[After the unceremonious chaos that was the potluck, Zhongli takes Xiao in his panicked bird form back to their apartment, stepping swiftly and with care. His hold is neither too tight nor too loose, just enough to be comforting and protective. With the way his suit is cut, it's very easy for Xiao to simply bury himself between his coat and his shirt if he wants.
Either way, he's not letting anyone or anything stop them until they pass the threshold of their house. The familiar scent of incense washes over them before he shuts the door behind them, and locks it. Finally he makes his way over to the couch closest to the fireplace, and sets Xiao down on the cushion. Zhongli himself drops to his knees on the floor, and strokes Xiao's feathers in what he hopes is a calming and familiar way.]
Deep breaths, hǔ zǐ. You're safe here.
[Just how thorough is this transformation? Is there danger if his heart overworks itself? Does Xiao even remember fully what he is? ... It doesn't matter right now, but this sure is one hell of a time for his powers to resurface.]
If you don't mind waiting for a moment, I can kindle a fire. It might help to calm your nerves.
[ bury xiao does the moment zhongli gives him the chance, too overwhelmed to properly process anything other than the desire for somewhere dark and safe. it's embarrassment that fuels the need to hide, to clamp his eyes shut so tightly that the rest of the world disappears ─ what else would one feel when you suddenly turn into a small bird in front of your father's work friends? the chaos proceeding it was utterly forgotten and forgiven in favor of the mortification he feels at the sudden change of form.
how did he do it? why did he do it? how does he undo it? is this something he could have always done? is this something he could have done in his past life? they must surely think ill of him now, right? becoming so overwhelmed that he turned into a bird...
if xiao would bury himself in the fluff of feathers he would, even as they pass into the threshold of their home and the familiar scent of incense washes over him. it's mortifying that it happened in the first place, that zhongli had to swoop in to rescue him. even so, his feathers seem to flatten a little more against his body when zhongli places him down on the cushion, stroking gently at his feathers. it is calming, familiar, enough to ground him a little more than before.
thank you he would say were he able to speak, but all xiao can muster is a small chirping noise. he wishes he knew how to change back... ]
[The poor dear is certainly going through it. He doesn't mind having Xiao curl up in there, but he's afraid he might fall out or something with the faffing about the fireplace. So it goes.]
Don't worry about any of that. [He can't understand animals in this life yet so he's just uh, guessing at this point, but he's sure Xiao is anxious about many things right now.] Just focus on your breathing, and try to clear your mind.
[He leaves Xiao there to peep and preen on the couch while he starts up a fire. It's a simple thing for an old earth god who remembers knocking rocks together in a few lives. To an extent, he still prefers flint to matches, but matches are easier to come by and for others to use... so matches it is. Within a few minutes he has a softly-crackling fire, though it will be a few more before the stones around it warm up and help distribute that heat throughout the apartment.
Then he does something curious. He takes a big poofy blanket out of the coat closet and lays it out over the wool rug, a normal fixture in front of the fireplace in this house. With that finished, he goes back over to the couch to retrieve Xiao, and finally sets him there in the middle of the blanket and the warm rug, so he can snuggle into something and disappear if he wants.]
There is a kind of magic in experience, in age and time. There are legends of foxes living to be so old that they gain the ability to talk and reason with humans... great birds who live upon the mountains, watching the rise and fall of dynasties... even dragons who rise up from the valleys to be seen once in an age before once again falling into obscurity.
[As he speaks, he settles down on the blanket beside Xiao and pets him a little more.]
In Liyue, they were known as adepti or 'illuminated beasts'. And it is their immortal order that we belong to even in this life.
[A pause.]
I always did despise combat in that form, but for simple things like this... I've learned to indulge.
[Give him another minute—and he shapeshifts himself. He's a slinky thing, with all the fur and scales and horns and craggy teeth and claws befitting a great dragon...
... but he's only seven feet long, which is just enough to comfortably curl up around the edge of the wool rug.]
[ all xiao can do, really, is watch as zhongli moves about, chirping softly as the fire begins to crackle in the fireplace. watching as he takes the blanket out of the coat closet and lays it around the wool rug, head tilting curiously as he picks xiao up again. the adeptus flaps his wings briefly as he is moved from the couch to the middle of the blanket, hopping as he peers up at his father with the most curious look a bird of his size can possibly make.
focus on your breathing.
it's difficult but xiao tries as zhongli settles on the blanket beside him, petting him a little as he speaks. there has always been something calming about the stories his father told, many times in his youth did xiao drift off to sleep listening to a story or a conversation between zhongli and azhdaha. it helps settle even more of the anxious energy coursing through him, feathers slowly flattening against his small body as zhongli speaks of liyue, of the adepti, of immortal beings─
the glimpse he gets his brief; a city alight of lanterns drifting up, up, up into the night sky, the noise of the harbor, a girl with blue hair and horns, the blonde-haired traveler, and the distant sound of a flute easing a painful ache in his chest.
xiao fluffs up again as it passes, his mind spinning with questions he can barely contain, only to watch as his father's form shifts to that of a great dragon. xiao chirps, familiarity hitting harder than the glimpse of faded memories, wings stretching out almost in exclamation. he knows this, he recognizes this. zhongli, morax, rex lapis. the words sit in his throat, demanding release, but he can't push them out in the form a bird, so all he can do is chirp. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
5/6; action;
Either way, he's not letting anyone or anything stop them until they pass the threshold of their house. The familiar scent of incense washes over them before he shuts the door behind them, and locks it. Finally he makes his way over to the couch closest to the fireplace, and sets Xiao down on the cushion. Zhongli himself drops to his knees on the floor, and strokes Xiao's feathers in what he hopes is a calming and familiar way.]
Deep breaths, hǔ zǐ. You're safe here.
[Just how thorough is this transformation? Is there danger if his heart overworks itself? Does Xiao even remember fully what he is? ... It doesn't matter right now, but this sure is one hell of a time for his powers to resurface.]
If you don't mind waiting for a moment, I can kindle a fire. It might help to calm your nerves.
no subject
how did he do it? why did he do it? how does he undo it? is this something he could have always done? is this something he could have done in his past life? they must surely think ill of him now, right? becoming so overwhelmed that he turned into a bird...
if xiao would bury himself in the fluff of feathers he would, even as they pass into the threshold of their home and the familiar scent of incense washes over him. it's mortifying that it happened in the first place, that zhongli had to swoop in to rescue him. even so, his feathers seem to flatten a little more against his body when zhongli places him down on the cushion, stroking gently at his feathers. it is calming, familiar, enough to ground him a little more than before.
thank you he would say were he able to speak, but all xiao can muster is a small chirping noise. he wishes he knew how to change back... ]
no subject
Don't worry about any of that. [He can't understand animals in this life yet so he's just uh, guessing at this point, but he's sure Xiao is anxious about many things right now.] Just focus on your breathing, and try to clear your mind.
[He leaves Xiao there to peep and preen on the couch while he starts up a fire. It's a simple thing for an old earth god who remembers knocking rocks together in a few lives. To an extent, he still prefers flint to matches, but matches are easier to come by and for others to use... so matches it is. Within a few minutes he has a softly-crackling fire, though it will be a few more before the stones around it warm up and help distribute that heat throughout the apartment.
Then he does something curious. He takes a big poofy blanket out of the coat closet and lays it out over the wool rug, a normal fixture in front of the fireplace in this house. With that finished, he goes back over to the couch to retrieve Xiao, and finally sets him there in the middle of the blanket and the warm rug, so he can snuggle into something and disappear if he wants.]
There is a kind of magic in experience, in age and time. There are legends of foxes living to be so old that they gain the ability to talk and reason with humans... great birds who live upon the mountains, watching the rise and fall of dynasties... even dragons who rise up from the valleys to be seen once in an age before once again falling into obscurity.
[As he speaks, he settles down on the blanket beside Xiao and pets him a little more.]
In Liyue, they were known as adepti or 'illuminated beasts'. And it is their immortal order that we belong to even in this life.
[A pause.]
I always did despise combat in that form, but for simple things like this... I've learned to indulge.
[Give him another minute—and he shapeshifts himself. He's a slinky thing, with all the fur and scales and horns and craggy teeth and claws befitting a great dragon...
... but he's only seven feet long, which is just enough to comfortably curl up around the edge of the wool rug.]
no subject
focus on your breathing.
it's difficult but xiao tries as zhongli settles on the blanket beside him, petting him a little as he speaks. there has always been something calming about the stories his father told, many times in his youth did xiao drift off to sleep listening to a story or a conversation between zhongli and azhdaha. it helps settle even more of the anxious energy coursing through him, feathers slowly flattening against his small body as zhongli speaks of liyue, of the adepti, of immortal beings─
the glimpse he gets his brief; a city alight of lanterns drifting up, up, up into the night sky, the noise of the harbor, a girl with blue hair and horns, the blonde-haired traveler, and the distant sound of a flute easing a painful ache in his chest.
xiao fluffs up again as it passes, his mind spinning with questions he can barely contain, only to watch as his father's form shifts to that of a great dragon. xiao chirps, familiarity hitting harder than the glimpse of faded memories, wings stretching out almost in exclamation. he knows this, he recognizes this. zhongli, morax, rex lapis. the words sit in his throat, demanding release, but he can't push them out in the form a bird, so all he can do is chirp. ]