Work Text:
All things eroded, but all things did not erode equally. Some things succumbed to time easier than others, and some were unyielding and resilient. For better or for worse, instinct was often the last to fade.
A dragon’s instinct, especially without reason, was a dangerous thing, but in this moment, Zhongli decided that it was beneficial.
For when the ruin hunter swooped down from the canopy in a whirl of blades, he did not need to think. He merely acted.
Even after centuries of peace, the reflexes of a war god were adequate, though perhaps his age was showing, because his shield was hasty at best, and it hardly withstood the blade of the ruin hunter the way it should have. His arm took the brunt of the hit, and hot pain ran up his nerves.
That feeling was familiar, still, though it had been quite a while. He did not miss it.
He did not regret it, however, because it meant that he had absorbed the blow. The alternative was unacceptable—for his young companion to have been struck instead.
“Mr. Zhongli!” Yanfei cried, shocked either by the ruin hunter’s sudden appearance or by his equally sudden movement.
“One moment,” he requested.
Perhaps it was not his job to deal with the ruin machine, but he could not ignore it either. Though Zhongli was no longer Rex Lapis, protector of all of Liyue, he was currently contracted by the young half-adeptus lawyer as a consultant. He was her companion on this venture, and though protecting her from wayward enemies was not the same as helping her determine the validity of accused sabotage regarding old adeptal shrines, Zhongli was supposed to make sure this visit to Wuwang Hill went smoothly.
Young Yanfei may have adeptal blood, and some aptitude with pyro, but she was not a fighter. As it was just the two of them on the hill, that role fell to him. It was only natural that he saw this encounter to the end.
So while instinct was responsible for him taking the first move against the waywardly activated machine, Zhongli rationalized that it was okay to carry through.
(Though if he were honest with himself, he knew that it was also because it was impossible to turn a blind eye to such matters, even if he told himself, over and over and over again, that he could not be Liyue’s shield forever.)
The ruin hunter turned, missiles at the ready. This time, Zhongli put thought into making a proper shield, both around himself and Yanfei.
She raised her catalyst, pyro bouncing against its hull. It would weaken it in time, yes, but Zhongli was familiar with Khaenri’ah’s technology.
He summoned a spear in his other hand, the one not weighed down by the throbbing pain, and he threw it like a javelin. Zhongli was rusty in body and battle, of course, but he was not completely gone. The machine was not moving, either, so the spear easily made its mark, lodging itself through the eye of the ruin hunter.
With a spark and a tremor, it fell to the ground, deactivated.
“Oh,” Yanfei squeaked, her surprise evident. Hm. Perhaps he should have toned it down. That was an easy throw, yes, but would it have been easy for a mortal funeral consultant? He was not sure.
“That was incredible, Mr. Zhongli!” she said. “I didn’t realize you were trained with a polearm like that.”
“…It never hurts to learn a weapon art or two.”
“That’s true, but still, that was quite the skill. You must be really good at it. But, ah—your arm.”
“Hm?” His arm?
Ah yes. The injury. It throbbed dully, promising that it could very well leave a mark, but a few hours soaking in the passive geo of the plains or the mountains would put him in good working order, he was sure.
“Here. I learned first aid from Madame— Er, I mean from a friend of mine. Let me look at it.”
That was unfortunate. He could get away with being a master of weaponry, it would seem, but Zhongli doubted that his geo-covered arms would escape her notice. Besides, normal first aid would not work on them. It was not worth the effort. (Though he knew that Madame Ping, her mentor, very well knew the ins and outs of elemental healing.)
“Thank you, but I am fine.”
Yanfei did not back down. While she was much more spirited than her father, he could see the resemblance now, in that stalwart resolve. “I saw it tear through your sleeve. Please. If you were to be injured while under contract with me, that would be my problem, would it not? If you don’t want me tending to it, then at least let me appraise the damage.”
Ah. It would seem she had a point. It would be careless of him to deny her peace of mind, though Zhongli would hardly think to look for legal trouble over such a small matter. It was his own doing anyway.
Unable to avoid the matter, he offered her his arm with a resigned sigh. “It is not a grievous injury, I assure you. It will heal in time.” It would scar, perhaps, but he had many of those. One more hairline on his cracking form would not make a difference. Not now, at least. (One day, he would reach his limit, but not now.)
“Still, it doesn’t hurt to be care…ful.”
Yanfei witnessed the dark brown and pulsated gold of his arm, a remnant from his dragon nature that was not easily hidden. Not without a magic that his geo did not lend itself easily to.
She blinked at him, and though her confusion was evident in his stalled movement, he could see the calculation behind her eyes. She was a smart one, after all.
“You’re an adeptus,” she realized.
Smart, but still young. She could not remember the nuances of dragons, nor the preferred form of Rex Lapis, when he walked as both a human and a god.
Still, she was not wrong, per se. Zhongli saw no need to qualify her statement by adding detail.
“I am. My apologies, for the misdirection—though I hardly am the only one who chooses the mundane, as I am sure you are aware.”
She blushed awkwardly. He knew her heritage well, but she did not advertise it. Zhongli understood why, of course, especially since she wished to build her reputation from her legal precedence alone.
“You’re not wrong,” she chuckled.
So Zhongli merely smiled in return, grateful as the matter slid away before it could reach its full height.
They both pursued the same anonymity, after all; there was no need to let the full weight of the truth hinder that.