Chapter Text
There is no Dust in the Abyss.
Conventional practice postulates that dust is evidence of divinity - Celestia’s blessing made manifest. More recent scientific study has found that Dust is actually a naturally occurring particle, made unique by its association with humankind and their marks upon the land. Heretical science further theorized that Dust itself is tangible evidence of human consciousness, though outside of the hushed halls of the Akademia, where divinity is little more than a subject of study and skepticism, any modern scientist who wants to have much in the way of a lifespan stops short of using Dust as so blatant a denouncement of the divine.
(Everyone knows what happened to Khaenri’ah for their heresy.)
The Abyss is the antithesis to Dust. Irregardless of whether it is Celestial or Conscious, the dark powers that taint the deep will snuff out its light and swallow it right up. Neither god nor man can live both safe and whole in those accursed depths.
In the end, Khaenri’ahn science was proved correct, but not before the great capital of the Abyss went up in flames, having made only war, not art.
The little boy from Morepesok does not know much of this. His family is poor and his town is remote, neither factor conducive to a proper education in arithmetic or spelling, let alone scientific theology.
But he does know, as he stumbles into a crack in the earth and finds himself falling quickly away from his lonely snowy forest, that the light from the shimmering gold that follows him down only reaches so far before it is swallowed up by the dark.
It was mid-morning when the Snezhnayan ship finally docked in Liyue harbor, the sky above a bright and empty reflection of the great ocean they had just crossed.
Though not so bright as the smile of the first man to step out upon the gangway - and not so empty as his eyes.
Two black leather boots dance their way down to the dock, followed closely behind by the four black-furred paws of an Inazuma fox. Tartaglia, the 11th Fatui Harbinger, and his Daemon, Temasha, the Honorable Miss, have arrived in Liyue.
For a moment, the pair pauses, holding fast in perfect military stance as they survey the thronging crowds of the morning port - a variegated blend of man and daemon alike. Then, with twin peals of cackling laughter, they dart forward into the rush, distant calls of ‘Lord Harbinger’ lost behind them on the wind.
They are here on their Majesty's orders to retrieve the Gnosis of Rex Lapis, Archon of Liyue, and they will not fail. The hunt has begun; time to kill a God.
---
Ekaterina announces her presence with two quick raps on his office door before opening it. “Master Childe,” she greets, “I'm here to remind you that your meeting with the Fatui contact from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor begins in half an hour?”
Childe groans, “Yes, come in,” he groans, pushing his forehead into his fingertips. It’s barely noon and he's already drained from his meeting with Liyue’s Tianquan early that morning. While technically meant to be a brief introductory meeting between the City’s leader and a foreign diplomat, it had felt more like an extended interrogation session, where she and her daemon - a tall red-headed crane that he had nearly mistaken for a statue - picked apart his entire facade with their piercing gazes. Sure, the conversation had consisted of nothing but (thinly veiled) pleasantries, but he had walked out exhausted and feeling like she knew more about his mission than he did.
Suffice it to say, he was not looking forward to another tedious meeting with the Fatui contact here. He was what, a funeral worker? Childe fully expected some doddering old man with no useful information about Rex Lapis who would simply waste his precious time and wear him out in an entirely different manner. But, well, a job was a job and he was expected to maintain a functional reputation for the Fatui while he was here.
While he is bemoaning the lack of any proper fights to be found in this damned city of contracts, Ekaterina strides into his office. He's known her for a little less than a week, but he already finds himself quite liking the secretary. So far she's been both competent and professional, and both she and her daemon - a dark grey cat with as steely a gaze as she - have already perfected their tag-team get-Childe-to-actually-do-his-job routine. He feels Temasha wither a little under Aleksanders dry stare, and reluctantly accepts the dossier Ekaterina hands him.
“You will be meeting Mr. Zhongli at Lilui Pavillion at 12:30, I've already taken the liberty to make a reservation at that time, under the Northland Bank, so you better not miss it, there's a map on the back side, though it is on the main street so you should have no trouble finding it,” she summarizes quickly. “Is there anything else I can do for you before you leave?”
He scans the document quickly, “Unfortunately I don't think you can take my place, but thanks, I better get going.”
---
It’s a quick walk to Lilui Pavilion and as soon as he mentions his reservation, an even quicker walk upstairs to one of their private rooms. He had thought he was a few minutes early, but when he arrives there is already a man seated at the low table, carefully sipping at a cup of steaming tea. At the noise of his arrival, the man sets down his cup and looks up at him and oh Archons this man - Zhongli - is not at all what he had imagined. Then he pushes himself up in one sweeping, sinuous motion and Childe has to do everything to keep himself from staring too long at the man’s stunning figure, and then Zhongli steps forward, takes his hand, offering an introduction in a deep rumbling baritone and … oh Childe is screwed.
(Childe stumbles through his own introductions and tries desperately to ignore the sudden heat in his cheeks)
“I wasn't sure what you might like best,” Zhongli says when they sit, “so I took the liberty of ordering the entire menu.”
“Oh?” he replies, still trying to reign in his body's reactions, “I must admit I am still unfamiliar with Liyue cuisine, so I will be entrusting myself to your judgment, Mr. Zhongli.” he says with a grin.
This was evidently the right thing to say, as Zhongli immediately launched into a discourse on the culture of food in Liyue, and the two most common divisions - Li and Yue.
But after several minutes of surprisingly scintillating conversation - apparently Li cuisine, on which this restaurant specializes, focuses mainly on materials sourced from the inland mountains, rather than the seafood preference of Yue - Childe finds himself shifting uncomfortably at the low table. Sure he may be incredibly fit and flexible, but (unfortunately) kneeling is not something he has much practice doing. Conversely, Temasha is quite enjoying just lounging on a cushion, and Zhongli sits still as a statue across from him.
Mr. Zhongli, of course, notices his discomfort. “Ah, the seating is bothering you, yes? Many visitors new to Liyue find it uncomfortable, but with several weeks of practice you will be quite accustomed to it.” Childe nods, he’s quite sure of that, he’s always been adaptable, but settles as the consultant continues. “The low table is actually an extremely traditional dining method here,” he explains, “It came into practice as a way of including the whole self in daily mealtimes, offering body and soul, human and daemon a seat at the table…” he trails off.
Childe watches as his eyebrows raise and his mouth drops into a delicate ‘o’, before he reaches inside his jacket; pulling something out and setting it on the table. He pulls his hand back and reveals a small...reptile. Childe honestly can't tell if the man's daemon is a toad or a lizard.
“Good afternoon, Azhdaha.” Zhongli murmurs to his daemon, offering it a soft smile which Childe immediately commits to memory forever. Azhdaha just lies there. And if Childe finds it a bit odd that such a lively and charismatic (and beautiful) man has such an unusually sluggish soul, he is not so rude as to mention it.
(and his attention is stolen moments later anyways as the charming consultant takes his hand in his to help him with the abhorrent little sticks.)
“You are lucky you have me,” Temasha grumbles after they have reluctantly parted from the company of the delightful Mr. Zhongli.
It is mid-evening now, as they walk back to the Northland Bank, and the setting sun has fallen behind the mountains and would have cast the main street into cool shadows but for the warm glow of the lanterns adorning the night market stalls.
“I think we’re lucky that our contact turned out to be such a delightful man,” Childe replies, grinning. He had managed to arrange a second lunch with Mr. Zhongli in three days, and he already can't wait.
“No you numbskull,” she chides, “there's something off with him, I'm serious, here lemme up.”
Childe obligingly sinks nearly to his knees midstride, lowering himself so that his Daemon, with a careful leap, is able to quickly climb to his shoulders, and by the time he has risen up and resumed his normal pace, she is already settled snugly around his neck like a great oversized scarf.
“I swear,” her soft voice murmurs beside his ear, “there's something wrong with his Daemon.”
Tartaglia speeds up his pace.
“I did think it was a bit out of character,” he says when they're finally back within the (relative) privacy of his office. “But Daemons aren't always what we expect them to be,” he looks away, “and I was a bit distracted…”
“Oh yes I'm well aware, but more than that; as manifestations of the soul made out of Dust, all Daemons smell like Dust, it's a very distinct smell. If I were feeling poetic, I’d call it something like burnt starlight.”
“And I'm presuming that Azhdaha didn't quite smell like that?”
“Not at all. His ‘Daemon’ smelt like the dry earth. Like Geo.”
---
“Ok you’re definitely right, what in Teyvat even was that?” Childe shouts at Temasha a few months later back in their room, “How does someone just forget their Daemon?”
For the past couple of months Childe and Temasha had continued to have meetings with the consultant, picking up the frequency until the two met nearly daily for lunch as well as dinner. Over that time they had made a passive effort to keep an eye on Zhongli, and particularly, his Daemon. Well, Temasha did. Childe was more focused on subtly flirting with the man and frequently eyeing the well built body hidden under oh so many layers.
Regardless, the results were … inconclusive, to say the least. If he didn't know any better, Childe would wonder if Azhdaha was simply a very well trained (and lethargic) lizard, while the man's real Daemon hid somewhere else on his body. Except the practice of keeping a pet as a fake Daemon was usually (in his experience) only used by agents with the most dangerous of jobs, not by eccentric but harmless funeral consultants. And Temasha swears up and down that she had heard the thing speak, once. Normal reptiles don't talk. They had considered the possibility that Azhdaha was Zhongli's actual, legitimate Daemon - despite how ill fitting it seemed and how abnormal they were, but after today Childe didn't think they could maintain the suspension of disbelief charade they had going.
They had been going about their usual routine, where after getting dinner together, Zhongli would take Childe to the night market, letting the ginger fund his eccentric purchases and contribute to the Liyuen economy. The whole time Zhongli would keep animatedly discussing the various wares, antiquities, and snacks to be found, while Childe and Temasha would trail behind, happily supplying the Mora the man always forgot.
Now Childe can excuse a bit of absentmindedness, he had long accepted Zhongli’s inability to remember his Mora as one of his many character traits, and, well, as long as he was there to accompany him it never posed much of a problem.
But today, as they stopped by a booth advertising fine cuts of gems and precious stones - which Zhongli had been drawn to immediately, of course - Azhdaha had seen something on the display that interested him, and with more motivation than Childe had ever seen in the small creature, wriggled out of Zhongli’s coat and onto the table. Zhongli had laughed, commented that Azhdaha had always had an eye for stones - Cor Lapis especially, and then resumed animatedly talking with the shopkeeper about the intricate details of her wares. By the time they moved on (Childes wallet many thousand Mora lighter), Azhdaha had slipped his mind. As well as, surprisingly, Zhongli’s.
After that, they had spent several more hours just wandering the night market, covering nearly the entire length of the city in their perusal. Childe, of course, was always thrilled to spend more time with the consultant, and he was slowly growing hopeful that said consultant enjoyed his company as well. Though eventually the evening must come to an end, and the moon sits high in the sky by the time the tables begin to be packed up and the lanterns dimmed. The two are sharing a glass of wine and a bench overlooking the harbor, their coats discarded and draped over the back, unneeded with the warmth of the night air and from their drink.
But finally the cup runs dry and they must part until the next day. They are throwing their coats on when they realize.
Temasha, the clever fox, notices first. “Zhongli...” she begins slowly, “Where is Azhdaha?”
The man looks at her, eyes widening. In but a moment, he seems to shrug off whatever lightness the alcohol had given him, and Childe feels like he can physically see the walls of formality and propriety and whatever else fall back into place across the now stony face, his effort over oh so many hours erased in mere seconds.
“I must go,” he answers stiffly, “have a good night, Master Childe.” and with that, he is gone, striding quickly away in the night.
Childe sighs sadly at his retreating figure - it had taken so long to get him to drop the ‘Master’. But a nudge from Temasha and a quick look at her wide, puzzled eyes snaps him out of his reverie, and they hurry off.
He is not quite sober when he arrives back to his empty, impersonal, apartment, and he blames that for his volume when he vocalizes their twin confusion aloud.
“That kind of distance isn't impossible, but…”
“Yes I know that distance isn't impossible! We can do it, we had to fall into the Archons-forsaken Abyss to be able to do it, so why can he do it? Even the other Harbingers can’t…” Childe takes a breath, flopping back onto his bed and digging his scarred palms into his eyes, “He was supposed to be normal …”
Temasha hops onto the bed to curl up next to him, “Perhaps,” she sighs, “but he never would have stuck with us if he was, so in the end it may be for the best.”
They are silent for a long while, and the Daemon can feel the drowsiness and weariness overtaking her small body. This would be a problem for the next day.
“I don't think I could ever forget about you,” Ajax whispers in the dark room, “I could be nations away from you and I would miss you the whole time.”
His Daemon only snuggles closer before they both fall into a fitful sleep.
---
When they next see Zhongli (the day afterwards, for lunch) he seems pointedly determined to pretend the whole thing never happened. Trying to get anything out of him is like talking to a rock, so after reassuring himself that Mr. Zhongli is alright, Childe drops the issue.
Or at least he pretends to. On top of his actual job (many-headed sea serpents won't summon themselves), Childe digs deeper into the research that he had started after he returned from the Abyss. The Fatui had not made any significant progress on their research on Daemons and Dust since he had last checked in, so, taking advantage of his current location, he delved into any and all relevant Liyuean literature on the topics.
Unfortunately, for a land steeped in thousands of years of history, there wasn't much. Childe poured through everything he could find, but besides an impressive history of Daemon-related traditions, found nothing substantial that he didn't already know (or had disproven himself: as far as anyone knew, a separation of more than 50 meters was impossible.) So for the time being, the issue was shelved.
Besides, Childe had other priorities regarding the handsome consultant.
---
It is only until the surprise arrival of an express message straight from the Harbingers' very own big-hatted-gremlin coincides perfectly with a chance encounter with the famed guardian Yaksha of Wangshu Inn that Childe is able to make any progress on the strange case of Mr. Zhongli and his ‘Daemon’.
It started because the Northland Bank - and by extension, Childe - had a debt to settle with one of the residents of the Wangshu Inn. Because he preferred to not be out of the city any longer than necessary (it had nothing to do with not wanting to miss his lunches with Zhongli, obviously), he had left the harbor before the sun had even begun peeking out from over the ocean, leaving early with the hope he would be able to return by evening. It would be a long day, but the trip was doable.
So later that day, but still comfortably an hour before noon, he could finally see the looming bulk of Wangshu standing tall against the sky as he left the Guili plains and crossed into Dihua marsh. With the great tree in sight, he finally took the opportunity to relax his guard a bit - not that he would ever be in danger, but having a good awareness of one's surroundings is the first step to victory in any battle. At least close to the inn, the Millelith should be on patrol keeping the area clear of hilichurls and highwaymen.
However, it is precisely the moment that he relaxes and drops his guard that he wishes he most had it. With a dark swirl of anemo, a figure appears before him with all the suddenness and intent of a great storm. For the first time in a long while, he startles, and beside him he feels Temasha do the same, her fur standing all up on end. Before Childe can even so much as summon his hydro blades the man- boy leans right into his personal space, pointedly grimaces, and leaves with a scoff, another swirl of teal and black, and all the suddenness of his entrance.
After thoroughly defrazzling - Temasha even insisting on a spare moment to comb her tail into less of a bottlebrush - man and Daemon practically sprinted the rest of the journey to the Inn.
“So,” he begins the moment he steps up to Verr Goldet’s desk, leaning across the polished wood and right into her face with a grin, “I'm sure you know who I represent and why I'm here, but first, could you tell me everything you know about a short, teal, anemo-using lad who hangs around here?”
To her credit, the Innkeeper maintains an impressive facade, hardly blinking at his blatant discourtesy. “That would be Xiao, the local guardian Yaksha.”
He maintains his pressure, “Sorry, foreigner here, mind explaining what exactly a ‘yaksha’ is?”
“Yakshas are the elite warriors of Liyue’s Adepti,” she leans in a little, sporting her own perfect retail smile, “Surely, given who you represent and why you’re here, you know what the Adepti are, yes? Now, I believe the man you are looking for is out on the balcony to the left, and I'm sure neither of us wants your business here to take any longer than necessary.”
He leans back, heading in the direction she had indicated and flashing her one of his more genuine grins - at least she had been helpful.
As Childe had hoped, he is able to get back to the city just in time to see the lights of the Harbor glittering in the early evening.
Thanks to the Innkeepers assistance, the job had taken even less time than he had expected - a blade to his throat and Temasha’s steel-trap jaws locked tight around the flighty form of the man's struggling sparrow Daemon had him quickly coughing up whatever money he had on his person as well as an agreement to a repayment contract with a frankly obscene interest rate.
He had then hurried the whole way back, Yaksha on his mind. There was something about the man - Adeptus, that viscerally confused him, but as of yet he wasn't able to recall quite what it was about the boy that gave him such an unsettling air. And it certainly wasn't the dark taint that clung to the air even after the Adeptus had vanished. He isn't such a hypocrite to say that abyssal stains make him uncomfortable.
He’ll figure it out.
But that thought will also be shelved for later, for as soon as he returns to the bank, Ekaterina hands him a letter.
To his distaste, he recognizes it immediately. The packaging and ‘express post’ label reduce it to the highest ranks of the Fatui, and among the other Harbingers none have quite the flamboyant calligraphy of the Inazuman native.
And only Scaramouche would choose stationary this garishly purple. Ugh.
He returns to his office and braces himself for the obnoxiously whiny tone that somehow manages to always carry through despite the nearly impeccable penmanship.
‘Dearest Temasha and the 11th,’ it begins. Off to a great start, Childe is already done and it hasn't even been a full sentence. Unfortunately, this method of address is not at all unusual, Scaramouche has always had a bizarre fondness for his Daemon - it made an odd amount of sense considering the brat was from Inazuma and that Signora had explained once that one of his ‘mother figures’ (a surprise he had any, to be sure) would sometimes take the form of a small pinkish Inazuman fox, presumably quite similar in appearance to Temasha herself. Oh, and there was the fact that the Balladeer had no Daemon of his own, as he was apparently a puppet made in the image of a God and not technically human.
Hold up, that's what had been bugging him about his encounter with Xiao - as far as he could recall the Adeptus had no Daemon either.
Perhaps the lack of a Daemon was consistent for all of Liyue’s supernatural entities?
Wait a minute.