Retrocognition | Xiao x Reader

ii.

S e r a p h i c

.~___✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥___~.

.

"My deepest apologies."

The Yaksha could still feel the shame in his chest as he overlooked the lively hues of emerald grass from atop the enormous tree in a flatland a local guard told him is named Windrise. 

Unlike the warm breeze brought in the expanse of the plains of Guili, the air here is much more cooler. Much more free. Perhaps it's the reason why the region is often mentioned to being favored by winds.

"It matters not. You've kept true to your word and watched over Liyue and my people,"

An answer springing from prior zemblanity, he didn't know it would give him solace—to know that his selfishness was sanctioned.

"Although it is your wish to stay in the start, it is still I who kept you grounded, no? So linger no longer, do as you please."

He can never fathom how understanding that man is, Rex Lapis. Or maybe it's just because he himself couldn't fathom that he has actually stepped past the borders of Liyue to visit the liberated lands of the Anemo Archon in high hopes of searching for his missing piece. 

Long has he been idle, helplessly in waiting, now it is his turn to shoulder the weight of looking.

"Are you—"

"Xiao, I insist."

The Adeptus closes his eyes, the whispers of the Geo Archon leaving a chill in his spine.

It was like he saw it coming, the eventual departure of one of Liyue's mightiest Adepti, moving on from his belief that he has a debt to pay when he's long since paid it.

Lapis may not be mandating freedom as often as his other friend, but for those who have kept his people far from harm, he's just as willing to give it. He can handle waging wars against the demons that still desire to devour his land.

Sighing, Xiao drops himself from the branches of the tree, landing safely by the elevated cement of one of the Statues of the Seventh with the aid of his blessed anemo. As soon as he stands upright, he hears a pleasant tune of strummed strings and he spins around, alert.

"Traveler from a place beyond yonder, for what reason is your visit, I wonder?"

A bard.

A bard is playing his lyre by the roots of the gigantic tree, in front of a patch of beautiful flowers he's seemingly singing to a while ago. His mystical gradient hues remain staring in his golds, and he sighs out.

Well, he has more than a year—not to say that he'll procrastinate—and he is feeling a bit burned out from the amount of eagerness he had in finding [Name], he can use some time to speak to a stranger.

"I'm looking for someone," he says as he approaches the younger teen, whose eyes lit up.

"Ah," the bard drawls out with a knowing simper, "Romance has never been more fascinating."