stormyseasons

Chapter Text

The others are... not displeased, no, but understandably wary. Though... Zhongli chuckles sheepishly to himself as the Cloud Retainer carries on angrily for yet another minute, fluttering in the air as though uncertain who to peck first. His other students are a little calmer – the Skybracer ventures to speak to Retuo, while the Mountain Shaper takes to the air to try and coax the Cloud Retainer to calm.

The rest of the adepti – their children, their human students, their kin and adopted students and others – watch in amazement as Zhongli-daren – Zhongli-daren of all people! – willingly endures the Cloud Retainer’s worried and angry chastisement.

“Ah, Cloud Retainer, I –”

“Bringing back an unknown? An... an, an –” The Cloud Retainer shrieks in upset. “Did you at least verify if –”

“I did, Cloud Retainer.” Zhongli explains calmly. “He isn’t a threat. Ah... Retuo, which name would you like to go by?”

Retuo hushes his own laughter, his form quivering briefly with suppressed chuckles. “Ah, Zhongli... what interesting students you have raised. As they are yours, the name that you prefer to call me by will do. They may address me as Retuo as well, if they like.”

Zhongli sees the Moon Carver steps closer to Retuo, proud stag’s antlers quivering atop his student’s head as the Moon Carver sniffs carefully at him. The Moon Carver turns to look at Zhongli, a silent question in his eyes. Zhongli nods. The Moon Carver stamps a foot, saying to Retuo, “Since Zhongli-daren has decided to welcome you among us, we his students can hardly do anything less. Welcome to Jueyun Karst. Retuo-daren.”

Retuo swings around to pin Zhongli with a reproachful look, and Zhongli can no longer resist his own laughter. “I said nothing of that to them, my friend. Their perceptiveness is their own doing –”

“You, their teacher, should at least take pride in the polishing of their skill.” Retuo says firmly. “False humility is a lie too.”

“As you say, Retuo, as you say.”

Months later, Zhongli tries out a new shape – and a possible solution to the problem of his power overflowing his chosen vessel if he slacked in his self-control. In honour of Retuo’s friendship – and for... other reasons, he attempts dragon shape.

Dragon shape is.... odd. Not quite right. He is too thin and long compared to Retuo, too snakelike in body. He has no wings, unlike the lovely teal and blue dragon of air that had visited quietly once Retuo had settled in. And yet... and yet, to Zhongli’s consternation, this form can fly!

Though, unfortunately, the ability to fly did not come with... guides....

Zhongli groans quietly in discomfort amid the coil of his ... shape... on the shattered ground of his landing. Oh, he could fly in this shape – but landing was another story altogether. The two other dragons present – the Anemo-aspected one who had not given even a use-name, and Retuo, chuckle kindly and help untangle Zhongli’s limbs and tail and long body from each other. “Would you like pointers?”

“Please.” Zhongli murmurs humbly, finally untangling his long, fluffy tail from his legs. The Anemo dragon chuckles again. “Have you flown before? For one new to this shape, you took marvellously to the air indeed.”

Zhongli stills. Glances up, once, at Celestia’s thankfully faraway form, before cautiously saying, “Technically, yes. It was... a very different kind of flying, though.”

The Anemo dragon slips its own quiet and wary glance in, before replying, “Just so. In any case, for this... form that you have no doubt noted is quite unusual – even perhaps part qilin in some of its aspects – it is not wings that bear you aloft, but the energies of the world.”

Zhongli attempts to move out of the impact crater of his landing – and promptly trips over his tail again. Joy. Faux-helpfully, Retuo comments, “Usually... heh, usually the hatchlings take a while to learn to manoeuvre with a tail – perhaps do not expect so much of yourself immediately?”

Zhongli flicks a clawful of mud at him in annoyance. Hmpf.

Thankfully for his bruised sensibilities, the coordination problems ease with pleasing swiftness. Within a week, Zhongli is no longer tripping over tail, feet, or feet-hands.

In two weeks, he is able to take flight without stumbling, and land without embarrassing falls.

In three, he finally understands how to steer his flight properly – and the freedom of the air now open to him is exhilarating. Retuo welcomes him back to solid land with a smile after Zhongli spends an entire day doing exuberant twirls and swirls through the air, and Zhongli beams at him in return.

“How does it feel?” His friend asks. Zhongli flings his arms around Retuo. “Good, so good, Retuo, even I do not have words for how it feels....”

Retuo hugs him tighter, then pauses. “Zhongli... weren’t your arms – and most of your torso – marked in burning gold before?”

Confused at the nonsequitur, Zhongli looks at his arms as Retuo indicates. Then gasps. Where once his power had strained at the limits of his chosen form, crackling around the limbs and torso of his vessel’s shape... now, his form was marbled with his power still, yet with restraint. With control. Dark and earthen tones mark his shoulders, his arms, interlaced with golden patterns – Geo patterns – leading down even to his hands.

“Is this... something you expected? Or a change you find desirable?” Retuo asks curiously. Zhongli nods, still too stunned for quick words. “I... I couldn’t find a way, before, a form that could... could properly be a vessel for my strength. Early on... early on, there were... accidents, before I managed the ... necessary delicacy and control.”

Retuo reaches for Zhongli’s palm, stroking gently along glowing golden lines before kissing it. “Your strength does me no harm anyway – but I am glad for your sake that dragon-shape might reassure you. You would not harm your students and those you shelter beneath your aegis anyway, in my opinion.”

Zhongli looks away for a moment, remembering the first one he’d hurt – and then healed so ineptly. “Thank you, my friend, for teaching me this shape. I... needed the reassurance badly.”

Still, for all the joys – for all the new discoveries and capabilities he’d gained after cultivating a dragon’s shape – there were some things that Zhongli could not quite grasp.

Some of those discoveries were joyful ones, even if he could not quite understand why he’d gained the ability. The increased awareness of ore and crystal – the ability to coax already mined nodes and veins to regenerate, albeit slowly – that was very useful. Though Zhongli was still confused why he’d gained this capability.

Azhdaha laughs uproariously, when Zhongli mentions this to him.

“The land blesses you and the work of your hands, Zhongli,” He says cheerfully, before abruptly changing mood to a startling seriousness. “You should take care of the land in return. The capability is not a gift given with a price, but neither is it a ... small thing to be overlooked.”

Zhongli bows his head. “I understand. I will take care.”

Nevertheless, the influx of new instincts remains... befuddling. Zhongli doesn’t understand why he is now keeping things. He’d taught the adepti the art of constructing pocket dimensions, domains, which most of them used to live or work in. He’d built one for himself, and used it to rest in now and then, or conduct particularly risky practices of self-cultivation, or to store things he might need or want. On occasion stepped inside the domain in order to work on something uninterrupted. He’d had plenty of space.

But now...He sighs at the many, many, many heaps of things.
Oh, Zhongli remembered acquiring them. Remembered too what he was thinking as he collected them. No few of these were meant as gifts for his students – those he quietly shuffles to the rooms nearer the entrance of the building he used for storage in the domain. He will... he will call the adepti to come and choose what they liked from the items. It seems... in hindsight, now, it seems a little excessive to collect so much.

But the rest...

The largest collection of all is a gleaming pile of ore and stone, and everything else that had... apparently reminded him of Retuo. Including several items of Retuo’s clothing that Retuo had complained of being unable to find. A few impenetrably hard shed scales of Retuo’s. When had Zhongli collected them? Why? And... the things that belonged to Retuo aside, what was he to do with all of these? He... Zhongli considers giving them to Retuo. The instinctive refusal nearly dizzies him. The... the collection isn’t ready. There have to be more things. Better things.

He shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts from them. It doesn’t work. Perhaps... perhaps if Zhongli left the... the hoard alone for the time being, to look for better things...

Zhongli locks the room with the hoard for Retuo, and calls the adepti to choose what they like. Then exits the domain, taking to the air. He has to find better things for Azhdaha. He... he thinks he knows what might be better.

Searching from the air grants nothing. Unsurprising. The Irminsul had been heavily targeted in that time. Few trees would be left aboveground... He finds a few, mostly saplings or young little trees by the standards of the Irminsul he knew before. One, crowning a mountain inexplicably green and alive amid harsh blizzards and snow – keeping a mountain alive. Another one nurturing a green and lush forest in warmer terrain. But above ground – and young. Too risky. If Zhongli’s interaction with them drew Celestia’s notice... He heads underground instead.

He searches for a long time. Finally in a series of deep, enormous caverns, Zhongli finds what he seeks. A mature Irminsul, white roots and branches spiralling throughout the caves – and, curiously, a small community of humans that speak to it.

“What do you want here?” The head of the community demands. Zhongli bows respectfully, keeping his attitude humble and politely calm. “I seek a gift of the Irminsul for a friend.”

He pauses. Why... Ah. “He has been gravely injured in the past, and though he lives, the wounds pain him. I would ask the Irminsul if they are able to help.”

The human looks at him dubiously. “Strangers from the sun-lands above are rarely welcome – and rarely safe for the Irminsul.”

Zhongli remains silent. They speak the truth, after all. Overhead, the Irminsul’s branches rustle softly, glowing a little brighter. The human snorts sharply, “The Irminsul is pleased to speak with you and hear you out. That’s a far more glowing endorsement than most get.”

“My thanks.” Zhongli bows, and walks to the nearest portion of trunk. Growing undisturbed – unculled – here, the Irminsul is massive, an enormous colony of intertwined mother and sister trees coaxing life into the caverns. It seizes hold of his mind.

- You. Desire. You. Child. Not-ours-but-ours. Desire. What? –

Carefully, Zhongli shapes his intent, and offers it up. The Irminsul considers it. Then abruptly lets him go.

- Good. Nourish-care-flourish. –

A bough full of leaves, bearing a single, precious fruit drops into his hands. Resin brims within the branch, yet not overflowing, not dripping. Contained within the branch, so that he would not lose any of the precious resin either.

“A princely gift indeed, scion of the world tree.” Zhongli murmurs in respectful awe. “This one will bear it to the recipient with all honour.”

– Enough. Go. –

He goes.