❛ order / in all things.

ORESTES.

you are orestes from the oresteia by aeschylus, and you are haunted by a cycle of pain. you try your hardest to be a better person, but sometimes you wonder if you will stop feeling trapped by your past. you have a strong sense of justice, you are quick to protect and defend those you love, and you are not afraid to compromise your morals if that means you are settling the score. eventually though, the consequences of your deeds will catch up to you, but that's okay, because sometimes looking your ugliness right in the eye is the greatest release.

“I am here,” Childe half-announces, the spite dripping off his words, “to tie up a loose end.” He all but throws himself into the seat beside Zhongli’s with a harried ‘humph’ as spine meets cushion. Fingers curl around the arm’s rest and drum out an indecipherable beat while his heel jostles up and down in a restless manner; the adrenaline from battle hasn’t entirely worn off yet.

Finally he notices the smudges of red on his outfit and is made dimly aware that he’s probably smeared some blood on the chair, which knowing Zhongli’s tastes, is likely extremely expensive. Oh, well. There’s something bothering Childe, the sting from being made a fool of coiling in his chest. The harbingers had completed their duty, but Childe hated being dragged along for the ride, and so he’d wanted to question Zhongli about it. And getting back to Liyue had been a bit more difficult than anticipated.

“You have insulted my pride. A thing I work very hard to keep intact.” It sounds so dumb when he puts it that bluntly, but for one as arrogant as Childe, it speaks volumes. But as for the continuation of the sentence; well, Childe’s at a loss there, so he resolves to staring down Zhongli fiercely instead.

    THEY HESITATE,  heaving a subdued sigh of disapproval that would go unnoticed by most people. they suppose that childe heard it, and perhaps some part of them hoped as much. after all, zhongli takes great care to keep this establishment clean.  ‘ this was to be expected. it’s only natural he would be angry. ’  such thoughts are interrupted by the incessant ‘ tap tap tap ’  of the fatui’s fingers.

    careful not to let his patience wane, the archon lifts a hand and curls his fingers. they settle against his lips, eyes closed  &  expression thoughtful as it is peaceful. it would be unwise to retaliate, lest his work space become a battleground.  (  there has been more than enough fighting,  for the time being. avoiding conflict is a necessity.  )  thus, zhongli does not comment on the blood-stained furniture. they listen.

    “ ... i apologize, but you must understand, ”  he speaks, lashes rising to unveil amber eyes. finally setting his book down against the table before them, the archon rests both hands in his lap, gaze turning to childe.  “ i did not make any decision preceding the events that took place lightly.  risks were always necessary in order for things to go according to plan. ”  he pauses;  considers his words.

    THEY CHUCKLE,  quiet and genuine. it has been a long time;  too long, perhaps, since morax has met with their old friend. though they may not see eye to eye at all times, conversing with mortals often can lead to a feeling of estrangement.  (  perhaps isolation would be a better term:  an inability  to ever quite fit in.  )  such feelings are menial in the grand scheme of things, of course. even so, he is pleased.

    “ my instincts ?  hm ... ”  it would take more than a few drinks to intoxicate an archon of his standing, but the lord of geo is no longer  /  morax wishes to play the role of zhongli,  &  zhongli shall live as a mortal does.  ‘ instinctually, i concern myself with my work ... and my ability to perform tasks required of me. ’  as they consider this, they turn to the bard. sliding the glass across the table to him, zhongli nods.

    ZHONGLI HUMS,  contemplative. there is some relief to be found in her words, given the traveller’s honest disposition from what he can discern.  (  even so, they can’t help but dwell on the possibility that  such a wealth  of information could be irritating at best,  &  overwhelming at worst.  )  despite the many years he has spent in this life, morax has much left to be desired in the conversational field.

    tapping a gloved finger against their chin, they nod.  “ i am relieved to hear so. ”  although they are oft reserved, an array of topics pique their interest. in order to blend in more naturally, zhongli has opted to work on  the seemingly simple  task of holding his tongue.  ‘ friends need not concern themselves with such worries, ’  he considers. perhaps that is why she doesn’t express disinterest ?  no matter.

    HER ENTHUSIASM  is refreshing at his age;  something to be envied, and something he is certain many would benefit from sharing. it was this virtue, perhaps, that had initially inspired zhongli to invite her to perform at the parlor.  (  something people had expressed concern over,  &  that others had deemed inappropriate.  )  no matter the differing opinions, they feel no remorse.

    arms folded, the archon’s eyes flutter closed. emanating an aura of warm bemusement, the corners of his lips upturn very slightly.  ‘ indeed ...  everybody has their hands full with preparation for festivities right now, but even so ... ’  one hand rises, with a delicate gracefulness he need not practice. gloved fingers curl against his lips, and zhongli stifles a rare chuckle. such a thing is somewhat of a rarity.

    THE HARBINGER  approaches, and zhongli doesn’t so much as lift a brow. he remains calm in his seat, leg folded over leg and book in hand. his amber gaze rises to meet that of the fatui’s, speculative.  ‘ just what has he gotten himself into, i wonder. ’  they ponder, wordlessly. though they would be tentative to call such a person their friend, zhongli is not wont to sit by idly and offer no sympathy nor assistance.

    with a subdued sigh through his nostrils, he slips a thumb between the pages of his book. it occurs to him, after a moment’s speculation, that the blood may not be childe’s.  (  at least, not in its entirety.  )  the thought shakes even him, albeit fleetingly. setting the open book against his leg, zhongli concerns himself with the possibility that what with the festivities as of late, someone might have ...

    (  no. he is a harbinger, after all.  credit should be given where it is due.  )