#csial

The truth now.

He sits, blanketed in the gloom of night, his gaze fixed upon the twinkling city far below him. Subtle sounds drift upwards, a distant hum of life. This mountain peak is a favoured spot of his - a place where he can stand and observe Liyue Harbour from above, like a watchful guardian. That is what he is, what he will always be.

Amber eyes shift, settle upon the presence that lingers at his side. There is a tightness in the air that surrounds him, a palpable tension hanging between them. He knows there must surely be a raging maelstrom of emotion warring inside his mind, inside his chest. His features may betray nothing - for the moment - but Zhongli knows him.

Words uttered so directly speak volumes. This is a question that has played on Osial's mind since their reunion, no doubt.

He has brought him here for a reason. Here, they can be who they are. Here, he is not Zhongli, Wangsheng Funeral Parlour consultant. Here, he is Morax. He can shed the mortal guise, shrug off the identity he has adopted, and slip back into the one Osial needs him to be in this moment.

"My friend, I have never wanted you dead."

It is the truth Osial has asked for, and so it is the truth that he will deliver. Whether or not it is a truth that his old friend will accept, well... that is for Osial to decide. All he can do is speak from the heart and trust that they have not become so estranged that he can no longer recognise his honesty.

"I have many regrets across this long life of mine," he continues, his gaze remaining fixed now upon the guise of his old friend, "and none as fierce as those which concern the ones I have lost." How many gods lie beneath the waves, pinned beneath the rocks hurled from his own hands? How many friends were torn from his side? He mourns them all.

There is a flicker of rage from within, which tightens the words that next fall from his lips. "We were pitted against each other by design. There can only be one - by whose law, I ask? Why should this borrowed - no, stolen - power belong only to one? And what reward awaits the victor? A throne, upon which he can survey the carnage he has wrought to earn it."

He rises to his feet, looks out over the harbour below him. "The things I have done were... necessary. But that does not mean I enjoyed doing them. The day you fell beneath those waves... that has haunted me ever since."

And with that, he turns and faces Osial directly. "I have lost too much, old friend. Why would I seek to repeat the mistakes of my past?" A hand is extended between them - an invitation. "I did not bring you here to deliver your sentence, Osial. I brought you here in the hope that you and I can start anew." And there, in the night, is a smile.

random asks. @csial / always accepting !

Ample pain surges through their mind as glimpses of imagery blur together. Something tugs at Retuo's psyche, pulling the strings of sanity taut. It isn't something he can quite put a finger on. It's one thing and yet a millions others all at once. Guizhong had spoken words of concern for them once before after finding them alone and so utterly still at the peak of Mt. Tianheng one eve. When they thought of it, they couldn't recall even leaving their domain. How had they gotten there? What were they doing before this? Was it not writing?

Nevertheless, the Dragon King waved off her concerns and offered an excuse of seeking late-night inspiration. Whether or not the Lord of Dust truly believed their fib remains a mystery.

Now here they are again at the end of pools that read nothing but concern. The worry bleeds from Osial's words despite how the other often tries to hide his emotions. They were talking, right? Did they fall silent partway through? Dark claws rake through their hair. In their time above ground, Retuo has picked up many human-like mannerisms. So a small laugh falls from their lips.

"A hundred apologies to be a cause of concern, Osial. Perhaps this one is more tired than we had thought." Retuo smiles as he always does around The Overlord of Vortex. They playfully poke a clawed finger to Osial's forehead, massaging the furrow between his brows away.

❝ it's a shame ... the BAD HABITS are the hardest ones to break.  ❞

[ : / /　𝙵 𝙸 𝙻 𝙴 ]　 : @csial

" i brought you some tea leaves. " havria announces her entrance into her friend's domain with not a hello, but with a statement of fact. " they're a newer blend from qiaoying village that i traded for, and figured at least you'd enjoy them. but then again- you can tend to be a contrarian for the sake of it. "

There's a soft sigh behind him, then fond hands pluck the brush from his fingers. "Let me." There's a warning in her tone - one that dares him to try and argue. She doesn't wait for a response; she begins to ease the brush through his hair, slowly loosening the tangles he's acquired from his latest venture.

Her movements are as fluid as the water they call home, each stroke of the brush as gentle as lapping waves. This is as therapeutic for her as it is soothing for him: this simple act of care settles a calm within them both, a moment of peace amidst a storm.

She works in comfortable silence until his beautiful hair hangs silken smooth, and then the brush is discarded to free up both hands for the next stage of the process. She weaves with deft fingers, the process so familiar that she doesn't need to focus on the task. She could braid his hair with her eyes closed, she is sure of it.

Tying off the end of the braid with a length of cord, she steps around to face him, moving like the swell of a tide about to cast itself upon the shore. Her hands frame his face and she leans down, her lips skimming his forehead. She lingers there a moment, breathing him in; the scent of the sea ever present. The scent of home.

She can never stay too far from the shore; the ocean calls her home, tugging at the rising tide rooted deep in her heart. The harbour is not enough, never enough. She needs to feel the waves upon her skin, to sink beneath the surface, to hear again the music of the depths. It is her only connection to him and she will not let it go.

Away from the prying eyes of mortals, she wades out to her waist, her chest, her neck - then slips below, shedding the human vessel in favour of that which feels more natural. She dare not risk her true form; there are still too many eyes upon the seas, and she will not be chased away again. Not until she has found him.

Though vastly smaller in this form, her serpentine body is still large enough to rouse alarm should she be sighted, so she winds her way rapidly from the shore, heading for the vastness of the open ocean that calls her home. She feels that tug yet again, pulling her along, and she is powerless to resist. It is only when the familiar dark spires of rock come into view that she realises where this call has summoned her.

Guyun Stone Forest. A place she both loves and loathes. It is her strongest connection to her love, and a reminder of the defeat that took him from her.

Quelling the thread of rage that threatens to spark, she makes for the surface, rising from the waves once more as Li Yangxing. As her feet step from soft sand to unyielding stone, she notices she is not alone out here. A figure stands some metres away - human, it appears, likely one of those adventurers, or a local either foraging for supplies, or fishing. Though their back is turned to her, she can see the rigid set of the shoulders, the tense posture. They know she is there. Did they see her emerge from the sea? Is her cover blown?

And then she feels it. Hears it.

She takes an involuntary step forward, turquoise eyes fixing upon the long braid of deep, dark blue hair. Memories are conjured at once: her own hands weaving vibrant locks into intricate patterns; loose strands rippling through her fingers as she eased out tangled knots; her voice chiding him as he complains. Her heart quickens and she almost loses herself for a moment - almost lets the guise drop.

"Osial?"