eggbowl | In my blood...

Your words-

[are betrayed by your actions, he means to say. his statement is stopped as Dohalim's hand moves to wrap around his throat, pushing him so gently back onto the bed. there's no resistance, no real hesitation.]

... Dohalim...

[he's selfish, in truth. so much of this is his own whims, pushed onto another; Dohalim is right about that much. peering up at him now, no matter his expression, Zhongli knows this to be true.]

... You... still have not given me a reasonable excuse to die. If I thought that you truly, in the depths of your heart, wanted for death, I... would give you what you wished. We have a contract, after all.

[a hand rises to brush the other's hair back, expression contemplative.]

... I don't want to let you go so easily. Watching over your reign these few years, that is my own selfish feeling. You have seen how much your people care, as well. What you've done isn't all that defines you. You know that people are more than just their most recent actions. So why are you so desperate to end an already short life?

I've already told you. I'm tired. I'm tired of all that weighs down on me. I'm tired of the memories that plague me at every given moment. I'm tired of the darkness in my mind, I'm tired of feeling like it wants to take reign over me, I'm tired, I'm tired, I'm tired--

[dropping his head down onto Zhongli's shoulder, he lets out a slight shudder as his hand around the deity's neck twitches. perhaps he shouldn't have searched for him, perhaps he should have left him alone. maybe he would have gathered enough courage to cut his own life short without having the deity interfere]

I'm tired of lying to myself. Convincing myself that the reason I've championed for peace among Menancia was for the people. I put a stop to senseless slavery because I was tired of listening to the Dahnan's screams, tired of being reminded of the day Tarnigen died over and over again.

My life is a punishment for all that I've committed, for the lies spoken and acted upon.

[letting go of Zhongli's neck as he pushes himself up again, both hands reach for his, before bringing them up to his own neck. he fits those warm fingers around his own throat and holds them there]

Would you kill me if it truly came down to it? If there were no other ways of salvation, if this was the final resort, would you kill me? Or would your selfishness get in the way of completing your contract?

[these, at least, are emotions he understands. motivations he understands. guilt upon the past is natural, after all, even for his kind. and Zhongli, more than most...]

Your life is simply that. A life. Dwelling upon the past overlong is a dangerous thing, Dohalim.

[and again he watches, imperious, as fingers fit around the man's own neck as he sits over him. there's no danger there, either - bodies go limp in the absence of breath, and hands are no exception. the question... that question, of all questions...]

... I have never allowed my selfishness to get in the way of a contract. [there's a quiet guilt there. he wanted to, once. at least once.] If there were no other options, it would be my solemn duty to take your life myself. I told you before, did I not?

I carry the weight of my contracts, for they are a part of me as surely as the energy from which I was born. I remember all those I have entered into contract with, whether their time simply expired or I was forced to seal them away or kill them myself. That has not changed.

But until such a day comes... You wish to torture me by making me live a life I don't want.

[his own hands close around Zhongli's and his own neck, squeezing slightly, like earlier. not nearly tight enough to cause discomfort, but more to drive a point home. as wild as his eyes look, they too hold a hint of sadness in them, as if the raw part of Dohalim is trying to peek through again]

Why let me live with this corruption and guilt... You watch as it plagues me, but do you know what it truly feels like? It feels both searing hot and freezing cold. It whispers to me in the darkness, invites me in to make me witness my transgressions over and over again, all the while wanting to commit more atrocities because that is what I do. That is what it wants me to do.

And you watch as it pulls me apart, watch as it takes over. Why do you do this... If you truly care, then why do you let this continue?

[to torture him... Zhongli actually looks hurt at that, if briefly. It's painful, he knows, but to call it Zhongli's wish to torture him... ah.]

Because I-

[there again he pauses, trying to find the words. it feels suddenly desperate, painfully important. but what if he were to say the wrong thing again.]

I am not... perfect. I watch because it is all I can do, right now. Until I can find a way to help stabilise this, so that I can search for information that was never mine to begin with.

[he doesn't know, exactly, if She's still around. if in some form, their energies haven't been fully intertwined. he also doesn't know how to explain. as a result, it's almost halting when he does speak again. it's unlike him, but not so out of place as to seem disingenuous.]

Succor was... never my strong suit. I am the very stone beneath the land, but that which you call Earth astral energy was not mine alone. I cannot portend to understand healing when that was the role of another, and so I can only witness your struggle. I can only offer myself, so long as I remain near, until I may leave or there is a contingent of trustworthy individuals to scour the land for what I seek.

For that, I can only apologise.

...Apologise...

[there's anger in his eyes that flash only briefly, before Dohalim closes them slowly. his head dips, throat pressed against the hands against it, causing his breath to hitch slightly for a moment, though that doesn't stop the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallows thickly]

Is this your truth...

[if Dohalim really is angry, then he's doing a great job at hiding it. his voice is still steady and calm, still too steady and calm. hair covers his eyes once more and he's silent for another stretch of minutes. but when he speaks again, his voice is soft]

Are you truly that powerless that all you can do is watch my torment?

[shoulders slump as Dohalim sinks a little lower, throat pressed against their hands even more]

... I'm afraid that many of my available options to soothe this may... cause more trouble than relief.

[it's a complex issue, after all. it's why he'd left that first day, to try and find the trail of the other's research, her wisdom. but now... he'll simply have to find another way. clearly, his own idleness is causing as much strife as anything else.]

Dohalim...

[slowly, he reaches to pull those hands away, to replace them with himself again, a warmer and... kinder feeling, perhaps. to explain it...]

... Come with me, when you've recovered. [assuming Dohalim hasn't resisted him yet, he'll reach to tangle fingers in his hair, to brush it back gently.] Menancia can take care of itself - it's clear you've trustworthy men for that. We can search together, so that I needn't be away from you again.

[A pause, a hand resting on Dohalim's chest.]

... I don't want to be away from you again. At least from here, I can... be your resilience, if you'll let me. And if that isn't satisfactory, I... we will find another way.

[It's guilty, desperate, almost pleading. He's hampered by the delicate balance of corruption and depression that swirl in the younger man, and yet... and yet. How does he ever say how much it means to have him here? To see him fight, to at least hold him through it? He doesn't want to lose more, not when he could still carry him through. If he would just trust Zhongli, if he would trust his people, if...

And what if he doesn't? How long can he play at ignorance before he has to acquiesce? How long before Dohalim, too, slips through his fingers like the finest grains of sand?]

[that's another anxiety all on its own, being asked to leave his post for a time, to rely on others to do his job, even if it's temporary. he's already skirted from his duties lately, could he possibly ask that of his people? would they accept? or would they deem him unfit to rule, to lead, and try to overthrow him again? would Dohalim resist this time?

a hand presses against his chest, and Dohalim desperately holds onto it, grasping it as tightly as he can, afraid that it'll be pulled away, stolen from him again. he wants to die, this is no secret, but he doesn't want Zhongli to go. he hasn't once told him to leave, not sincerely; is it selfish of him to want this deity close even though he doesn't want to live? is it selfish to keep him close when he's too tired to fight this thing?]

Why won't you let me go?

[Dohalim's voice drops down to a whisper, before he takes a shuddering breath in and out. he pulls at their bond again, a sharp tug as if trying to pull himself away from the claws of corruption]

Why?

[Dohalim's voice drops to a whisper and Zhongli's quiets in turn. his hand stays there, feeling the heartbeat beneath his fingertips. in spite of everything, in spite of the heat of sickness coursing through him, it's so strong. so real.

why won't he? what, exactly, is the reason for his hesitation, his certainty that he would regret just letting go? Dohalim pulls at their bond and what it's wrapped in is pure, gentle, warm. it isn't just reassurance, it doesn't just seek to shoo away that corruption. it seeks to meld with him, until there's no obvious difference between their two energies.]

... I can't let you go. I don't want to let you go. Every part of you, no matter how kind or brutal, fascinates and draws me in, calls to every part of me. I want to see you flourish, to smile, to stand by your side. I...

[his eyes close for a moment, a wry smile on his lips.]

How am I supposed to just give in when I finally found something worth manifesting for?

Am I truly that worth it?

[he doesn't ignore the admission, but lets it sit in his mind, swirling with everything else. in his sickened state, that only fogs his brain up even more; he can almost feel a headache coming on. the gentle warmth that seems to wrap itself around him, despite his fever, he doesn't push away, but holds it close, like the bond between-- no, the bond they share. he isn't sure where one ends and one begins anymore, but is it truly a terrible thing? he thinks not. he can feel that strength Zhongli offers him time and time again, twisted and wrapped around his battered soul, it feels like the warmth of earth under his feet]

Is it worth it for me to stay? Is it worth it for you to continue to fight?

[Dohalim pushes himself back up, hands still pressing Zhongli's to his chest. he's hunched over again, breathing hitched as if trying to hold something back, trying to hold his emotions back]

Am I truly worth it all?

To me, you are.

[watching each movement to intervene if he deems it necessary, Zhongli presses his hand gently against Dohalim's chest. The other continues its absent movements, brushing back hair or grazing over his cheeks or jaw.]

You may struggle to see it, but you're worth so much more. You'll not change my mind on the subject.

[Dohalim supposes that everyone has their breaking point, and that perhaps, he'd reached his a long time ago and never really noticed. that he'd been pulled so taut like a rubber band that it would eventually snap. he's not sure exactly what Zhongli says that pushes him over the edge, but it just adds to everything else coming to a head. after everything that's been done, and Zhongli still says that. he can ponder on the why of it, but it would lead him in a cycle of self doubt and self hatred and he doesn't want to do that anymore. he's tired of doing that.

it starts out as another shuddering breath, hand clutching tightly at Zhongli's pressed against his chest. his eyes prickle hotly, and he tilts his head down to hide his face, but the plonk plonk of tears against the deity's chest makes it really hard to deny before it all eventually comes crashing down. there's a choked sob before Dohalim lets it all out, dissolving into a mess of tears and more sobs, shoulders shaking as he leans down to press his forehead against Zhongli's chest. it wracks through him with such force that he would, no doubt, exhaust himself, but this is what he needs, right? is this what he's wanted, some sort of release? perhaps it isn't so bad letting some emotion go, rather than bottling it up.

the warmth of their intertwined bond reminds him that he isn't alone in the cold darkness, but instead so ensnared by this deity that refuses to let him go... there's comfort in that thought. comfort he didn't think he'd ever find. he wants to continue to push back, push Zhongli away, but... it's not what he wants, is it? he's so scared of being alone again. maybe it's the fear of watching Zhongli turn his back on him, but he's proven that, even when he's taken away, he always comes back. however, Dohalim isn't sure he'll ever get over it, as a spear of anxiety, on top of it all, pierces his heart. it thrums along their bond for but a momnet.

all the while, he continues to cry, really cry, as his emotions bleed out of him like an open wound. to compare it to such wouldn't even be so far off the mark]

[silence envelops them as Dohalim works through it all. Thoughts and feelings Zhongli can only guess at run wild and rampant in the space between them, piling up until they finally spill over.

The self doubt crumples under the weight of everything the young ruler needs, and there's not a second of loneliness that's allowed to exist between the first shuddering breath and the way Zhongli moves. It's so... easy. So simple to slip an arm around him, to pull him close as tears begin to fall.

His body, then, offers some semblance of shelter; a way to hide Dohalim's pain and suffering from the world at large, so that he can feel it safely. It won't make some of it any easier to swallow, but hopefully his presence will. Hands embrace and warmth fills their bond, thrumming almost songlike between them.

That spear of anxiety, too, is taken and soothed - Zhongli would never expect it to just disappear because he happened to admit the right things. This... this, he thinks, is what he needed. A reminder that humanity is imperfect, that it's alright to choose the wrong thing, to stumble.

His chest rises and falls in slow, sure breaths, heartbeat loud in the enclosed space. Fingers stroke Dohalim's back in gentle, kind motions, and he murmurs softly in turn. That it's alright, he can take his time. That he's not going anywhere. Lips press to the crown of the redhead's hair, the deity's eyes closing softly.]

[it terrifies him, to have his emotions stripped down to bare bones, to have him laid out so vulnerably in front of this man who, only weeks ago, was just another member of his court. the very notion of sobbing uncontrollably against Zhongli's chest as his heart bleeds out was a thought that never would have crossed his mind; up until all of this had happened, he was perfectly content with keeping everything in and hidden away from those around him.

but, then again, perhaps doing so is exactly why he's in this situation. perhaps the corruption had found him somehow, had burrowed deep under the layers of trauma concealed and uprooted them all. is the taint really that bad then, when it provided an avenue for Dohalim to let out all that pained him over the last few years? or does it want to leave him more vulnerable and raw so that it could more easily take over? the fear is there again, clutching at his chest, and amid the sobs, he struggles to breathe for a moment.

he's tired. he's so tired. he's tired of feeling this fear, he's tired of feeling so heavy. is it really alright to lean on Zhongli so desperately? the deity himself has offered it so willingly... perhaps, for a time, he can. he can try to allow himself to do so. it's hard but... Zhongli does make it feel warm and inviting.

Dohalim is able to catch his breath again as his sobs finally start to die down. he feels incredibly weak, both in mind and body; physically more so because of his fever than anything. he slumps heavily against Zhongli's chest, the side of his face pressed against warm skin, half-closed eyes trailed off to a corner of his room. they land on the violin locked up in the glass case, and as much as he doesn't like looking at it as it dredges up memories of simpler days, he can't help but look at it]

[fingers continue their gentle movements as Dohalim slumps, Zhongli's gaze kept gentle as he peers at the redhead. It's better, he thinks... it's more than he intended to offer, but something had gotten through, at least. Dohalim needed this.]

Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable right now, Dohalim? Anything that will help you to rest...

[His warmth is already on offer, but he's definitely not sure what exactly will help. He too glances to the violin in its case, though that's incidental on his side. It clearly means a lot to the Renan, cared for and encased as it is, but he hasn't brought it up before. It didn't seem appropriate... it still doesn't, really. He wants to know, but is that his right at all?]

[maybe, one day, Dohalim will tell Zhongli the story behind it. maybe he'll share those memories with him, but right now, it's something he still can't talk about, never minding the pining he has to play it again. books of scores and sheet music line the bookcase behind his desk, some even strewn across said desk as well. he does itch to play it again, but he's not worthy to pick it up once more. not when it's one more thing that he's stolen from Tarnigen. he misses hearing the accompaniment of his and their friends' violins playing alongside with his, to tunes he's composed himself.

letting his eyes slip closed, he shakes his head, feeling the exhaustion start to creep up on him. it's better than the corruption; its claws finally releasing him for the time being. he lets out a soft sigh]

Just stay...

[Dohalim's voice is soft but raw, and holds just a little bit of that desperation. he has a feeling that Zhongli won't leave him, but he needs that reassurance right now]

I wouldn't leave even if you asked, right now.

[Zhongli's voice is similarly soft, a little gentler. His weight shifts to embrace Dohalim a little more comfortably then, at least glad he seems to be returning to his usual self a little more. One thing at a time, that's all they need.]

Someone will probably be by with food soon... I can bid them heat it later so you can rest, if you'd like.

[Dohalim considers this for a moment, head still tilted and eyes still staring at his violin. He’s pretty sure he’s can’t eat right now even if he tried, so he nods, before tilting his head back to look at Zhongli]

Wouldn’t be able to eat right now…

[after such an intense display of emotions, he really isn’t feeling hungry at all. He should, perhaps, reconsider this, all things considered, but he’ll think about food later when he’s gotten some rest. He really is feeling rather exhausted, to the point that he can’t even be worried about any impending nightmares that he’s sure awaits him as soon as he drifts off to sleep. He can’t ask Zhongli to help him with those nightmares again lest the deity also exhausts himself, and something like this happens all over again.

The thought of being separated from the other only gets Dohalim to burrow slightly into Zhongli’s chest, face pressed against warm skin. Only then does he realize that he’s still shirtless, and also now damp from his tears]

You should… put on a shirt…

It's understandable.

[Zhongli can't help but smile a little, even if everything feels a little strange, a little heavy still. were he to employ the incense and feel exhausted again though, he's more likely to just ask Dohalim to rest a little longer.

when the other speaks about his lack of shirt, Zhongli can't help but laugh, reaching up to cradle the side of his jaw.]

You would have to let me move for a moment, you know. [this time, it's gentle. teasing.] I was more worried about getting to you earlier than whether I was dressed, in truth. You can hold onto my waist while I get that, if you like.

[there’s a moment that Dohalim takes to consider his options. On one hand, he wants Zhongli to rest comfortably with him. On the other hand, it’s just as he says: he’ll have to move. It’s a prospect he doesn’t really want to entertain but he really should; he’s already being selfish enough.

Though, he can’t help but let out a small grumble to himself as he slides off the deity, but not without slinging his arm around Zhongli’s waist and burrowing into his side. There really is no escape, even if Zhongli wanted to. Even with how warm he still is (and how miserable he feels now that he’s more aware of how sick he is again), he still wants Zhongli’s warmth against him, as a reminder that he’s here and real. He’s sure that the corruption will take that and twist it later, but for now, he’s content as he can be laying here curled up against him]

[Zhongli moves to stroke through Dohalim's hair again then, just once more before he's stretching to reach for his shirt. Thankfully, despite the tussle it's not far away, and the redhead will be able to revel in the movement of the deity's muscles as he tugs it on. Just more reminders that he's there and real, really.

After that's done, the brunet gently moves his Lord's hands, coaxing him upward until he's burrowed more fully against his side. It's a little childish, perhaps, but he doubts the Renan has had much chance to be so. Besides... it's kind of cute, if he's honest. Too bad about the corruption, but the actual act is pretty pure.]

There, now. Shall we rest a while? You can leave what must be done to me, Lord Dohalim.

[at Zhongli’s movements, Dohalim’s arm tightens ever so slightly, trying to close whatever gap between them as much as he can without being too much of a hindrance. But he may or may not be revelling in the other’s muscles (a weakness of his, he’ll admit to himself; for all that he doesn’t like fighting, he does enjoy watching warriors engage in battle. What he would do to watch Zhongli fight, though for now, he’ll just. Sort of feel him up subtly, all digression aside).

Though, with rest does leave a question, especially after Zhongli speaks. He still has work to do, and he has to figure out how to get it done. He can’t exactly do a lot of it bedridden, but… it can’t go undone, either]

I still have work that needs to be done in a timely manner…

[as much as he wants to give himself respite, there are things only he can give the okay on. And it’s not like his court would trust someone as his right hand so soon after the coup]

[Zhongli certainly doesn't complain about the wandering of Dohalim's hands over his muscles. the rest... well, he exhales a soft hum.]

Timely enough is when you've recovered. If I were to put a wager, I would think you can suggest nothing that cannot be put off for a few scant days.

[there are still things to handle, certainly, but it's becoming increasingly clear to him that... well, he doesn't really care. the people of Menancia aren't struggling for anything, and his court is hardly breathing down his neck for answers. will they worry? certainly so, if this little adventure says anything... but they also care more than Dohalim seems to think, after all.]

Rest now. You'll hardly be able to make clear decisions as you are right now.

But…

[before Dohalim can make any real argument on why exactly he needs to be up and about, he falls silent as a wave of exhaustion hits him. It really is as if his body is telling him that he needs more than a few hours of rest, that he really does need to slow down for a few days. Damn the deity for being right.

He sighs softly, before resigning himself and tucking himself in more; if he could burrow even more, he’d be a ball half under Zhongli at this point]

…Fine.

[the word is muffled against the other’s side, and before he can speak again, Dohalim can feel sleep try to overtake him. This time, he’ll just have to trust Zhongli to wake him from his nightmares, not wanting a repeat of the day. He can vaguely hear a soft knock on the door as he fades into sleep.

A servant lets himself in with a bowl of soup not unlike the one from the day before, piping hot. “There was a request for food to be brought to His Lordship.”]

Rest well, baoshi.

[he murmurs the term softly, even as he can see Dohalim falling asleep. what a mess this is... when the servant enters with the bowl, Zhongli raises a finger to his lips to keep the conversation from disturbing the Renan, and he nods in turn.]

My apologies, His Lordship has finally fallen asleep. Have the meal kept ready to be heated when he's awoken, if you would.

[his tone is soft, gentler than usual even, as Zhongli shifts enough to let the servant see that yes, Dohalim is fine and resting comfortably. there's not much to be done about his own position here, but that's fine. it would get out eventually anyway, and he suspects any particularly upsetting rumours will be taken care of without any effort on their part.]

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