endursent

[endursent]

I HAVE RETURNED

i had to leap straight into a few 12hr shifts as soon as i landed home but it's back to normal schedule!

i've started working back on what i stopped before finals, hopefully i'm not rusty 🫡

[endursent]

✸ — MISC NOTICE. ; minors dni. VERY RUSHED AND MESSY UEUEUE mara struck ! jing yuan x reader. maybe expanding on this particular thought lolol, this is not my current jy wip btw it's just a blurb, jing yuan is not all there guys, caharcter death ( it's u but ur immortal surprise ), VERY CANON DIVERGENT AND IS VERY MUCH AN AU ( it's soulsbourne inspired i want to turn this man into a boss fight with tragic lore you read from a random item you pick up lolol. also maaaaybe some very light referenced inspos from mouthwashing ). again very messy but i might expand on this au some more. not edited!!!

you're running out of supplies.

it's a thought that unearths some age old panic inside. you're a little surprised you could tip over any further from the edge ( you're already swimming in the tacky stench that is your anxiety -- the stuff with the consistency of molasses and malt ). Then you're rifling and recounting again, scribbling into your little notebook as your burns sting like salt over wounds.

you're running out of supplies. there's so little left ( a few protein bars and some bottled water left unvapourized post crash ) and it's sickening to think of the decisions after. you know that perhaps, swallowing away the last few bits of horror is a wiser choice. you need to step out some time. you need to forage and restock and --

gingko leers closer. its stink makes you gag. you want to empty your stomach out -- meager rations and stomach acid. all of it.

the things have not left their prowling. they still wait, watch, wonder. some have started to pace at the boundaries of the impact site and poke at the metal covers of the ship. you hear their clicking at night. the garbled distortions gurgling at their throat. their eyes are empty, a once human caricature that's twisted itself inside out.

you take a breath in. you breathe out.

"get up." you tell the pathetic face reflected on the metal cannisters. "there's nothing else to be done."

the reflection blinks back, sad eyed, tired eyed. you grimace and set it aside, shakily rising up and sweeping through the past logs you'd left behind. comms are still down. the delivery packages don't have much to eat save for spare clothes and jewelry. one had a model set of one of the newer ipc ships, complete with two tiny pilots to sit at the cockpit.

your old crewmate had tried to assemble it before his fingers grew numb and he'd curled up to rest ( it's still on the side table, unfinished. you couldn't touch it. the grief just refuses to unstick, still lost somewhere out in the stars.

he was the youngest. he had a future to look forward too, a little more shine in his eyes and a flush to his cheeks. a little more breathless awe that he's chatter through with messy sticky note art and his stumblings over countless books over white holes and rouge planets. )

the garbling spikes up. you catch a shadow by the frosted windows. you freeze.

then silently, you're curled into your corner again, white knuckled as you stare at it, left with nothing but shaky hands and the wild heartbeat ringing in your ears.

you died when you do step out. the things had found you wandering past the abandoned crates, scuttling forth by the pack-full and dragging you into the darker corners as their scathing cries tear your eardrums apart and their claws scoop your insides open.

you'd then woken to see muscle and tissue and visceral matter grow back and stich together -- neurons reconnecting, muscular tissue reworking, epithelium taking form over it all.

and you...you watch in muted horror.

you keep foraging after you discover you cannot die. it;s something that had fundamentally changed about you -- the reworking of your body. it's clinical terror at it's finest, the breaching of unnatural surreality. even if the delivery company finds you, the ruling ipc body will just cut you open again and again.

you hunch your shoulder, hugging the walls. there's still nothing here. nothing more to pick at and the hunger still gnaws at you with the days passing by. your shoes scrape against the grit and grime and you peek out. the way through is empty. good, your mind rings, followed by a wave of uneasiness that refuses to push itself down.

you scamper to the next hiding spot. it's painfully slow. you're short of breath.

again, you scuttle out, take a turn.

you stop.

one of the things are here, face down and half disintegrating into yellow flakes. it doesn't breath, staying stock still as blood polls and fans out beneath it. you almost bend over and retch, but you take a shaky step forth, then another and take a closer look. it looks like the others, differently built, but still clad in the same rusty armour ( the kind whose clinking warns you of their approach ).

you take a knee and try tugging the helmet off. the branches creak. it doesn't budge.

your fingers pitter patter over the surface, nudging a little anxiously. it doesn't wake. it almost seems dead. you want to banish that thought and keep moving -- the abundance is a face long gone from the cosmos. the remnants of it may have scattered into the cosmos, spores taking to planets to let it's mycelium take root. it's not a thing easily killed.

at least you think this thing is one of it's monstrosities. the aeons are beings you'd rather not think too much about. you are not one for blind fanaticism. it's a belief worn out of you over the years in bleak emptiness.

a bit of cloth is tugged down. "fuck." you mumble, shaking your head. you almost sob. "fuck what am i doing?" the cloth is pulled further aside. there's a sliver of grey, and something cool, soft, corpselike.

human.

your stomach flutters. you peek up the helmet. the skin of it's face had distorted, overgrown and pressed against the metal till it fuses into the surface. this time, you do vomit.

fuck, fuck, fuck you do not like what you're seeing. you need to keep going. keep going. keep going.

you shakily stumble back up and jog past the body, almost slipping over the coagulated blood. it coats your palms and your head spins as you wipe it at the sides of your clothes, spiraling down further and further in. there's a spin to the world around you, the spotting of the environment, the blurring of the grates to the flickering morning and night cycle.

a rumble vibrates against your feet. you gasp, it's a dry, panicked sound, breaking into a run. your muscles scream and you nearly fall over at your pants catch against one of the metal barriers. you whimper, your water cannister falling behind you. you hear it roll down and hit a stairwell. still, you run.

you jolt to the side and scramble between two crates and crouch. a few of the things skitter by. there's distress in their voices. there's fear in how the wrestle past just as the air seems to electrify and you start smelling the stinging of ozone. it's like a distant rumble, thunderous, a dangerous clutch against your ribs. you make yourself as small as possible. you feel small, pushing yourself deeper in, slotting just inside a small nook and out of sight.

you do not see it walk past. you hear it, measured steps against the road. your hands clamp over your mouth, biting away that muffled blubber. you cannot die, you remind yourself. even if it finds you, you cannot die. and you have died a few times already...there's little to think of save for staving over that hunger. so little.

and you remember the pain. the screaming ache. the pain it comes with. you remember the agony of fixing yourself back together. you remember the gaps in your memories, the hazy edges and the way you'd forgotten your date of birth, your mother's face.

you squeeze your eyes shut. your breaths are laboured.

there's silence.

the footsteps have stopped.

you open your eyes. you see the looming shadow cast on the road. you still don't see it. you watch it shift, metal scraping against metal. you hear it huff ( is it amused? ) and something falls. something rolls and hits the storage containers in front of you. you watch wide eyed, your cannister rolling back, past your little way out, down, down, down the street and stairs.

the noise is loud. uncomfortable.

you want to scream till your vocal chords give out. you want to tear into your face, your eyes, your mouth. you do not.

the footsteps start again. they fade till it's echo is near inaudible. and you wait, paranoia settling into the cracks while your world starts to distort into the lines of madness. finally, as the sky flickers for the umpteenth time and you feel like the world has settled, you crawl out of your hiding spot and breathe the air in.

you smell gingko.

a hand closes around your neck. you're slammed against the metal walls as a cheek presses into yours. you just see silver, a pretty silver just as your windpipe cracks and your throat gives in. you stop clawing at your hands, broken wheezing rattling your chest. there's a blurriness. your tears fall. the figure lifts your chin up, vermillion flooding past. you feel like ice, like the charred remains of a corpse.

you can't make out his features. it's smudged. but you see the cold contemplation.

and you let death have you again, and cast you aside. you have no place in it's bedside.

you wake once more where it had left you. your bones are still stitching together, your inhales pained and the soreness of your back aching against the metal. you stare into the space across listlessly waiting, waiting, waiting.

how wonderous, you think, half giddy from asphyxia and the taste of sweat in your mouth. you could feel the knitting of damaged tissue in your throat. how bizzarre, how sickening.

you feel a little less human, your last name sinking past the surface, out of your grasp, away from your protests. you try to remember. you cannot.

you see it...him properly after a few more outings. the same silver hair, the same red dipped gold eyes. and he watches you too, an empty smile curling over his lips. the most human thing you'd seen far, yet not. it's an unnecessary addition. you wish you'd both never crossed paths.

"oh."

"oh?" he echoes, amusement lilting at the edges. it's playful, menacing. you take a step back when the frost at your feet melts away and ozone pervades your senses. he lingers, let's you fall back, let's you panic.

and you run.

and he chases.

and you die, under his breathless, rumbling laughter.

( the madness is a waiting beast. you know you cannot keep escaping it. but still, still still, you try to dance and still, still. still, it tries to pounce.

it's simply the way of things now. plain and simple ).

TAGLIST ノ join the taglist. — @silentmoths @meimeimeirin @sleepynoons @endursent.

@jessamine-rose @ofoceansandtombsanew @thatkawaiidesubitch @afterdarkwithkaeya.

@pomegranate-eater

[endursent]

i wont be able to get the cat fic update nor gss ch14 out before i leave on vacation in 4 days unfortunately.

i wanted to get them out before i left, but all my final assignments and finals exams got pressed around this weekend before i fly out on the 7th, and it's my work week as well, which means a lot of 12hr shifts (writing this in the last 30 mins of a 12hr, before another 12 tomorrowಥ_ಥ)..

let's look at it as an early summer break for me, and i'll be back in early june with fire for fingers! hopefully i will be inspired and write a lot, and then the semester is of course over so i have nothing to drive my attention away!

[endursent]

poll's concluded, i'll zigzag between adding hsr and genshin characters. will probably start with hsr? i'd like to get dan heng in there, poor guy got left out because i forgot him, lol.

for the newest update to the cat transformation series, i've thought about changing the format a little. it used to be rather short per character and a lot of characters at once... for the upcoming chapter/addition, i'd like to add a good chunk of new and old characters i didnt include before (ex. dan heng, argenti, mydei, anaxa for hsr etc) for both games but i'd also like to make it more... story-involved? and not just imagine slop like i kind of feel like the other chapters were like. i also want to make parts for the female casts.

so the two options are; the fic is longer per-character, has more of a plot and actual story focus and not just "imagine slop" like i feel the others were, but fewer characters at a time, only two or maybe three at most per-post. (might take longer to get to every character that's missing)

keep same length as before, more lighthearted and just a short "what-if". more characters per-post and less emphasis on making every part unique. (characters will get their shine faster)

i'm going on vacation for 3 weeks on the 7th of may, so whichever will be chosen, the next update will hopefully release before i go.

[endursent]

for the newest update to the cat transformation series, i've thought about changing the format a little. it used to be rather short per character and a lot of characters at once... for the upcoming chapter/addition, i'd like to add a good chunk of new and old characters i didnt include before (ex. dan heng, argenti, mydei, anaxa for hsr etc) for both games but i'd also like to make it more... story-involved? and not just imagine slop like i kind of feel like the other chapters were like. i also want to make parts for the female casts.

so the two options are; the fic is longer per-character, has more of a plot and actual story focus and not just "imagine slop" like i feel the others were, but fewer characters at a time, only two or maybe three at most per-post. (might take longer to get to every character that's missing)

keep same length as before, more lighthearted and just a short "what-if". more characters per-post and less emphasis on making every part unique. (characters will get their shine faster)

i'm going on vacation for 3 weeks on the 7th of may, so whichever will be chosen, the next update will hopefully release before i go.

[endursent]

My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (2)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , slight shenanigans , gn!reader 】

【 characters; alhaitham , arataki itto , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli 】

【 premise; " Your partner has been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned him into a cat, you have no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet you also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; made the genshin version... no reason for this to be like 19 pages 😭 】

【 word count; 8.723 | read on ao3 | hsr ver | hsr reader ver | gi reader ver 】

Alhaitham ;

Kaveh gaped at you when you brought a cat into the house, one that… looked eerily similar to a certain blockhead. “I can explain,” you say as you set the cat down on the floor, he doesn’t enter the house further than you do, instead sitting down by your feet and observing the interaction with… interest? Amusement…? 

  Kaveh didn’t need much to be convinced, and immediately he thanked the Archons for giving him a few days of respite. Even just a few days of Alhaitham being unable to comment on what he does or nag him is a blessing.

  For you, it’s a bit of a hassle… because he keeps disappearing! Not in an alarming way, because you find him again in the most secluded, quiet spots you would never even think of. Under your laundry, in an empty box that Kaveh hadn’t put away after getting a delivery, and even under the desk in the study—Kaveh accidentally kicked him and got a feisty scratch on his ankle. He learned his lesson. 

  He follows you around and—though he let you pick him up the first time—doesn’t let you carry him around, preferring to walk on his own… and wander off to explore nooks and crannies he has never been able to see, but he always shows up again before you reach your destination. 

  He has also claimed your pillow as his own and refuses to let you use it, loafing on top of it exactly when you thought you could get there before him. Which… in hindsight is fine, you’re not opposed to using his pillow, it smells like him after all. 

  You decided to test how much of a cat he really is, whether it’s appearance alone or instinctual as well and bought a cat toy with a whisker on the end as well as a small bell below it. You expected him to perk up and try to whack or catch it as soon as you wriggled it beside him… but his grey furred ears just lowered in annoyance and he hopped off the kitchen counter, it seems like having even more sensitive ears in this state makes his dislike for uncomfortable noises more intense. 

  He forgave you when you spent ten minutes scratching the itchy spot behind his ears after tracking him down. A small, rumbling purr left his chest as you moved your hand to scratch under his chin—he was, however, more curious about this instinctual reaction and demanded you continue after you drew your hand back.     Despite it being very much an unspoken rule between the two of you that neither of you should be disturbed ‘needlessly’ when reading or working at home, when you borrowed a few books from the Akademiya to try and figure out how to turn your partner back to normal, Alhaitham decided it would be very reasonable for him to lay down over your book… which you are very much trying to read.

  But when you ask him what he needs, he just blinks at you three times, very slowly. You’ll likely never be able to crack that brain of his, even in a form that is somehow far more expressive.

Arataki Itto ;

It’s difficult enough to keep track of him—and keep him out of trouble—on a normal day… now? You took your eyes off him for a second, and he’s gone. Shinobu split up with you to cover more ground while the rest of the gang scoured the streets of Inazuma City, at least as much as they could.

  You peek between baskets, crates and stalls, walk through tight alleys and even squint into a few windows… nothing!

  You had been very close to giving up and returning back to the meeting point by the bridge… until you heard a very distressed, very loud meowing. Following the sound, you come to a tree stretching over the gardens of a teahouse. What looks to be the owner of it stands below the tree with a basket, trying to ask Itto—stuck up on a wobbling branch—to jump into it.

  Exasperation is one way to describe what you feel as you approach the old lady, you put your hands on your hips and Itto notices you immediately. His meowing turns from frantic and panicked… to a sheepish pleading. Every movement he makes causes the branch to sway and wobble, and it looks like it could easily bend and break—and you don’t want to cause any trouble for the teahouse owner. “Itto, come on, hop down.”

  He meows and shakes his head, white fur swishing dramatically. 

  A sigh leaves you as you step closer and hold your arms open. “I’ll catch you, trust me,” you encourage him… and he finally relents, with wobbling paws, he leaps from the branch—fur shining in the sun as he practically flies in the air towards your open arms… and lands on your head. He panics and tries to adjust and not fall off, and you try to pry him away from your face as his belly nearly suffocates you—it’s a scene from a comedic play.

  Shinobu is glad for her mask, because when you return with Itto under your arm you have scratches on your face and forehead, and Itto is whining and meowing sorrowfully. 

  He spends the entire evening licking your ‘wounds’, dragging his coarse cat tongue over every spot so often that the licking starts to become more painful than the scratches themselves. But you let him, it makes him feel much better than you—and you don’t particularly need comfort, but if he doesn’t get it, he will whine all night. 

  So you let him knead your thighs and stomach even as his claws prick through your clothes and you make sure to pet him and stroke his fur when he snuggles against you… and then you wake up in the middle of the night, suffocating with his furred belly against your face when the lies on top of you.

Baizhu ;

You’re very happy that Baizhu is catching a break—something you often try to convince him to do—despite the strange way of being forced into it… however, it’s very difficult to focus on running the pharmacy in his place by yourself while also trying to make sure he doesn’t roll off the shelf he’s napping on… especially because Changsheng wriggles in her sleep and keeps nudging him closer to the edge.

  You decide it’s easier if you have them sleeping on separate surfaces and reach up to pick up your pliant partner-turned-cat. He effectively falls into your arms and blinks lazily, slightly confused by the sudden transport. “Just moving you so you don’t hit your head,” you dodge around Qiqi as she runs past you with an armful of jars and set Baizhu down on the counter, his tail sways lazily and he immediately flops on his side as a beam of sunlight sneaks through the window and directly onto his fur.

  Every time a customer comes by—with approval—they give Baizhu a small pet or scratch before leaving, as if paying tribute to the good doctor. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  Unfortunately, you’re not fit to take Baizhu’s place for consultations, and thus they all get delayed—which was a hell of a lot of work to contact everyone and change scheduling—until Baizhu is back to normal. The usual hours of consultation in the morning are therefore replaced with longer opening hours of the pharmacy and by pulling some strings, an increased stock of rarer products at a discounted price. 

  Changsheng does not let poor Baizhu catch a break, she wiggles her tail and swipes it in front of his paws, and unable to control the feline instincts harbouring his body—Baizhu chases after her tail like a kitten playing with a toy. He whacks at it and tries to capture it, but the white snake is far quicker than even you expected her to be as a sudden game of cat and mouse (snake) takes over your living room.

 The feline form, however, doesn’t come with free stamina—and Baizhu is not in good shape. He flops down on the carpet, exhausted from the play even as only seven minutes have passed. You feel a bit bad and scoop him up for some cuddling, which seems to be just the remedy he needed. 

  Baizhu is very careful around the clinic, he doesn’t knock anything over—even though he REALLY wants to sometimes, and is mindful of not getting fur or saliva on anything that could potentially be consumed by anyone with allergies. Changsheng has taken to wrapping herself around your shoulders instead, and though you’re used to her, it’s a little annoying to get a comment on every little thing you do. 

  But at the end of the day, Baizhu curls up next to you and you wake with him lying over your chest, belly to the skies and paws in the air, comfortable and content. Though you will always prefer him in his normal state, he is very cute like this.

Cyno ;

You look around the large front hall of the House of Daena, panting slightly as you try to catch your breath… that damn Cyno! Making you chase him across the entire city! 

  You spot some pawprints and squint as you look around… he’s not bringing all that dirt into the house—you were just going to rinse him a bit, but he’s run off! You finally spot dark and creamy coloured fur… perched up high on a massive decorative piece of the wall. He looks down at you with a swaying tail, completely at ease knowing that you won’t be able to catch him all the way up there.

  You almost consider inquiring about one of those massive ladders the library has to reach the high shelves, it might be long enough…

  But very well, he wins this round. 

  Once he turned into a cat, you were very excited about petting him, rubbing his ears and stroking his tail—but he’s not having any of it. Sometimes, you wonder if someone stuck a firework in his ass and lit it up, because the bouts of zoomies he gets is so frequent you wondered if there was something wrong—but you couldn’t catch him to take to a vet either! 

  After the first few days, Cyno seems to calm down… a little. He still prefers to survey the area (your living room) from above (your bookshelf) and watch you go about your day. It’s quite cute how his perked ears twitch every time you make a noise, as if he’s completely focused on what you’re doing.

  You soon find out after stepping a bit too close to the bookshelf that he might have just been waiting to strike, because he leaps onto your head as soon as you’re in range. 

  The only reason you know he’s fully conscious in that furred head is because while you were cleaning up after dinner, you spotted him sitting next to a cup of tea that was half-filled. You tense as you watch his paw raise to knock it off. “Cyno! Don’t,” you try to sound scolding.

  He looks up at you, he lowers his paw… then raises it again, making you glare at him. He lowers it again, turns away… you turn back to wiping the dishes and look over your shoulders after a few seconds—his paw is raised again!

  This back and forth continued until he finally knocked it over.

  And then he has the audacity during the next day’s dinner to sound like he has never been fed in his life while you’re trying to eat in peace. Meowing at you so loudly one would think he was terribly injured, eyes wide and mouth open. You hope your neighbours don’t think you’re trying to starve him, or treat him horribly.

Dainsleif ;

He’s not happy about it, he has things to do—places to be and investigations to make. Thankfully you’re familiar with where you were going next… but Dainsleif is very limited in what he can do. You decide to give him the task of scouting and sneaking around, something he’s used to doing anyway… but he finds that it’s much more effective to do so as a cat. His footsteps are completely silent and his senses are much sharper.

  Though, he had an instinctual need to swat at a glowing orb that you found in a strange vault half-buried in a cave in Fontaine before he could stop himself—which closed the two of you inside the vault. Thankfully he is now small enough that he could slip out between the bars and unlock it from the other side.

  It is quite cute how his ears flattened as you walked out, as if he was sorry. Though he seemed okay after you scratched behind his ears and assured him it was okay, he was here to help you out after all! His tail swayed in satisfaction to your assurance.

  You start to set down camp for the night, having just one pair of hands makes it a bit more of a lengthy process, and Dainsleif can only sit and watch as you put it together. He’s usually quite distant, even in a relationship—but as you straighten from squatting to fit something down, you feel something press against your leg and see him rubbing his furry cheek against you, then walking around your legs, tail trailing behind.

  He’s usually quite wary and alert, even during the night when you try and convince him to sleep—and it’s no different now. He sits poised and ready… for what? He’s a cat. But you appreciate the effort. 

  Surprisingly, he’s very active at grooming himself, the two of you usually have to bathe often anyway as you frequent dusty caves and muddy backwaters, but every time you make a stop, he sits down and starts licking his fur—at first you wondered if he was frustrated by something or had hurt himself, but as you picked him up to examine for any injuries or strange patches, he just blinked at you, tongue still half-hanging out.

  Dainsleif is rather laid-back when it comes to your relationship, there are times where you want to stay in a larger city for a few days or weeks in between travels, to have a soft bed and four walls around you—which Dainsleif doesn’t mind, there are places he wants to look into where he’d prefer you are safe elsewhere. He knows where you will be and will stop by to ask if you’re ready to continue days or even sometimes a few weeks later, to which you—recharged and rejuvenated—jump at the chance to follow him out of the city.

  But now, as a cat, he doesn’t leave your side for a minute—not even when you need to use nature’s bathroom. You went into a small village in Sumeru when passing through and a vendor was particularly pressing about selling you some type of perfume that you had shown brief interest in—Dainsleif had enough of you being pestered and whacked his paw at the man’s leg, hissing. He would usually be more subtle about guiding you away, but he doesn’t have the presence he usually does as he is now, so he must utilise the aggressiveness given to him in feline form. You take the chance to scoop him up and hurry away before the vendor can get upset, petting between his ears and thanking him for the help—he rubs his cheek against yours. He’s surprisingly more affectionate like this as well.

Diluc ;

Your nose itches… you try to hold back—achoo!!

  Diluc jumps, claws scuttling against the ground and he leaps from his resting spot and hops down to the floor. You sniffle and shake your head. “Sorry, it’s not your fault,” you stand from his chair and round the table to squat down next to him, reaching a hand out. “Did I startle you?”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound, fur red as freshly bloomed roses. Diluc bumps his snout into your palm and huffs into it, you turn your hand and pet along his back. “Aaah… you’re so cute~ so soft,” you near coo as you scratch behind his ears—

  Diluc shakes himself and ducks under your hand to walk past you—how dare you baby-talk him?! He’s not an actual cat! The scritches felt too nice, and his ears flicked when you cooed at him—it’s embarrassing…

  He sits down by the door, tail swaying lazily as a small meow leaves him. Let me out. 

  You pout, how can you not convey how cute he is? You want to rub his cheeks. But fine, you  walk over and open the door for him to slip out of. 

  Diluc likes the lounge around the fireplace in the estate, there’s not much work he can do  while you try to figure out how to turn him back—preferably without alerting his brother or any of the knights… or just anyone in general. Unfortunately, he can’t hide it from the staff of the Winery as he is a spitting image of himself in cat form, and you’ve caught more than three people trying to feed him expensive cheeses. 

  It’s only in the recent days that you’ve convinced him to settle down and use the time to rest and nap as much as he can, but Diluc was extremely restless at first, you had to trap him inside a room and trick him into lying down with you.

  One day, Jean came by looking for him, and you had to think fast to come up with an excuse while he had just leapt under the sofa to hide. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to need him urgently, so she just left a message behind and went back to her day.

  You fell asleep in Diluc’s study, trying to keep up with his paperwork—Adeline offered to help you, she’s very familiar with his work, and it’s not like it’s been a long time since he wasn’t there to do it… but you wanted to help, and as the sun sank below the horizon, you laid down on the sofa in his study next to a tall bookcase—only closing your eyes was enough to pull you into deep sleep.

  Diluc hops onto the sofa next to you, he carefully walks over your thighs and settles on the armrest where your head is. His fluffy tail sways and strokes your chin and nose—nearly waking you as you almost sneeze, you don’t have to work so hard for him, he knows you want to help. He wishes he could tell you, and he will, when he’s back to normal. For now, he rests alongside you, head leaning against the top of yours and tail tucked against your neck.

Kaedehara Kazuha ;

Kazuha is a very chill cat, he doesn’t get into trouble, he doesn’t cough hairballs on the floor and he doesn’t knock things over.

  (Instead of coughing hairballs on the floor he swats them off-deck with his paws, Beidou caught him doing it once).

  There’s not much trouble to get into on the ocean, and he’s rather good at keeping out of trouble overall on land, sticking by his side is a sureway to a boring day of exploration or lounging around—which is your perfect type of day.

  You help him into your bag as the Crux ‘boards’ by Liyue Harbour (it stops a bit away and tucked by a cliffside to avoid attention) and you make sure he doesn’t accidentally fall into the ocean as a few crewmates row to land. You’re stopping for a few days, so you make sure to use the time to relax and take in landside air and wander around the expansive Harbour. 

  Kazuha likes to take life at a slower pace, and thus your walk to the Harbour took longer than you expected… as you thought Kazuha was doing his normal meditation on a warm, sun-kissed rock along the road…

  But he was asleep, sitting up and enjoying the sun. It took you thirty minutes to realise—a sitting cat with its eyes closed and a sleeping cat in a sitting position is the exact same.

  He very much likes to people-watch, but in this cat form, he seems even more engaged—he can hear sounds more clearly and he seems even more perceptive than usual. Watching a tea maker brew a cup on a teahouse table you had sat by to rest and ordered some snacks. He sniffs at the tea as it’s placed in front of you—he’s perched comfortably on your lap, you’re surprised the teahouse even allows him inside—and seems to appreciate the detail he gets from this new perspective, af if it smells different in this form.

  He tries to taste it and your food, but you have to block his snout with your hand, you’re not sure if the food you were having would give him a stomach ache or not. 

On a walk on the outskirts of the city, you look back and see Kazuha carrying a stick in his mouth…?

  He’s not a dog, so you’re not entirely sure why he’s doing it, maybe cats do that too? The dogs that hang around the bridge leading to the southeast outside of Liyue Harbour try to approach him with the stick, thinking he was playing, but he hops into a tree to keep it to himself. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but he seems to be having fun.

  Kazuha wanders off oftentimes, just in his normal, usual body… so you’re not sure why you’re surprised when you suddenly find him missing from your side—perhaps it’s because he’s a cat and you’re unsure if he can defend himself as well in that form, but you hurry to look for him.

  You practically run in circles until you find him pressing his paw to a brown, crusty leaf… again and again, as if listening to the crunch of it in a rhythm. You sigh and scoop him up into your arms. “Don’t wander off like this,” you scold and poke his nose. Kazuha sneezes from the poke, but blinks up at you and nods his little furry head.

Kaeya ;

Unbothered, in his element. Kaeya sleeps in your windowsill and bathes in the sunlight all day while you scratch your head over how this could’ve happened. You try to leave for work and he practically screeches at the door, likely pleading you not to leave—he does that normally as well, except without the loud meowing. 

  Kaeya finds appreciation in the flexibility and grace that comes with this new body, he easily leaps up on shelves and dives under the sofa, he chases flakes of dust and seems to be having quite a good time—perhaps it’s because he has no responsibilities in this form, he can’t go to work like this and has no control over it. And the loss of control is strangely freeing. 

  You scoop him up into your arms and his tail swishes happily, he grabs his claws into your shirt and purrs as you rub his ears, happy and content with the additional affection. He loves all affection he gets from you no matter what form it takes, and being a cat has given him the opportunity to be pampered in ways he never could experience as a human. 

  He does need his free time as well and he uses it well while you’re out of the house—though you were very optimistic to think that closing the windows would keep him contained, Kaeya easily flips the handles and slips out of your home. He enjoys the attention he gets from any passersby, but is careful not to be too affectionate and get picked up by someone who thinks he’s a stray. 

  His usual guarded front lowers in this form, he feels like he could slip out of any situation—and he doesn’t have to be careful with his words or actions. No one expects a cat to have alternative intentions. 

  He jumps up in surprise as he hears footsteps rapidly approaching—he had fallen asleep on a ledge and the sun was already down. Kaeya blinks as you pick him up, breath heaving. “There you are, I’ve looked everywhere for you! I thought something happened when I couldn’t find you around the plaza,” you sigh a breath of relief and practically crush him to your chest. Kaeya wriggles a little but gives up and nuzzles into you, pushing his forehead into your cheek. 

  After a number of days, Kaeya gets bored, as fun as lounging around and being pampered it… he misses real food, and dragging you away from your work to have lunch—and holding you properly, he can only lay on top of you like this, which doesn’t exactly feel like holding.

  And Kaeya being restless… he gets whiny. 

  He would usually be more subtle, but now that he feels the rush of freedom his feline form gives him, he uses it to protest by loafing on your clothes after you fold them to put away, laying over your lap when you need to get up—even though he’s not really a cat… kind of, you still get the same feeling of not wanting to move him off no matter how much space he’s taking.

  But that’s okay, because he just has to slow blink at you and nuzzle into your hand and you forgive him, how could you not?

Kamisato Ayato ;

Ayato is an unreasonably pretty cat. His fur is soft and silky, he has this… smug kitty-smile at all times, and it makes you want to pinch his ears. He sits on your lap and peeks onto the low table inside his study as you go through paperwork. Just because he’s become a cat doesn’t mean his workload just miraculously lessens. 

  Thankfully, after a few days of trying to juggle his work—how does he do it?!—even with him by your side, albeit in a form that can’t properly communicate… Ayaka decides to lend a hand, she takes it upon herself to attend meetings and represent the clan and Commission in Ayato’s stead. Thankfully no one has questioned where he is yet.

  Or why there is a suspiciously similar cat trotting around the estate in his place. 

  You fish into a bush in the courtyard gardens, hand feeling around—until you find fur and yoink it up. Ayato blinks at you, tail swishing as he has a piece of grilled fish in his mouth that he stole from the kitchens. “You know… you can have all the fish you want—you don’t have to steal it,” you say as you lift him into your arms.

  His ears flick as you talk, but he eats the fish happily regardless. You shake your head in mild exasperation. Looks like he’s using the opportunity to engage in… more mischief than usual. Perhaps a different kind. 

  Ayato likes to use his newfound stealth and agility to his advantage… to torment you.

  You put away some laundry and turned to a shelf to fetch something—only to come face to face with Ayato’s cat-face, making you jump as he meows happily—as if happy to see you! He knows he’s just trying to startle you!

  He winds around your feet when you walk around the estate and purrs happily when you squint at him.

  Ayato knows the limits, he stops before you can lock him inside a room for the remainder of the day. His fur is so soft as you pet him and a rumbling purr leaves him, he knows it’s silly—he’s not really a cat, at least, hopefully not for long. But you keep petting and stroking him while he does. 

  He takes good care of himself on normal days, and as a cat, it’s no different—he grooms himself meticulously, though finds it rather embarrassing if you’re looking, so he tries to do it out of sight… it's very instinctual, but he also likes to feel clean and groomed. 

  You once passed the great hall and saw Thoma wriggling a toy with a bundle of feathers on it while Ayato chased it… it was pretty cute to watch, but you hurried along before either of them could notice you. 

  He hogs the futon, you don’t want to push him to the side and get pushed to the edge of the mattress yourself. Ayato doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

Kaveh ;

Distressed, not having fun, he wants to go home.

  A series of meows in varying states of distress and confusion follow behind you as you walk, you stop and turn around, peering down at the strange cat that’s been following you around since you left the Akademiya. You were about to ask what he wants… but as you squint at the cat… doesn’t it look familiar?

  Kaveh doesn’t stop when you do, he raises on his hind legs by your feet and sinks his claws into your pants, a shrill, distressed meow leaves him.

  You reach down and pick him up, holding under his front legs as you inspect him… hm, golden fur with tints of a darker, sandy brown… those big red eyes.

  “... Kaveh?” you must be crazy, there’s no way your partner is a cat, and followed you around without you realising, but you know those eyes very well. It’s him.

  Alhaitham just stares at you like you grew three additional heads, he looks at Kaveh in your arms and then back at you. “... it looks like him, but that’s not proof enough—have you asked him to write his name?”

  You look at Kaveh and he tilts his small head to look up at you. Write his name…? He doesn’t exactly have thumbs… but Alhaitham has a good point. What if it’s just a very persistent cat? 

  Then again… where would Kaveh be? He’s usually home by this time.

  Alhaitham fetches a pen and some parchment and you put Kaveh down on the table. He tries to use his paws at first but just spills ink all over the place—but as he grabs the pen with his mouth and clumsily scribbles his signature, Alhaitham just hums while you scoop Kaveh up again, holding him up. “It is you! What happened to you, Kaveh?”

  Of course, he can’t give a proper answer, he wriggles his paws around and meows in a long dialogue—but it’s entirely incomprehensible. 

  While you and Alhaitham try to figure out how to get him back, Kaveh tries to adjust to his… predicament. He doesn’t do it with any grace, though… his leaps and jumps across furniture are miscalculated and he falls to the ground or hits his head more often than you can count.

  But your worried petting and rubbing the aching area makes him purr and nuzzle into your arms.

  He does hate the heightened senses, he jumps at the smallest noise and scuttles across the room if anything startles him—and he gets startled very easily like this.

Neuvillette ;

You call his name, looking around his office… you scratch your head, he can’t have gone far, you just left to fetch some tea for a few minutes. It’s not like he can open the door or window and slip out—why would he anyway?

  You hear a very… pathetic meow, from next to you—but there’s nothing there, just a sofa. You hear it again—under the sofa…?

  Ducking down, you see that Neuvillette is stuck, he seems to have been trying to squeeze himself under the sofa, and rounding the furniture, you see his hind legs and tail flat on the floor… it’s a bit amusing. “There, I got you,” you say soothingly as you lift the sofa up a little so he can back out. Neuvillette stands up and shakes his body.

  You squat down and smile. “How’d you get stuck under there?” you hold out your hand and he presses his head into your palm, nuzzling against your skin for comfort as you turn your hand to scratch and pet him.

  He’s not very good at resisting the instincts and temptations that come with this form—you’re unsure why he seems to struggle so much, but you try to help him as much as you can, and not laugh.

  You saw him chase a shadow, there is an ornament on the raised blinds that hang above the large window in his office. It's attached to the strings that lower and raise them and it sways slightly—casting a shadow across the floor.

  Another time he was grooming his fur and struggling, he has a thick, long coat and had to lean far back to reach the end of his fur as his tongue dragged along the hairs… causing him to roll backwards off the arm of the couch and into the pile of pillows.

  Innocent, small things that make you smile, but you’re careful that he doesn’t see it.

  He loafs over a stack of court documents as you organise his desk—might as well use the opportunity to clean up while he won’t be making a mess. He doesn’t seem satisfied with his place on the desk and stands… and spots a box on the ground, it’s stacked halfway with old documents to be taken to storage… but it also looks like the perfect spot to rest. He hops down from the desk and circles a few times on the papers to get comfortable. He wriggles a little before sitting down.

  It takes him a minute to realise that he was kneading into the paper when he hears the sound of it tearing under his claws in an instinctual need to make the bottom of the box comfortable. 

  Safe to say, he was mortified to have destroyed the top four documents, but thankfully they weren’t shredded and you managed to salvage them with some memory of what had occurred as well as piecing them together.

Tartaglia ;

You look towards the window above the kitchen counter, cold air brushes into the house as Childe enters through it—with a mouse in his mouth.

  You leap up and push the book in your hand against his face and push him straight back outside. “No! Absolutely not! Leave it outside, not in the house!!” You close the window behind him and sigh in relief, brushing stray snow into the sink. When you look up again, He’s sitting there, big eyes and ears flat against his head… but no mouse.

  Sighing, you open the window a smidge so that he can step inside, where he shakes himself and tosses flakes of melting snow all over. 

  Childe sits down, tail swaying—as if waiting for something.

  You set your haps on your hips. “What?”

  “Mrrow…” he wriggles his head, he wants a pat. 

  … fine, just because he took the mouse outside because you ‘asked’, you raise your hand to stroke his head and he tilts it to lick your palm—but you pull back. “No, you just had a wild animal in your mouth, wash your mouth!”

  What is this?? He feels like a criminal, all he did was bring you a prize… to be fair, he realised how silly it was to bring you a dead animal when you leapt up to push him back out, but it felt completely natural up until that point!

  He whines and meows for forgiveness for the rest of the night, and you do eventually ‘forgive’ him and let Chile lounge around on your lap while you pet him and continue reading.

  He picks fights with swaying curtains, chases your broom when you’re cleaning and even whacked your cup of coffee off the dinner table—spilling it everywhere. He’s a nightmare in this form, because no matter the scolding, he just stares at you with excited, large eyes and a swaying tail.

  Nothing you say gets through his head. In one ear and out the other. 

  He does not give up either, if he wants affection, he will get it one way or the other, even if he has to whine and meow endlessly, follow you around—fake a limp! You shake him a bit after he worried you and you almost went out in the middle of the evening through the snow to take him to a vet when he just wanted scritches. 

  In all fairness… this is just typical behaviour, but now he has the kitten eyes to break your self control and composure within seconds. 

Thoma ;

He tries to do his job even in cat form, using his tail to sweep, he even takes his duster into his mouth and tries to sweep on surfaces he’d usually need ladders to reach, and now he can just leap to them.

  But he also has a problem…

  He has an instinctual need to create a mess, knock things over or sit on things—when he catches himself in an act of pushing Ayaka’s discarded tea off a table, he nearly leaps away to stop himself. 

  Thankfully, everyone around him doesn't mind—and it’s a bit relieving to see that Thoma retains a sense of himself. He finds time where he would usually go into town to instead nap—and the Kamisato estate has perfect napping spots. He lies sprawled across the engawa surrounding the eastern part of the estate near the back gardens, and lets the warm beams of the sun warm his belly—only to shoot up in surprise when he hears footsteps, embarrassed to be caught lounging around. 

  Ayato sometimes plucks him away to keep on his lap for hours while he sorts through paperwork, petting and scratching behind his ears while his other hand signs documents. Thoma gets a bit restless just loafing on his lord’s lap and meows in relief when you come along to fetch him. 

  Ayaka leapt at the opportunity to sew a few accessories for him, guised under the excuse of “practise for smaller bodies” and Thoma ends up with half a wardrobe by the end of the week. 

  But he prefers to be around you, you don’t trap him on your lap (even though Ayato gives very good scritches) or make him model for three hours (even though Ayaka gave him snacks). As you work around the estate, he gets tired—curse this cat body and it’s perpetual need for napping!—and you tuck him gently into your eri*. Thoma lays nestled against your chest warmly, his body light and still as you continue your work. 

  The gardens of the Kamisato estate is a disaster zone, and after the first few days, thoma knows to avoid it. 

  He had strolled past, early in his transformation—and been startled by his own reflection in the pond he passed by, the fish swimming away in a hurry as he ran across the gardens in surprise. A second time, he had spent twelve minutes chasing a butterfly while Ayato watched with a signature smile… he will likely not let him forget it. 

  Thankfully, he’s not needed much in the gardens, and he sits perched atop a high shelf in the kitchens, his tail sways as he leans forward… very much ready to leap and steal some food—before you pluck him up and raise an eyebrow.

  His ears flatten in realisation, but you rub his cheeks and tuck him back into your clothes—grabbing some leftover pears from the dessert the kitchens were making, letting him munch on it while you get back to work. 

Venti  ;

You didn’t think Venti could become even more of an airhead on a typical day as he does when he becomes a cat. He gets distracted by the smallest things and wanders off—leading to a wild goose chase where you have to ask around for a small darkly coloured cat with blue highlights on its ears and tail—a very distinct cat!—and being pointed in every direction possible.

  Only to discover him napping in a crate full of apples in an alley you walked past at least six times just in the last fifteen minutes. 

  He is also very vocal, Venti says anything that comes to his mind… which is unfortunately nothing but meowing nonsense to your ears, but you nod along as if you understand, having a halfway conversation with the lively cat. 

  Somehow, he very much likes to play and nap like he’s being paid to do it at the same time. In one moment, he’s swatting at your clothes and trying to get to play with your fingers—which he accidentally bites and scratches in his excitement, quickly rectifying it with some licks and nuzzles—and the next, he’s passed out cold in a box or on a shelf for five hours.

  He doesn’t seem embarrassed by these new catlike instincts, such as the need to groom himself—he even starts grooming you halfway through his coat, you’re sure your skin is very much clean by the time he finally turns back to himself. 

  Unlike normal cats, who move and settle down elsewhere when the person under them gets up… Venti is not happy about being disturbed nor that you’re trying to get up, he whines and kneads on your clothes to try and get you to stay a little bit longer, giving you the best big kitten eyes he can muster.

  And damn him, it works. He knows what he’s doing. 

  You had been looking for him one morning, thinking he just wandered off again and you’d find him napping in some corner of the city… when Diluc approaches you with a sheepish looking Venti-cat, holding him by the scruff of his neck. “This yours?”

  Diluc doesn’t even seem surprised that the bard is a cat. At least he isn’t an allergy risk when he’s human-like and trying to get into his wares. 

Wanderer ;

He is very aware of himself, he knows he looks stupid (cute) and that everything he does will be looked at through the lens of a typical cat and not someone stuck in its body.

  And thus, he does all he can to be as eerie and unnatural a cat as he can be.

  He doesn’t make a single sound, no meowing, no purring, nothing. He doesn’t walk like a cat—thankfully he doesn’t walk on two legs—nor does he exhibit any of their typical behaviours.

  At least, that was the plan. 

  Every single time Wanderer catches himself doing anything that could be considered “cat-like”, such as grooming himself, chasing a loose string, or gods forbid… kneading—he will immediately stop and compose himself again.

  As opposed to some others, he absolutely hates the loss of control that follows becoming a cat. 

  He can’t write properly, he can’t communicate—and if he tries, no one but you and perhaps Nahida takes him seriously—he’s always sleepy and aware at strange times… he hates it! 

  And once when he was just trying to have some grapes for snacks—you suddenly leapt towards him to stop him, taking the bowl off the table with a relieved huff when you noticed he hadn’t swallowed any of it… after you pried the grape out of his mouth. At his hissing, you explained that cats can’t have grapes. 

  He gave you the cold fur-shoulder for at least two days. 

  You brought him out one time to get some fresh air—since he’s fully aware of himself, he shouldn’t run off and get lost, or into a dangerous situation like an indoor cat might. But when you gave some other cats around the streets of Sumeru attention, he quickly meowed in protest and whacked the other cats away. 

  It’s a bit cute… he doesn’t normally act so forthcoming, and as he bumps his head into your knee afterwards, you rub his cheeks and pinch his ears despite further protest. How cute!

Wriothesley ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Wriothesley was just a “cat”. He’s huge*. 

  You put a bowl in front of him, filled with foods that are okay for cats to eat but also not… gross, as Wriothesley is very much aware in that cat-head of his. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with this, I even tasted it—it’s a bit bland ‘cause we can’t put any seasoning, but it’s food.”

  He leans down, and for a second you think that he’s going to eat it—but as his whiskers brush against the sides of the bowl, he lifts his head abruptly and swats at the bowl, clattering it to the ground—he didn’t mean to hit it at all, but also not this hard. 

  You scratch your head, you just can’t figure out why he won’t eat—you’ve tried everything!

  It took you several hours of back and forth questions and meowing to realise that it was the shape of the bowl that was the problem and not the food itself.

  On another day, you reach down to pet his soft, thick fur—only to get a static shock, it zaps your fingers and both of you jump back. You always have to be careful with petting him, as there’s always a risk of getting zapped at any time. Worst part is, it’s not even every time! It catches you off guard!

  He likes to climb and jump on the pipes that web around the fortress, getting into places he’s never even considered before—and sometimes you look around for him for hours before giving up… only to suddenly be leapt on from above by a nine kilogram heavy cat half your size, knocking you over.

  Siegwinne noticed that he had been brooding lately, he had been stuck as a cat for five days now and it was beginning to frustrate him. So she decided to soak a small blanket in tea mixed with catnip—after it was dry and she rubbed some more on it, she laid it out in his office…

  You watched him for a good long while as he rubbed against it, meowed and rolled on the blanket. It was unbearably adorable, but you eventually pulled him away after a while—worrying it might be too much.

  He’s so large that it’s almost like sleeping with a person, just a very furry one. He lies halfway over you and as you wake in the morning—he refuses to get up. You give in and relax in bed for a while… until he starts kneading your cheeks, leaving small scratches with his big paws and claws. You don’t stop him—it doesn’t hurt, he looks so focused, like he’s trying to squeeze something out of your cheeks. 

Xiao ;

He meows and wriggles in your arms, but you try your best to hold him until you reach the top of the inn—he swats at you and you finally let him go when you enter his usual reserved room. Despite being paws up when you let go of him, Xiao lands perfectly and immediately hops up to the highest vantage point in the room he could reach. 

  You don’t get him down by yourself, he only comes down willingly after a few hours when he’s calmed down and adjusted a bit to this form. You’re not entirely sure what happened, you had just been exploring a cave that was strangely entwined with a temple of sorts, when a bright light appeared behind you, and Xiao—who had been accompanying you—was suddenly a cat. A very small cat. 

  He loafs on the windowsill in the night, his tail wrapped around his paws as he peers towards the sky—at the slightest noise, his ears flicker towards it and he squints at the roads below that pass and surround the large inn. 

  He is unbothered. Firm. Stoic.

  … after getting wet under a pouring rain that persisted all day, he pretends not to be bothered by his wet fur and the uncomfortable existence he leads under this blanket of wet fur…

  But he can only pretend for so long. You turn away and pretend to busy yourself to allow him some privacy to reluctantly lick along his fur and smooth it down, trying to clean or groom it in a way that makes it less sloppy. 

  He hates it, this weird satisfaction that comes with this very primal instinct, and yet, he does still feel the satisfaction.

  Xiao is difficult to read on an average day, he’s very used to controlling his emotions and maintaining a front that’s difficult to get past.

  But as a cat… he’s an open book, he approaches you with a curled tail, he slow blinks at you when you drag your fingers through his fur as he loafs on the windowsill. 

  But he does. Not. Meow. 

  Except for that time you hauled his ass back to the inn… and when Zhongli makes a sudden appearance, he hops from his perched position and snakes around the former Archon’s legs, purring and meowing as he’s being petted and spoken to. He doesn’t notice his own behaviour…

  Not until the following night after Zhongli leaves, and Xiao is mortified that he behaved like an affection-depraved cat in front of Morax.

  Thankfully you sliding a comb through his fur and untangling some knots from the day distracts and calms him down in the evening.

Zhongli ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Zhongli was actually aware he was a cat, he follows you around, sits on a bench and licks his paw to clean it while you shop for groceries… he chases anything shiny that you come across and swats at it with his paws, leaps at it and tries to capture it—usually rocks or mora people drop. Maybe he likes the mineral, maybe it’s the shine. You can’t really know.

  You try to give him some nice food, cut down nicely so he won’t accidentally choke on it… but he won’t eat it, not unless you plate it properly…? At least, when you rearranged it better and separated the meats from the greens, he seemed to like it more. Maybe he thought you were treating him a bit too much like a pet rather than a partner that’s unfortunately become a cat for a (hopefully) limited time.

  After a long day of… not doing much, Zhongli realised he had left scratches on the sides of some furniture and he tries to hide or cover them up for the time being, dragging a blanket over the arm of a divan in the living room… hopefully you won’t discover them and he can fix it after he’s back to normal before you notice.

  You do notice that he very much prefers specific textures, he doesn’t like walking on the hardwood floor of your home and instead prefers to lie down or sit on blankets or the silken sheets in your shared bedroom. 

  Despite the strange predicament, Zhongli is very calm, he’s both patient and has a good sense—if this was a dangerous curse or spell that was difficult to reverse, he would likely sense it. Instead, he considers using this time to show and receive affection in a way you haven’t been able to before. 

  He often sits by your legs or thighs, he winds around them and rubs his furry cheeks along your clothes and pretty much anywhere he can reach. Your legs when he’s winding around them, your hand when you reach out to pet him, your cheek when he stands on your chest when you’re trying to read in bed before sleeping. 

  He purrs and cuddles with you, laying in your arms or over your lap—he even hid in your bag once when you went out for the day, and you discovered it too late to take him back home (you did wonder why your bag felt heavier than usual) and thus, he has the pleasure of accompanying you to your work—something he doesn’t often get the excuse or time to do. 

  Thankfully, Hu Tao didn’t question it when you came to her and said that Zhongli couldn’t come to work for a few days (hopefully just a few days). If anything, she sighed in relief and said something about him finally using his paid time off and sick days. Then thanks you for taking him out of commission??? 

  You pour over some scrolls and papers to try and figure out how to turn Zhongli back, and he hops onto the desk in the study, nuzzling against your arm before sitting down, tail swaying as he joins you in searching for ways to bring him back to you in a more familiar form. Despite how cute he is like this. 

* eri is the collar-flap on the front of a kimono/yukata that crosses over the chest, he's tucked into it and lying on his back. if you know about the nioh cat clock scene, yeah.

* wriothesley is supposed to be a maine coon type of cat, just huge and heavy. but not wild cat huge.

[endursent]

“ and in my dreams, i see you. ”

notes. by the law of jay i have been tasked with making my first post here a dan heng one. everyone say thank you jay.

premise. a nightmare of your demise causes him to seek your comfort.

wc. 1.3k

warnings. gn!reader. reader is a member of the astral express, depiction of reader dying but it's not real, blood and injuries, fluff, hurt/comfort, pre-relationship, not proofread.

nightmares were something dan heng was incredibly familiar with. it's not something he's let get to him, and he didn't have as many nightmares as he used to. but for one reason or another, that seemed to change.

it started off small. bad dreams of explorations gone wrong, of memories he could no longer remember. these were ones he had been used to, ones that he expected to have when his nightmares would rear their head.

so when he had drifted off on a seat in the parlor car while reading one of the books he had recently bought from their travels, dan heng didn't expect to dream at all.

but it seems as though his subconscious had other plans.

the feeling of blood on his hands left him feeling sick to his stomach. he stared down at his hands, dazed and confused before becoming aware of the strained gasps for air coming from behind him.

he couldn't see his surroundings. everything was dark, covered in a thick fog that burned his eyes.

"dan heng," the gasped sound of a voice he could recognize anywhere filled the silence, and dan heng's body was moving before his mind could fully process what was happening around him.

his eyes strained, but he could make out your figure lying on the ground. blood was pooling beneath you, and the deep gash in your chest was enough to make him feel dizzy.

he was on his knees next to you before he could blink, his hands shaking as he carefully gathers you in his arms. you wince, and he can feel blood—your blood—seeping into his clothes, staining his skin.

"you're going to be okay," were the first words he uttered. his voice sounded foreign to him, shaking and quiet. like if he spoke any louder, you'd disappear from his sight.

there's this quiet voice in the back of his head, a brief feeling of awareness. this wasn't real.

but that knowledge did little to comfort him.

your head rested against his arm, your gaze unfocused as you stared up at him. your lips were moving, but dan heng couldn't hear a single word you were saying.

his ears were ringing, his gaze zoning in on your injury. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and the way your eyes were taking longer to open with each blink.

"no. no, keep your eyes open," he says, panic bleeding into his voice when you close your eyes. it was like the entire world came crashing down when you stopped breathing.

but before dan heng could mourn your death, he was jerking awake with a harsh gasp, shooting up from his seat and nearly knocking the table over from the sheer force of his movements.

the book he had been reading had fallen onto the ground, opened on some random page. his chest was heaving, sweat clinging to his skin, his heart pounding.

his hands shook as he glanced down at them, and the relief he felt was almost overwhelming when he saw they were clean of blood.

"dan heng?" the sound of himeko's voice snaps him out of his stupor, and he meets her gaze. she had a small cup of coffee in her hands, and he didn't miss the look of concern etched in her features.

"i'm fine." he responds, not giving the woman a chance to voice her concern, "...i'm sorry if i startled you." he adds in a quiet murmur, bending down to pick his book up from the ground, setting it on the table.

there's no way he could focus on reading anymore, his mind a mess. he excuses himself rather quickly, making a silent note to apologize to himeko for brushing her off later.

right now, all he wanted was to make sure you were okay.

he was painfully tense as he made his way from the parlor car to the passenger cabins, and he hesitated to even enter your room, standing outside your door.

you were alive. it was just a dream.

yet... he feared. what if he opened this door, and you were gone? it's stupid, irrational, and devoid of all logic. but still.

with a soft knock on your door, he doesn't open it until he hears your voice grant him permission.

you were laying in your bed, wearing your pajamas and scrolling through your phone. you were probably about to sleep before he had dropped in. it made him feel bad, but he couldn't stop himself from stepping into your room, the door softly shutting behind him.

"you okay?" you ask, sitting up a bit. it wasn't unusual for dan heng to end up in your room.

you were the person he was closest to the most out of everyone else on the express, and he found himself naturally gravitating towards you.

but it was no doubt obvious that he was not okay.

he'd been half tempted to just tell you he was fine and leave without explanation. he almost did, too. but the words get caught in his throat, and when he's finally able to speak, he says something entirely different.

"can i sleep here tonight?"

even he was shocked by his request, brows furrowing just a bit to convey his inner confliction.

you stare at him for a few seconds, but you nod and scoot over on your bed, setting your phone and and pulling the covers back. if he weren't in the state he was, he'd probably be embarrassed by how quickly he got into the bed next to you.

fixing the covers so its over the both of you, you lean back, your back pressing against the wall as you stare at him, "sooo... gonna tell me what happened to make you wanna have a sleepover?" you ask, keeping your tone light.

he liked that about you. the way you voiced your concern without making it obvious, giving him the option to be as detailed in his explanation as he wanted. it was small, something you probably didn't even notice.

but he did.

"i had a nightmare," he simply responds. he doesn't offer more explanation than that. how is he supposed to tell you that his nightmare had been about you dying? that the feeling of your blood on his hands had terrified him to his core in such a way he's never experienced before?

and you don't press for more. you just softly hum, "yeah, i get it. nightmares suck," you say, a short yawn coming from you as you slowly shimmy down until you're laying down.

dan heng finds himself following suit, staring up at the ceiling as you roll onto your side to face him.

"but that's all it was. a nightmare. instead of focusing on something your mind made up, you should focus on something real, yeah?" you lightly poke his side as you speak, causing him to look over at you.

the dim lighting in your room bathed you in a softness that had dan heng's heart stuttering. the small smile on your face did nothing to help.

"...yeah." he quietly responds, finding it impossible to say anything else. your smile grew just a bit, and you're rolling over so your back is facing him, whispering a soft 'goodnight'.

the room falls quiet after that, save for the sound of your breathing. dan heng doesn't know how long he lays there, listening to your breaths. it does more to comfort him than words ever could, his body slowly relaxing as he slowly rolls on his side to stare at your back.

for months, he had been running from his blossoming feelings for you. it had been easy to ignore, but not anymore. not when he's become painfully aware of the fact that he could lose you at any given moment.

he reaches out, but stops just shy of touching you. his hand twitches, desperate for the contact, before it falls onto the mattress with a soft thud.

"i love you." he whispers back.

his confession goes unheard, and he lets his eyes close.

[endursent]

i might at some point revisit characters already covered (after all new and old have been included ofc) and either expand or reimagine it. i mostly wrote the first parts all at once and it got a bit muddled with too-similar tropes and approaches... we'll see later on

for the newest update to the cat transformation series, i've thought about changing the format a little. it used to be rather short per character and a lot of characters at once... for the upcoming chapter/addition, i'd like to add a good chunk of new and old characters i didnt include before (ex. dan heng, argenti, mydei, anaxa for hsr etc) for both games but i'd also like to make it more... story-involved? and not just imagine slop like i kind of feel like the other chapters were like. i also want to make parts for the female casts.

so the two options are; the fic is longer per-character, has more of a plot and actual story focus and not just "imagine slop" like i feel the others were, but fewer characters at a time, only two or maybe three at most per-post. (might take longer to get to every character that's missing)

keep same length as before, more lighthearted and just a short "what-if". more characters per-post and less emphasis on making every part unique. (characters will get their shine faster)

i'm going on vacation for 3 weeks on the 7th of may, so whichever will be chosen, the next update will hopefully release before i go.

[endursent]

- My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don’t Know How To Fix It - masterlist

◖Genshin Impact◗

⤷ him

✰ My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don’t Know How To Fix It | alhaitham , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli | x gn!reader ( separate )

⤷ you

✰ My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don’t Know How To Fix It (your version) | alhaitham , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli | x gn!reader ( separate )

⤷ extras / related

✰ you turn into their favourite animal | il dottore , kaveh , neuvillette | x gn!reader ( separate )

◖Honkai: Star Rail◗

⤷ him

✰ My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don’t Know How To Fix It | aventurine , blade , dr. ratio , jiaoqiu , jing yuan , moze , sunday | x gn!reader ( separate )

⤷ you

✰ My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don’t Know How To Fix It (your version) | aventurine , blade , dr. ratio , jiaoqiu , jing yuan , moze , sunday | x gn!reader ( separate )

⤷ extras / related

✰ quite a popular kitty, aren’t you? | aventurine , dan heng , jing yuan | x gn!reader! (separate)

due to the amount of chapters / related content, i decided to give the cat transformation series it's own masterlist.

[endursent]

for the newest update to the cat transformation series, i've thought about changing the format a little. it used to be rather short per character and a lot of characters at once... for the upcoming chapter/addition, i'd like to add a good chunk of new and old characters i didnt include before (ex. dan heng, argenti, mydei, anaxa for hsr etc) for both games but i'd also like to make it more... story-involved? and not just imagine slop like i kind of feel like the other chapters were like. i also want to make parts for the female casts.

so the two options are; the fic is longer per-character, has more of a plot and actual story focus and not just "imagine slop" like i feel the others were, but fewer characters at a time, only two or maybe three at most per-post. (might take longer to get to every character that's missing)

keep same length as before, more lighthearted and just a short "what-if". more characters per-post and less emphasis on making every part unique. (characters will get their shine faster)

i'm going on vacation for 3 weeks on the 7th of may, so whichever will be chosen, the next update will hopefully release before i go.

[endursent]

happy 5k notes, that’s insane 🫡 i suppose i have to get to adding more characters now as asked by The People. in celebration of course.

My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (2)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , slight shenanigans , gn!reader 】

【 characters; alhaitham , arataki itto , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli 】

【 premise; " Your partner has been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned him into a cat, you have no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet you also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; made the genshin version... no reason for this to be like 19 pages 😭 】

【 word count; 8.723 | read on ao3 | hsr ver | hsr reader ver | gi reader ver 】

Alhaitham ;

Kaveh gaped at you when you brought a cat into the house, one that… looked eerily similar to a certain blockhead. “I can explain,” you say as you set the cat down on the floor, he doesn’t enter the house further than you do, instead sitting down by your feet and observing the interaction with… interest? Amusement…? 

  Kaveh didn’t need much to be convinced, and immediately he thanked the Archons for giving him a few days of respite. Even just a few days of Alhaitham being unable to comment on what he does or nag him is a blessing.

  For you, it’s a bit of a hassle… because he keeps disappearing! Not in an alarming way, because you find him again in the most secluded, quiet spots you would never even think of. Under your laundry, in an empty box that Kaveh hadn’t put away after getting a delivery, and even under the desk in the study—Kaveh accidentally kicked him and got a feisty scratch on his ankle. He learned his lesson. 

  He follows you around and—though he let you pick him up the first time—doesn’t let you carry him around, preferring to walk on his own… and wander off to explore nooks and crannies he has never been able to see, but he always shows up again before you reach your destination. 

  He has also claimed your pillow as his own and refuses to let you use it, loafing on top of it exactly when you thought you could get there before him. Which… in hindsight is fine, you’re not opposed to using his pillow, it smells like him after all. 

  You decided to test how much of a cat he really is, whether it’s appearance alone or instinctual as well and bought a cat toy with a whisker on the end as well as a small bell below it. You expected him to perk up and try to whack or catch it as soon as you wriggled it beside him… but his grey furred ears just lowered in annoyance and he hopped off the kitchen counter, it seems like having even more sensitive ears in this state makes his dislike for uncomfortable noises more intense. 

  He forgave you when you spent ten minutes scratching the itchy spot behind his ears after tracking him down. A small, rumbling purr left his chest as you moved your hand to scratch under his chin—he was, however, more curious about this instinctual reaction and demanded you continue after you drew your hand back.     Despite it being very much an unspoken rule between the two of you that neither of you should be disturbed ‘needlessly’ when reading or working at home, when you borrowed a few books from the Akademiya to try and figure out how to turn your partner back to normal, Alhaitham decided it would be very reasonable for him to lay down over your book… which you are very much trying to read.

  But when you ask him what he needs, he just blinks at you three times, very slowly. You’ll likely never be able to crack that brain of his, even in a form that is somehow far more expressive.

Arataki Itto ;

It’s difficult enough to keep track of him—and keep him out of trouble—on a normal day… now? You took your eyes off him for a second, and he’s gone. Shinobu split up with you to cover more ground while the rest of the gang scoured the streets of Inazuma City, at least as much as they could.

  You peek between baskets, crates and stalls, walk through tight alleys and even squint into a few windows… nothing!

  You had been very close to giving up and returning back to the meeting point by the bridge… until you heard a very distressed, very loud meowing. Following the sound, you come to a tree stretching over the gardens of a teahouse. What looks to be the owner of it stands below the tree with a basket, trying to ask Itto—stuck up on a wobbling branch—to jump into it.

  Exasperation is one way to describe what you feel as you approach the old lady, you put your hands on your hips and Itto notices you immediately. His meowing turns from frantic and panicked… to a sheepish pleading. Every movement he makes causes the branch to sway and wobble, and it looks like it could easily bend and break—and you don’t want to cause any trouble for the teahouse owner. “Itto, come on, hop down.”

  He meows and shakes his head, white fur swishing dramatically. 

  A sigh leaves you as you step closer and hold your arms open. “I’ll catch you, trust me,” you encourage him… and he finally relents, with wobbling paws, he leaps from the branch—fur shining in the sun as he practically flies in the air towards your open arms… and lands on your head. He panics and tries to adjust and not fall off, and you try to pry him away from your face as his belly nearly suffocates you—it’s a scene from a comedic play.

  Shinobu is glad for her mask, because when you return with Itto under your arm you have scratches on your face and forehead, and Itto is whining and meowing sorrowfully. 

  He spends the entire evening licking your ‘wounds’, dragging his coarse cat tongue over every spot so often that the licking starts to become more painful than the scratches themselves. But you let him, it makes him feel much better than you—and you don’t particularly need comfort, but if he doesn’t get it, he will whine all night. 

  So you let him knead your thighs and stomach even as his claws prick through your clothes and you make sure to pet him and stroke his fur when he snuggles against you… and then you wake up in the middle of the night, suffocating with his furred belly against your face when the lies on top of you.

Baizhu ;

You’re very happy that Baizhu is catching a break—something you often try to convince him to do—despite the strange way of being forced into it… however, it’s very difficult to focus on running the pharmacy in his place by yourself while also trying to make sure he doesn’t roll off the shelf he’s napping on… especially because Changsheng wriggles in her sleep and keeps nudging him closer to the edge.

  You decide it’s easier if you have them sleeping on separate surfaces and reach up to pick up your pliant partner-turned-cat. He effectively falls into your arms and blinks lazily, slightly confused by the sudden transport. “Just moving you so you don’t hit your head,” you dodge around Qiqi as she runs past you with an armful of jars and set Baizhu down on the counter, his tail sways lazily and he immediately flops on his side as a beam of sunlight sneaks through the window and directly onto his fur.

  Every time a customer comes by—with approval—they give Baizhu a small pet or scratch before leaving, as if paying tribute to the good doctor. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  Unfortunately, you’re not fit to take Baizhu’s place for consultations, and thus they all get delayed—which was a hell of a lot of work to contact everyone and change scheduling—until Baizhu is back to normal. The usual hours of consultation in the morning are therefore replaced with longer opening hours of the pharmacy and by pulling some strings, an increased stock of rarer products at a discounted price. 

  Changsheng does not let poor Baizhu catch a break, she wiggles her tail and swipes it in front of his paws, and unable to control the feline instincts harbouring his body—Baizhu chases after her tail like a kitten playing with a toy. He whacks at it and tries to capture it, but the white snake is far quicker than even you expected her to be as a sudden game of cat and mouse (snake) takes over your living room.

 The feline form, however, doesn’t come with free stamina—and Baizhu is not in good shape. He flops down on the carpet, exhausted from the play even as only seven minutes have passed. You feel a bit bad and scoop him up for some cuddling, which seems to be just the remedy he needed. 

  Baizhu is very careful around the clinic, he doesn’t knock anything over—even though he REALLY wants to sometimes, and is mindful of not getting fur or saliva on anything that could potentially be consumed by anyone with allergies. Changsheng has taken to wrapping herself around your shoulders instead, and though you’re used to her, it’s a little annoying to get a comment on every little thing you do. 

  But at the end of the day, Baizhu curls up next to you and you wake with him lying over your chest, belly to the skies and paws in the air, comfortable and content. Though you will always prefer him in his normal state, he is very cute like this.

Cyno ;

You look around the large front hall of the House of Daena, panting slightly as you try to catch your breath… that damn Cyno! Making you chase him across the entire city! 

  You spot some pawprints and squint as you look around… he’s not bringing all that dirt into the house—you were just going to rinse him a bit, but he’s run off! You finally spot dark and creamy coloured fur… perched up high on a massive decorative piece of the wall. He looks down at you with a swaying tail, completely at ease knowing that you won’t be able to catch him all the way up there.

  You almost consider inquiring about one of those massive ladders the library has to reach the high shelves, it might be long enough…

  But very well, he wins this round. 

  Once he turned into a cat, you were very excited about petting him, rubbing his ears and stroking his tail—but he’s not having any of it. Sometimes, you wonder if someone stuck a firework in his ass and lit it up, because the bouts of zoomies he gets is so frequent you wondered if there was something wrong—but you couldn’t catch him to take to a vet either! 

  After the first few days, Cyno seems to calm down… a little. He still prefers to survey the area (your living room) from above (your bookshelf) and watch you go about your day. It’s quite cute how his perked ears twitch every time you make a noise, as if he’s completely focused on what you’re doing.

  You soon find out after stepping a bit too close to the bookshelf that he might have just been waiting to strike, because he leaps onto your head as soon as you’re in range. 

  The only reason you know he’s fully conscious in that furred head is because while you were cleaning up after dinner, you spotted him sitting next to a cup of tea that was half-filled. You tense as you watch his paw raise to knock it off. “Cyno! Don’t,” you try to sound scolding.

  He looks up at you, he lowers his paw… then raises it again, making you glare at him. He lowers it again, turns away… you turn back to wiping the dishes and look over your shoulders after a few seconds—his paw is raised again!

  This back and forth continued until he finally knocked it over.

  And then he has the audacity during the next day’s dinner to sound like he has never been fed in his life while you’re trying to eat in peace. Meowing at you so loudly one would think he was terribly injured, eyes wide and mouth open. You hope your neighbours don’t think you’re trying to starve him, or treat him horribly.

Dainsleif ;

He’s not happy about it, he has things to do—places to be and investigations to make. Thankfully you’re familiar with where you were going next… but Dainsleif is very limited in what he can do. You decide to give him the task of scouting and sneaking around, something he’s used to doing anyway… but he finds that it’s much more effective to do so as a cat. His footsteps are completely silent and his senses are much sharper.

  Though, he had an instinctual need to swat at a glowing orb that you found in a strange vault half-buried in a cave in Fontaine before he could stop himself—which closed the two of you inside the vault. Thankfully he is now small enough that he could slip out between the bars and unlock it from the other side.

  It is quite cute how his ears flattened as you walked out, as if he was sorry. Though he seemed okay after you scratched behind his ears and assured him it was okay, he was here to help you out after all! His tail swayed in satisfaction to your assurance.

  You start to set down camp for the night, having just one pair of hands makes it a bit more of a lengthy process, and Dainsleif can only sit and watch as you put it together. He’s usually quite distant, even in a relationship—but as you straighten from squatting to fit something down, you feel something press against your leg and see him rubbing his furry cheek against you, then walking around your legs, tail trailing behind.

  He’s usually quite wary and alert, even during the night when you try and convince him to sleep—and it’s no different now. He sits poised and ready… for what? He’s a cat. But you appreciate the effort. 

  Surprisingly, he’s very active at grooming himself, the two of you usually have to bathe often anyway as you frequent dusty caves and muddy backwaters, but every time you make a stop, he sits down and starts licking his fur—at first you wondered if he was frustrated by something or had hurt himself, but as you picked him up to examine for any injuries or strange patches, he just blinked at you, tongue still half-hanging out.

  Dainsleif is rather laid-back when it comes to your relationship, there are times where you want to stay in a larger city for a few days or weeks in between travels, to have a soft bed and four walls around you—which Dainsleif doesn’t mind, there are places he wants to look into where he’d prefer you are safe elsewhere. He knows where you will be and will stop by to ask if you’re ready to continue days or even sometimes a few weeks later, to which you—recharged and rejuvenated—jump at the chance to follow him out of the city.

  But now, as a cat, he doesn’t leave your side for a minute—not even when you need to use nature’s bathroom. You went into a small village in Sumeru when passing through and a vendor was particularly pressing about selling you some type of perfume that you had shown brief interest in—Dainsleif had enough of you being pestered and whacked his paw at the man’s leg, hissing. He would usually be more subtle about guiding you away, but he doesn’t have the presence he usually does as he is now, so he must utilise the aggressiveness given to him in feline form. You take the chance to scoop him up and hurry away before the vendor can get upset, petting between his ears and thanking him for the help—he rubs his cheek against yours. He’s surprisingly more affectionate like this as well.

Diluc ;

Your nose itches… you try to hold back—achoo!!

  Diluc jumps, claws scuttling against the ground and he leaps from his resting spot and hops down to the floor. You sniffle and shake your head. “Sorry, it’s not your fault,” you stand from his chair and round the table to squat down next to him, reaching a hand out. “Did I startle you?”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound, fur red as freshly bloomed roses. Diluc bumps his snout into your palm and huffs into it, you turn your hand and pet along his back. “Aaah… you’re so cute~ so soft,” you near coo as you scratch behind his ears—

  Diluc shakes himself and ducks under your hand to walk past you—how dare you baby-talk him?! He’s not an actual cat! The scritches felt too nice, and his ears flicked when you cooed at him—it’s embarrassing…

  He sits down by the door, tail swaying lazily as a small meow leaves him. Let me out. 

  You pout, how can you not convey how cute he is? You want to rub his cheeks. But fine, you  walk over and open the door for him to slip out of. 

  Diluc likes the lounge around the fireplace in the estate, there’s not much work he can do  while you try to figure out how to turn him back—preferably without alerting his brother or any of the knights… or just anyone in general. Unfortunately, he can’t hide it from the staff of the Winery as he is a spitting image of himself in cat form, and you’ve caught more than three people trying to feed him expensive cheeses. 

  It’s only in the recent days that you’ve convinced him to settle down and use the time to rest and nap as much as he can, but Diluc was extremely restless at first, you had to trap him inside a room and trick him into lying down with you.

  One day, Jean came by looking for him, and you had to think fast to come up with an excuse while he had just leapt under the sofa to hide. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to need him urgently, so she just left a message behind and went back to her day.

  You fell asleep in Diluc’s study, trying to keep up with his paperwork—Adeline offered to help you, she’s very familiar with his work, and it’s not like it’s been a long time since he wasn’t there to do it… but you wanted to help, and as the sun sank below the horizon, you laid down on the sofa in his study next to a tall bookcase—only closing your eyes was enough to pull you into deep sleep.

  Diluc hops onto the sofa next to you, he carefully walks over your thighs and settles on the armrest where your head is. His fluffy tail sways and strokes your chin and nose—nearly waking you as you almost sneeze, you don’t have to work so hard for him, he knows you want to help. He wishes he could tell you, and he will, when he’s back to normal. For now, he rests alongside you, head leaning against the top of yours and tail tucked against your neck.

Kaedehara Kazuha ;

Kazuha is a very chill cat, he doesn’t get into trouble, he doesn’t cough hairballs on the floor and he doesn’t knock things over.

  (Instead of coughing hairballs on the floor he swats them off-deck with his paws, Beidou caught him doing it once).

  There’s not much trouble to get into on the ocean, and he’s rather good at keeping out of trouble overall on land, sticking by his side is a sureway to a boring day of exploration or lounging around—which is your perfect type of day.

  You help him into your bag as the Crux ‘boards’ by Liyue Harbour (it stops a bit away and tucked by a cliffside to avoid attention) and you make sure he doesn’t accidentally fall into the ocean as a few crewmates row to land. You’re stopping for a few days, so you make sure to use the time to relax and take in landside air and wander around the expansive Harbour. 

  Kazuha likes to take life at a slower pace, and thus your walk to the Harbour took longer than you expected… as you thought Kazuha was doing his normal meditation on a warm, sun-kissed rock along the road…

  But he was asleep, sitting up and enjoying the sun. It took you thirty minutes to realise—a sitting cat with its eyes closed and a sleeping cat in a sitting position is the exact same.

  He very much likes to people-watch, but in this cat form, he seems even more engaged—he can hear sounds more clearly and he seems even more perceptive than usual. Watching a tea maker brew a cup on a teahouse table you had sat by to rest and ordered some snacks. He sniffs at the tea as it’s placed in front of you—he’s perched comfortably on your lap, you’re surprised the teahouse even allows him inside—and seems to appreciate the detail he gets from this new perspective, af if it smells different in this form.

  He tries to taste it and your food, but you have to block his snout with your hand, you’re not sure if the food you were having would give him a stomach ache or not. 

On a walk on the outskirts of the city, you look back and see Kazuha carrying a stick in his mouth…?

  He’s not a dog, so you’re not entirely sure why he’s doing it, maybe cats do that too? The dogs that hang around the bridge leading to the southeast outside of Liyue Harbour try to approach him with the stick, thinking he was playing, but he hops into a tree to keep it to himself. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but he seems to be having fun.

  Kazuha wanders off oftentimes, just in his normal, usual body… so you’re not sure why you’re surprised when you suddenly find him missing from your side—perhaps it’s because he’s a cat and you’re unsure if he can defend himself as well in that form, but you hurry to look for him.

  You practically run in circles until you find him pressing his paw to a brown, crusty leaf… again and again, as if listening to the crunch of it in a rhythm. You sigh and scoop him up into your arms. “Don’t wander off like this,” you scold and poke his nose. Kazuha sneezes from the poke, but blinks up at you and nods his little furry head.

Kaeya ;

Unbothered, in his element. Kaeya sleeps in your windowsill and bathes in the sunlight all day while you scratch your head over how this could’ve happened. You try to leave for work and he practically screeches at the door, likely pleading you not to leave—he does that normally as well, except without the loud meowing. 

  Kaeya finds appreciation in the flexibility and grace that comes with this new body, he easily leaps up on shelves and dives under the sofa, he chases flakes of dust and seems to be having quite a good time—perhaps it’s because he has no responsibilities in this form, he can’t go to work like this and has no control over it. And the loss of control is strangely freeing. 

  You scoop him up into your arms and his tail swishes happily, he grabs his claws into your shirt and purrs as you rub his ears, happy and content with the additional affection. He loves all affection he gets from you no matter what form it takes, and being a cat has given him the opportunity to be pampered in ways he never could experience as a human. 

  He does need his free time as well and he uses it well while you’re out of the house—though you were very optimistic to think that closing the windows would keep him contained, Kaeya easily flips the handles and slips out of your home. He enjoys the attention he gets from any passersby, but is careful not to be too affectionate and get picked up by someone who thinks he’s a stray. 

  His usual guarded front lowers in this form, he feels like he could slip out of any situation—and he doesn’t have to be careful with his words or actions. No one expects a cat to have alternative intentions. 

  He jumps up in surprise as he hears footsteps rapidly approaching—he had fallen asleep on a ledge and the sun was already down. Kaeya blinks as you pick him up, breath heaving. “There you are, I’ve looked everywhere for you! I thought something happened when I couldn’t find you around the plaza,” you sigh a breath of relief and practically crush him to your chest. Kaeya wriggles a little but gives up and nuzzles into you, pushing his forehead into your cheek. 

  After a number of days, Kaeya gets bored, as fun as lounging around and being pampered it… he misses real food, and dragging you away from your work to have lunch—and holding you properly, he can only lay on top of you like this, which doesn’t exactly feel like holding.

  And Kaeya being restless… he gets whiny. 

  He would usually be more subtle, but now that he feels the rush of freedom his feline form gives him, he uses it to protest by loafing on your clothes after you fold them to put away, laying over your lap when you need to get up—even though he’s not really a cat… kind of, you still get the same feeling of not wanting to move him off no matter how much space he’s taking.

  But that’s okay, because he just has to slow blink at you and nuzzle into your hand and you forgive him, how could you not?

Kamisato Ayato ;

Ayato is an unreasonably pretty cat. His fur is soft and silky, he has this… smug kitty-smile at all times, and it makes you want to pinch his ears. He sits on your lap and peeks onto the low table inside his study as you go through paperwork. Just because he’s become a cat doesn’t mean his workload just miraculously lessens. 

  Thankfully, after a few days of trying to juggle his work—how does he do it?!—even with him by your side, albeit in a form that can’t properly communicate… Ayaka decides to lend a hand, she takes it upon herself to attend meetings and represent the clan and Commission in Ayato’s stead. Thankfully no one has questioned where he is yet.

  Or why there is a suspiciously similar cat trotting around the estate in his place. 

  You fish into a bush in the courtyard gardens, hand feeling around—until you find fur and yoink it up. Ayato blinks at you, tail swishing as he has a piece of grilled fish in his mouth that he stole from the kitchens. “You know… you can have all the fish you want—you don’t have to steal it,” you say as you lift him into your arms.

  His ears flick as you talk, but he eats the fish happily regardless. You shake your head in mild exasperation. Looks like he’s using the opportunity to engage in… more mischief than usual. Perhaps a different kind. 

  Ayato likes to use his newfound stealth and agility to his advantage… to torment you.

  You put away some laundry and turned to a shelf to fetch something—only to come face to face with Ayato’s cat-face, making you jump as he meows happily—as if happy to see you! He knows he’s just trying to startle you!

  He winds around your feet when you walk around the estate and purrs happily when you squint at him.

  Ayato knows the limits, he stops before you can lock him inside a room for the remainder of the day. His fur is so soft as you pet him and a rumbling purr leaves him, he knows it’s silly—he’s not really a cat, at least, hopefully not for long. But you keep petting and stroking him while he does. 

  He takes good care of himself on normal days, and as a cat, it’s no different—he grooms himself meticulously, though finds it rather embarrassing if you’re looking, so he tries to do it out of sight… it's very instinctual, but he also likes to feel clean and groomed. 

  You once passed the great hall and saw Thoma wriggling a toy with a bundle of feathers on it while Ayato chased it… it was pretty cute to watch, but you hurried along before either of them could notice you. 

  He hogs the futon, you don’t want to push him to the side and get pushed to the edge of the mattress yourself. Ayato doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

Kaveh ;

Distressed, not having fun, he wants to go home.

  A series of meows in varying states of distress and confusion follow behind you as you walk, you stop and turn around, peering down at the strange cat that’s been following you around since you left the Akademiya. You were about to ask what he wants… but as you squint at the cat… doesn’t it look familiar?

  Kaveh doesn’t stop when you do, he raises on his hind legs by your feet and sinks his claws into your pants, a shrill, distressed meow leaves him.

  You reach down and pick him up, holding under his front legs as you inspect him… hm, golden fur with tints of a darker, sandy brown… those big red eyes.

  “... Kaveh?” you must be crazy, there’s no way your partner is a cat, and followed you around without you realising, but you know those eyes very well. It’s him.

  Alhaitham just stares at you like you grew three additional heads, he looks at Kaveh in your arms and then back at you. “... it looks like him, but that’s not proof enough—have you asked him to write his name?”

  You look at Kaveh and he tilts his small head to look up at you. Write his name…? He doesn’t exactly have thumbs… but Alhaitham has a good point. What if it’s just a very persistent cat? 

  Then again… where would Kaveh be? He’s usually home by this time.

  Alhaitham fetches a pen and some parchment and you put Kaveh down on the table. He tries to use his paws at first but just spills ink all over the place—but as he grabs the pen with his mouth and clumsily scribbles his signature, Alhaitham just hums while you scoop Kaveh up again, holding him up. “It is you! What happened to you, Kaveh?”

  Of course, he can’t give a proper answer, he wriggles his paws around and meows in a long dialogue—but it’s entirely incomprehensible. 

  While you and Alhaitham try to figure out how to get him back, Kaveh tries to adjust to his… predicament. He doesn’t do it with any grace, though… his leaps and jumps across furniture are miscalculated and he falls to the ground or hits his head more often than you can count.

  But your worried petting and rubbing the aching area makes him purr and nuzzle into your arms.

  He does hate the heightened senses, he jumps at the smallest noise and scuttles across the room if anything startles him—and he gets startled very easily like this.

Neuvillette ;

You call his name, looking around his office… you scratch your head, he can’t have gone far, you just left to fetch some tea for a few minutes. It’s not like he can open the door or window and slip out—why would he anyway?

  You hear a very… pathetic meow, from next to you—but there’s nothing there, just a sofa. You hear it again—under the sofa…?

  Ducking down, you see that Neuvillette is stuck, he seems to have been trying to squeeze himself under the sofa, and rounding the furniture, you see his hind legs and tail flat on the floor… it’s a bit amusing. “There, I got you,” you say soothingly as you lift the sofa up a little so he can back out. Neuvillette stands up and shakes his body.

  You squat down and smile. “How’d you get stuck under there?” you hold out your hand and he presses his head into your palm, nuzzling against your skin for comfort as you turn your hand to scratch and pet him.

  He’s not very good at resisting the instincts and temptations that come with this form—you’re unsure why he seems to struggle so much, but you try to help him as much as you can, and not laugh.

  You saw him chase a shadow, there is an ornament on the raised blinds that hang above the large window in his office. It's attached to the strings that lower and raise them and it sways slightly—casting a shadow across the floor.

  Another time he was grooming his fur and struggling, he has a thick, long coat and had to lean far back to reach the end of his fur as his tongue dragged along the hairs… causing him to roll backwards off the arm of the couch and into the pile of pillows.

  Innocent, small things that make you smile, but you’re careful that he doesn’t see it.

  He loafs over a stack of court documents as you organise his desk—might as well use the opportunity to clean up while he won’t be making a mess. He doesn’t seem satisfied with his place on the desk and stands… and spots a box on the ground, it’s stacked halfway with old documents to be taken to storage… but it also looks like the perfect spot to rest. He hops down from the desk and circles a few times on the papers to get comfortable. He wriggles a little before sitting down.

  It takes him a minute to realise that he was kneading into the paper when he hears the sound of it tearing under his claws in an instinctual need to make the bottom of the box comfortable. 

  Safe to say, he was mortified to have destroyed the top four documents, but thankfully they weren’t shredded and you managed to salvage them with some memory of what had occurred as well as piecing them together.

Tartaglia ;

You look towards the window above the kitchen counter, cold air brushes into the house as Childe enters through it—with a mouse in his mouth.

  You leap up and push the book in your hand against his face and push him straight back outside. “No! Absolutely not! Leave it outside, not in the house!!” You close the window behind him and sigh in relief, brushing stray snow into the sink. When you look up again, He’s sitting there, big eyes and ears flat against his head… but no mouse.

  Sighing, you open the window a smidge so that he can step inside, where he shakes himself and tosses flakes of melting snow all over. 

  Childe sits down, tail swaying—as if waiting for something.

  You set your haps on your hips. “What?”

  “Mrrow…” he wriggles his head, he wants a pat. 

  … fine, just because he took the mouse outside because you ‘asked’, you raise your hand to stroke his head and he tilts it to lick your palm—but you pull back. “No, you just had a wild animal in your mouth, wash your mouth!”

  What is this?? He feels like a criminal, all he did was bring you a prize… to be fair, he realised how silly it was to bring you a dead animal when you leapt up to push him back out, but it felt completely natural up until that point!

  He whines and meows for forgiveness for the rest of the night, and you do eventually ‘forgive’ him and let Chile lounge around on your lap while you pet him and continue reading.

  He picks fights with swaying curtains, chases your broom when you’re cleaning and even whacked your cup of coffee off the dinner table—spilling it everywhere. He’s a nightmare in this form, because no matter the scolding, he just stares at you with excited, large eyes and a swaying tail.

  Nothing you say gets through his head. In one ear and out the other. 

  He does not give up either, if he wants affection, he will get it one way or the other, even if he has to whine and meow endlessly, follow you around—fake a limp! You shake him a bit after he worried you and you almost went out in the middle of the evening through the snow to take him to a vet when he just wanted scritches. 

  In all fairness… this is just typical behaviour, but now he has the kitten eyes to break your self control and composure within seconds. 

Thoma ;

He tries to do his job even in cat form, using his tail to sweep, he even takes his duster into his mouth and tries to sweep on surfaces he’d usually need ladders to reach, and now he can just leap to them.

  But he also has a problem…

  He has an instinctual need to create a mess, knock things over or sit on things—when he catches himself in an act of pushing Ayaka’s discarded tea off a table, he nearly leaps away to stop himself. 

  Thankfully, everyone around him doesn't mind—and it’s a bit relieving to see that Thoma retains a sense of himself. He finds time where he would usually go into town to instead nap—and the Kamisato estate has perfect napping spots. He lies sprawled across the engawa surrounding the eastern part of the estate near the back gardens, and lets the warm beams of the sun warm his belly—only to shoot up in surprise when he hears footsteps, embarrassed to be caught lounging around. 

  Ayato sometimes plucks him away to keep on his lap for hours while he sorts through paperwork, petting and scratching behind his ears while his other hand signs documents. Thoma gets a bit restless just loafing on his lord’s lap and meows in relief when you come along to fetch him. 

  Ayaka leapt at the opportunity to sew a few accessories for him, guised under the excuse of “practise for smaller bodies” and Thoma ends up with half a wardrobe by the end of the week. 

  But he prefers to be around you, you don’t trap him on your lap (even though Ayato gives very good scritches) or make him model for three hours (even though Ayaka gave him snacks). As you work around the estate, he gets tired—curse this cat body and it’s perpetual need for napping!—and you tuck him gently into your eri*. Thoma lays nestled against your chest warmly, his body light and still as you continue your work. 

  The gardens of the Kamisato estate is a disaster zone, and after the first few days, thoma knows to avoid it. 

  He had strolled past, early in his transformation—and been startled by his own reflection in the pond he passed by, the fish swimming away in a hurry as he ran across the gardens in surprise. A second time, he had spent twelve minutes chasing a butterfly while Ayato watched with a signature smile… he will likely not let him forget it. 

  Thankfully, he’s not needed much in the gardens, and he sits perched atop a high shelf in the kitchens, his tail sways as he leans forward… very much ready to leap and steal some food—before you pluck him up and raise an eyebrow.

  His ears flatten in realisation, but you rub his cheeks and tuck him back into your clothes—grabbing some leftover pears from the dessert the kitchens were making, letting him munch on it while you get back to work. 

Venti  ;

You didn’t think Venti could become even more of an airhead on a typical day as he does when he becomes a cat. He gets distracted by the smallest things and wanders off—leading to a wild goose chase where you have to ask around for a small darkly coloured cat with blue highlights on its ears and tail—a very distinct cat!—and being pointed in every direction possible.

  Only to discover him napping in a crate full of apples in an alley you walked past at least six times just in the last fifteen minutes. 

  He is also very vocal, Venti says anything that comes to his mind… which is unfortunately nothing but meowing nonsense to your ears, but you nod along as if you understand, having a halfway conversation with the lively cat. 

  Somehow, he very much likes to play and nap like he’s being paid to do it at the same time. In one moment, he’s swatting at your clothes and trying to get to play with your fingers—which he accidentally bites and scratches in his excitement, quickly rectifying it with some licks and nuzzles—and the next, he’s passed out cold in a box or on a shelf for five hours.

  He doesn’t seem embarrassed by these new catlike instincts, such as the need to groom himself—he even starts grooming you halfway through his coat, you’re sure your skin is very much clean by the time he finally turns back to himself. 

  Unlike normal cats, who move and settle down elsewhere when the person under them gets up… Venti is not happy about being disturbed nor that you’re trying to get up, he whines and kneads on your clothes to try and get you to stay a little bit longer, giving you the best big kitten eyes he can muster.

  And damn him, it works. He knows what he’s doing. 

  You had been looking for him one morning, thinking he just wandered off again and you’d find him napping in some corner of the city… when Diluc approaches you with a sheepish looking Venti-cat, holding him by the scruff of his neck. “This yours?”

  Diluc doesn’t even seem surprised that the bard is a cat. At least he isn’t an allergy risk when he’s human-like and trying to get into his wares. 

Wanderer ;

He is very aware of himself, he knows he looks stupid (cute) and that everything he does will be looked at through the lens of a typical cat and not someone stuck in its body.

  And thus, he does all he can to be as eerie and unnatural a cat as he can be.

  He doesn’t make a single sound, no meowing, no purring, nothing. He doesn’t walk like a cat—thankfully he doesn’t walk on two legs—nor does he exhibit any of their typical behaviours.

  At least, that was the plan. 

  Every single time Wanderer catches himself doing anything that could be considered “cat-like”, such as grooming himself, chasing a loose string, or gods forbid… kneading—he will immediately stop and compose himself again.

  As opposed to some others, he absolutely hates the loss of control that follows becoming a cat. 

  He can’t write properly, he can’t communicate—and if he tries, no one but you and perhaps Nahida takes him seriously—he’s always sleepy and aware at strange times… he hates it! 

  And once when he was just trying to have some grapes for snacks—you suddenly leapt towards him to stop him, taking the bowl off the table with a relieved huff when you noticed he hadn’t swallowed any of it… after you pried the grape out of his mouth. At his hissing, you explained that cats can’t have grapes. 

  He gave you the cold fur-shoulder for at least two days. 

  You brought him out one time to get some fresh air—since he’s fully aware of himself, he shouldn’t run off and get lost, or into a dangerous situation like an indoor cat might. But when you gave some other cats around the streets of Sumeru attention, he quickly meowed in protest and whacked the other cats away. 

  It’s a bit cute… he doesn’t normally act so forthcoming, and as he bumps his head into your knee afterwards, you rub his cheeks and pinch his ears despite further protest. How cute!

Wriothesley ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Wriothesley was just a “cat”. He’s huge*. 

  You put a bowl in front of him, filled with foods that are okay for cats to eat but also not… gross, as Wriothesley is very much aware in that cat-head of his. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with this, I even tasted it—it’s a bit bland ‘cause we can’t put any seasoning, but it’s food.”

  He leans down, and for a second you think that he’s going to eat it—but as his whiskers brush against the sides of the bowl, he lifts his head abruptly and swats at the bowl, clattering it to the ground—he didn’t mean to hit it at all, but also not this hard. 

  You scratch your head, you just can’t figure out why he won’t eat—you’ve tried everything!

  It took you several hours of back and forth questions and meowing to realise that it was the shape of the bowl that was the problem and not the food itself.

  On another day, you reach down to pet his soft, thick fur—only to get a static shock, it zaps your fingers and both of you jump back. You always have to be careful with petting him, as there’s always a risk of getting zapped at any time. Worst part is, it’s not even every time! It catches you off guard!

  He likes to climb and jump on the pipes that web around the fortress, getting into places he’s never even considered before—and sometimes you look around for him for hours before giving up… only to suddenly be leapt on from above by a nine kilogram heavy cat half your size, knocking you over.

  Siegwinne noticed that he had been brooding lately, he had been stuck as a cat for five days now and it was beginning to frustrate him. So she decided to soak a small blanket in tea mixed with catnip—after it was dry and she rubbed some more on it, she laid it out in his office…

  You watched him for a good long while as he rubbed against it, meowed and rolled on the blanket. It was unbearably adorable, but you eventually pulled him away after a while—worrying it might be too much.

  He’s so large that it’s almost like sleeping with a person, just a very furry one. He lies halfway over you and as you wake in the morning—he refuses to get up. You give in and relax in bed for a while… until he starts kneading your cheeks, leaving small scratches with his big paws and claws. You don’t stop him—it doesn’t hurt, he looks so focused, like he’s trying to squeeze something out of your cheeks. 

Xiao ;

He meows and wriggles in your arms, but you try your best to hold him until you reach the top of the inn—he swats at you and you finally let him go when you enter his usual reserved room. Despite being paws up when you let go of him, Xiao lands perfectly and immediately hops up to the highest vantage point in the room he could reach. 

  You don’t get him down by yourself, he only comes down willingly after a few hours when he’s calmed down and adjusted a bit to this form. You’re not entirely sure what happened, you had just been exploring a cave that was strangely entwined with a temple of sorts, when a bright light appeared behind you, and Xiao—who had been accompanying you—was suddenly a cat. A very small cat. 

  He loafs on the windowsill in the night, his tail wrapped around his paws as he peers towards the sky—at the slightest noise, his ears flicker towards it and he squints at the roads below that pass and surround the large inn. 

  He is unbothered. Firm. Stoic.

  … after getting wet under a pouring rain that persisted all day, he pretends not to be bothered by his wet fur and the uncomfortable existence he leads under this blanket of wet fur…

  But he can only pretend for so long. You turn away and pretend to busy yourself to allow him some privacy to reluctantly lick along his fur and smooth it down, trying to clean or groom it in a way that makes it less sloppy. 

  He hates it, this weird satisfaction that comes with this very primal instinct, and yet, he does still feel the satisfaction.

  Xiao is difficult to read on an average day, he’s very used to controlling his emotions and maintaining a front that’s difficult to get past.

  But as a cat… he’s an open book, he approaches you with a curled tail, he slow blinks at you when you drag your fingers through his fur as he loafs on the windowsill. 

  But he does. Not. Meow. 

  Except for that time you hauled his ass back to the inn… and when Zhongli makes a sudden appearance, he hops from his perched position and snakes around the former Archon’s legs, purring and meowing as he’s being petted and spoken to. He doesn’t notice his own behaviour…

  Not until the following night after Zhongli leaves, and Xiao is mortified that he behaved like an affection-depraved cat in front of Morax.

  Thankfully you sliding a comb through his fur and untangling some knots from the day distracts and calms him down in the evening.

Zhongli ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Zhongli was actually aware he was a cat, he follows you around, sits on a bench and licks his paw to clean it while you shop for groceries… he chases anything shiny that you come across and swats at it with his paws, leaps at it and tries to capture it—usually rocks or mora people drop. Maybe he likes the mineral, maybe it’s the shine. You can’t really know.

  You try to give him some nice food, cut down nicely so he won’t accidentally choke on it… but he won’t eat it, not unless you plate it properly…? At least, when you rearranged it better and separated the meats from the greens, he seemed to like it more. Maybe he thought you were treating him a bit too much like a pet rather than a partner that’s unfortunately become a cat for a (hopefully) limited time.

  After a long day of… not doing much, Zhongli realised he had left scratches on the sides of some furniture and he tries to hide or cover them up for the time being, dragging a blanket over the arm of a divan in the living room… hopefully you won’t discover them and he can fix it after he’s back to normal before you notice.

  You do notice that he very much prefers specific textures, he doesn’t like walking on the hardwood floor of your home and instead prefers to lie down or sit on blankets or the silken sheets in your shared bedroom. 

  Despite the strange predicament, Zhongli is very calm, he’s both patient and has a good sense—if this was a dangerous curse or spell that was difficult to reverse, he would likely sense it. Instead, he considers using this time to show and receive affection in a way you haven’t been able to before. 

  He often sits by your legs or thighs, he winds around them and rubs his furry cheeks along your clothes and pretty much anywhere he can reach. Your legs when he’s winding around them, your hand when you reach out to pet him, your cheek when he stands on your chest when you’re trying to read in bed before sleeping. 

  He purrs and cuddles with you, laying in your arms or over your lap—he even hid in your bag once when you went out for the day, and you discovered it too late to take him back home (you did wonder why your bag felt heavier than usual) and thus, he has the pleasure of accompanying you to your work—something he doesn’t often get the excuse or time to do. 

  Thankfully, Hu Tao didn’t question it when you came to her and said that Zhongli couldn’t come to work for a few days (hopefully just a few days). If anything, she sighed in relief and said something about him finally using his paid time off and sick days. Then thanks you for taking him out of commission??? 

  You pour over some scrolls and papers to try and figure out how to turn Zhongli back, and he hops onto the desk in the study, nuzzling against your arm before sitting down, tail swaying as he joins you in searching for ways to bring him back to you in a more familiar form. Despite how cute he is like this. 

* eri is the collar-flap on the front of a kimono/yukata that crosses over the chest, he's tucked into it and lying on his back. if you know about the nioh cat clock scene, yeah.

* wriothesley is supposed to be a maine coon type of cat, just huge and heavy. but not wild cat huge.

[endursent]

- God Shattering Star

【 content; morax | rex lapis x reader , slow burn , mutual pining , multi-chapter , archon war period , afab!reader 】

【 note; i need to stop saying "dw guys next chapter wont take that long!" every time i do i get pulverized by a boulder | read on ao3 】

【 word count; 6.305 | previous chapter - next chapter | masterlist 】

- Chapter 13 - Dissolution

Your poor forehead was itchy the entire day following “the incident”, it didn’t bruise nor form a  large bump, thankfully, but you still felt sore if you pressed on it… 

  “It looks fine, just be glad it didn’t poke your eye out, idiot,” Ming Hui says after having tugged your head down to inspect it. She’s thankfully not mad at you anymore, not after you offered her both the youtiao—about four boxes of it, four sticks in each… she berated you for the number of them for a few minutes but seemed satisfied when you offered to take one box for yourself. 

  You straighten again after she inspected it, and wonder if you should tie a ribbon around your forehead to cover the small raise of your skin. “I didn’t sit under its trajectory on purpose,” you grumble—how are you the idiot for a branch falling on your head? You don’t have the reflexes to knock it away or dodge… if anything, you just sat there and watched it plonk down towards you. 

  She turns around to grab some bottles off the table behind her, setting them on a tray before walking past you—while you’ve been… otherwise occupied, Ming Hui has been studying medicine and healing arts under Ground Mender. You feel a bit bad for missing out on the lessons, but perhaps you can convince Ground Mender to let you attend as well. “What are you doing?” you ask curiously as she pops open the jars and bottles.

  “Making a tonic that numbs your mouth,” she says and starts… just pouring all of the liquids into one larger jar, the colour is blue and a bit misty. 

  “Ah…” you make a sound of understanding. You’re not sure what it would be used for, perhaps oral infections…? “Does it not require more… gentle mixing?”

  “Doesn’t matter once it’s all in there,” she says, closes the lid, and shakes it wildly. 

  Sure. You’ll take her word for it. 

  In the few days after arriving, there wasn’t much for you to do—you feel like a war general in a province without war. There were no patients suffering from afflictions relating to foul energies in the infirmary, mostly just routine injuries that you helped dress, keep an eye on, and assist the patients themselves be comfortable.

  You’ve never been much of a nurse, always preferring the ‘you’ve been cleansed please go home and rest’ approach… 

  Just as you’re tossing out some dirty shirt— a poor man has been vomiting endlessly for the last few hours and always just barely misses the basin before it comes out, and thus has gone through a few shirts since the morning—you spot a white robe moving in the corner of your eyes and see that Ground Mender has decided to grace the infirmary with her presence. 

  She’s been busy, you assume, as she has barely come around the infirmary in the last days—so you seized the opportunity and quickly jogged after her. “Ground Mender!”

  At the call, the adeptus stopped and turned towards you, eyes curious. “Ah, my apologies—I’m in a bit of a hurry, I’ll have free time tomorrow if you want to chat.”

  She didn’t give any details, as usual—you don’t expect the adepti to tell you anything at this point unless it’s very important. “Oh, it’s okay, I’ll talk to you later then,” you quickly reply. You would like to ask her where she’s going, or what she’s doing, but Ground Mender is already halfway down the hallway by the time you could think of what to ask her. 

  Next time, then…

  Feeling so restless is annoying, you can’t even relax and read a book or take a walk after leaving the infirmary without feeling as if you should be doing something else, something more important… doing what you always do.

  There’s no one to cleanse in the capital, there’s no one—at least that has been brought to you—suffering from afflictions relating to foul miasma or strange energies… but you know that somewhere, in places outside of the well-guarded cities, there are people suffering, perhaps sick and unable to get better, because their illness is not the cause of bacteria or themselves, but a foreign energy invading their body.

  You kick a rock in front of you as you walk through the city streets, it bounces four times before you’ve approached it again give it a good swing, causing it to bounce ahead of you again. 

  Perhaps… it’s okay if you leave for a while—there’s not much for you to do anyway, you can always just be summoned again if something happens? 

  You’re not used to being so… tied down to a place, to feel like you don’t have the option to leave whenever you’d like—but you’re unsure why you feel like you can’t leave, it’s not like you’re being held here, you doubt you’d be dragged back kicking and screaming if you expressed that you truly wanted to leave. 

  But you can’t bring yourself to pack your clothes and depart. It’s been on your mind for two days now, and no matter how it bounces back and forth in your head like this stupid pebble, you can’t figure out whether you want to go or not. 

  Besides… who knows where that massive demon went, staying here for the time being would be the safest option—but you’ve never been particularly pressed about your own safety over others, what if he’s devouring people by the villages as you’re wandering the city streets and munching on rice cakes?

  Finally, the pebble you’ve been abusing for a while bounces off to the side and down a stream that hugs an empty home—you won’t go digging for it, so you keep moving. 

  Coming to the stall you were looking for, old man Zhou’s son has reached much popularity with his mixed cuisine, taking what he learned in the west and both selling specialties he learned there, as well as integrating them into local dishes. 

  There is a row of people that splits into two waiting to be served, and you can see the top of his head behind the stall, as well as two shorter heads running to people waiting by the side with their ready orders—his cousins, if you understood currently from your brief visit yesterday. 

  They had just closed the stall when you came here last night, so you were out of luck getting something warm—but Zhou’s son, Shi Hao, had told you to come again early the next day… it seems even leaving at sunrise wasn’t early enough to avoid the crowds. 

  Preparing to wait for a while, and taking a spot at the back of the queue, you couldn’t help but listen in on a conversation between a young girl and boy waiting in front of you. “—uncle told me there’s ghosts in the west, I wonder if the buns here are made of ghost hairs.”

  “What?” the boy next to her gives the girl a confused look. “Why would anyone make buns out of hair? It’s made of dough.”

  “Pigs have hair, why can’t buns have hair? When I poke father’s pig, it feels like I’m poking dough,” the girl shakes her head. “And ghosts have a lot of hair, you can’t cut your hair when you’re a ghost.”

  You decide to tune out of their conversation, every time you listen to kids talk you feel like you understand them less and less.

  The wait stretches on forever, you’re halfway into the queue and feel as if you’ve been waiting for two hours—though it could also have only been one. After an eternity of waiting, it’s very hard to wait when such delicious, strong smells of cooking are wafting by you every second. The sun has risen into the sky, but it’s not very warm despite the brightness… people are dressed in warmer layers as they wait for a hot meal or snack. You hear chatter as a woman behind you keeps rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. 

  Shi Hao barely notices that it’s you when you step up to the front, the headband he’s tied around his forehead to keep sweat from dripping onto the food news changing soon and his hair looks as if a dragon blew him away. “Good day, precious patron!” he calls as he ducks down to fetch more herbs from below. “What could I make for you today? Please look at the menu!”

  You already knew what you wanted, as you had visited the night before. “One traveller’s delight, please,” you lean a bit over the stall so that he could hear you—just as the man shoots up into a standing position and almost knocks heads with you. “Oh—”

  “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was you!” Shi Hao grabs your left arm and shakes it heartily, and you have to grit your teeth to not flinch—that guy’s grip is intense, and your poor arm doesn’t take shaking very well, not shaking like this at least! “I’ll get on it right away—Qi Xuan! Orders seventy two and ninety eight are ready!” 

  One of his cousins came running, it was far before noon and they already seemed as if the two had run three laps across the capital. Maybe you should fetch some water for them after having your meal. 

  You step aside after giving Shi Hao your order as well as setting the sufficient more in the little box on the counter to let the next person approach. While this stand seems to be doing very well… it’s blocking the narrow street that the entrance to Thousand Pots lies in quite a bit. The large crowd both waiting in line and for their food on the sides doesn’t make it easy to spot the small restaurant. 

  Making the mental calculation that your food would likely not be ready in the next seven minutes, you duck into the alleyway and see that Thousand Pots is open as usual, and despite the crowd outside there were still three people inside having a nice meal. 

  As soon as you took two steps in, something hard knocked you on the back, you make a sound of surprise and discomfort and turn to see what had hit you—only to be met with Zhou, holding a ladle, the offending weapon. “Ow… master Zhou, why are you—”

  He whacks you again, but the old man doesn’t exactly have good joints, so it makes it easy for you to predict the next whack and dodge accordingly—by almost banging your hip on a table a poor fellow is eating on. “A youngster like you should be able to fend off an old man like me more easily!” 

  You don’t recall making Zhou angry, and as you almost fall over when your foot hits a chair in the small space, the ladle whacks you on the forehead—right where you had been sore already—and you groan, halfway to falling to the floor and barely able to hold yourself up by grabbing the side of a table next to you. 

  “It was a small tap, don’t tell me you have a skull like a tea pot?” he taps you with it again, and this time you grab the long arm of the ladle and hold it away from you. 

  “Ow… why are you attacking me?” you grumble, rubbing your poor forehead as Zhou lets go of the ladle, leaving it in your care. “Isn’t the restaurant open? I didn’t break in.”

  Shi Hao’s cousin enters the restaurant behind the old man, holding a sealed basket—likely your much anticipated meal. “Gramps does that every time we do something stupid,” the girl says and hands you the basket. “Like when uncle was teaching me to make fish soup, but I forgot to gut the fish.”

  “I don’t recall fumbling a fish soup,” your eyebrows draw together as you’re suddenly holding both your food and the damp ladle Zhou had been using, you extend the ladle to the girl and she accepts it. “But I’m sure I would, I’ve never made one before.”

  Zhou makes a humph-ing sound and takes the ladle from the girl, but doesn’t take another swing at you—thankfully. “We heard all about your condition, and right as you were getting better, you up and leave! I had prepared a week’s worth of delicious meals for you!”

  “Ah…” your lips part, and you’re not sure what to say; for one, who is feeding this old man information from within the palace? You feel a bit bad immediately after his words settle in your brain, you’re not a very wasteful person, and knowing that food was prepared—or more likely, ingredients were prepared and would be used over the week—and were then not used makes you feel uneasy. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware…”

  “Of course you weren’t, it was a surprise,” Zhou said and walked into the back of the restaurant, the girl behind you left as well—and momentarily you were a bit lost as to what you should do, was the conversation over? Are you free to go? 

  Hesitantly walking past tightly spaced tables and into the kitchen, you just manage to see the short old man duck under a flaming pan with two other people preparing for lunch. “Now look at you, like a wet rat.”

  Though a bit exasperated by being scolded so much—especially when you just came out here to get some tasty food—having a elder berate you is a bit nostalgic. “I’m sorry, master Zhou, can I repay you for the foods you had prepared? I hate to hear it went to waste.” The kitchen is steaming hot, with one of Zhou’s daughters working at a broth and another person you haven’t seen before taking a jar that’s been prepared to ferment what’s inside, though already sealed, so you can’t see what.

  “Waste?” the old man popped up again, and suddenly plopped a fat, heavy dough wrapped in a dry bag into your arms—you barely had time to put your basket of ordered… and likely going cold, food aside on a clean surface to catch it. “Little Ming Hui gobbled it up like a starving beast, she didn’t let anything go to waste.”

  It was a relief that nothing went to waste, and you’re not exactly sure how you would repay him—you didn’t bring a lot of mora with you. 

  “That’s good,” you hum, but feel a bit out of place—you had got a taste of the kitchen-rhythm and were very self-aware that you were standing in the middle of it, possibly about to be in someone’s way any second. “Eh… why am I holding this?” you ask hesitantly, it smells a bit like dumpling-dough, and fresh at that.

  “Repay you can! Now come here and cut that dough into even pieces, I’ll teach you how to make my dear wife’s favourite,” he suddenly appears behind you, having rounded the tiny kitchen in seconds without knocking into a single thing, and is now pushing you through the tight space. Pots, plates and other dishware stack up to the ceiling on both sides, and you can really see why they decided to name the place “Thousand Pots”, you couldn’t begin to count them.  

  “O-of course, but, my food—” you start to protest. It’s not that you have important places to be, but what about that lovely smelling basket you just got?? How do you keep getting roped into such things?

  “Bah, Shi Hao can make you more later, put the dough on the counter before you drop it!”

  You feel as if the strings of fate have been forcibly guiding you into kitchens a lot recently, doing hard work with dough… and you feel like you’re really starting to get a hang of it too, though having to take frequent breaks to rest your arms has slowed your progress quite a bit.

  Heat emanating from behind you where Zhou’s daughter is steaming some vegetables makes you feel as if your clothes are sticking to your skin, you wipe your hands after stuffing another bun and look over your shoulder to find the old man, to tell him the buns are ready for the steamer—but your name is called before you could even open your mouth. 

  “In here,” Zhou walks back into the kitchen with a familiar man in tow—Morax ducks under the flaps at the entrance to the kitchen and lets his eyes wander over the pot-filled space before landing on you. “Ah, done already? Well done! Let’s get them ready,” the old man nods eagerly and scoops up about five buns at once from in front of you. 

  For a moment, you thought you were hallucinating—no one else seems to greet or notice him there, and you’re unsure how to test this hypothetical illusion… you kick the counter before you, and sure enough, despite the sting in your poor toe, Morax remains. 

  His eyes lower down to your foot, and then raise up to meet your eyes again with swirls of confusion. “Are you… experiencing jerking symptoms in your leg?”

  His confused and rather innocent question makes you feel a bit bad. “No, I just—it was an accident, my legs are fine,” you quickly say, wiping your sticky and flour-covered hands on your pants. “Why are you here? Er, I mean—are you here for any specific reason? Or, is it a coincidence…? No…” you started out too harshly, then got too specific and ended up asking a strange question. You need to socialise with wider circles on a more consistent basis. Maybe you should find a council to join and relearn how to be polite in a manner you won’t fumble so easily.

  Morax simply waits until you finish talking, no longer seeming confused or concerned—despite the fact you feel that you’ve been around him quite a bit more than many, at least many mortals like yourself, you still struggle to understand his expressions… or perhaps he’s the one who struggles to form them. “I was searching for you. Ming Hui told me that you had gone to taste young Shi Hao’s new menu, and the little ones outside told me you were put to work.”

  It’s a little embarrassing that he had to search for you, but you can’t be blamed too much—you got roped into kitchenwork, you can’t exactly abandon half-cut dough.

  “Searching for me? What for?” your fingers still feel sticky from the dough, and you look around for a washbasin or towel, but find nothing that seems to be for washing your hands, perhaps it’s behind the middle counter where the broth is being made. It must be somewhere—it’s a kitchen after all. 

  Morax notices your mild discomfort, searching around subtly—or so you think—as you wipe more at your clothes that are already powdered by flour. He chooses not to comment on it nor inquire what you need. “It is best discussed with more privacy, if you… have finished here, I would like you to accompany me.”

  You immediately nod. “Oh, of course.” but as you glance to the heap of chopped and worked dough next to you, a small part of you feels like you’re leaving a job only half-done. 

  Thankfully, before you can either ask the god before you to wait a moment or that you’ll come to him later—Zhou behind you calls that you’re done for the day, and that you can leave if Morax needs you. “I’ll save some buns for you! Come back later!”

  The air feels cold when you’re back outside, you didn’t realise how stuffy the kitchen had become until now. The fresh, cool air almost makes your teeth tingle as you follow Morax, his long feet allowing him to outpace you quite well. 

  The walk is silent between the two of you, but the streets are alive and loud with people as the afternoon brings them out from work and obligations, you have to shoulder past a few to keep in pace with him as you pass through a busy street and almost feel that you need to grab ahold of his clothes or arm to not lose sight of him—though the thought is equally as terrifying as it would be embarrassing would he turn with question or discomfort. 

  You refrain, you don’t make a habit of touching people anyway—surely you could just give him a shout and he’ll wait by the nearest street corner? 

  Thankfully you manage to follow Morax through the crowd until the two of you reach the high streets leading towards the palaces, where he looks over his shoulder to see whether you were still behind him—and upon seeing your form still trailing behind, he tilts his head slightly and turns back forward. 

  “Were you enjoying yourself?” Morax suddenly asks as you begin to ascend the stairs towards the palaces, he climbs them so easily it seems as if he were merely gliding upwards—meanwhile you have to fight to keep up with him, and hope he doesn’t hear any heavy breathing. 

  You take two steps at a time to try and catch up to his side. “In the kitchen? I don’t know,” you admit. You just did what you were told, kneading was a bit straining—and not the most interesting thing you’ve done, but you were too focused to get too bored. “I don’t mind cooking, or baking. But I don’t spend time perfecting the craft…”

  He hums, golden eyes faced forward as you finally seem to match his pace. “Your dedication to your work is admirable.”

  You almost stumble face-first onto the rocky stairs, your poor toe impacting the step you intended to push onto too early. With a lack of grace you manage to steady yourself before cracking a tooth, or possibly breaking your nose on the ground. “A-ah, thank you…”

  The sudden compliment startled you, weren’t you talking about cooking? You suppose the reason you haven’t learnt the optimal ways of making your favourite meals and opting for the quicker route instead is because you are often more focused on getting back to whatever you were doing before dinner time… maybe you’re not as hard to read as you expected, or hoped. 

  You’re not sure what to say, and he doesn’t offer any more words as you continue to climb the stairs—should you offer a compliment in return? It doesn’t feel right to just leave it at that, but you haven’t directly done so before, wouldn’t it feel too forced?

  “The Guili Assembly has always been home to me, and I hate to see the people suffer unnecessary sickness,” you add. To have a healthy body, a fate unburdened from illness—and have it forced upon you by conflicts out of your control… how can it be fair? 

  You hate to see the pallid skin of a person who climbed a tall mountain to collect flowers for their love, the foreign ichor that crawls beneath their muscle and steals life from it. You wish for them to be healthy and whole again, as they are meant to be. Without the interference of a godly war for territories and strength—

  You hear your name spoken in front of you and realise you fell behind, a good eight steps between the two of you. Morax is staring at you, considering your words. “It is a noble thing, to devote oneself to easing the pain of others.” 

  A second acknowledgement, your heart feels a bit too noticeable in your chest—beating too firmly against your ribs. He seems like he wants to say more, but as a cool breeze pushes at your side, his eyes flicker from your face when a leaf flows between the two of you, breaking your eye-contact and he quickly sets a foot to the next step. “Come, I wish to show you something.”

  You’ve never been at the top of Morax’s palace, it’s mostly bare compared to Guizhong’s well decorated and pretty hallways. The wood is elaborately cut and polished, of course… but there’s a distinct lack of… soul within it. No artwork, no artefacts or curtains. You can’t help but wonder why as your gaze finds his back again. 

  The room you step into is shaped the same as the one Guizhong called you into a while ago, but whilst her was a blend of an office and workshop, Morax’s seems more of a war room. There is a map on a table at the centre, the Guili Assembly is outlined at the centre, the vast oceans to the east and the mountains that warp into a swirl to the southwest—many mapped lands that you have never set foot in, and some you have only heard of and never seen on a map. 

  The windows are tinted and closed, casting the afternoon sun onto the floor as unlit lamps hang from the ceiling. You feel like the air is a bit heavy, it could do with an open window…

  “He Shan disappeared into the western highlands, I did not manage to trace his exact location or where he has chosen to hide himself,” Morax says as he closes the door behind you, he moves past you and approaches a large cabinet sat against the wall to your left. It’s large and has a lot of different doors to it—you could imagine scrolls and small artefacts could be kept inside each one. 

  Opening one, Morax reaches inside and takes out an object wrapped in a cloth, golden lines shimmer atop the covered item as he taps it twice. The centre of the seal quivers before disappearing into particles, floating into the air and disappearing above your heads. As he unravels it, the object looks like a stone slab of some sorts. You approach the war table as Morax does, he sets the object down and your nose scrunches as a terrible stench emanates from it. “He leaves behind traces of himself, this is a chipped piece of his scales, likely torn from his body when moving around the landscape.”

  A scale? Well, part of a scale, the serpent was so massive you imagine one scale is half the size of your body—or at least the size of your torso, this chipped scale fits into your palm. “Why does it smell like this?” you ask, you don’t remember such a stench filling the air as the demon emerged from the mountain, only the oppressive weight of his resentment. 

  Morax is silent for a beat, before he turns the scale around—and beneath it is an inky, writing mass. It gleams as if it’s wet, but it doesn’t stick to Morax’s gloved hands, not leave a damp imprint on them. “In two villages I visited while following his traces, I found that their waters had been turned to sludge—they could not use the rivers to wash nor drink.”

  You looked at the mass on the inside of the scale again. “Is it safe to touch?”

  “Briefly, to my knowledge. But I have not tested prolonged exposure with mortal hands,” he says and gestures to the map on the table, his finger tapped on a dotted spot to the west of the Fangyuan mountains. “He moved from the mountains and west, past this village, as well as the town north of it,” Morax’s finger glides along the highlands separating the Guili Assembly from the deep forests further west. “I traced him to Tianqiu Valley before my path led to a dead end.”

  Your fingers curl at your chin, a hum leaving you. “Surely a serpent so large can’t just… hide?” it’s hard to imagine, he spanned so many kilometres you’re unsure how he would rest without leaving his tail in the open somewhere—or perhaps gods don’t require rest? You’ve never seen a god sleep, or an adeptus for that matter. 

  “Unfortunately, were he to hide further north there is too high of a risk to send scouts into foreign territory,” Morax shakes his head. “This scale, does this resemble the miasma you encounter during cleansing?”

  You eye the squirming mass, trying to gouge it from sight alone—you don’t really want to touch it, but just looking at it isn’t giving you much. It’s certainly more solid than the usual foul energies you pull out of people, miasma feels… slimy and wet, but not like you’re clenching a rat in your palm, even when it fights your pull. More like trying to grasp thick mist. 

  Reaching your hand out, you lay your palm over it—careful not to touch it as you feel for the energy. It’s much warmer than the usual miasma, but doesn’t shirk away when you get close… it’s definitely not the same, but has a similar tinge in a way that’s difficult to explain. “It is… different,” your brows pinch and you lift your hand away from the scale to see that the mass had lifted upwards and then deflated as soon as you moved—like bread being uncovered when it’s set to rest while making it. 

  “Different?” Morax moves the scale slightly, he didn’t quite like how it raised towards your palm. 

  “It’s got a similar aftertaste,” you wipe your hand on your clothes, it didn’t touch you, but you get an uncomfortable tingle from the thought of it. “Since he’s a demon, wouldn’t his energies be inherently different than the ones that infect the lands?”

  You’ve only dealt with a demon once before, and you didn’t stay long enough to get to know it properly—personally or in nature. 

  “Not necessarily,” Morax said. “The beings whose remains leave poison behind are all very different, many are classified as gods by mortals—it can be difficult to differentiate between them. Even Guizhong and I are very different in nature, but you would simply see the two of us as divine beings. Demons are similarly different among themselves.”

  You nod along as he talks, it’s surprisingly easy to listen to his voice when he’s explaining things to you. You did know that gods are very different in nature, rarely are gods one and the same. “I see… and we need to understand what king He Shan is?”

  He nods and takes the scale from the table, wrapping it into the pale cloth again. “General Huang has extended contact to Mei Lan, it would greatly speed the process if she were willing to divulge their history. Facing the demon head on without any information of his nature is too dangerous.”

  After closing the cloth around it, the seal seems to close itself without his interference, Morax offers it to you. You blink at him, eyes moving between his expression and the scale. “... why are you giving it to me?”

  “The affinity you have for foul energies can be utilised for more than cleansing,” he says and takes your wrapped arm from your side, lifting it up and placing the wrapped scale in your palm. “Keep this in your bedroom, not by the nightstand, but on the desk.”

  Your fingers instinctively wrap around the clothed scale, but your eyebrows furrow. “Is it safe?”

  “I would not place this burden on you had I any doubts,” he shakes his head, and his warm hands leave yours. “Every evening, feel for its energies and move it from it’s spot every other night. When you wake, try to sense it across the room.”

  The pieces in your mind start to align as he gives you the instructions, clicking together in realisation. “You want me to be able to track him?”

  “My senses cover a large distance and can find a target’s location across the land,” his expression pinches as he talks, eyes narrowing slightly. “But as I reached Tianqiu Valley, his essence seemed to scatter, and each time I approached; it evaporated.”

  Some kind of trick, no doubt—you’re unsure how exactly you’re the solution to it, but you trust his foresight. “I see… you must forgive me, but I’m struggling to understand how I can be of assistance if you couldn’t find him.”

  You wince at your own words, maybe you could have worded it better—but can you be blamed for doubting yourself compared to him? 

  Morax doesn’t seem offended by your question, he moves towards a shelf and takes a book from it—it looks old, the cover doesn’t shield the spine of it and is made of a thick material you’re unsure what it is made of. “Many demons are proud beings,” he turns back towards you and holds the book out for you to take, you accept it with your free hand that isn’t clutching the uncomfortably warm scale. “They… over and under prepare simultaneously. You are not preparing for battle, do not worry overmuch,” an everso small tug lifts at his lips, so faint that you wouldn’t notice if you were not used to seeing his expression so lacking of one. “Tracking and cornering He Shan is the difficult part, but not the most dangerous. I will handle the rest swiftly afterwards.”

  You look down at the book, it seems to be a collection of old folktales, though they exaggerate, they can help give you an understanding of how demons behave around mortals. 

  Morax is asking much of you—that he knows well, to ask you to risk your safety to assist him. Defeating demons is mostly a game of mind, the physical battle will be a smaller feat for him; Morax has defeated many demons in the past. “If you are not willing, I will not force this task upon you,” he says, a mild concern touching his gaze by your silence. 

  Raising your head from staring at the book, you shake it. “I am willing. If it will prevent harm and disaster upon innocent villagers and townsfolk.”

  The small touch of a smile widens briefly, a gentle expression gracing his face—you truly wish he would be more expressive, every smile and soft gaze makes your palms sweat slightly, but they warm your chest as well. It might also make it easier for you to talk to him without feeling that you’re overstepping, or sounding silly. 

  “Very well, then I employ your assistance with this task,” Morax nods. “You will of course be well compensated.”

  Payment is always nice, but you hope he knows that you’re sincere when you say that you want to assist for the safety of others. You’re sure he’s only being formal. “Thank you. Is there anything else I must do other than… sleeping with this thing around?” you lift the clothed scale for emphasis. 

  “Yes,” he turns to the map beside the two of you again and meets your eyes briefly to ensure you’ve followed his movements before he gestures to the two villages he mentioned before along the western edges of the Assembly. “I did not manage to stop for long when I was tracking He Shan, the waters are likely still infected and must be cleansed. I requested supplies be sent from nearby towns to assist them, but it will not last for long.”

  It’s not too long of a travel distance, but you stay silent to let him continue. Surely you won’t be going alone? Not that you can’t, but what if the serpent decides to slide through again?

  “I cannot accompany you just yet, but I will convene with you in a few days.” Ah, as you suspected—you suppose it’s not so surprising, Morax must be very busy… He Shan is just one among many threats that the Guili Assembly faces in these times, many of which you are unaware of. “I will ask that Indarias join you, I suspect that He Shan’s potent energies will attract smaller demons that mistake it for remains.”

  You just nod along to his words, you don’t know who Indarias is but if they’re going to be joining you specifically because there might be demons about, then you suppose they must be capable. “When will we set out?”

  “Two days,” Morax straightens again, turning away from the map to face you completely again. “Indarias has been tasked elsewhere, but she will return quickly once summoned. I suspect two days will be enough—will you require longer to prepare?”

  “No… but…” a thought suddenly strikes you, something you hadn’t considered as you were discussing everything. “I lost my tools in the south, they were blown away at the start of the conflict,” you scratch your cheek awkwardly. Finding or getting cleansing tools isn’t a simple task, much less so crafting them from scratch, they need specific qualities and material to be effective. 

  Morax’s lips part slightly. “Ah, I see. I will speak with Ground Mender and see if she has any solutions, I will find you before you depart…” he pauses for a moment. “They were well used.”

  They were, well used and loved by your family, your grandmother before you and many before. You always promised to take good care of them… you swallow your saliva and just give Morax a nod. “Yeah, it was used by my family for a long time. It’s impressive how long it lasted, I suppose it was an eventuality.”

  Silent, Morax doesn’t seem to know what exactly to say. “I am sorry that you lost a family heirloom… it will not replace what was lost, but I can commission new tools for you. It will not do to be without.”

  It won’t be the same, but you will need new tools either way, you bow your head slightly. “Thank you, I’m grateful for your consideration.”

  You feel something touch your head—familiar and warm, a tinge of déjà vu prickling your mind. Morax had set his hand atop your head, giving it a small pat before retreating it again. “No need, it is my duty.” you gingerly raise your head again, head tickled a little from the touch. “Please use it well to continue your good work.”

[endursent]

acquired the floating box comment on ao3 i am now r e a d y.

ive always been so bad at articulating my thoughts while reading fics that my comments always just come out in enthused word vomits as soon as i stop consuming it 😭 i would have messy 5 page essays that were just 30% keyboard smashes if i tried to comment throughout my reading

[endursent]

- God Shattering Star

【 content; morax | rex lapis x reader , slow burn , mutual pining , multi-chapter , archon war period , afab!reader 】

【 note; i need to stop saying "dw guys next chapter wont take that long!" every time i do i get pulverised by a boulder | read on ao3 】

【 word count; 6.305 | previous chapter - next chapter | masterlist 】

- Chapter 13 - Dissolution

Your poor forehead was itchy the entire day following “the incident”, it didn’t bruise nor form a  large bump, thankfully, but you still felt sore if you pressed on it… 

  “It looks fine, just be glad it didn’t poke your eye out, idiot,” Ming Hui says after having tugged your head down to inspect it. She’s thankfully not mad at you anymore, not after you offered her both the youtiao—about four boxes of it, four sticks in each… she berated you for the number of them for a few minutes but seemed satisfied when you offered to take one box for yourself. 

  You straighten again after she inspected it, and wonder if you should tie a ribbon around your forehead to cover the small raise of your skin. “I didn’t sit under its trajectory on purpose,” you grumble—how are you the idiot for a branch falling on your head? You don’t have the reflexes to knock it away or dodge… if anything, you just sat there and watched it plonk down towards you. 

  She turns around to grab some bottles off the table behind her, setting them on a tray before walking past you—while you’ve been… otherwise occupied, Ming Hui has been studying medicine and healing arts under Ground Mender. You feel a bit bad for missing out on the lessons, but perhaps you can convince Ground Mender to let you attend as well. “What are you doing?” you ask curiously as she pops open the jars and bottles.

  “Making a tonic that numbs your mouth,” she says and starts… just pouring all of the liquids into one larger jar, the colour is blue and a bit misty. 

  “Ah…” you make a sound of understanding. You’re not sure what it would be used for, perhaps oral infections…? “Does it not require more… gentle mixing?”

  “Doesn’t matter once it’s all in there,” she says, closes the lid, and shakes it wildly. 

  Sure. You’ll take her word for it. 

  In the few days after arriving, there wasn’t much for you to do—you feel like a war general in a province without war. There were no patients suffering from afflictions relating to foul energies in the infirmary, mostly just routine injuries that you helped dress, keep an eye on, and assist the patients themselves be comfortable.

  You’ve never been much of a nurse, always preferring the ‘you’ve been cleansed please go home and rest’ approach… 

  Just as you’re tossing out some dirty shirt— a poor man has been vomiting endlessly for the last few hours and always just barely misses the basin before it comes out, and thus has gone through a few shirts since the morning—you spot a white robe moving in the corner of your eyes and see that Ground Mender has decided to grace the infirmary with her presence. 

  She’s been busy, you assume, as she has barely come around the infirmary in the last days—so you seized the opportunity and quickly jogged after her. “Ground Mender!”

  At the call, the adeptus stopped and turned towards you, eyes curious. “Ah, my apologies—I’m in a bit of a hurry, I’ll have free time tomorrow if you want to chat.”

  She didn’t give any details, as usual—you don’t expect the adepti to tell you anything at this point unless it’s very important. “Oh, it’s okay, I’ll talk to you later then,” you quickly reply. You would like to ask her where she’s going, or what she’s doing, but Ground Mender is already halfway down the hallway by the time you could think of what to ask her. 

  Next time, then…

  Feeling so restless is annoying, you can’t even relax and read a book or take a walk after leaving the infirmary without feeling as if you should be doing something else, something more important… doing what you always do.

  There’s no one to cleanse in the capital, there’s no one—at least that has been brought to you—suffering from afflictions relating to foul miasma or strange energies… but you know that somewhere, in places outside of the well-guarded cities, there are people suffering, perhaps sick and unable to get better, because their illness is not the cause of bacteria or themselves, but a foreign energy invading their body.

  You kick a rock in front of you as you walk through the city streets, it bounces four times before you’ve approached it again give it a good swing, causing it to bounce ahead of you again. 

  Perhaps… it’s okay if you leave for a while—there’s not much for you to do anyway, you can always just be summoned again if something happens? 

  You’re not used to being so… tied down to a place, to feel like you don’t have the option to leave whenever you’d like—but you’re unsure why you feel like you can’t leave, it’s not like you’re being held here, you doubt you’d be dragged back kicking and screaming if you expressed that you truly wanted to leave. 

  But you can’t bring yourself to pack your clothes and depart. It’s been on your mind for two days now, and no matter how it bounces back and forth in your head like this stupid pebble, you can’t figure out whether you want to go or not. 

  Besides… who knows where that massive demon went, staying here for the time being would be the safest option—but you’ve never been particularly pressed about your own safety over others, what if he’s devouring people by the villages as you’re wandering the city streets and munching on rice cakes?

  Finally, the pebble you’ve been abusing for a while bounces off to the side and down a stream that hugs an empty home—you won’t go digging for it, so you keep moving. 

  Coming to the stall you were looking for, old man Zhou’s son has reached much popularity with his mixed cuisine, taking what he learned in the west and both selling specialties he learned there, as well as integrating them into local dishes. 

  There is a row of people that splits into two waiting to be served, and you can see the top of his head behind the stall, as well as two shorter heads running to people waiting by the side with their ready orders—his cousins, if you understood currently from your brief visit yesterday. 

  They had just closed the stall when you came here last night, so you were out of luck getting something warm—but Zhou’s son, Shi Hao, had told you to come again early the next day… it seems even leaving at sunrise wasn’t early enough to avoid the crowds. 

  Preparing to wait for a while, and taking a spot at the back of the queue, you couldn’t help but listen in on a conversation between a young girl and boy waiting in front of you. “—uncle told me there’s ghosts in the west, I wonder if the buns here are made of ghost hairs.”

  “What?” the boy next to her gives the girl a confused look. “Why would anyone make buns out of hair? It’s made of dough.”

  “Pigs have hair, why can’t buns have hair? When I poke father’s pig, it feels like I’m poking dough,” the girl shakes her head. “And ghosts have a lot of hair, you can’t cut your hair when you’re a ghost.”

  You decide to tune out of their conversation, every time you listen to kids talk you feel like you understand them less and less.

  The wait stretches on forever, you’re halfway into the queue and feel as if you’ve been waiting for two hours—though it could also have only been one. After an eternity of waiting, it’s very hard to wait when such delicious, strong smells of cooking are wafting by you every second. The sun has risen into the sky, but it’s not very warm despite the brightness… people are dressed in warmer layers as they wait for a hot meal or snack. You hear chatter as a woman behind you keeps rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. 

  Shi Hao barely notices that it’s you when you step up to the front, the headband he’s tied around his forehead to keep sweat from dripping onto the food news changing soon and his hair looks as if a dragon blew him away. “Good day, precious patron!” he calls as he ducks down to fetch more herbs from below. “What could I make for you today? Please look at the menu!”

  You already knew what you wanted, as you had visited the night before. “One traveller’s delight, please,” you lean a bit over the stall so that he could hear you—just as the man shoots up into a standing position and almost knocks heads with you. “Oh—”

  “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was you!” Shi Hao grabs your left arm and shakes it heartily, and you have to grit your teeth to not flinch—that guy’s grip is intense, and your poor arm doesn’t take shaking very well, not shaking like this at least! “I’ll get on it right away—Qi Xuan! Orders seventy two and ninety eight are ready!” 

  One of his cousins came running, it was far before noon and they already seemed as if the two had run three laps across the capital. Maybe you should fetch some water for them after having your meal. 

  You step aside after giving Shi Hao your order as well as setting the sufficient more in the little box on the counter to let the next person approach. While this stand seems to be doing very well… it’s blocking the narrow street that the entrance to Thousand Pots lies in quite a bit. The large crowd both waiting in line and for their food on the sides doesn’t make it easy to spot the small restaurant. 

  Making the mental calculation that your food would likely not be ready in the next seven minutes, you duck into the alleyway and see that Thousand Pots is open as usual, and despite the crowd outside there were still three people inside having a nice meal. 

  As soon as you took two steps in, something hard knocked you on the back, you make a sound of surprise and discomfort and turn to see what had hit you—only to be met with Zhou, holding a ladle, the offending weapon. “Ow… master Zhou, why are you—”

  He whacks you again, but the old man doesn’t exactly have good joints, so it makes it easy for you to predict the next whack and dodge accordingly—by almost banging your hip on a table a poor fellow is eating on. “A youngster like you should be able to fend off an old man like me more easily!” 

  You don’t recall making Zhou angry, and as you almost fall over when your foot hits a chair in the small space, the ladle whacks you on the forehead—right where you had been sore already—and you groan, halfway to falling to the floor and barely able to hold yourself up by grabbing the side of a table next to you. 

  “It was a small tap, don’t tell me you have a skull like a tea pot?” he taps you with it again, and this time you grab the long arm of the ladle and hold it away from you. 

  “Ow… why are you attacking me?” you grumble, rubbing your poor forehead as Zhou lets go of the ladle, leaving it in your care. “Isn’t the restaurant open? I didn’t break in.”

  Shi Hao’s cousin enters the restaurant behind the old man, holding a sealed basket—likely your much anticipated meal. “Gramps does that every time we do something stupid,” the girl says and hands you the basket. “Like when uncle was teaching me to make fish soup, but I forgot to gut the fish.”

  “I don’t recall fumbling a fish soup,” your eyebrows draw together as you’re suddenly holding both your food and the damp ladle Zhou had been using, you extend the ladle to the girl and she accepts it. “But I’m sure I would, I’ve never made one before.”

  Zhou makes a humph-ing sound and takes the ladle from the girl, but doesn’t take another swing at you—thankfully. “We heard all about your condition, and right as you were getting better, you up and leave! I had prepared a week’s worth of delicious meals for you!”

  “Ah…” your lips part, and you’re not sure what to say; for one, who is feeding this old man information from within the palace? You feel a bit bad immediately after his words settle in your brain, you’re not a very wasteful person, and knowing that food was prepared—or more likely, ingredients were prepared and would be used over the week—and were then not used makes you feel uneasy. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware…”

  “Of course you weren’t, it was a surprise,” Zhou said and walked into the back of the restaurant, the girl behind you left as well—and momentarily you were a bit lost as to what you should do, was the conversation over? Are you free to go? 

  Hesitantly walking past tightly spaced tables and into the kitchen, you just manage to see the short old man duck under a flaming pan with two other people preparing for lunch. “Now look at you, like a wet rat.”

  Though a bit exasperated by being scolded so much—especially when you just came out here to get some tasty food—having a elder berate you is a bit nostalgic. “I’m sorry, master Zhou, can I repay you for the foods you had prepared? I hate to hear it went to waste.” The kitchen is steaming hot, with one of Zhou’s daughters working at a broth and another person you haven’t seen before taking a jar that’s been prepared to ferment what’s inside, though already sealed, so you can’t see what.

  “Waste?” the old man popped up again, and suddenly plopped a fat, heavy dough wrapped in a dry bag into your arms—you barely had time to put your basket of ordered… and likely going cold, food aside on a clean surface to catch it. “Little Ming Hui gobbled it up like a starving beast, she didn’t let anything go to waste.”

  It was a relief that nothing went to waste, and you’re not exactly sure how you would repay him—you didn’t bring a lot of mora with you. 

  “That’s good,” you hum, but feel a bit out of place—you had got a taste of the kitchen-rhythm and were very self-aware that you were standing in the middle of it, possibly about to be in someone’s way any second. “Eh… why am I holding this?” you ask hesitantly, it smells a bit like dumpling-dough, and fresh at that.

  “Repay you can! Now come here and cut that dough into even pieces, I’ll teach you how to make my dear wife’s favourite,” he suddenly appears behind you, having rounded the tiny kitchen in seconds without knocking into a single thing, and is now pushing you through the tight space. Pots, plates and other dishware stack up to the ceiling on both sides, and you can really see why they decided to name the place “Thousand Pots”, you couldn’t begin to count them.  

  “O-of course, but, my food—” you start to protest. It’s not that you have important places to be, but what about that lovely smelling basket you just got?? How do you keep getting roped into such things?

  “Bah, Shi Hao can make you more later, put the dough on the counter before you drop it!”

  You feel as if the strings of fate have been forcibly guiding you into kitchens a lot recently, doing hard work with dough… and you feel like you’re really starting to get a hang of it too, though having to take frequent breaks to rest your arms has slowed your progress quite a bit.

  Heat emanating from behind you where Zhou’s daughter is steaming some vegetables makes you feel as if your clothes are sticking to your skin, you wipe your hands after stuffing another bun and look over your shoulder to find the old man, to tell him the buns are ready for the steamer—but your name is called before you could even open your mouth. 

  “In here,” Zhou walks back into the kitchen with a familiar man in tow—Morax ducks under the flaps at the entrance to the kitchen and lets his eyes wander over the pot-filled space before landing on you. “Ah, done already? Well done! Let’s get them ready,” the old man nods eagerly and scoops up about five buns at once from in front of you. 

  For a moment, you thought you were hallucinating—no one else seems to greet or notice him there, and you’re unsure how to test this hypothetical illusion… you kick the counter before you, and sure enough, despite the sting in your poor toe, Morax remains. 

  His eyes lower down to your foot, and then raise up to meet your eyes again with swirls of confusion. “Are you… experiencing jerking symptoms in your leg?”

  His confused and rather innocent question makes you feel a bit bad. “No, I just—it was an accident, my legs are fine,” you quickly say, wiping your sticky and flour-covered hands on your pants. “Why are you here? Er, I mean—are you here for any specific reason? Or, is it a coincidence…? No…” you started out too harshly, then got too specific and ended up asking a strange question. You need to socialise with wider circles on a more consistent basis. Maybe you should find a council to join and relearn how to be polite in a manner you won’t fumble so easily.

  Morax simply waits until you finish talking, no longer seeming confused or concerned—despite the fact you feel that you’ve been around him quite a bit more than many, at least many mortals like yourself, you still struggle to understand his expressions… or perhaps he’s the one who struggles to form them. “I was searching for you. Ming Hui told me that you had gone to taste young Shi Hao’s new menu, and the little ones outside told me you were put to work.”

  It’s a little embarrassing that he had to search for you, but you can’t be blamed too much—you got roped into kitchenwork, you can’t exactly abandon half-cut dough.

  “Searching for me? What for?” your fingers still feel sticky from the dough, and you look around for a washbasin or towel, but find nothing that seems to be for washing your hands, perhaps it’s behind the middle counter where the broth is being made. It must be somewhere—it’s a kitchen after all. 

  Morax notices your mild discomfort, searching around subtly—or so you think—as you wipe more at your clothes that are already powdered by flour. He chooses not to comment on it nor inquire what you need. “It is best discussed with more privacy, if you… have finished here, I would like you to accompany me.”

  You immediately nod. “Oh, of course.” but as you glance to the heap of chopped and worked dough next to you, a small part of you feels like you’re leaving a job only half-done. 

  Thankfully, before you can either ask the god before you to wait a moment or that you’ll come to him later—Zhou behind you calls that you’re done for the day, and that you can leave if Morax needs you. “I’ll save some buns for you! Come back later!”

  The air feels cold when you’re back outside, you didn’t realise how stuffy the kitchen had become until now. The fresh, cool air almost makes your teeth tingle as you follow Morax, his long feet allowing him to outpace you quite well. 

  The walk is silent between the two of you, but the streets are alive and loud with people as the afternoon brings them out from work and obligations, you have to shoulder past a few to keep in pace with him as you pass through a busy street and almost feel that you need to grab ahold of his clothes or arm to not lose sight of him—though the thought is equally as terrifying as it would be embarrassing would he turn with question or discomfort. 

  You refrain, you don’t make a habit of touching people anyway—surely you could just give him a shout and he’ll wait by the nearest street corner? 

  Thankfully you manage to follow Morax through the crowd until the two of you reach the high streets leading towards the palaces, where he looks over his shoulder to see whether you were still behind him—and upon seeing your form still trailing behind, he tilts his head slightly and turns back forward. 

  “Were you enjoying yourself?” Morax suddenly asks as you begin to ascend the stairs towards the palaces, he climbs them so easily it seems as if he were merely gliding upwards—meanwhile you have to fight to keep up with him, and hope he doesn’t hear any heavy breathing. 

  You take two steps at a time to try and catch up to his side. “In the kitchen? I don’t know,” you admit. You just did what you were told, kneading was a bit straining—and not the most interesting thing you’ve done, but you were too focused to get too bored. “I don’t mind cooking, or baking. But I don’t spend time perfecting the craft…”

  He hums, golden eyes faced forward as you finally seem to match his pace. “Your dedication to your work is admirable.”

  You almost stumble face-first onto the rocky stairs, your poor toe impacting the step you intended to push onto too early. With a lack of grace you manage to steady yourself before cracking a tooth, or possibly breaking your nose on the ground. “A-ah, thank you…”

  The sudden compliment startled you, weren’t you talking about cooking? You suppose the reason you haven’t learnt the optimal ways of making your favourite meals and opting for the quicker route instead is because you are often more focused on getting back to whatever you were doing before dinner time… maybe you’re not as hard to read as you expected, or hoped. 

  You’re not sure what to say, and he doesn’t offer any more words as you continue to climb the stairs—should you offer a compliment in return? It doesn’t feel right to just leave it at that, but you haven’t directly done so before, wouldn’t it feel too forced?

  “The Guili Assembly has always been home to me, and I hate to see the people suffer unnecessary sickness,” you add. To have a healthy body, a fate unburdened from illness—and have it forced upon you by conflicts out of your control… how can it be fair? 

  You hate to see the pallid skin of a person who climbed a tall mountain to collect flowers for their love, the foreign ichor that crawls beneath their muscle and steals life from it. You wish for them to be healthy and whole again, as they are meant to be. Without the interference of a godly war for territories and strength—

  You hear your name spoken in front of you and realise you fell behind, a good eight steps between the two of you. Morax is staring at you, considering your words. “It is a noble thing, to devote oneself to easing the pain of others.” 

  A second acknowledgement, your heart feels a bit too noticeable in your chest—beating too firmly against your ribs. He seems like he wants to say more, but as a cool breeze pushes at your side, his eyes flicker from your face when a leaf flows between the two of you, breaking your eye-contact and he quickly sets a foot to the next step. “Come, I wish to show you something.”

  You’ve never been at the top of Morax’s palace, it’s mostly bare compared to Guizhong’s well decorated and pretty hallways. The wood is elaborately cut and polished, of course… but there’s a distinct lack of… soul within it. No artwork, no artefacts or curtains. You can’t help but wonder why as your gaze finds his back again. 

  The room you step into is shaped the same as the one Guizhong called you into a while ago, but whilst her was a blend of an office and workshop, Morax’s seems more of a war room. There is a map on a table at the centre, the Guili Assembly is outlined at the centre, the vast oceans to the east and the mountains that warp into a swirl to the southwest—many mapped lands that you have never set foot in, and some you have only heard of and never seen on a map. 

  The windows are tinted and closed, casting the afternoon sun onto the floor as unlit lamps hang from the ceiling. You feel like the air is a bit heavy, it could do with an open window…

  “He Shan disappeared into the western highlands, I did not manage to trace his exact location or where he has chosen to hide himself,” Morax says as he closes the door behind you, he moves past you and approaches a large cabinet sat against the wall to your left. It’s large and has a lot of different doors to it—you could imagine scrolls and small artefacts could be kept inside each one. 

  Opening one, Morax reaches inside and takes out an object wrapped in a cloth, golden lines shimmer atop the covered item as he taps it twice. The centre of the seal quivers before disappearing into particles, floating into the air and disappearing above your heads. As he unravels it, the object looks like a stone slab of some sorts. You approach the war table as Morax does, he sets the object down and your nose scrunches as a terrible stench emanates from it. “He leaves behind traces of himself, this is a chipped piece of his scales, likely torn from his body when moving around the landscape.”

  A scale? Well, part of a scale, the serpent was so massive you imagine one scale is half the size of your body—or at least the size of your torso, this chipped scale fits into your palm. “Why does it smell like this?” you ask, you don’t remember such a stench filling the air as the demon emerged from the mountain, only the oppressive weight of his resentment. 

  Morax is silent for a beat, before he turns the scale around—and beneath it is an inky, writing mass. It gleams as if it’s wet, but it doesn’t stick to Morax’s gloved hands, not leave a damp imprint on them. “In two villages I visited while following his traces, I found that their waters had been turned to sludge—they could not use the rivers to wash nor drink.”

  You looked at the mass on the inside of the scale again. “Is it safe to touch?”

  “Briefly, to my knowledge. But I have not tested prolonged exposure with mortal hands,” he says and gestures to the map on the table, his finger tapped on a dotted spot to the west of the Fangyuan mountains. “He moved from the mountains and west, past this village, as well as the town north of it,” Morax’s finger glides along the highlands separating the Guili Assembly from the deep forests further west. “I traced him to Tianqiu Valley before my path led to a dead end.”

  Your fingers curl at your chin, a hum leaving you. “Surely a serpent so large can’t just… hide?” it’s hard to imagine, he spanned so many kilometres you’re unsure how he would rest without leaving his tail in the open somewhere—or perhaps gods don’t require rest? You’ve never seen a god sleep, or an adeptus for that matter. 

  “Unfortunately, were he to hide further north there is too high of a risk to send scouts into foreign territory,” Morax shakes his head. “This scale, does this resemble the miasma you encounter during cleansing?”

  You eye the squirming mass, trying to gouge it from sight alone—you don’t really want to touch it, but just looking at it isn’t giving you much. It’s certainly more solid than the usual foul energies you pull out of people, miasma feels… slimy and wet, but not like you’re clenching a rat in your palm, even when it fights your pull. More like trying to grasp thick mist. 

  Reaching your hand out, you lay your palm over it—careful not to touch it as you feel for the energy. It’s much warmer than the usual miasma, but doesn’t shirk away when you get close… it’s definitely not the same, but has a similar tinge in a way that’s difficult to explain. “It is… different,” your brows pinch and you lift your hand away from the scale to see that the mass had lifted upwards and then deflated as soon as you moved—like bread being uncovered when it’s set to rest while making it. 

  “Different?” Morax moves the scale slightly, he didn’t quite like how it raised towards your palm. 

  “It’s got a similar aftertaste,” you wipe your hand on your clothes, it didn’t touch you, but you get an uncomfortable tingle from the thought of it. “Since he’s a demon, wouldn’t his energies be inherently different than the ones that infect the lands?”

  You’ve only dealt with a demon once before, and you didn’t stay long enough to get to know it properly—personally or in nature. 

  “Not necessarily,” Morax said. “The beings whose remains leave poison behind are all very different, many are classified as gods by mortals—it can be difficult to differentiate between them. Even Guizhong and I are very different in nature, but you would simply see the two of us as divine beings. Demons are similarly different among themselves.”

  You nod along as he talks, it’s surprisingly easy to listen to his voice when he’s explaining things to you. You did know that gods are very different in nature, rarely are gods one and the same. “I see… and we need to understand what kind He Shan is?”

  He nods and takes the scale from the table, wrapping it into the pale cloth again. “General Huang has extended contact to Mei Lan, it would greatly speed the process if she were willing to divulge their history. Facing the demon head on without any information of his nature is too dangerous.”

  After closing the cloth around it, the seal seems to close itself without his interference, Morax offers it to you. You blink at him, eyes moving between his expression and the scale. “... why are you giving it to me?”

  “The affinity you have for foul energies can be utilised for more than cleansing,” he says and takes your wrapped arm from your side, lifting it up and placing the wrapped scale in your palm. “Keep this in your bedroom, not by the nightstand, but on the desk.”

  Your fingers instinctively wrap around the clothed scale, but your eyebrows furrow. “Is it safe?”

  “I would not place this burden on you had I any doubts,” he shakes his head, and his warm hands leave yours. “Every evening, feel for its energies and move it from it’s spot every other night. When you wake, try to sense it across the room.”

  The pieces in your mind start to align as he gives you the instructions, clicking together in realisation. “You want me to be able to track him?”

  “My senses cover a large distance and can find a target’s location across the land,” his expression pinches as he talks, eyes narrowing slightly. “But as I reached Tianqiu Valley, his essence seemed to scatter, and each time I approached; it evaporated.”

  Some kind of trick, no doubt—you’re unsure how exactly you’re the solution to it, but you trust his foresight. “I see… you must forgive me, but I’m struggling to understand how I can be of assistance if you couldn’t find him.”

  You wince at your own words, maybe you could have worded it better—but can you be blamed for doubting yourself compared to him? 

  Morax doesn’t seem offended by your question, he moves towards a shelf and takes a book from it—it looks old, the cover doesn’t shield the spine of it and is made of a thick material you’re unsure what it is made of. “Many demons are proud beings,” he turns back towards you and holds the book out for you to take, you accept it with your free hand that isn’t clutching the uncomfortably warm scale. “They… over and under prepare simultaneously. You are not preparing for battle, do not worry overmuch,” an everso small tug lifts at his lips, so faint that you wouldn’t notice if you were not used to seeing his expression so lacking of one. “Tracking and cornering He Shan is the difficult part, but not the most dangerous. I will handle the rest swiftly afterwards.”

  You look down at the book, it seems to be a collection of old folktales, though they exaggerate, they can help give you an understanding of how demons behave around mortals. 

  Morax is asking much of you—that he knows well, to ask you to risk your safety to assist him. Defeating demons is mostly a game of mind, the physical battle will be a smaller feat for him; Morax has defeated many demons in the past. “If you are not willing, I will not force this task upon you,” he says, a mild concern touching his gaze by your silence. 

  Raising your head from staring at the book, you shake it. “I am willing. If it will prevent harm and disaster upon innocent villagers and townsfolk.”

  The small touch of a smile widens briefly, a gentle expression gracing his face—you truly wish he would be more expressive, every smile and soft gaze makes your palms sweat slightly, but they warm your chest as well. It might also make it easier for you to talk to him without feeling that you’re overstepping, or sounding silly. 

  “Very well, then I employ your assistance with this task,” Morax nods. “You will of course be well compensated.”

  Payment is always nice, but you hope he knows that you’re sincere when you say that you want to assist for the safety of others. You’re sure he’s only being formal. “Thank you. Is there anything else I must do other than… sleeping with this thing around?” you lift the clothed scale for emphasis. 

  “Yes,” he turns to the map beside the two of you again and meets your eyes briefly to ensure you’ve followed his movements before he gestures to the two villages he mentioned before along the western edges of the Assembly. “I did not manage to stop for long when I was tracking He Shan, the waters are likely still infected and must be cleansed. I requested supplies be sent from nearby towns to assist them, but it will not last for long.”

  It’s not too long of a travel distance, but you stay silent to let him continue. Surely you won’t be going alone? Not that you can’t, but what if the serpent decides to slide through again?

  “I cannot accompany you just yet, but I will convene with you in a few days.” Ah, as you suspected—you suppose it’s not so surprising, Morax must be very busy… He Shan is just one among many threats that the Guili Assembly faces in these times, many of which you are unaware of. “I will ask that Indarias join you, I suspect that He Shan’s potent energies will attract smaller demons that mistake it for remains.”

  You just nod along to his words, you don’t know who Indarias is but if they’re going to be joining you specifically because there might be demons about, then you suppose they must be capable. “When will we set out?”

  “Two days,” Morax straightens again, turning away from the map to face you completely again. “Indarias has been tasked elsewhere, but she will return quickly once summoned. I suspect two days will be enough—will you require longer to prepare?”

  “No… but…” a thought suddenly strikes you, something you hadn’t considered as you were discussing everything. “I lost my tools in the south, they were blown away at the start of the conflict,” you scratch your cheek awkwardly. Finding or getting cleansing tools isn’t a simple task, much less so crafting them from scratch, they need specific qualities and material to be effective. 

  Morax’s lips part slightly. “Ah, I see. I will speak with Ground Mender and see if she has any solutions, I will find you before you depart…” he pauses for a moment. “They were well used.”

  They were, well used and loved by your family, your grandmother before you and many before. You always promised to take good care of them… you swallow your saliva and just give Morax a nod. “Yeah, it was used by my family for a long time. It’s impressive how long it lasted, I suppose it was an eventuality.”

  Silent, Morax doesn’t seem to know what exactly to say. “I am sorry that you lost a family heirloom… it will not replace what was lost, but I can commission new tools for you. It will not do to be without.”

  It won’t be the same, but you will need new tools either way, you bow your head slightly. “Thank you, I’m grateful for your consideration.”

  You feel something touch your head—familiar and warm, a tinge of déjà vu prickling your mind. Morax had set his hand atop your head, giving it a small pat before retreating it again. “No need, it is my duty.” you gingerly raise your head again, head tickled a little from the touch. “Please use it well to continue your good work.”

[endursent]

*backflios* G S S YESSSSS

IT HAS BEEN FREED FROM PRISOONNNN

[endursent]

gss ch13 will be posted tomorrow, there's only one scene left to write but it's 3:30am and i don't think i'll be able to finish the scene, go over the chapter and edit anything i missed before i fall asleep (or do it well in case i try to tough it out lol), so i'll finish it up and post it tomorrow, yay weekend off!

i really want to finish chapter 13 this week, its looking to be busy at work during my 12hr shifts but maybe i can squeeze it through…

my biggest weakness is transitioning between scenes, i always get stuck going from one thing to another naturally 😭 i always feel like i should be adding more to a scene before moving on

[endursent]

for some reason my classes just decided to double the work we get a week... it was usually one assignment per week, plus usual studies. now it's two (✿⊙‿⊙) im up to my neck in here

i really want to finish chapter 13 this week, its looking to be busy at work during my 12hr shifts but maybe i can squeeze it through…

my biggest weakness is transitioning between scenes, i always get stuck going from one thing to another naturally 😭 i always feel like i should be adding more to a scene before moving on