Memories of Other Times [g.i One Shots]

Left Behind [When Immortals Fade]

Characters: Zhongli, Venti, Xiao, Scaramouche

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort, angst, self-destructive tendencies, death

Zhongli

His mind was growing unstable, you knew. Though you were in the prime of your life, he was ending.

It was painful to watch. Sometimes you would get home to see his head resting against the table, his hands cupping his face as he breathed heavily. You would come up behind him and rest your hands on his shoulders, coaxing him to lift his head, but when he did, his eyes would be glazed, a more robotic tilt to his movement.

Sometimes it was more violent. Sometimes his draconic side couldn't decipher who you were and would lash out at you. It was never enough to warrant anything more than a band-aid, but Zhongli would have silent tears run down his face as he leaned his head on your shoulder, whispering exhausted apologies.

It was when he was little more than a shell that he told you he wouldn't see past today's sunrise. You cried over him, whispering desperately for him to stay, to tell you stories of the archon days and of Liyue's prospering; To help you make tea because you were so terrible, and to hold you against his chest.

A strange sight it was to see your once proud lover turn to something finer than sand, something so fine it fell through your fingers. The wind carried it out the open window, perhaps a last act from an old friend.

You were left sobbing on the bed, a gaping hole that your lover left behind, clutching the bed sheets as you tried to hold in your screams.

Venti

His voice faded out, never singing, never waxing purple prose poetry, never loudly cheering as he drank copious amounts of wine. It was disheartened to serve Venti do downtrodden, so silent and waiting.

His body went slower than his words, but soon, he could no longer fly. He never danced among the clouds, or played in small whirlwinds that curled around him like a comforting breeze. In fact, wind rarely blew around him at all, the air often stagnant throughout the lands now.

Many days were spent with Venti resting against your chest, his head laying limply on your shoulder, under the shade of Vanessa's tree. His scratched voice would mutter out a simple request, a request for you to sing to him as he laid with little strength in his limbs.

It was this day that, under your very palms, you could feel Venti's body slowly dissolve into pure wind. You cried as you sang, doing your best not to let the tears and choked voice inhibit what would be his final song with you.

As you finished the song, your arms fell limply in your lap, no longer holding the person you loved more than anything. You took gasping breaths, a fuzzy feeling invading your head as a part of you wished you could forget this ever happened.

Xiao

"Xiao, please. Can't you rest for just a moment?"

You held the crook of his elbow gently, stopping him from disappearing off onto the night once more, a worried gleam in your eyes. Your gaze raked his body, seeing the dark red spots that invaded his skin like a disease. They were growing rapidly as Xiao took on more and more duty, especially after Rex Lapis' passing, and acquired ridiculous amounts of karma.

It was staining his body with its accumulation, poisoning him from the inside-out, and it hurt you to witness it. Despite your warnings and wishes, Xiao never took any breaks, never rested for even a second. It destroyed your relationship just as it destroyed his body.

But you were determined to stay by him, loving him, caring for him. In this moment, he looked back into your scared, yet loving eyes with uncertainty and determination.

"I'll only be gone for a few hours." He murmured, in what he hoped was a comforting tone. "I'll even... join you in bed tonight, okay?"

Hesitantly you released his arm, your gut screaming against it, but you didn't want to push him too far. "Okay."

He vanished in a cloud of green and black, and it was the last you ever saw him.

Scaramouche

Cracks were littered across his body, you could see them in the early morning glow on the rare occasion you woke up before him. They traveled along his neck, and arms, and legs, and there were a few, impossible to see if you weren't looking, on his supple cheeks.

He didn't like to talk about them, didn't like the idea that something as crude as his body was holding him back from the greatness he knew he could achieve.

You tried to push him away from his pursuit of the gnosis, not in malicious, believing that he couldn't do it, but out of fear that he would finally destroy the past of his physical self.

He showed it to you in private, the small chess piece that gave the status of an archon, the tiny object that would give your lover his ascension to godhood. It was beautiful no doubt, but the manic look in Scaramouche's eyes terrified you. It was a hunger and yearning that you couldn't understand, but as he held it, a piece of his skin cracked and fell.

You gasped but he was too enthralled to notice and he asked you to watch him place his prize within his chest. You begged him not to, but it seemed you were just a spectator now, as Scaramouche placed the gnosis in the spot where his heart should be.

For a moment, everything was quiet. For a moment, you fooled yourself into thinking everything was okay. But those cracks moved rapidly, crawling across Scaramouche's skin like thin, all encompassing vines.

You screamed but it didn't shake the content smile on Scaramouche's face as he broke to pieces, each one shattering on the wooden floors like glass.