Raccoon In A Trench Coat

That’s why every nation had Shrines and Temples and Churches dedicated to Their honor. The ripest fruits, the shiniest metals, and most beautiful of arts and culture and literature and knowledge - anything a person could think of would be given to The Creator. In hope that maybe a person would be blessed.

That perhaps they may be recognized by Them.

Like the Acolytes.

Strongest of the strong in terms of Vision and Element users. Gods and mortals alike blessed with the ability to create large bursts of energy and fearsome attacks.

The front lines.

The most blessed.

The one whom worshipped the most.

If these Acolytes were not helping around their nations they were preying, spending no time for themselves. For how could they? Being blessed in the eyes of their Creator to have even a fraction of The Creator’s power for a blip of a second was more that what their life would and should ever be worth - they owed their entire puny existences to their Creator what kind of awful children would they be to not give their everything - lives, fame, money, worldly possessions, etc - to their almighty Creator?

And so, this was Teyvat.

A land ruled by a merciful Creator who was heard - but not seen - and loving to their subjects.

Until you came.

When you wondered into Mondstadt, the first thing noticed by the people was how similar you looked and acted like their Creator. Long loose-fitting clothes that left little to the imagination flowed around your body with mystifying patters and colors. Your feet lightly - barely - touched the surface of the earth, giving you a sense of floating as you aimlessly flitted around the area, seemingly entranced with worldly wonders like a sheltered child who’d never seen their own shadow.

The people of Mondstadt bit their tongue as you walked around, seemingly on another plane with a hauntingly gently smile placed gently on your lips, serene mind seemingly hours away from the watchful eyes of every Mondstadtian watching you like hawks above a sparrow. You were unaware. Unfrightened. Unchallenged.

Then Barbatos descended.

His voice, usually like a playful breeze, whipped around like a wind storm as he spoke to you:

“Whom DARES copy the looks of Teyvat’s Master and DARES try to get away with it!!?!?”

The people of Mondstadt hid behind walls and pillars, having never seen their God so offended - really, they had never seen him be anything but jovial in this lifetime, stories of his wrath long being buried under snow in Dragonspine and in the seas surrounding his Nation.

Anemo wrapped around your body and lifted you, though in both Barbatos’s and his people’s furies they could not see how his angered winds became light wisps as they lifted you high - like an offering.

His shouts of threats and death went through deaf ears as you stared at the small Archon with wonder, reaching a hand out and patting his head.

The world itself seemed to stop, the whipping winds dying down as his already wide eyes became even wider. His wings fluttered and feathers rose. His breath stuttered when you ran manicured nails across his scalp, a soothing sensation trickling down across his very being.

Everything seemed to stop. No one breathed - besides you who continued to pet the God’s hair. The silence was deafening, enough to hear a dandelion seed whisk through the air. Venti’s eyes traveled up to your own and you smiled - he shuddered.

It was instantaneous, really.

The sharp feeling of winds searing through your flesh and bones, ripping your wrist and hand away from your body. Venti’s blank expression scorched your soul, your smile dropping in favor of surprise. Your lost limb flew through the air and landed before the startled Mondstadtians.

Red.

Your blood, was red.

It was immediate, the way you were thrown to the ground and bound by those with Visions, tight and painful did the ropes squeeze around your ankles - not your wrist for you had only the one now. The gag of leather they stuffed in your mouth was hard and smelled awful, and the bag they threw over your head was stiff and scratchy.

You barely struggled as they took you, paraded you around town, and eventually threw you in some dank dungeon, rank and humid, and left you to rot.

Weeks passed, perhaps even a month. You didn’t know how you had survived but you had, and you were wretched from your cell, still bound and gagged, and thrown onto… something. And it started. A parade… maybe a caravan? You couldn’t see but you could feel the climates change as you were dragged about Teyvat, met with the cheers of vicious civilians who threw foods and rocks at your bound form, much to the amusements of nearly all Gods you came across.

After Barbatos removed a hand, Morax took his turn and stabbed a Polearm through one of your thighs, leaving it there for the wound to fester and decay. Beel did the same, slashing across your chest so that your Red, ‘unholy’ blood would be on display.

The only God who showed you any sympathy was Nahida - it would feel rude to call her by her Godly name when she treated you with more humanity than any other human you had encountered. While her subjects cheered for your death, she sat silently, ashamed. When asked if she wanted to stake her name on your body, a mark to show Sumeru would never forgive, she gave you little more than a cut on your arm. While her nation was distressed at her action, you felt the truth. She had healed you, set a seed in your soul so that warmth spread through your veins and numbed the stabbing pain of all your other wounds.

You’re sure you saw her smile.

However, it was the same through all other Nations. Furina made a show of it and formed a water bubble around your sack, dampening it so you would be waterlogged for the rest of your journey, slowly water boarding you. Mavuika did something similar, slamming a club into your scull till a sickening crack echoed through the arena, met with joyous cheers.

Finally, you made it to the Tsaritsa’s land. The people in charge of transporting you left you in your now torn and rag-like fabrics - no longer flowing and white - and soggy sack, so that you would feel the full effects of the bone freezing chill of Shnez.

She seemed uninterested when you first met her, or at least you thought so, then your entire bottom half was frozen, skin long since numbed and blue from the frigid temperatures.

With the parade done - which was a month long campaign - you were taken to some kind of middle point, where all the Nations gathered to witness the finale of your misery: your execution.

The blade was sharp, ceremonial carvings gracefully curved over its surface, glinting in the midday light. The roar of the crowd was deafening, if you could’ve, you would’ve moved your one hand to cover your ears from the noise, but naturally, you were tied down. The damp sack had been ripped from your head so the crowd could watch the life in your eyes die, which creeped you out.

The honor had gone to Barbatos, being that it was his Nation that captured you. You could vaguely hear Morax mumbling under his breath but ignored it in favor of looking to Nahida.

Where every other Archon was standing strong, sure, she wasn’t. She was shaking, small tears dolloping her eyes. She was scared, worried, so you offered her a smile. You could hear the confusion run through her head at your grin. Though before any words of comfort could be offered, it happened.

The pain was brief, quick. The searing pain you felt through your neck and throat passed by immediately leaving you in painless bliss for a moment. The deafening cheers from the crowd silenced as the light left your eyes.

Barbatos raised the sword high.

The crowd roared.

Nahida clasped her hands together, holding back tears.

It had been done.

Or so… they thought.

The skies grew dark in mere seconds, wind and rain whipping across the gathered crowds of mortals and immortals. The Gods looked to the skies in confusion, should their Creator not be proud of what they’d done?

A blink and they would’ve missed it, the hand that guided the winds took Barbatos by the neck and squeeze, before throwing him down onto the earth before his subjects. Both the Archons and Acolytes looked around, weapons raised.

The wind continued to whip, Barbatos desperately trying to get control but the winds refused to listen to the traitor. A storm began to brew, and it was only mere seconds before a mix of hale and rain poured from the sky, lightning catching unsuspecting crowd members off guard. The Archons tried desperately to regain control, teeth gritting and gnashing but nothing worked. As regular civilians began to cry, Their voice sounded.

“You dare to lay a finger on my beloved?” They whispered, and even despite this their voice made bounds above the storm. Their voice was soft as snow and rung like a bell. The storming clouds parted, giving way for Them.

Slowly They descended, birds singing Their praises as nearby animals bowed. It was as the Teyvat itself sighed in relief when Their bare foot touch ground.

The gods mouths gaped, long having resigned to a life where they may never seen Them, only to see Their heavenly beauty after years of silence. Quickly they fell to their knees, heads hung low with noses pressed to the wet mud. Their followers quickly bowed, faces pressed to the floor as They found their footing on the soft earthy ground beneath Them.

Their figure glided across the floor, not sparring a passing glance to anyone, only slowing as They came to your beheaded body. A whimper left Their lips when They picked up your head, hugging it tight to their body while glaring at the gods.

“… How could you…” They cried, voice swept up by the winds and traveling through the crowds. Eyes widened as pants grew from the now steady stream of tears running down Their face.

“I-If I may be so bold, Your Grace-“ Barbatos started, but he was silenced by a single harsh glare from Them.

They held your head close, pressing kisses to your forehead and whispering as They gilded over to where your still bleeding body lie. Gods and Acolytes watched in wonder as They placed your head onto the stump of your neck with care, humming while energy flowed through your body.

Eyes widened as your wound healed itself, color returning to your skin and muscles loosening. They took you into Their hands, holding you bridal style as your torn and weathered clothes rebuilt themselves at Their silent request. Golden power flowed in your veins, glowing proudly.

The Archons and Acolytes stared on in both fear and adoration as you came back to life, eyes opening to find Their’s staring right back. You smiled, which led to a chuckle, pressing a palm against Their face, grunting at how some of the Archons had to hold back noises of shock.

“My dearest, you came.” You mused, “I had begun to worry.” Everyone seemed to gawk at your causal tone while you situated yourself in Their arms, sitting up and wrapping your legs around Their waist and arms around Their shoulders. They grabbed your thighs and sighed, nuzzling into your neck.

“I would’ve come sooner my love, but knowing you, I waited. I hope this cured that morbid curiosity of yours?” They whispered. Nobody strained to hear what They said, as the world had fallen silent with Their appearance.

The Gods flintched… ‘My love’..?

You hummed pulling a lock of their hair into your hand and twirling it, thinking.

“I think it did,” you decided, “but, I don’t much like having one hand, I’ve found.” Barbatos shuttered. It was evident he was holding back tears to everyone, shaking as he knelt with the sword still stained in your blood before him.

Their eyes widened for a moment before nodding, one hand leaving your thighs and reaching for your wrist, assessing the damage. Their other hand drifted, a newly formed arm taking its place as the old one felt across your body for scars, wiping them away as though they were made of dust. They pressed a kiss to the stump of your wrist, golden light slowly over taking the spot until a hand blossomed like a golden rose.

You smiled and laughed joyously at the new hand, flexing fingers and rotating your wrist. You turned to Them with pursed lips, then used the new hand to grip Their hair and pull Them in for a kiss, Their hands tightening around your thighs while They leaned impossibly closer into you. You parted the kiss, the both of you flustered and grinning.

“Hehe… are you alright, dearest?” You hummed, staring at Them with Their blissed out expression. They simply giggled, nuzzling Their face into the other’s neck.

“… My Lord?” The call was soft, nearly silent. The world itself seemed to pause, the only true audible sound being your breathing.

Their hands tightened around your legs, gripping the flesh with animosity - though They were still careful enough to not leave bruises. Slowly Their head towards the call, eyeing all the Archons behind them with hatred. They scanned the row of shivering gods… besides Nahida.

She stood strong, hands clasped as she stared up at the both of you. Then, her head bowed low. The stern silence that encompassed the area lifted - if just slightly - at her display.

“Your Grace,” she began, “Please accept my most humble apologies-“ “There is no need for that, child.” They interrupted. A hand silently took the small God’s chin, tilting her face from side to side.

“You are Lesser Lord Kusanali… Buer, correct?” They asked. Nahida nodded. They hummed.

“Then there is no need to apologize. You did no wrong.” Their words were clear. Concise. They left nothing for interpretation. Every other Archon’s eyes widened as a hand found itself into Nahida’a hair.

“You did well, child.” They praised. The Dendro Archon herself stood still - rigid - as Their hand found and caressed strands of hair. Her breathing slowed as she leaned into Their touch.

The world was silent at the praise for the littlest Archon - all others in shock as they watched on. You still sat snug in Their grasp, hands clutched at Their shoulders while you lazily watched the praise as it happened - weariness in your bones ignited the large yawn that breached your lips.

“Is my Love tired?” They cooed - leaving you to whine and push away from droves of hands trying to pinch your cheeks. Onlookers still sat in shock as Their playfulness matched yours.

“M… My Liege?” The moment was broken by a small, trembling voice. Both your and Their gazes moved to the other Gods - Archon title stripped away in your mind - to see who had the audacity to speak.

Focalor. Her hands were clasped together - much like Nahida’s had been - with a shaky smile plastered to her lips. Any softness in Their eyes vanished when They stared at her.

“My Liege, if I may be so bold-“ “You are being bold by speaking to me after your crimes, but continue.” All the other gods jaws dropped. Focalor began to shake, tears staining her eyelids.

“O-of course! Uhm.. My Liege, my Lord, our Shining, Glimmering, Illustrious-“ “Get on with it.” “Y-YES!! What exactly is your… uh… relationship with the false one?”

Silence quickly swept over the stage.

Flustered, Focalor jumped up, tears fulling streaming down her face. She blabbered on and on - excuse after excuse about how it had become habit and how she no longer meant it and blah blah blah… you stopped listening as she brought up the others and their influences, which led to a rising argument.

The air grew suffocating as Focalor dragged more gods into her arguing, completely unaware of the stewing wrath of your Love under you. You huffed at Their expression, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Their cheek.

“I think,” you whispered, “that just leaving now and allowing them to fight it out would be best. And funniest… mostly funny.” Their head tilted towards you, humming, a grin growing on Their face. Before They could respond you lit up.

“Can we take Nahida too? She was sweet.” Their grin turned to small chuckles and a nod at your question, resulting in a fist pump from you.

“All this time has made you quite sadistic hm?” You flushed, face hot and laughed back.

“Maybe just a little.” You mused. They smiled and silent reached a hand to Nahida - who was unfortunately engrossed in the argument before all of you - and gently lifted her into a pair of arms.

Nahida looked surprised as you pressed a finger to your lips and winked - before all three of you lightly disappeared in a cloud of light smoke, rising into the sky, leaving the now loudly arguing gods behind to fight before their shell-shocked followers.

Like losers.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍦🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

The halls of the Chapel were silent. That silence was then promptly broken by the sounds of six distinct walks through the halls.

You sat on the lap of your Love, resting against Their chest to nap - disturbed by the marching from down the halls. You groaned, shoving your head into Their chest, causing them to laugh.

“Looks as though we have company, Dear.” They sung - your only response was a groan.

You both listened, unmoving, as the steps grew closer and closer. You didn’t turn around when they entered your main throne chambers.

Together to footsteps stopped - and in their place six loud thuds echoed as each god fell to their knees. You sighed and pressed further into Them, taking some strands off hair between your fingers and curling them gently.

“Why have you six come to us?” Their voice did well to hide Their anger. Eyes hidden from all but your own glared down at those before you both - those whom would never be worth your time again.

“We have come… to… apologize.” Said Morax. The silence that then filled the air was palpable - able to be sliced through with a knife.

They only stared at those below you while you continued to simply lay on Them, soft breaths bordering on snores. The awkwardness of Their lack of response seemed to be weighing on their shoulders because after a few more minutes of silence, Beel spoke up.

“We are apologizing because we recognize that we made a mistake, My Lord.” She was curt and straight to the point. It almost pissed you off - if you weren’t so tired and bored of the interaction all ready, you huffed into Their neck and They sighed back. With a wave of Their hand, They answered with one word.

“Dismissed.”

You could hear the gods hearts shatter under Their cold gaze - some started and sputter and mutter while others softly gazed at the floor with blank expressions.

“B-but you Illumanence!! Surely you must understand it was just an- an… an accident we-“ “Silence.”

All speech came to a screeching halt. Your closed eyes pressed against Their neck as the order hung in the air. Their hands ran across your spine and shoulders in a soothing way - but Their eyes never left the pitiful forms of those gods before you.

“My allowing of your continued existences is enough of a mercy for such… insolence. Begone with you. Leave. Before I change my mind…” This was the coldest you had ever heard Their voice.

The air grew icy with Their demand and within seconds - the gods had left. There was no reason to continue to grovel, especially with you in Their arms.

“They are gone now, Love.” You hummed, pressing yourself further into them, as though you wanted to combine and become one with Them. They giggled.

“Mmmm… I wanna take a nap.” You mumbled, barely shifting as They picked you up in Their arms as they rose.

“That would be beneficial… considering the tea party we are set to have with Lesser- ahem. I mean, Nahida this afternoon.” You lifted your head with a lazy grin.

“Yippiee…” You cheered, half-heartedly raising an arm before dropping it with a sigh.

“Mmm that was tiring… I don’t like hearing their voices.” You whined. They hummed, continuing to walk you both to your quarters.

“I could get rid of them-“ You snorted.

“No no, that won’t really do much for us heh.” Your voice became more whispery as you got closer to your bedroom. They hushed you, caressing your head.

“You won’t have to see them again if you don’t wish, love.” The door clicked open and silently slid shut behind you. They gently placed you in the large, plush bed in the middle of the room.

You watched as They moved about - the sounds of water running in the connect bathroom soothing your mind. Sunlight beamed through the window gently, warming your body some as you slipped under icy sheets that began to warm beneath your body.

The world began to drown out as your eye lids slowly shut - the last thing you hear being Their voice.

“Sleep well my Darling, I love you.”