Day 5: 'Lurk'

CW: angst


It feels like something is always on his tongue's tip. A shadow that clings to his back, sweltering with its darkness. It lines his mind, creeping about the corners, lingering there until it sees its chance, a fleeting moment to serve as an opening.

The Abyss is a constant part of Childe's being, waiting to strike when he's down for the count. There is strength to be found within it. Childe's titling as a Harbinger is only one part battle prowess, most parts unhinged madness from that which lurks below.

Childe is no fool. Like the Delusion that hangs on his belt, the Foul Legacy comes with a price. With every use he slips deeper and deeper, he feels the call of the Abyss more and more. And oh, how he wants; Childe clings to that darkness as though it is a lifeline. He pulls and tugs at it, soaking up its bitter coldness, molding it to suit his needs.

Harbingers always die in the field. It is not a matter of if, it is a matter of when—and unlike the others, Childe is pitifully mortal, his years already ticking down before he ever bent the knee. It is why he wishes for godhood. It is why he challenges divine beings, and sneaks through crypts searching for everlasting life.

It is an honor to die for the Tsaritsa, blessed be her name; but it is more so to serve her for eternity, an everlasting Vanguard who strikes fear into her enemies' hearts.

Childe is resigned to his fate. He gives in to the darkness that smooths over his mind, cool and tendril-like in the way it caresses him. A friend, he thinks. The Abyss is his only friend. It is the only thing that understands him, it made him what he is today.

And then he meets Zhongli, with his golden-eyed gaze and gentle tilt to his mouth. With his antiquated words and verbose prose, and the way that he sniffs indignantly when someone brews his tea too long.

Zhongli, with his soft caresses and gentle fingers pressed against the small of his back. With his late-night kisses and secrets shared underneath the cover of the stars.

For the first time in his life, The Abyssal taint that rages through Childe calms. More like a placid lake than a stormy sea, Childe could think for the first time in years. He doesn't hear cruel words urge him for bloodlust, and he doesn't feel the need to slick his fingers red with blood.

Instead, he dreams of quiet nights and slightly too-bitter tea. Of his face in a lap and a book being read aloud as Zhongli combs through his tangled hair, uncaring of its mess. The darkness in him still lurks, but it is tampered by this unwavering bright light that seems to leak from Zhongli's pores.

"Ajax?"

Childe blinks, turning to Zhongli. Despite their affection, things have not been easy. They had a falling out that they are slowly trying to repair. Zhongli is ever-patient, though, head tilted slightly as he waits for Childe to answer.

"Sorry, I was just lost in thought."

Zhongli is quiet for a long moment. "You smell of…"

Childe chuckles, a soft and bitter sound. "The Abyss, no doubt." Zhongli's face wrinkles, but he doesn't say anything further. "I'm alright."

"Are you?" Zhongli doesn't look convinced. "When it comes to you, I am often at a loss. You are prone to brushing over things that you see as a nonissue."

"This is just part of my life."

"Which makes it part of mine."

Childe stills, wrapping his fingers around his hot teacup to distract himself. He licks at his lips and thinks of his words. "I—" He isn't good at giving up control, it's why he left in the first place. He stares into the amber liquid that steams in his cup.

"It is a part of you," says Zhongli, finally. "I would never expect that you separate from it, but Ajax, I am old and I know."

"Know what?" Childe hates how pitiful his voice sounds.

"That it never goes away."

Childe sighs, rubbing at his face. "It's like a shadow, you know. Clings to me like a second skin."

"Would you rid yourself of it if given the chance?" Zhongli does not ask in judgment.

And Childe doesn't know how to answer. "I… am unsure."

Zhongli hums, sipping his tea. And they sit like that, the threat of the Abyss blanketing as they both think.

Finally, Childe admits, "It was worse before we met. And It got worse again when I left."

Zhongli's face melts slightly, and a soft smile stretches his mouth. He reaches over the table, curling his fingers around Childe's hand and squeezing it. "The Abyss doesn't like to lose its control."

There are a lot of things that they still have to work through. Old arguments, expectations, and that shitty bag of tea that Childe brought from the north. Just like the Abyss, these things lurk about too, causing unease to thrum in his veins.

But Zhongli's hand is warm against his.

Childe has missed it.