorry, I must have heard wrong.”
“No, you heard correctly. This is where I need to go to sign up for this… Adventurers’ Guild, yes?”
Osial punctuated his words by holding out a flimsy pamphlet, advertising the guild as a great organization to join if you wanted to explore and go out into the wilderness of Teyvat. Her gaze slid down to the pamphlet for barely a second before snapping back up to his face.
Her eyes were wide, and she seemed to be having some kind of internal battle with herself. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
Osial smiled, with slightly less baleen than usual, and shook the pamphlet. “I assure you that I am not. When do I start?”
Clasping her hands together, Lan inhaled deeply before letting it out all at once. “Okay. Okay, fine, just… follow me.”
Rummaging around behind the desk—the secretary apparently named Katheryne who was standing there, staring straight at him with an unchanging smile, would have been more intimidating if he hadn’t returned it until Lan called for him again—she pulled out several forms. After he had read through them and signed with a swipe of his divine energy, she seemed to scrutinize them for a moment before giving up.
“You know what, I’m just not going to question this anymore. Welcome to the Adventurers’ Guild, and ask Katheryne if you have any questions about commissions,” she told him, gesturing to the woman who was still standing there and smiling.
Lan turned to walk away, and Osial chuckled. “And what about you?”
“Me?” she questioned, tossing him a glance over her shoulder, “Right now, I’m just going to get so fucking drunk at Third-Round Knockout because Archons know I need that after today.”
It took more effort than he would like to admit to restrain the urge to laugh as she left, muttering and shaking her head. Instead of watching, though, he turned to Katheryne.
“Now, Katheryne, was it?” he drawled, tapping the counter with his too-long nails. “Tell me, are there any deep-sea ‘commissions’?”
Months after joining the guild, Osial had to admit that it was more interesting than he would have expected. Not only had he been given many intriguing treasure-finding commissions in the waters surrounding Liyue Harbour, but also it appeared that his reputation had grown. It was quite fun, he had realized, to see Treasure Hoarders wet themselves out of terror when he approached, rising from the sea like he was made of water (which he was, of course). There was nothing quite like striking fear into the hearts of his enemies, after all.
He had met up with Morax recently, just to check in and see how things were going for the both of them. His lover was still recovering from the mental and physical trauma he had endured, apparently, and Osial had been perhaps more than a bit smug when boasting about his 100% success rate for finding lost treasures and other such things in the sea. Naturally, he always went above and beyond for many reasons, but primarily he had to admit that it felt wonderful to be superior to others—even if it was just in the Guild’s monthly rankings. Morax had looked quite confused, but Osial had chosen to ignore that. His old friend-turned-adversary should have been able to understand why, but perhaps he too had changed more than anyone could have ever expected.
Pride was a mortal flaw, but Osial supposed that Morax had been correct after all. Pride, selfishness… Those were not exclusive to humanity. It wasn’t a bad thing to possess them either, and maybe all he needed to truly understand the Teyvat the world had become—the Teyvat without the influence of many gods, choosing instead to follow those ‘Archons’. He was but a legend come to life for them, and perhaps that would work in his favour. Anonymity was a powerful weapon when used right, and that couldn’t have been clearer than when he had been sent to Mondstadt for a rare request for backup. It wasn’t a marine commission, to his dismay, but Osial decided to take it regardless.
“Don’t you dare go scaring random kids in Mondstadt, okay?” Lan scolded, looking over his still likely grotesque appearance (in mortal terms, at least). “I know we’re all used to you around here, but I swear you’re going to give some kid nightmares.”
He chuckled in amusement and shook his head before curling and uncurling his fingers into fists. “Worry not, I am sure that I won’t spend long in Mondstadt. It’s far too landlocked.”
She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Good, there is still a huge backlog of commissions for you, since very few people ever take those sea ones. I just couldn’t turn the Mondstadt branch down.”
“A favour is a favour,” he acknowledged, barely realizing that his smiles showed less and less baleen these days. “I don’t mind helping.”
She squinted at him, almost calculatingly. “Well, if you say so. Here I would have thought that you would be far more grumpy about it. Asking an ancient god to go help with some issues in a lake, what was I thinking?”
Making sure to avoid using the razor-sharp part of his nails, Osial flicked her forehead. “I said I would do it. I have been meaning to see what I have missed, and besides, no one here seems to be put off by me anymore. That must be fixed, you see.”
Rolling her eyes, even she couldn’t hold back a small smile. “That’s because after you joined us, you just started exuding this… uncle energy. You look young, even though we know that isn’t true, but you aren’t as bad as people thought you would be at first—especially considering well… everything.”
“I am certain others would beg to differ,” he reassured her, though perhaps reassured wasn’t the right word. She was different, maybe just because of how much she reminded him of Guizhong. She had never been afraid of him; not truly.
“I would tell you to stay safe, but I don’t think that’s necessary.” She was right, of course. It wasn’t like anything short of another god could actually do him much harm. For some reason, though, it felt almost… nice.
“I will take care to keep myself in check,” he said as a compromise, making her roll her eyes again. For all that Lan pretended to be exasperated, she never quite succeeded, and that thought stuck with him the entire way to Mondstadt. All the while, the Memory of Dust in his pouch felt like a solid weight, pulling him down with several times the force of gravity.
Thankfully, the commission there didn’t take long to complete at all once he had picked it up from the Mondstadt Branch of the Adventurers’ Guild. Osial was also very proud to admit that one of the guards standing at the front gate had gone as white as a sheet when he smiled, and that the other had passed out on the spot. He hadn’t lost his touch after all, it seemed.
The fact that there was yet another Katheryne who had the same blank smile was slightly disconcerting, but he was supposed to be the unsettling presence in the city, thank you very much. However, it wasn’t the coincidence of there being two Katherynes that intrigued him the most. No, that honour would go to the boy who had crashed into him on his way out of the city, stumbling after the collision and then proceeding to trip over a rock (had it been there before? Osial wasn’t sure) before falling and landing upon the unconscious guard.
He said his name was Bennett. He also said he was an adventurer, but his mood instantly dropped for a split second when Osial asked where his team was. After all, most people in the Guild worked in pairs or larger groups. He was the odd one out, really.
Bennett had laughed off the question, admitting that no one wanted to be teammates with him because of his bad luck, and that’s when Osial’s eyes had narrowed. He may not be human, and he may not understand their thought processes, but he had learned a thing or two recently about blaming someone for things out of their control. It hadn’t been Morax’s fault that Guizhong died, and so it likely wasn’t Bennett’s fault that his luck was apparently that bad.
Somehow, that plus the impulsive decision to have proof for Lan that yes, he could actually work in teams, and yes, he managed to help the locals without scaring absolutely everyone led to him saying the fateful words.
“I will accompany you on your current task.”
The boy’s eyes had lit up, everything about him looking far happier than he had beforehand. “You will!? Wow, that’s… so nice of you! I gotta go prepare for having two people, so um, should we meet back—”
“I don’t require any supplies,” Osial said, cutting him off. “Just bring enough for yourself.”
Bennett grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head in his flustered state. “Ah… yeah, right. You’re an adventurer too, so of course you would have your own supplies…” His voice went quiet and his smile fell off his face. “Besides, it’s not like things turn out well when I bring the supplies anyway.”
Maybe he was just getting soft, but Osial sighed and shook his head to reassure the boy. “Everything will be fine.”
Pausing, Bennett looked up at him in confusion. He seemed to be deliberating on what to say, clearly conflicted, but didn’t want to say something that would drive him away.
“You don’t know that,” Bennett mumbled. “I try to stay positive and say that I’m fine, but… it’s exhausting, you know? Benny’s Adventure Team is just me—and the Traveller, when they’re here, I guess—but everyone avoids me because of my reputation. Sorry, I just don’t want to get my hopes up now only to get disappointed again when you get fed up and leave too.”
It was obvious that his self-confidence was incredibly low, but even though Osial held himself in quite high regard, he couldn’t say that he didn’t understand that loneliness. He had spent thousands of years alone, locked beneath the waves. If anyone else could truly understand what it meant to be shunned and hated, it was him.
“Look,” Osial said, trying to cut Bennett’s thoughts off now before they got worse, “it doesn’t matter what happens. Nothing your bad luck can do will be worse than what I have already endured in my life. I have seen things you wouldn’t be able to comprehend with your mortal brain, so just go and get your supplies so we can set off.”
Would Morax laugh at him for acting this sentimental? Probably not, especially considering his stance on things at this point, but perhaps he would find it off-putting. Hm… that was something to consider. It seemed that his desire to annoy the other god hadn’t waned in the slightest, and Osial was already looking forward to seeing how he would squint his eyes slightly, or even frown a bit more than usual. How amusing.
Bennett looked up at him in awe, seemingly almost in tears already. “I, um, I already have my supplies, but you have no idea how much this means to me.”
The boy didn’t even shiver when Osial smiled widely and chuckled, with all the layers of his voice creating a chaotic and dissonant sound. “Very well, let us set off then.”
Naturally, Osial learned over the next few hours just why Bennett had gained the reputation he had. They stumbled over several monster camps (Osial sent them flying with a swoop of his hand), treasure chests that contained only cabbages (the one they used in their sandwiches for lunch was quite firm and fresh), and even a sudden thunderstorm on their way back from the completed commission. When the downpour started, Bennett frowned and sighed, holding out his hand for the raindrops to gather in his palm.
“I’m sorry, this always happens…”
However, contrary to his expectations, Osial stepped out into the rain with a grin. “Water has never bothered me. The contrary, in fact. It was too dry up here.”
Bennett blinked. “Too… dry?”
“I already know that you have noticed my lack of those odd elemental stones you mortals carry around,” Osial said offhandedly, having recognized the boy looking for one on his person after he had tossed around some enemies with a splash of hydro. “That is because I do not need one.”
“But—”
Osial turned to him and Bennett shut his mouth when he saw the tips of his hair seem to flow into the shapes of the serpentine heads that he possessed in his hydra form. His hand had turned into water as well, the energy swirling around him.
“I am the threat in the water; I am that which lurks in the deep. Some water falling from the sky is nothing but a mild convenience. Perhaps you may not believe me, child—”
Bennett tried to protest that he was a young adult, actually, but Osial continued since he was on a roll anyway.
“—but I am something far older and far more dangerous than your beloved city of Mondstadt. The last time I ventured here, Decarabian was still in power and the world was engulfed by war. The only being in these lands that could contest me is your Archon, and we have met once before—his bark is truly worse than his bite.”
The god knew that this must be a lot for a mere mortal to handle, but Bennett did his best to just nod in agreement. He still seemed somewhat conflicted, but less afraid that his luck would hurt Osial. Good. No matter how bad his luck may be, nothing he could possibly cause would ever compare to being struck by Morax’s stone spears. In Osial’s opinion, there were very few things in the world that could be worse.
Biting his lip nervously, Bennett glanced down at the ground. “I don’t really get all of that, but I’ll trust you on it. I really do appreciate that you were willing to come out and help me, and I think Barbara will appreciate it too… Ah, she’s the one who usually ends up patching me up at the end of my commissions. I, um, get hurt a lot. It’s been a lot of fun.”
Fun. Osial had never been one to think of things as being ‘fun’, unless it involved messing with Morax or anyone else, but perhaps this had been. The boy was good company, and he sympathized in the strange way he could. It was pleasant, in a way.
“If you come to Liyue Harbour,” Osial found himself saying without really thinking about it first, “go to the Guild there. Ask for me, and I will come. Perhaps I can show you my usual commissions, though it will be strange having another person around.”
There was no reply, and Osial turned with a frown. What he saw instead was the boy, tears silently dripping down his cheeks, trying to hold it together. Wiping away a tear or two with his hands, Bennett tried to hold back a hiccup.
“... You would want to team up again?”
His voice was quiet and vulnerable, and Osial found that he didn’t like that much.
“I wouldn’t mind.”
The smile he got in return was blinding, and Bennett threw his arms around Osial’s middle in an awkward hug. The god stood there, frozen, unsure if he should be returning the embrace or just… patting his back or something. He didn't know what to do, so he just stood there instead.
“Thank you,” Bennett whispered into the wet fabric of his clothes, uncaring that he was getting soaked too. “I gotta tell my dads back at the Guild. They’ll be so happy!”
He paused for a second. “I almost instinctively called you a dad too—ah, not my literal dads, just the people who have been taking care of me—but that doesn’t seem right for some reason.”
What was it that Lan had said? Oh right…
“I have been informed that I have ‘uncle energy’,” Osial said, offering a possible solution. At that, Bennett laughed.
“Oh gosh, you’re right! You really do!”
Well, if both Bennett and Lan agreed, it must be true. Perhaps that was something he could hold over Morax later.
For the rest of the trip back, though, Bennett chatted excitedly about his friends (some girl who was a princess, a wolf boy who lived in the woods, and a few others) and about some of his mishaps during adventures. Some of them were somewhat concerning, such as his explanation of where he got his Vision from (which was what those elemental stones were called, apparently). His luck was truly unfortunate, and although there was nothing he could do about it, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to pop by Mondstadt every once in a while to let him have the occasional good commission.
And also to pester Barbatos, just to get back at him for that lecture. He could feel that the god was currently busy with that baby Yaksha that had charged in with Morax’s lover, though, so he decided to leave that for another time. It would be too much trouble right now that he couldn’t be bothered to deal with.
After handing in the commission at the Guild, Osial returned to Liyue and was met with the sight of Morax and his lover walking together in the town. They were close, but not touching at all, which seemed odd when compared to other couples he had observed since joining the Guild. However, it was still incredibly obvious to anyone how much they cared for each other. When Morax wasn’t looking, the boy would gaze at him with this fond and lovesick expression, and when the boy looked away, Morax would do the same. For some reason, there was an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.
They looked happy.
But how could Morax feel satisfied when his lover would grow old and fade to dust and ash like all other mortals do? How could he enjoy the time they had with the end looming over their heads? The remaining years in his life would be like a blink of an eye for a god, so why would anyone willingly put themselves through the devastation and heartbreak he had felt when Guizhong had died?
He tore his gaze away and turned, about to walk away, when he heard the mortal notice him.
“Oh it’s Osial,” he said in a faked pleasant tone. They still weren’t on good terms, naturally. This was their first time seeing each other since he had so foolishly tried infiltrating Osial’s domain beneath the sea. “Zhongli has been telling me some interesting things about you, but never mind that. I think we’re long overdue for a—”
“No, Childe,” Morax scolded, his eyes narrowing.
Childe (and wasn’t that an apt name for one who was young enough in his eyes to be beneath his notice if it wasn't for the stunt he had pulled) looked offended and his expression fell. Looking back at Morax, he seemed to almost plead with the god wordlessly.
“But—”
Crossing his arms, Morax huffed. “You are still not completely recovered, and even if you were, I would not allow you to fight against a god for no reason. Please focus on getting better, and perhaps I will permit you to request a spar against me instead.”
Forcing his crooked and off-putting smile onto his face, Osial made sure his lips were curled back and pulled wide enough that his face was nearly split from ear to ear.
“Listen to him, mortal,” he rasped, barely getting a glance from the other god in the process, “or else you may end up pinned beneath the sea by his spears.”
With that, he turned and walked away, not wanting to continue with that conversation. Something was wrong with him, and he didn’t know what it was. Passing the Guild only made it worse, especially when Lan waved to him. His chest hurt, and Osial could only rub at it. He felt… wrong. Empty. The Memory of Dust burned a hole in his pouch, and Osial wasted no time in returning to his domain and pulling it out.
“Guizhong,” he muttered, stroking a gentle finger across its surface, “I wish I could ask you what is wrong with me. You always knew the answers.”
She had truly been the glue that had held them all together; they were just a group of gods and Adepti that had quickly fallen apart once she was no longer there. She was intelligent, wise, beautiful, and elegant—truly the best of them all. He had loved her, but had never said anything. Did that make him a coward? Or did it save him from the inevitable heartbreak of hearing her say that she loved Morax from afar, just as Osial loved her?
The puzzle box didn’t reply, but it felt like he was talking to her, in a way. He continued, speaking softly.
“I don’t understand what is happening, and why I feel so empty even though I have you here with me. I thought that I would feel better, that something—anything—that remained of you would be enough. I thought that I would feel satisfaction at finally having something that Morax didn’t, and I thought I would feel at peace.”
Silence, for just a moment.
“I was wrong.”
His thoughts weren’t consumed with her the way they used to be, and he didn’t feel like the Memory of Dust was as much of a constant in his life as he had expected it to become. It was still comforting to have it around, but guilt gripped his stomach when Osial realized that he had barely even thought of Guizhong since joining the Guild. Instead, his mind always turned to Lan.
She had initially intrigued him for her similarities to the Goddess of Dust, but after getting to know her better, Osial knew that it would be a disservice to her. Lan wasn’t Guizhong, even if they were both kind and strong-willed women. She lacked the elegance that Guizhong had in spades, but it suited her better than anything else could have.
Over the months that they had interacted with each other, he realized that he was interested less and less for the sake of Guizhong’s memory and out of longing for her. Instead, Osial realized that he was interested in talking with her for herself. She was interesting, intelligent, and often caught him off-guard.
But…
In the end, she was mortal. If even a goddess like Guizhong could be struck down, then it would be all too simple for the tiny flickering flame of a human soul to be extinguished.
Thinking back to Childe and his desperation to get Morax back, and to Morax and how much he was willing to sacrifice for Childe, Osial found himself laughing bitterly.
He wasn’t afraid of listening to his heart, or of loss. No, he had endured all that once before. Instead, it was something else that made him hesitate.
Morax was willing to take the chance, even knowing that he might be rejected. He was willing to try to hold on to something fleeting, even knowing that he would surely lose it. He was willing to endure the pain for a few years of happiness.
“Ah, Morax, so it seems that you have me beat there too… in the end, I am not as brave as you are.”
As gods, they would endure long after the civilizations of mortals fell, and they would endure long after any lovers had passed on. In the end, both of them had chosen different paths, and Osial would watch from afar once again as Morax, as Childe, and as Lan found happiness for themselves using the time they had.
Then, finally, at the end of time when not even gods would remain, they would all meet once again. Maybe he would see flowing robes and glaze lilies. Maybe he would see a green dress and a glass of liquor. Maybe there would be nothing at all.
Osial sighed and set the Memory of Dust on a stone pedestal before turning to leave the room. Oddly enough, he felt better. Maybe even in death, Guizhong still had that ability to make anyone feel better, regardless of their predicament.
It would be alright.