#jadeshielded

[fanfaire]

[ Dragon Dance ]

Few sights in Teyvat could rival this view, where the sun threatens to dip beyond rising waves and the whole of the city is bathed in the soft orange aftermath. The festival’s decorations only seem more stunning, each performance dotting the harbor’s edge better than the last.

Very little could compare to the mastery of the artists that gather in Liyue, he thinks, the pride welling in his chest warm and persistent.

That didn’t mean things couldn’t go wrong. Missing two performers for the dragon dance is no small obstacle, the dragon itself required skilled hands and strength for maneuvering the handcrafted decoration and lights that adorned it. He scans the crowd now, having agreed to help find someone who could pass for the part.

The person he finds…gives him pause, eyes glimmering once before his steps decide his course. “Lady Furina,” He inclines his head to the tempo of his greeting, leaving a respectable distance between them. “Truly a pleasure that you have decided to attend another Lantern Rite. Your favor may explain the number of Fontainian citizens enjoying the celebration.” The assumption is fondly said, though he moves quickly. While he hadn’t explicitly promised to help find two people with the skill to stand in…

He had been looking forward to seeing the performance…its absence would certainly dampen the rest of the festivities.

“Apologies if I speak too directly. Our dragon dance appears to need two more to stand in the spotlight.” Already, he can see the troupe marching on with their preparations. He faces her fully, expectant. “As your reputation proceeds you…do you have anyone in your company who can rise to the occasion?”

WHEN IN LIYUE, DO AS THE LIYUEANS DO. or so the adage is said to go. fontainean through and through in more ways than one, she supposes this has always been a little difficult for her to take in stride, all things considered. she might be renowned for her dab hand at any part upon the stage, but conforming to a different set of social rules altogether was another thing——on the smallest level, for instance, she still has yet to understand how to even hold a pair of chopsticks, or cease to marvel at how the people here seemed to do everything with them so effortlessly, from cutting food⠀(⠀this didn't require a knife??⠀)⠀to stirring pots.

but she is eager to experience it all. and that begins and ends with the thrilling series of performances upon the lantern-lit stage afloat on the harbor's bay by sunset. it's said to be a inimitable sight: the waters of the endless bay aglow with fire of the sun, said to emulate the golden rays of stone hewn by the ancient rex lapis himself ; and before them, a parade of dance, theatre, acrobatics, and martial demonstrations, with the apex of them all——the dragon dance——taking place right as the sun lowered to the perfect angle over the water's surface, casting all of liyue in long shadows.

how romantic! she could absolutely not afford to miss it.

but furina is an eager tourist second ; before that, perhaps before she has ever in her long life been anything else, she is a master of stagecraft first. and she has walked enough of them, tread the wings behind the performance endlessly by rote, to sense when there is something not quite right rippling beneath as the minutes draw closer to the curtain rise. it's impossible to say where it comes from, only that there must be some difficulty that'd arisen, some snag in the proceedings. perhaps it's in the hurried stride she catches from one of the half-dressed performers far below, moving over to his troupe ; perhaps something else.

either way, she is distracted enough that when a low voice addresses her name close beside, she nearly starts——managing her catch herself before it's noticeable by force of habit.

"oh, monsieur zhongli." her face breaks into a cordial smile. what a coincidence to run into him again, that lantern rite should be their milieu once more, though many miles from qiaoying this time. as she remembers, his speech is measured and refined, full with an erudition that makes her feel at once small and in awe. his praise, delivered with such thought, is so much more difficult to accept as the well-meant flattery she is used to ; it makes her cheeks color almost bashfully even as she smiles and curtsies with the pleasure to hear it. "you really speak of me too highly. fontaine. . . can't always follow the same stars ; popularity is always coming and going." she swallows, the only indication of some falter in her eloquence. but before she can finish the pleasantries with an acknowledgement, he pivots to some greater issue——and here she'd thought he really had just come to say hello.

". . . so that wasn't just my imagination, then," she muses, attention turning back to the troupe on the decks far below——gone now ; dispersed, perhaps, to a last-minute emergency. she can imagine——no, she knows keenly the panic they must be feeling.

a sigh ; arms uncross with the burden of purpose. as a once la gloire of the performing arts, she feels somewhat beholden to extend a hand, particularly now that she's been asked.⠀(⠀or perhaps it's just relief that he wasn't, as she'd feared, intending to ask her to stand in for the dragon's dancers——athletic feats of that caliber were hardly her forte.⠀)⠀"my company. . . though i don't quite know what you mean by that," surely he . . . hadn't also read and believed the tabloids. . . ?? "i can think of a few in mind that i might ask." a quick turn on polished heels with a flutter of taffeta ; "i'll see if i can find them at such short notice. if this is as urgent as it seems, then time is surely of the essence."

[garmgeyr]

[ Lanterns | Burning Incense ]

They go hand in hand.

In the years that have passed, Zhongli has performed this ritual alone, though the gentleman seated at the edges of the cliff is just that – a man with an understanding of another’s personal significance, or simply someone who drifted to the sea of clouds to witness the sunset and reflect on his own memories.

Like this, they are two ghosts adrift in the gentle fog, neither comfort or hinderance.

Zhongli’s lantern is alight, the elegant script shining gold as the former archon releases it toward the sky while the incense infects the fog and carries it forward. To fallen friends, he thinks, settling with his head tipped to the sun.

Time slips on undeterred, though as long as he lives, he will carry on their memory with complete clarity, with fondness and love and longing.

The earth beneath him does not shift, so his companion in this must be content, and Zhongli makes himself so as well, murmuring affectionate memories to those who can no longer laugh along to them in this world.

Whether one arrived first, or that each had simply become aware of the other at the same time, hardly affected the thread of camaraderie that had begun to spin between them without so much as a word or proper introduction. Some implicit understanding blossomed in the silence, and continued to grow as the stately man clad in the colors of the earth began to speak to the wind, and the wind carried its sentimental tales to the one who lounged some paces away on a rock jutting out beneath the shade of a birch tree. Suddenly, they were no longer alone; from the mountain rose the afterimages of things once buried, people who laughed from the beaks of swallows that darted through the trees, and the fragrance of colors that existed only in nostalgia.

With his face half-turned to the other man and his eyes on the lantern’s ascent, Gallagher listened unobtrusively to the stories that gathered a parade of lives on its journey skyward. Lives so bright with fondness that he felt as though he were meeting each of them here now. In a display of gratitude, he offered up one of his own to join them:

Once there was a boy with the stars in his eyes. He became a mechanic for a train that sailed through galaxies, and dreamt every night of all the people he’d meet on all the worlds he’d visit. Blessed with kindness and compassion in his heart, he hoped to make each place a little brighter than he’d found it. However, compassion would hinder a nomadic life, and just as his journey was beginning, he saw a world in desperate need of his and companions’ aid. There he disembarked, and there he would stay for the rest of a long, difficult life. 

But the boy grown old still had the stars of his faraway youth in his eyes. He would visit the worlds he never could in his waking life. Whether in dreams. Or in memory.

So they went on like this, exchanging stories so old they might as well have been fiction, carried dutifully by the last remaining eyewitnesses of their respective tales. One remembered how one liked to remember, after all.

As the first lantern became yet another star in the dusky tapestry unfurling over the last embers of the afternoon, Gallagher released his own and leaned back on one arm to watch it drift slowly after it. The young mechanic had never seen this place, and the stars were different here than the ones he often gazed up at like a canary might through the bars of its cage, but wherever his tale was told, he lived in spirit. The man who had grown old before he’d traversed the stars could walk them again. What would he think of this place? Or the lives that he joined in their twinkling dance overhead?

”… What a view,” Gallagher said to the man who was neither stranger nor friend, but who had nonetheless helped bring the past to life for but one short afternoon.

[stellastia]

[ zip up ] sender assists receiver with zipping up a piece of clothing

Aether does nothing in halves.

Though it’s something he knows, the rapidly escalating situation unfolding in front of him is…amusing. Zhongli radiates nothing but patience where he stands, observing the artfully preserved tapestry in the room where the blonde is staying. True to form, the Wangshu Inn has collected many marvels over the centuries – he is prepared to spend the next few hours studying each elegant stitch.

In his peripheral, a vital piece of silk falls where it’s tied, likely improperly, and the process begins again.

“I am certain you aren’t expected to observe tradition,” he says for the second time, tone pitched to soothe. “Though the celebration’s host commissioned this for you, liberties can be taken.” An honored guest, the invitation said of the blonde. Zhongli doesn’t doubt it. The Traveler has a way about him, a kindness that influences every soul he meets. That it’s one of Liyue’s most notable families only warms him further.

When the telltale whisper of fabric speaks of another failure, Zhongli wonders if Aether would rather be late over snubbing the host’s generosity. He paces forward, “I happen to be familiar with this style, if you’ll allow me to assist you.” The fashion is outdated, but every few centuries what is considered old captures the public eye. He tells Aether as much as he kneels, guiding the blonde to hold the fabric steady as he weaves the golden silk around his waist. “…Though I do recall that this particular style fell from good graces as the people favored efficiency over beauty. When it was less common to have an attendant to help you dress. Nonetheless,” It is faster with two, his hands work with expert efficiency, standing at full height to assure himself that there is nothing amiss. After a few beats, he nods, “You wear it well.”

Celebrations, Aether was not unfamiliar with. He’s been lucky enough to make many treasured friends and allies during his journey and that meant many moments of joy to be shared as well. Formal events, however… were less the traveler’s forte. The invitation was accompanied by a beautiful outfit of traditional Liyue design, custom made in the boy’s own colors. It was a resplendent gift and though it might be far from his usual style of wear, it was only right to put it on for tonight. As a show of both gratitude as well as appreciation.

It was just unfortunate that, despite his best efforts, he was unable to put it on properly. Long flowing fabrics made it hard to discern what part of his body went where at first, and even when that part was taken care of there was still the matter of tying everything up properly. “Come on, you can do this…” the boy tried to cheer himself on, a tense look of concentration on his face.

He couldn’t. With but a single tug of his sleeve the entire outfit fell apart once again, elegant fabrics now hanging loosely on the wooden floor. Aether stood there silently for a moment, as if basking in his failure, before sighing defeatedly. It was only the voice of the other man in the room that snapped him out of his frustrated daze.

“I know, but….” He held up his arms, long sleeves draped over them. “They went through all the effort of tailoring this outfit for me… the least I could do is wear it properly for them.” A slightly awkward smile crossed his lips. Despite how capable of a reputation he had, here he was, defeated by clothing.

Aether quickly perked up then at Zhongli’s offer to help. “Oh, please do. This is embarrassing honestly, haha…” as he held up every piece of fabric as instructed, the golden gaze of the traveler landed on the consultant’s dexterous hands, watching as they made quick work of the clothing that vexed him so. It made sense for Zhongli to be good at this, the boy noted to himself. Across the ages, who knows how many formal events he’d have attended?

And not long after they were finished, everything now properly fitted and tied. “Thank you so much, Zhongli.” The traveler’s face lit up with gratitude, the smallest hint of pink tinting his pale cheeks. “You saved me from an awkward entrance. I really owe you one.”

[wind-blumes]

Seeking out the Anemo Archon was as one might expect, if the notion was to spend the day attempting to trap a tornado in a fishing net. Near impossible, with a trace of giddy laughter in the wind that swirled dark hair over his eyes.  

Venti mirrored the winds of Mondstadt, unpredictable and pulling in all directions. A taunt that frayed the foundation of his patience as he traversed the length of the small nation to varying degrees of the same:

“Oh… sorry, I haven’t seen him.” The bartender manning the counter of the Angel’s Share eyed the parcel in Zhongli’s hands. “Have you looked in any trees lately?”

“Venti?” A confused nun, face-flushed from the morning tasks. “Why would the bard be here?”

“…Nope! Sorry mister! Have you tried following the music? That usually works. Except…I don’t hear any music…so he’s probably not here.”

In their years of acquaintance, it was Barbatos who was prone to travel. Who would seek him out, whether by luck or by his own penchant for finding spaces he liked the most and staying. As the day came and went, he vowed to make things more difficult for the drunkard in the future if only to settle the score between them. The Dawn Winery was quiet, as were the frigid winds rushing from Vindagnyr’s lonely peaks.

As the day draws to a close, Zhongli settles at the foot of an ancient tree. Before him, an offering- fruit, wine, and several artfully wrapped scrolls of music, transposed from his own memory. “You always liked to compose new pieces for special occasions,” He pours two glasses of wine, tone conversational as he swirls the liquid around his glass. The scent is too sweet for his palate but tempered by several hundred years of fermentation. “A fleeting joy. Special to the moment, though I would very much like to hear them again.”

He would not admit it – lest it make the wind spirit more insufferable – but the pieces the bard thoughtlessly composed for his own birthdays made the memories so much brighter. Fond.

“Happy Birthday…Venti.” A slight smile is covered by the press of the glass, the sweet wine and the fluttering melody in his head; nostalgic. Overhead, leaves stir, agitated by wind or weight- it doesn’t matter.  Zhongli tips his head back, unable to see through the thick layer of leaves the willow provides. “To many more years, and the hope that our paths might once again be closely woven.”

A toast, he refills his glass, affecting a conflicted glance.“…Pity that I will have to waste half the bottle in your honor.” He could think of no better way to draw the bard from hiding than this, preparing to empty the contents of the bottle on the ground.

“Waaait - waitwaitwait - !” 

A flash of green and a scattering of feathers, and Venti was there, holding onto the bottle in Morax’s hands. “My mouth’s over here, not on the ground, silly!”

He must have spent the day in about a hundred different places, saying hello, sharing a drink, and perhaps accepting a gift or two - a small celebration at the church, a chance encounter in Mondstadt’s town square, a picnic in Windrise, a lively hour at the bar. But with each stop came a passing comment: “There was someone looking for you.”

From place to place, the bits and pieces he heard started to paint a picture - a long, dark ponytail; a Liyuean suit; an exasperated air. As amusing as it was to imagine Morax running in circles trying to find him, though, it was rude to keep a friend waiting - especially one so dear to him.

So finally, Venti had set out to find him - only to hear something truly blasphemous!

“If you wanted to see me, you could have just said something,” he said with a pout. He sat on the picnic blanket, cape fluttering onto the ground around him. “Maybe then you could have found me sooner, you blockhead! Well, better late than never.” 

Eyeing the carefully-wrapped scrolls sitting on the blanket, he picked up one of them and unfurled it.

Oh? 

“Aww! I knew you were secretly a big fan!” Venti said, hoping Morax hadn’t noticed the genuine surprise in his voice. “Never fear! For you, my friend, I’ll play an encore...” 

He longingly gazed at the bottle in Morax’s grasp. “For the low, low price of pouring me a drink... And not on the ground this time!”

[thiefstcr]

“If you are here to report something stolen…” The security guard is one of many to wear the same haunted expression. Dark circles speak volumes, “I can assure you, Sir, there is an ongoing investigation. Please, if you can, detail your lost possessions in your app, and you will be notified when the situation is resolved.”

With his phone already in hand, Zhongli frowns. “I am having trouble navigating-“ A shriek draws his attention, followed by a deafening crash of shattering glass. At his side, the guard stiffens, muttering apologies as he goes.

The hotel is in chaos. Crying, shouting, pointed fingers at every corner – it seems nothing has been spared. Casino credits, jewels, priceless artifacts and…

His vision. Stolen directly from where it was secured to his person. How? His mind reels to think of it – he might never have noticed, were it not for the trace amount of geo energy that he tethers there, so that it would react as a normal vision for anyone who might be looking. It’s not the first time in six thousand years someone has attempted to steal directly from his person-

Though. It is the first time they’ve gotten away without swift retribution.

After several more swipes of his phone, Zhongli slips it into his pocket with a sigh. The resort’s app may have security features, though he’s unsure about the purchases behind identity theft that scroll across the screen. What good would it do him now, if his effects have already been carted away?

As before, there are very few traces afforded by his elemental sight.

‘A commendable skill, surely,’ He admits this to himself, eyes of molten cor lapis glimmering as he catches the smallest sliver of a golden trail, as good as any footprints etched into the ground before him. Not the thief’s trail, but his own. The geo aura clinging to the vision calls to him. An unfortunate oversight…but how many others could claim to maintain a false vision?

Despite this, the hunt is not a simple one. Confusion has him faltering, the trail vanishing in an instant, then drawing in a different direction. Somewhere far, like a seelie playing tricks – lighting here and then there and back again with only a flash of silver to ground him to a person over a ghost.

As the sun begins to set, Zhongli notes his patience is chipping. This time, his target is unmoving, wariness lining his shoulders like a shield as he approaches. It is the same woman, distinctive ears and tail unmistakable as he turns the corner to spot her. The damning geo trail of his stolen property halos around her, but he stifles the instinct to strike before she can flash away. If she were a specter…it would cause more spectacle than it was worth, trying to detain her.

“Pardon me,” He begins, the politeness of the greeting nearly overshadowed by the circumstance of their meeting. “I do not think we have been acquainted. I am Zhongli,” Normally, introductions are meant to be more. Tea and pleasantries, names and idle chatter. It’s a skill he has mastered, and so he folds his hands at his front and tilts his head down to examine her, “Forgive me. I seem to have lost something quite precious to me. If you have the time to lend a second pair of eyes, I would be most grateful. Miss…?” The clip of his tone offers honest curiosity. How did she do it?

FOR HOW ALIEN AND ADVANCED THIS PLACE LOOKED ,　𑄝　it'd taken her almost no time at all to figure out its ins and outs. empyrea wasn't so complicated ; once you got past how boxy and dead everything looked, how there was more metal than people, it was actually a pretty welcome place for someone like her! tall buildings that scraped the sky like obelisks meant plenty of vantage spots and hiding places ; lots of crowds and noise meant lots of distractions ; and everyone was staring down at their teleslates all the time like it was their default head position, so nobody was paying attention.

not to their surroundings, not to each other, and definitely not to one little kitty cat in the window, readying her pulleroo ~

"let's gooooo, mraurrrahahaha ~ !!!" in the midst of the shattering glass and screams and everything falling over, her happy trilling laugh gets totally drowned out. "mine, mine, mine! every little bit is mine!!"

credits, chips, sparkling crystals ; that one guy's nice belt. all of it, all of it!

she hops off the ledge and back out of sight to the song of chaos ongoing behind her, the haul already tucked away nice and easy. only one piece still stays on her person: a dangling little glowing thing she twirls around one finger as quick leaps vault her over onto the next rooftop over, then down the ledges of a fire escape and into a dark side street. the first week, she'd still been feeling things out, so she'd stuck to small prey: individuals here and there, a bauble or two hush-hush, building up to a much bigger heist like this one.

still though, it's not satisfying——it'd been too easy, too quick. barely any security to get by, no traps, hardly any stealth needed. and, as she takes a look around and behind her, not even anyone giving chase. where's a girl to have her fun? maybe on the next one, she'll at least let herself get caught to make things more interesting. "hope the haul at least makes up for it," she says to herself, zigzagging through some alleys and skirting the trimmed hedges at the edge of a mid-city park. since there's no one after her, she can afford to take her time: doubling back here, taking a detour there, grabbing some ice cream. thieving could be hard work! and in the height of summer?

finally, she finally settles down on an out-of-the-way bench in the shade of some big civil-looking building just as the sun is starting to make its way down the sky. as she lets down her hood to catch some of the early evening breeze to dry out the sweat, she gives the chocolate cone a few idle licks while turning the amulet curiously over the fingers of her other hand. at least, she thinks it's some kind of amulet. "now just what kind of trinket are you, hm, little shiny?" it looks pretty old-fashioned, maybe something traditionally-made. the amber rock fixed in a case in the middle had been glowing when she'd first taken it, but now it's gone dull and lifeless, like some power source had been shut off. how does she get it to shine like that again? she gives it a good shake, then flicks it.

maybe she needed some magic words.

hm? she sniffs the air, fur at the base of her tail prickling. someone's close.

"pardon me." not a couple seconds later, a deep voice interrupts her thoughts, and she drops her hands. when she turns around on the bench to see him, only the ice cream cone is still in them, and she gives the man addressing her a wary down-up.⠀(⠀it's not just because he might've come here for her ; who just walks up to strangers in a city and introduces himself?⠀)⠀a beat passes as if she's thinking for a second before replying: "what does you losing something have to do with me? i'd be rich if i had a credit for every careless person in this city." finishing the last of the chocolate cone, she gets up and stretches luxuriously with a sigh ; maybe he was here because he somehow managed to track her down, or maybe he really was just a clueless, desperate guy. oh well. it's not like she had anything better to do, and maybe this'd end up more fun than her earlier stunt.

she turns around, hand on her hip. "fine, i'll help you look. so then, what exactly did you lose? and just how precious are we talking?"

[balemouns]

[FERRIS WHEEL]

“The quality of this mechanism is lacking,” An odd way to start a conversation, but the pair had done little more than lock eyes when the harried looking worker had ushered her onto the cart with a sorry, we’re too busy to have solo rides. “Perhaps this is why such a thing does not exist in Teyvat.” Or if it does, it’s unrecognizable to the structure that creaks to the barest brush of the wind rolling in from the ocean.

Regardless, Zhongli is inexplicably smug, letting his arm rest along the length of his side of the booth as he looks through the glass. Glass that only hinders them, should anything go wrong, but he keeps that observation to himself. He can admit that he’s startled by the sunset that paints the ocean ahead with warmth, depths of the color that make him long for home. “Unless such instability is to be the theme of our acquaintance.” He feels comfortable enough to breathe a bit of humor into his tone, catching the odd pattern of her gaze before abandoning it. He doesn’t know her name, only her title, where the small child had gleefully championed Father as their jenga pieces clattered noisily against the stone walkway. “I have been met with rockier foundations, though the view certainly helps.”

No sooner than the words leave his lips, fate responds as if challenged to do so. There is little wind, but the groaning snap of metal pings all around them, harsh and ominous as the gentle music filling the cart falters for static. They lurch. In his peripherals, Zhongli can see that other carts do the same, though his focus is on how they are tossed violently in the small space. Encased in glass, there is no safety rail to hold onto, and when their carriage finally tips to the side, Zhongli’s fingers are splayed wide against clear glass to break his fall.

So, the glass does have its uses. He can admit his fault there, unable to hear the people in the other carts screaming but knowing that they are by the faces he can pick out from this angle.

The static recedes, “We seem to be experiencing technical difficulties…please remain-” It cuts out.

Careful, he rights himself as best he can when their carriage has been put on its side, untangling his legs from hers as he goes. “My apologies,” Father seems uninjured, despite how the commotion had thrown Zhongli to her side so abruptly that he’s amazed he didn’t crush her. Fast reflexes, knowledge that he files away for later. A soft sound huffs past his lips, reluctantly laying back to stare at the sky overhead. Like this, there’s little room for them both. He considers apologizing for that, too. “Given the circumstances, we may be here for some time.” Part of him whispers that they could break the glass, though he’s not confident they’ll both survive the fall. “I don’t believe I learned your name when we last met.” Zhongli hadn’t needed to give his, being identified by many as they walked the streets in search of something sweet.

how peculiar, to find herself sharing an amusement park ride with a strange man that she had come across amidst the last lantern rite festival in liyue; zhongli, she seemed to recall, as the locals had called him. stranger still that she seems to recall a vague mention of such a name from rosalyne's report of her work in liyue, before her untimely passing in inazuma some months later. perhaps he is no more ordinary than she is herself, arlecchino considers, back straight against the seat on her side of the compartment, dark hands folded neatly in her lap, and marked eyes focused on him as he speaks in a way that makes her second-guess ( for many reasons ) if queueing for this ride was the right choice.

but for her part, she mostly listens.

she is content to do so as the ride climbs higher, golden and fading sunlight starting to flicker in her peripheral vision. instability... a reference to the game in the streets of liyue harbor, and the make of this machine now. his line of conversation about the ride's stability feels ominous somehow, and no sooner does he discuss it than something feels like it's going horribly wrong; a hand reaches out from her lap to try and grasp onto the seat to keep herself upright, but the jolt of breaking machinery is stronger than her own reflexes and determination.

the other passenger crashing into her happens in the next instant, finally provoking words in the form of a startled hiss. "damn it..." it feels like she's hit her head too, somehow; a dull, hammering thud pounds at the base of her skull. then, sharp and boiling irritation --- not quite fury, but something close --- stares zhongli squarely in the eyes, as though she held him responsible for this occurrence, based on his earlier words.

but that irritation doesn't materialize after his apology as more than an incredulous tone in her reply --- "oh, is it now the time to finally ask my name? well, yes, of course. we may be here longer than we'd like, with this rotting iron structure that you had little faith in finally giving." maybe it's still the annoyance with this now-catastrophic predicament speaking, but something aside from her usual cordial introduction as arlecchino is all that comes to mind. "knave is fine, if you must have a name right now."

[crackshct]

31. Is there anything that counts as a “dealbreaker” for them, positively or negatively? What makes things go smoothly, and what spoils an activity or ruins their day? Why?

Character Development Questions | not accepting

The answers to both of these questions are actually pretty straightforward. Boothill is fortunately explicit about what he considers to be a dealbreaker. As a Galaxy Ranger, he has a definitive "bottom line": he'll never engage in anything that involves bullying the weak or killing the innocent. Everything else is fair game though, and there's a reason he's a wanted criminal with a pretty hefty bounty on his head. He's not afraid to kidnap, torture, steal from, or destroy the property of anyone else he deems deserving of it.

Along those same lines, he has a few personal principles that he adheres to as well. About using the valuables he steals, he has this to say:

Boothill: Might be that my pockets are filled with ill-gotten gains, but I stick to my principles! Rule one: Never use dirty money for pleasure. Rule two: Credit ain't the same as cash. And rule three: A bit of fun don't count as indulgence. I never break these rules!

And in 2.6, he says he won't break a promise to someone who's treated him. As long as a deal doesn't involve any of the above, Boothill won't have any issue agreeing to it.

As for the second part of the question, I don't think Boothill really has a concept of "things going smoothly." Nothing ever seems to go smoothly when he's around, and, in fact, that seems to be what he expects and prepares for. He's constantly networking, rounding up strangers who can help him out for heists and missions, and making decisions in often-uncertain circumstances. Instead, he's just learned to go with the flow. As he tells Dan Heng in 2.2, he has backup plans for his backup plans.

And what spoils an activity? The IPC's presence. That's about it. Losing his hat as well, but he's fine once he gets it back. Otherwise he's pretty easy to please and it doesn't take much to get him excited for something.

[sweepingthunder]

[Tour Guide] Far be it for him to criticize their knowledgeable guide. With tours running around the clock, he concedes that the dedication towards providing a tour for every piece of Liyue’s magnificent countryside is…admirable.

Spending precious hours sailing towards the Guyun Stone Forest is another thing entirely.

As the guide enthusiastically explains their significance, Zhongli braces a hand to the intricate railing of their ferry and listens to the tale of Rex Lapis and the sea monster Osial. This time, he does not interject, humming along as history reshapes itself into a much grander, shining example of heroism than he dares remember.

In the end, tours to this place are seldom for a reason. The waters often prove treacherous even for skilled navigators. As they are thrown to shore from the battered ship, he calls a geo shield to save the mortals from minor cuts and bruises amidst the wreckage.

“No…I had a dance class with my wife tonight…she’s going to kill me.”  Someone murmurs as Zhongli dusts sand from his clothing and observes the ship.

“Isn’t it bad luck to actually set foot here?” Ah, a native, then.

Without waiting, he strides for the secondary boat meant for such emergencies. “This vessel survived the impact,” He says, pitching his voice to carry over turbulent waves as he drags it to anchor in white sand. The group falters in an instant, all with eyes realizing that only six of the eight would be able to escape so easily. “Whether by what lies dead here, or some other force at play, the islands are more treacherous at night.” With an air of severity, he nods to their captain whose hydro vision guided them to shore. “If you go now, our rescue will arrive by morning.”

Zhongli would survive, watching the boat drift off with it’s passengers before addressing the other who remained. He could not recall the man’s name, though the set of his stance even at rest suggested a skill for combat. “I believe I know a place to rest, if you do not mind battle.” Amusement flickers across his expression, but forced, short lived as a memory overtakes him. “Though…proceed with caution. Legend whispers that those who brave the night in this place experience Osial’s memory of defeat in some way or another. Rather, I will help in whatever way I am able.”

Be the waters calm or wicked, the Dozing General does not mind the adventure. This world was foreign to him, filled with esoteric beliefs and practices that had long since been forgotten by his own people. Despite the difference in technology and jaded views on the world, they all had similar struggles and worries, trivial as they may be.

He has kept quiet for the majority of this trip, a thoughtful presence. Even as the tour seemed to cut through harsh waves, he found little concern. Finally, worry begets Jing Yuan as wood shatters along the shore, a deep riiiiiip leaving them off-kilter upon the shore.

Hands find the edge of the boat, helping himself over and through the edge of the water. Though his boots and pants were dampened, his spirit is not.

"Fate is what led us to wreckage, surely it cannot judge us too harshly." A pat on the shoulder to the one who worried too much. His own smile is (hopefully) as reassuring as his words.

Another seems to have a different sort of confidence.

It would seem that after smaller repairs, the rest of the tourists are able to board and begin their trek back to the harbor. A hand finds his hip as the two would watch, only to have his attention called. "Hmm? Battle does not scare me. I'm glad that they were able to return back to the harbor. Can I ask your name? You seem quite familiar with the land..." A thoughtful hum, summoning his own spear to use as a glorified walking stick. "Very well. I do not fear legends. I only fear that which is proven to me." Somber words boast a man too sure of himself.

He would let the man lead the way, keeping a steady pace behind him. Even as they climbed, he did not feel worried. "I am Jing Yuan, by the way. May I ask your own name, sir?"

[wandcrlxst]

Despite the earlier display of confidence towards her own artistic skills, she suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious about the silly doodles in the notebook after seeing what the ex-Archon was capable of. While the carving was rough, it still captured the essence of what he was trying to portray - the boldness of the lines only adding a unique charm.

"Wow...I didn't know you could do that." She muttered under her breath, both glad to have picked him up as her 'partner in crime' for this competition while also somewhat fearful that she would end up dragging their team down.

"Anyway, that is not a bad idea. I have met a lot of unique individuals during my journeys in Teyvat...and I cherish each and every single memory with them. I doubt we will be able to recreate everything today, or we will need every single bit of ice and snow on this mountain, but I suppose it's a good idea to brainstorm at least."

ー And what better way to start things off, then at the very beginning?

"Paimon was the first friend I made, obviously. But when we're talking Teyvat natives, it was actually the Knights of Favonius' Outrider, Amber, whom I crossed paths with during the very early stages of my journey." She began, recalling that initial meeting.

"She had such a contagious energy. Always cheerful and smiling, but a formidable battler as well. As for her physical appearance...I'd compare her to a rabbit. She even has this ribbon in her hair which looks like bunny ears."

A quick doodle was made while she talked to help the other create a better image in his head.

"You see the resemblance too?"

Taking a seat at her side, he spared a quick scan of their environment. Others huddled around fires, heads tilted toward one another, children and adults locked in the vicious sport of hurling ice at one another, laughter filtering through here and there. “A straightforward approach,” He murmured, approval evident as his attention turned to examine-

Oh. The doodle certainly jumped from the page. Uneven lines and eyes off-center. Had he ever witnessed the Traveler participating in the arts? “Ah…” A breath, meeting fire-gold eyes, sparkling with enthusiasm for their project. “I would say that you have, for what is art but a reflection of individual perception?” As for the matter of resemblance…he failed to see it.

The true beauty was in the idea itself, turning in his head as he unearthed a small, frozen rock from layers of snow. “Though your time here has been brief…perhaps we can pay homage to those you hold close to your heart.” Slowly, the simple rock spun, adrift in the careful control of his own element before the features whittled down, refined. Not polished or beautiful, but bearing resemblance to Lumine herself, wielding silk flowers instead of her sword. One of their very first objectives together.

Holding it out to her, his free hand tapped the paper. “While my artistic talents are…untested,” Unpracticed, really. As much as he adored art in all forms, these were talents best left to professionals. “Perhaps, a game. Describe for me the people you adore, and I will draw them. Or, you paint their likeness and I will unravel the mysteries, pieces of memory that we might want to recreate here. We can take turns, sharing our stories.”

[balemouns]

[Giant Jenga]  Laughter infects the area as game participants gather around a wobbling tower.

…At least, he believes it must be a game.

His brow ripples in confusion, a hand at his lips as he considers the towering wood pieces as another delicately pushes a part away while others look on with bated breath. It tips but does not fall – to the tune of more betting, more cheer, and Zhongli stalls at the edges of it to watch. He nods as one of the game volunteers comes to ask him for his opinion of the match. “It seems to be alarmingly unstable. Perhaps replacing the foundation, rather than placing the pieces at the top.”

A pause, and he looks down to the giggling children that list nearby. “That’s the point of the game, Mister!” They must be young, five or six, he presumes. “It’s called Jenga, and you’ve gotta make your opponent be the one to knock it over first. It’s a strategy!”

At that moment, the crowd roars as the pieces fall and fly to every corner of the space. While he understands the premise, he fails to find the appeal…surprised again when small fingers curl into the fabric around his legs and pull for attention. “Mister…we gotta have an adult to play, since we can’t reach the pieces, but all the other adults really want to play. Can you be my adult? For one game only! Please!”

…When has he ever denied such a request from one of his own? “I accept the terms of your contract.” He answers lightly, and the other child begins searching the crowd, running to a tall woman in a sharply tailored suit, likely offering the same cry for help. After a moment, he steps carefully toward her, assessing the challenge. “A game with good company can always be considered worthwhile,” He offers in greeting, stooping to pick up his charge so that the child is level with the arranged blocks. “Even when the premise is somewhat…counterintuitive.”

lantern rite 2025.

standing on the peripheries of the game as children from the house intermingled with locals, it was surprising to see them wrangle in a man passing by first; marked eyes narrow, curious about his appearance. hadn't her coworkers mentioned encounters with someone... like this in liyue harbor? the way he speaks, even with these children, makes her curious.

but... it seems the child who's pulled him over is a local, not one of her own.

of course, when the children ( one of her children, as she'd expect ) do come up and pull her in as well, she does so with little protest.

a polite grin levels at her selected opponent --- then, head bows, and she waits a few more moments for the children to finish resetting the enormous blocks. "mm, you sound uncertain about the premise, sir --- do we need to review the rules of the game? the way we play this in fontaine, you pull out a block and then stack it higher on top. the person who topples the tower loses the round; best two of three."

with that, the game commences --- dark hands pull carefully at a block on her turn, then stack it higher on the tower once it comes free; the man pulled into the game plays his turn, and then each child receives another round of assistance.

gradually, as the game continues, the structure looks more and more precarious; she's not sure the block she has an eye on can be pulled safely. but... another look to the man on the other side of the tower. "how about an extra incentive if our game ends in the next few turns? should our tower topple soon... the person pulling the block that causes it treats the others to something sweet at one of the food stands."

[icyqull]

[ sparkling water ]

It’s a formality, he knows, but the intent is no less because of it. Perhaps it’s sweeter, the thin threads of other acquaintances serving as a tether – a reason that the woman is set higher than the rest of the strangers milling about.

So far from home, he does not neglect the opportunity to drift towards the familiarity of her dress, her posture.

“Miss Shenhe, is it?” Laughter around them lightens the mood, food and drink that passes through the room on sparkling silver trays lending a decadence to the occasion, a celebration with no name. Zhongli offers a crystal flute of sparkling water, raising his own as a sort of apology for his forwardness.  “We have not been properly introduced. Zhongli, of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” Cloud Retainer's ward has grown into her own, though he quietly observes a few traces of his dear friend in the person standing before him.

True to the assertations, the crispness of the beverage is unparalleled. It lights a path through his system as he sips it. Not drugged, one had assured him at his initial frown. Nonetheless, the heavenly drink does what Zhongli thinks it should, injects a bit of euphoria into the world. Makes everything brighter, the cor lapis glimmers in his gaze as it warms to her. “Such occasions are better shared in good company, providing you have the time to indulge me.”

That he would know of her - even in passing, even merely to put the name to a face - was surely a result of his acquaintanceship with her Master, and yet, it warmed her all the same. Those tenuous threads of familiarity, not quite of friendship but because of it, were those that she understood held many more times their weight for all who maintained them, folded back into themselves like corded rope - but it was not until that moment that it occurred to her that it might also go in both directions.

She knew of him, of course, this gentleman who liked occasionally to sit in the contemplative silence of her Master's dominion, alone except for those hearts he carried in his memory. She had seen him, and done as bid - left him.

"That's right. It is...nice to meet you, Zhongli."

Her eyes flicked down to the glass he extended to her, and it was a brief moment before she accepted, knowing what it meant to accept a token of hospitality from such a person - in spite of his claims to be merely human, it strained possibility, surrounded by so much power, so much death.

She sipped, in mirror of him, and found herself aware of every motion that she made, that he did, that every person around them did - and she nodded.

"Very well. If you would ask it of me, I will join you."

[eudaimcnia]

🎲 whatever works for you

KISS ROULETTE ASK MEME. / not accepting

8. A platonic kiss

On occasion, Baizhu would visit his close business partners. Though, who he sees upon entering the building isn't the young director, but her coworker.

"Ah, Mr. Zhongli. I hope you've been doing well?" Baizhu acknowledges him with a nod and a small smile. A few steps closer and next, a small, feather-light kiss on the edge of the other's lips.

He wonders what secrets lie with the consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. The wisdom and knowledge he displays in their brief conversations couldn't simply be acquired with age, can it? The doctor had no necessity to know, nor did he feel like it was worth the effort. There are some chasms that aren't worth exploring, where ignorance truly is bliss.

The work in his hands are neatly placed upon the front desk, more akin to a folder at first glance than a few sheets of paper.

"I've settled the paperwork in regards to transporting the body for cremation. If there is anything else that needs to be settled, please let me know."

[spicehill]

the man before him insists that the great deal on this 10-in-1 personal massager won't last long, as he has only a limited supply left in stock, and the marketed price of 1,000 credits is an unquestionable steal... at least, that was all according to the shop owner's sales pitch. but jiaoqiu isn't entirely convinced as he stands in front of the store and talks to the proprietor; in fact, he has been standing here for several minutes now, asking question after question after question. how does it work? where does it work? how is it powered, and what sorts of stress tests has it survived? was it waterproof, shockproof, fireproof, drop-proof?...

when he gets to the next question, jiaoqiu is almost certain he hears a sigh, even with the machine's raucous buzzing and whirring sounds groaning loudly between them. "... what are all the ten functions, then, if it's called a ten-in-one?" a hand comes to his chin as he tilts his head. though he couldn't clearly see it, he was almost certain the shop owner was frowning at him. "no, really, I think I need all ten of them listed and described to me. I don't like investing my credits in any old multifunctional tool, only to have all of its uses not fully realized."

fraudulent baubles, a swindler's bits;

shopping in soaring heights with @jadeshielded.

[imaginarynoumenon]

🎲 whichever you like

Request: `[1d43]` Roll: `[35]` Result: `35` Reason: `Otto & Zhongli`

—nonconsensual kissing, blend into the crowd trope and cliché, previous violence mentioned, and Fatui.

The sound of boots stomping behind him is nothing unfamiliar, but in the sea of midday shoppers within the districts of Liyue it was like a growing curse every time they grew louder. They were not Mililith of any kind, for the people would have parted for his pursuers with little resistance if they were, but they were Fatui agents. They had to push their way through this crowd before the people could care to hear their shouts, but Otto Apocalypse blended like any tourist from the stars and they gave his a respectful berth to weave through.

But the sea-side port city was built more lengthy via stairs and terraces than a main road with diverging paths. And like a cat being chased by filthy mutts, he was caught in unfamiliar territory with little turns he was familiar with. Who knows what businesses are in cahoots with these thugs, besides their bank he had so offended.

He ducks into a small concrete path that he remembers from the Lantern Rite that lead to a place selling their services to the deceased. He seems to find himself near death far too often lately, but he can seldom complain. And with the growing sound of thunderous boots and this side of the walkway being nearly empty, he seems to have run out of luck.

Except... there was a finely dressed gentleman with elaborate and embroidered robes, with hair long and flowing as he seemingly busied himself before the parlor. It was worth a shot, he supposes, he's done far worse for less. He was sure the other man would be offended, and rightfully so. But anyone besides meeting the Harbingers wrath would do.

He pulls the man by his robes to gain his attention, Otto having put himself between the wall and the brunette, before giving him a final warning without emotion: "I apologize in advance." He really didn't care.

He grabbed the man by his face, as gently as adrenaline would let him, and he crashed their lips together while drawing the gentleman into his space more. Otto could feel the wall behind his back, with the stranger slotted between himself and the eyes of the crowded street—if anyone even paid this cranny any attention with all the leaves below their shoes showing its minimal foot traffic. His mouth was warm from sprinting, he is sure, and the stiff kiss was nothing to be proud of as he barely seemed able to move the man from his spot. A hidden strength he only got the drop on from surprise.

As the marching and jeers subsided, he let the man go. And he knows this is quite the horrible situation to be in, even as he's the one leaning against the wall breathless, so he let out a cough as his lungs had been ravaged dry.

"There is little I can say to make this situation better... Truly, I do apologize for this... situation." He gasps, his tone as fake understanding as he can muster through his breaths.

[ayoitswren]

What do you mean you don't know me!? I'm THE Rutharenn Jadeshield!

dnd oc! ruth ily ruth

[bangtanloverboys]

life support // knj

summary - namjoon likes to think he’s the embodiment of the perfect example of a theurgists: positive and enthusiastic. however when his professor asks him to help tutor one of her secondary students, only then is that pushed to the limit

pairing - tutor!namjoon x neurodivergent!reader

genre - fluff; wizard 101 au

word count - 4.0k

warnings - dip’s made up lore, namjoon says one mean thing, thoughts of fraternization 

guide - theurgy = life magic, divination = storm magic; marlybonian = british dog people; pigswick = another wizarding academy; 

author’s note - last names for reasons. and this was a bit personal for me as i do have adhd and i struggled a lot with theoretical teachings. this is based off my own personal experience with school and having adhd, not everyone’s is the same

the seven schools of ravenwood

Best in class. That is how Namjoon has always been described ever since he was a novice theurgist. It came easy to him, with a glance at a textbook he could perform the spell in an instant. Life magic was simply in his blood. So when Professor Wu asked him to tutor some of her less than stellar students, he wasn’t surprised. It took a while for each of the other students to catch on, but one by one, he helped them understand the material and soon enough, they raised their grades. Namjoon’s track record was stunning, there wasn’t any student he couldn’t help.

That was until he met you.

Normally Professor Wu only offered tutoring for her novice primary school students; young theurgists that either did not grow up where magic was practiced or simply fell behind a few lessons and needed a bit of help to get back on their feet. Never before had he had to tutor a secondary school theurgist. But he was willing to step up to the challenge. 

Pushing open the heavy oak doors of the Life School, he was greeted with the familiar sight of Professor Wu standing at the top of the platform. Standing right at the bottom of the stairs before her, was you, dressed in purple and gold. A diviner, Namjoon thought to himself. Life magic sat in between Storm and Fire, so one normally would expect a student of those primary schools would easily understand and excel at theurgy. He wondered what could be the problem. 

“Ah, Namjoon!” She smiled as he approached you both. “Y/N, this will be your tutor; Namjoon Jadeshield. Namjoon, this is Y/N Raindreamer,” she introduced.

“Pleasure,” he greeted, holding out his hand for you to shake. You don’t shake his hand, only giving him a tight lipped smile. “Okay. . .” he dropped his hand. “What exactly are you struggling with so that I can help?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Professor Wu cut you off. “Everything, really. They’re supposed to start their initiate program, but unfortunately they must repeat their apprenticeship.”

Namjoon tried to hold back his shock. Failing the apprenticeship class?  You’d have to repeat the whole two year process, probably never catch back up to your primary school level. “Okay. So how often shall we hold tutoring sessions?” He glanced between you and Professor Wu.

“Ideally every day after class,” the professor answered.

Your head snapped in the direction of her. “No!” Turning to Namjoon, you began to plead with him. “Monday, Tuesday, Thursday. I need Wednesday and Friday free. I have-“

“You know very well that any or all after school activities are suspended until your grades rise, Raindreamer,” Professor Wu tisked.

But you didn’t acknowledge her, only keeping your eyes trained on Namjoon. “I’m sorry, but Professor Wu is right. Until you have sufficient grades to prove it, no after school activities.”

As the words left his mouth, Namjoon watched in slow motion as your face fell. Like the world had crashed around you. Quickly, your face steeled and a frown was etched onto your features. “Fine.”

“Alright,” Namjoon nodded, wanting this meeting to be over and done with. “We’ll start tomorrow. Meet me outside the Commons Library? Sound good with you?”

“Yeah, fine. Whatever,” you huffed as you shouldered your book bag and left the school building, leaving Namjoon and Professor Wu alone. 

“I swear, with a name like Raindreamer, it’s no wonder they have grades like this,” she sighed. “But thank you again, Namjoon. I know you’ll be a great help.”

“I’ll do my best.” 

The following day, Namjoon waited for you just outside the Commons Library. He was there a full 10 minutes before you finally arrived. He opened his mouth to berate you for being late but words failed to come out at the sight of you; fresh scrapes and bandages covering any exposed skin. 

“What?” You raised a brow at him.

“Are you- what happened?”

You looked down at the bandages before shrugging. “Fell.”

Whilst that didn’t feel like the full reason, Namjoon didn’t push any further, simply wanting to get the tutoring session along. You trailed behind him as he climbed up the final steps to the library, pushing open the doors. Namjoon waved hello to Harold, the old Marleybonian that served as the librarian, as he scribbled away in his ledger. 

“This way,” Namjoon said to you as he walked down the theurgy wing. Other life students, dressed in robes of greens and browns, were seated at the tables that were strategically placed alongside the tall bookshelves. He made his way over to his usual table, it sat right between the initiate and journeyman textbooks. Granted those might be a bit out of your range, but perhaps it could serve as a bit of motivation to help you move forward. 

Placing his book bag down, he looked at you, straggling along still. A bit further than he would’ve liked, but you were soon catching up. Your eyes were trained on the books as they flew across the shelves, rearranging and reorganizing themselves. There was a small smile etched into your face as you watched the books and scrolls float about, reminding Namjoon of a child on Christmas. Clearing his throat to gain your attention, he watched as that smile faded away, back into a look of displeasure. You picked up the pace, taking the seat beside him.

“Professor Wu didn’t give me any specifics as to what you need help with. So are there any particular parts that you need help with?” Namjoon asked as you pulled out your scrolls and text books. 

“Everything, I guess. It just. . . doesn’t make sense. I can’t figure out how to get from Point A to Point B,” you explained. 

“So conceptualizing it?”

You blinked at him. “I- uh, I guess that is one way to put it.”

“Okay, that gives us a starting point then.” He smiled at you. “So let’s go to basics. See if that can help.” 

“Alright,” you muttered, learning forward as he began writing.

“So theurgy is a bit different than the other schools, when using magic we don’t summon or coerce the creatures into appearing. We breathe life into them through the Song of Creation. Are you familiar with that?” When he turned to look at you, you were staring blankly at the paper. He waited a few moments for you to respond, but you didn’t. Namjoon snapped his fingers twice, you jerked back to attention.

“Sorry, I- uh. . . what did you say?”

It was then when Namjoon realized how you were able to fail your apprenticeship so miserably and how you earned your last name. 

You could not focus at all.

Every time Namjoon was going over spell casting and or creation, he would turn to you to check to see if you were following, only for you to have a blank look on your face or your eyes to be trained on the floating books again. Every time he would have to snap his fingers to regain your attention. On some occasions, he saw you scribbling away into a notebook. At first he thought you were actually taking notes, but anytime he tried to take a look at it, you shut the book in his face.

By the end of the second hour, when your session was coming to a close, you had finally managed to understand one spell. It was just a shield spell, so it wasn’t too complicated, but not enough for Namjoon to be satisfied with your progress. 

As the two of you left the library, you were about to make a break for the right, no doubt returning to your dorm room in Ravenwood, but he quickly grabbed onto your wrist. 

“What?”

“I want you to read over the History of Life Magic, chapters one through four. Just the basics, that should help at least a tiny bit.”

“You’re giving me homework?” 

He blinked at you, caught off guard by the question. He’s always asked the students he tutored to reread certain materials, and they did so without question. “It’s not really homework, just helps to go over the material again,” he sputtered out in response. “I want to see you succeed and catch up in your secondary school. And reading helps.”

“Yeah, sure,” you huffed with a roll of your eyes, then walked down the pathway through the Commons.

Over the next two weeks, the two of you had fallen into a routine; every few days you’d be late by no more than 10 minutes to each session (how he had no idea, considering the initiate divination class would get out around your scheduled time) with fresh bandages, he’d try his damndest to help you understand the material, and then you’d part ways, heading off towards the right. And it was agonizing for Namjoon. You read at a snail's pace, mixing up the pixie and fairy spells, scrambling words and wand motions together. It wasn’t by lack of effort either, Namjoon could see you were trying, genuinely, but no matter how much reading he assigned you, nothing seemed to stick. You got one spell for every ten he went over with you. He simply could not believe how you managed to even get enrolled into Ravenwood in the first place.

When he expressed his frustrations towards Professor Wu when it was time for a follow up, she finally told him that you were a new student, only coming in within the past 6 months, after being kicked out of Pigswick for poor performance. He was shocked at the information, but it made sense. You were a troubled student and needed a firm hand. So he went to work, putting together another lesson plan that was more strict to try and see if that would help you at all.

It didn’t.

Barely a full session in, he watched as you failed to recite the proper incantations to summon a leprechaun, something you nearly had the day previous. 

“What isn’t clicking for you?” He found himself asking you at the end of the session.

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean, why can’t you do this? This is basic theurgy, and you’re a storm student! This should come easy to you, right? So why are you struggling so much?” He felt like he was at the end of his rope. If he couldn’t teach you, then what hopes could he ever have about being a professor?

“I mean, it just. . . doesn’t. It’s hard to explain. . .”

“Well if you don’t figure it out, you’re gonna get kicked out from another school,” Namjoon muttered under his breath.

“What?”

He froze. He cringed to himself as he turned around to look at you, regretting even thinking the words. Once he laid eyes on you, he saw that same broken look he saw when Professor Wu said you couldn’t continue with your afterschool activities, only worse. Your shoulders sagged, and Namjoon swore he could’ve heard your heart break, shattered by him. Then your face hardened as you tightened your grip on your bookbag.

“Then I guess there’s no reason for us to really continue these sessions, considering I’m just gonna get kicked out anyways.” Then you turned on your heel and stormed off.

“Y/N, wait- I’m sorry!”

He wanted to follow after you, but he couldn’t find it in him to. He watched as you disappeared into the crowded Commons area, wishing he never even opened his mouth. 

The following day after class, Namjoon made his way over towards the Storm School. You deserved an apology, Namjoon knew that. What he said was mean, and something he never should’ve said as your tutor. It was just his luck that his mastery class ended at the same time the Storm initiate class ended, giving him the perfect opportunity to find you and apologize. He eyed through the students as they made their way past him, on their own way towards their next class or any after school club. But he could not find out. He knew he had the right year, you were supposed to go into the initiate class this year, you were the proper age for it. Where were you?

Perhaps you stayed inside to talk to the professor, he thought to himself as he approached the heavy oak doors. Thunder boomed overhead from the gathering storm cloud that resided inside the classroom. It had been years since he’d ever stepped foot in the school of storm, the first and only time being from when he was trying to find a secondary school, all those years before he finally landed on balance. 

Namjoon glanced around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of you but you weren’t in the room. Only Professor Balestrom resided in the classroom, standing on top of his desk as he gathered papers.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the school, clearing his throat to gain the frog professor’s attention. He turned on his flipper as the sound of Namjoon and bounced up to his full height of three feet. 

“Ah! How can I be of service to you?”

“Hi, I’m tutoring one of your students. Y/N Raindreamer? They would be in your initiate class.”

A frown etched itself onto Professor Balestrom’s face. “Raindreamer is my student yes, but they’re not in my initiate class.”

“What?” 

“Raindreamer advanced into the adept class about 3 months ago! They’re a brilliant student, one of the best diviners I’ve seen in a while,” he explained.

The information shook Namjoon to his core. You were an advanced student? But how could that be, considering your grades in theurgy? It didn’t make any sense. “I-I didn’t know that.”

“First time in my class, they struggled though. Came in on a reading day, which is everyone’s least favorite part of the curriculum. But as soon as we got to spell casting, they nearly blew the roof off this place!” The professor continued, leaping up in the air for dramatic effect. “They weren’t even here a week before I took them to the headmaster and demanded they advance to the journeyman course, only that was also too easy! They’re getting a real challenge in adept, I’ll tell you that.”

Namjoon couldn’t believe his ears. Here he was, thinking you were a walking failure, doomed to be kicked out of a second school. Only to learn that you were nearly two years advanced in your studies! “Oh. . . well, do you know where they might be? I do need to talk to them.”

Professor Balestrom looked at the clock on the wall. “Should be in the arena by now.”

“The arena?”

“Yes. The arena! They’re a duelist, did you not know that?”

Only then did it dawn on him that he never did ask what you wanted to do so badly that you wanted to schedule your tutoring sessions around it. Then he remembered what days you were late on, the fresh bandages you always had on. . . You were still dueling. Under the school’s nose too.

“Thank you, Professor Balestrom. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, of course!” The frog man called out to Namjoon as he all but ran out the door. As fast as he could, he made his way through the tunnels to the Commons and then to Unicorn Way. He pushed open the doors of the arena, the snapping of puppets and growls of different summoned monsters filled his ears as he approached Diego, the dueling master.

“A newcomer? Are you interested in learning the art of the duel?” The unicorn asked, raising a brow at him.

Namjoon shook his head no. “Sorry, I’m actually looking for someone. Y/N Raindreamer?”

“Ah, yes! They’ve been short on their dueling practice lately, but they’re in the next dueling chamber over. Come, I shall show you.” Diego led Namjoon down a hall towards an empty arena, where sure enough you were, dueling against a puppet. 

He was blown away with the sight before him. You waved your wand with practiced ease and the creatures you summoned did your bidding with little to no struggle at all. It wasn’t at all how you were when he was tutoring you. How could you manage to do so good in one class that you advance two classes, but struggle to advance in your secondary?

“Pretty good, eh? Came in from Pigswick, good school and all but they don’t actually teach magic there. It’s all theoretical. But as soon as Raindreamer was enrolled here, and with a little help from your’s truly, they advanced in no time!” Diego explained as he and Namjoon watched you battle the puppet. “They come in here as often as they can, practicing all the spells they learn in class. See the scrolls?” He pointed off to the side of the dueling sigil where sure enough, were piles of spell books and scrolls, mainly of storm magic, judging from the purple lining. But Namjoon could see some greens in there. 

You weren’t just practicing.

You were studying.

Raising your wand again, this time the life symbol appeared. Up until the last wave of your wand, it was perfect. You had twisted your wrist in the wrong direction, causing the spell to fizzle completely. You let out a curse as you stepped away from the sigil, the puppet standing still. You pulled open the life scroll, reading over it again, no doubt trying to find your mistake.

“You’re supposed to twist your wrist towards the right, not the left!” Namjoon called out to you. Your head snapped up in his direction, mouth open to probably yell at him. But you didn’t say anything, your eyes focusing on Diego behind him. 

“He’s right, you were perfect up until that last move,” Diego confirmed as he trotted down the stairs towards you, Namjoon following after. “He was looking for you, I hope you do not mind I brought him here.”

“It’s alright, thank you, Diego.” You gave the unicorn a slight smile, who nodded before stepping away, giving the two of you some privacy. Once your attention was fully towards Namjoon, your lips pressed into a thin line. “What is it, Namjoon?”

“I wanted to apologize, what I said was out of line. As your tutor, it should’ve been my priority to build you up, not to tear you down.”

You regarded him cautiously. “Doesn’t change the fact that what you said really hurt. I did try, but studying like that just. . . it doesn’t work for me. Sitting there and telling me how to cast spells, I have to see and do it to fully understand. Do you get that?”

“Yes, I can see that now.” Namjoon stepped toward the pile of scrolls and books that you had at the side of the arena. Picking up the one that was open, he flipped through it. There were a bunch of notes and scribbles in the margins, he recognized the chicken scratch as yours but what you wrote were what he would go over and teach you in your tutoring sessions. “This is why you wanted those days off, so you could practice your spellwork and could try to actually grasp what you were learning?”

Slowly, you nodded. “I will admit, I did continue dueling, but without the proper amount of dedication to practice and study, it just. . . I couldn’t do it.”

“Then we’ll hold our tutoring sessions here.”

You looked at him in shock. “What?”

“If this is what helps you learn, then this is what we’ll do to help you,” Namjoon started, “I’ll tell Professor Wu about the change and reserve an arena with Diego. We can meet here instead of the library, does that sound good to you?”

“I- yeah! That’s- that’s perfect, thank you!” You said, beaming widely at him. It was the first time you actually smiled at him, and he was going to deny the little flutter he felt in his chest. 

“Okay, so I’ll see you here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow!”

Just as he said, Namjoon talked with Moolinda about having you study via dueling.

“I don’t know, Jadeshield. . . they’re failing, and the rules are no extracurriculars unless a student is of a passing grade.”

“I know, but this is how they learn! I didn’t understand it at first, and that’s my fault. But they’re actually really smart! Did you know they’re two classes advanced in divination?” Namjoon countered. 

Professor Wu was taken back by that knowledge, judging by the way her eyes narrowed down and focused on him. 

“Please, just give them a chance.”

She was quiet, before placing her hooves together and nodding. “Very well. You may hold your tutoring lessons in the arena.”

Namjoon was so ecstatic, he would have jumped for joy. But there was one more thing that he had to ask. . .

 Due to his meeting with the professor, Namjoon was running late to meet you at the Arena. He saw you were sitting on the grass outside the building, looking down at that book you would scribble in during your tutoring sessions, flipping through the pages. 

“Hey!” He caught your attention as he approached you. “I have great news!”

Looking up from your book, you furrowed your brows together. “What?”

“I talked to Professor Wu and she gave the green light for us to do dueling tutoring sessions and she agreed!”

You jumped to your feet. “Really?!”

“Yes, and she agreed to something even better.” 

“Spit it out then! Don’t leave me here in all this suspense!”

“If you test well enough on the next exam that’s in a few weeks, you can join the initiate program!” It took a lot of convincing on his part, and staking his whole career as a tutor on the line, but he was wrong to ever doubt you in the first place. He knew you could do it.

“You-oh my stars! Thank you!” Dropping your book, you threw yourself onto Namjoon, wrapping your arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly.

He stilled at the sudden contact, feeling heat rush to his cheeks. “You’re- you’re welcome,” he said, patting your back gently. He’d never been thanked in such a way before, usually a quick handshake or a smile. Never a hug. 

As quick as you hugged him, you released your hold on him, smiling brightly at him. “Come on! Exam may be a few weeks away, but I wanna be sure I have everything right so I can ace this test!” You said, before racing inside the arena. 

Namjoon stood back for a second, still feeling the heat on his cheeks. He took a step forward to join you, only to accidentally step on your book that you’d dropped. Kneeling down, he picked it up. Curiosity gaining the best of him, he took a peek inside. It was doodles and drawings of different creatures and spells, with little notes dotted along the sides. Still flipping through the book, he began walking towards the arena, but he stopped as he turned to a page that took him by surprise. It was a drawing of him, incompleted, but was very obviously Namjoon. He felt the heat on his face return, crawling up his ears too. Reading along the sides of the page, were your own personal anecdotes about him. Calling him all sorts of names, but also things he had said; Stuff from his lessons. You had remembered, you were trying. He just couldn’t see it.

“Ahem.” 

Namjoon’s eyes broke away from the sketchbook, meeting Diego’s gaze. The unicorn said nothing, only winking at him as he tossed his head in the direction of the arena doors. 

Breaking eye contact, Namjoon pushed open the doors, hoping you wouldn’t see the embarrassment on his cheeks. He spotted you almost immediately, talking with some other students he could only presume were your friends. Taking notice of him, you smiled at him again, and he swore he could see a twinkle in your eye-

No. No. No.

You had an exam to study for and he was your tutor. He couldn’t fraternize with you like that. However, he wouldn’t be for long if you ace that exam. . . 

“Raindreamer, let’s go!”