#and then i got impostor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m1d-45 · 2 years

Note

if my favorite characters wanted to kill me i would simply let them. my only request would be that they do it from up close so that their pretty faces get to be the last thing i see <3<3<3

on broken bones

a/n: you…. you are my target audience.

(P.S: please note that the full fic was too long for tumblr! this will be in 3-4 parts, but dw, they’re all already mostly written!)

word count: ~2.5k

-> warnings: minor spoilers for liyue archon quest, the most minor of spoilers for mondstat’s archon quest, you are literally about to die, and do so but it’s ok i get revived, uhh blood mention but no gore, imposter au things yk? reader is Down Bad for zhongli at one point

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3

< masterlist > || next part >>

you never had the highest level of self-preservation.

when you’d come to teyvat, the world seemed so kind, so you never learned to fear it. bugs never stung, any allergies you had never really acted up besides a sniffly nose, and the sun never burned. if you tripped, you landed softly, in the hands of grass that would never dare to harm you, and a breeze swept by the soothe the sting of your palms. the wind carried you down from high places, the water always keeping you afloat, the entirety of the natural world at your side.

or, rather, nearly the entirety.

despite wandering constantly, it took a few months to actually run into anybody. in fact, the only way you knew you were in teyvat at first were the sunsettias, and the hilichurls when you finally came across one of their camps. you have a feeling the dense forests and overgrown paths knew something you didn’t, looking back on it.

maybe you should have listened.

you stopped in the middle of a well-worn path of yours, stilling the sweet flower you were twirling in your hand. a few feet ahead, a stunned amber mirrored your look of shock, though her recognition was tinged with something more… bitter.

“amber?”

the bowstring in her hands doesn’t lose its tension. “greetings.”

that’s not the knights’ prescribed greeting, your mind says. you tell your mind to shut up, because that’s not what you should be thinking about when you’re looking at amber.

you wave, trying for a smile, and emotions you can’t catch flash over her face in rapid succession.

“how do you know my name?”

whoops. “who hasn’t heard of the knights of favonius?”

“those from other lands.” for being so young, her voice is so tired. she sounds like she’s barely 18, yet she’s so worn out… nobody this young should be so exhausted.

after a moment’s thought, you step forward, extending your flower-

her arm moves faster than you ever could, raising, aiming, and letting the arrow fly before you can blink. her shoulders are tense, her chest barely moving despite how harshly she breathes, arms still posed around her bow.

it’s only then that you’re aware of the white-hot pain in your throat, the sting of icy numbness swiftly taking its place.

the sweet flower falls to the ground, your body soon following.

when you wake up, the first thing you do is press a hand over your throat, but all you feel is the chill of your own skin. no arrow. no blood. you check your shirt, but there’s no blood there either.

it’s like it never happened. but you know it did.

still keeping a hand to the area, you sit up, ignoring how your body protests. you’re in another field, unsurprisingly, green grass and blue skies and red birds all around. it’s hard to believe that your run-in with amber wasn’t a dream.

even if you know it wasn’t.

you rise shakily, feeling very much so like you’re relearning your body. how to stand, how to dig your fingers between the sections of bark on a tree so you don’t fall, how to breathe when it feels like all the air in your lungs was in a race to get out. still, you breathe.

still, you stand.

still, you move on.

the earth seems angry.

looking out from the jade chamber, this is clear. the skies are an irritated gray, billowing clouds heavy with rain. they had come from nowhere, suddenly washing in from the north in with no warning, but a single drop has yet to fall. the ground occasionally shakes, enough to make leaves quiver, but no earthquake has come. it’s odd, like the very rock is holding in its breath, waiting for the trigger to let loose what is certainly disaster upon the land above it.

even the tianquan’s gems, normally large, sterling rocks swirling around her fingertips, refuse to answer her call. as she flips over a small coin of amber, the most she’s been able to summon, she wonders why.

one of ningguang’s many assistants comes out of the chamber, telling her that keqing has a report for her, and she tells them to send her out with a wave of a clawed finger. normally, she’d come inside—normally she wouldn’t be out here to begin with—but this… oddity in the landscape has her attention.

the door behind her silently slides open and shut, the clicks of the yuheng’s shoes the only indication of her presence.

“it’s odd to see you outside at such an hour, my lady.”

it’s midday.

“what is it, keqing?”

“this letter came in for you.”

an envelope enters her periphery and she takes it, careful not to damage the paper as she inspects the wax seal. it bears the insignia of the favonian knights.

“that’s hardly a rare occurrence.”

“indeed, but this one carries significant importance.” she takes a breath, an explanation on her tongue, but it dies. she knows she shouldn’t let her biases get in the way of the tianquan’s work, but this situation feels so wrong. her vision burns at the back of her neck despite her attacks doing less damage, the electro that dances across her skin hurts more than it should. it’s wrong, horribly so, but she needs to-

“keqing?”

she meets the tianquan’s eyes. ruby red dissecting her every move, and keqing is quick to look away.

“apologies, my lady. as i was saying…”

the dead refuse to rest.

they have always been unruly, leaving behind legacies and lingering feelings, leaving the living and letting them deal with it. what would be known as the wangsheng funeral parlor was established to battle these lingering debts, and it seems that even after 77 generations, the current director still has to pick up that mantle.

she’s felt it all day. the rowdiness of the undead, the spirits dancing and twirling around where they shouldn’t be. her soul told her there was one too many around, and so she had set her mind on going.

the director adjusted the flowers in her hat, watching in annoyance as her consultant thought over her words. she thought the answer was quite simple, and had rushed to fix the problem, but he was adamant that she explain herself first.

“and you’re certain?”

hu tao groaned, squeezing her eyes shut so they wouldn’t roll. “yes, i’m certain! surely youve noticed too, or is that vision for nothing?”

a glimmer of irritation crossed zhongli’s calm eyes. “this is a matter of utmost importance, director. the dead refusing to die is a serious issue.”

“you think i don’t know that? i run a funeral parlor-“

“director-“

“no. i’m going to wuwang hill, and all i need you to do is take care of the parlor while i’m gone. that’s it.”

“director, please. you cannot throw yourself into dangerous situations and expect me to sit by idly.”

“what are you, my dad?”

“i would hope not, as your father is currently deceased.”

in the gaping silence that followed, hu tao couldn’t decide if she was more shocked at the fact that he brought up her father’s passing, or that he had borderline joked about it.

zhongli cleared his throat, the only sign of apology she would receive. “i will go alone if i must.”

“you want to go-“

“indeed. i cannot allow you to venture into such an unsafe area on your own, and i myself wish to find the answer to this. if you cannot find anybody to run the parlor in your stead, then i will simply go alone.”

names and faces of employees ran through her head, options brought up and discarded quicker than any decision she’s ever made before. something in her soul demanded she go to wuwang hill, her pyro vision an insistent press between her shoulder blades, urging her to leave zhongli and just go. it was illogical, irrational, and she knew that if he saw he’d be worried and when all she needed was to simply leave-

a name emerged from the clutter.

“ferrylady.”

though his jaw ticked, zhongli nodded.

wuwang hill itself is uneasy.

zhongli has seen many things during his lifetime, but few of his memories could compare to this. the ground quivered underneath his feet, only truly steadying where he, as the lord of geo, stepped.

in truth, he had felt the same disturbance as hu tao, but had wanted to preserve his reputation as zhongli, ignoring the cold sting in his soul from where his gnosis used to be. his plan was to go after hours, when the dark could shadow his form, but now that he was here he was glad he didn’t.

the forest’s canopy was denser than usual, it seemed, barely any light filtering through the leaves. the will-o’-the-wisps shone brighter and more frequently than normal, and not a hilichurl was in sight. it was strange, unnerving to walk the familiar path, and he found himself prepared to summon a stele at any moment. the air itself felt tense, his element not resonating right.

how can stone feel hollow?

hu tao stepped closer to him, eyes uncharacteristically wide as she looked around. “why does it feel so… empty?”

he moved a hand to her back, urging her on faster. “i don’t know, ms. hu. please, do hurry.”

her fingers play with the tassels on her shirt as she walks, speeding up at his side. she’s always been fond of the macabre, but this… this isn’t that. this isn’t slow and sticky, raw honey made of skeleton bees that drips through bones and pulls at the hair atop skin, this isn’t the abrupt hit of symbolism or the stop of a heart as you’re face to face with a corpse, the smell of rotting flesh mixing with the bile climbing up your throat.

this is sharp. angular. a spike with every step she takes on the familiar dirt, thorns clinging to the lining of her lungs and digging in to hide from the chilling air. the sense that she doesn’t belong here, that she should leave, is steadily growing in response to the drive to keep walking, and she wonders if and when it’ll balance before tipping over. regardless, she keeps walking, steeling her spine and forcing assuredness into her walk.

besides her, zhongli isn’t doing much better. the air reeks of the sweetness of the divine, and the thundering in his heart matches, but here? of all places? he knew his god—he prided himself on it—and knew that they didn’t like places like this. and the feeling of wrongness, the stone beneath him seeming to slip under his feet and forcing him to walk quicker to make up for it, the claws of tree branches and roots of bushes somehow larger than before. as they approached the stone steps, he didn’t know what to expect, for once. he was unsure whether to be on edge, or to scold himself for being tense over nothing.

surely, he thought, rounding the corner, it couldn’t be nothing?

you watched the water ripple from your safe spot on the edge of the stone path cutting through it, smiling at the way the fish followed your hand when you hovered it over the surface. they were beautiful, some kind of koi by the looks of it, and certainly not what you expected.

when you recognized the wisps of wuwang hill, you had initially been afraid. it was dark, even during the day, and filled with monsters. not to mention it held the barrier between life and death, something you were not keen on ever getting close to. but as the shouts of the qingce villagers echoed in your ears, you decided it was the safest option, at least for the moment.

and it was. there were no hilichurls, no cicin mages, and the wisps seemed to float alongside you, lighting the way for a while before another came up and took over. they’d guided you to the domain, whose stone was shockingly warm. it was the crimson witch domain from what you remember, so that checked out, but for it to physically affect the stone…

you wondered what the archaic petra domain would feel like if that were the case. could stone feel more stone-like? if you were to somehow break off a chunk, would it do more damage than a regular rock? would that even count as geo damage?

you let your hand trail across the water, feeling scales bump against the pads on your fingertips with another smile. you wondered where they got their food, as the pond seemed both shallow and fairly barren, but there seems to be more and more greenery as you look. were your eyes adjusting to the light better, or were they the kinds of plants that only bloomed under certain conditions? but no, that would be for flowers, not-

“who are you?”

the harsh voice makes you jump, the fish jerking back before crowding the water near where you’ve fallen over. your surprise nearly made you fall in, but as you see who’s approaching you, you think that might have been better.

boots stomp over the stone that’s been your tentative camp, not stopping until they land toe to toe with yours. eyes carved from cor lapis glare down at you, cutting any argument you may have had to shreds.

yes, partly because zhongli is intimidating, but…

lighter shoes click and draw your attention, but you don’t get to turn your head far before you’re met with the pulsing black and gold point of vortex vanquisher.

“do not interest yourself in that which is out of your reach.”

oh.

you swallow in attempt to remedy the sudden dryness in your throat, following the handle of the polearm up to meet his eyes once more. his eyeliner looks sharper than on his in-game model, you note, and he has an earring, the golden jewel on it a perfect complement.

his eyes narrow, the set of his jaw making you think he’d sneer if he were anybody else. he rips his polearm from the stone besides you, “what could you possibly be looking at?”

you know this is it. you know exactly why he hasn’t spun his weapon back around, you knew it from the moment his sunset gaze fell upon you. so.. why lie?

“you’re beautiful,” you whisper.

and for the second time that week, you die.

1K notes · View notes

sagau-my-beloved · 1 year

Text

Death At The Hands Of A God

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst

It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.

That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.

Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.

He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.

Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.

He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.

He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.

Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.

He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.

Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...

He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.

He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.

Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.

You had said his name.

Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.

It hit your throat.

Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.

There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.

What had he done.

Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.

"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.

You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—

No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...

Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.

The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.

Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.

There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.

It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.

You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.

He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.

But first...

It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.

Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.

His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin venti #sagau impostor au #genshin angst #my attempt at imposter au cause why not #I didn't realize there was like no dialogue until editing whoops #kind of set up so that I can do a part 2 where you come back and we get that fun dynamic #don't know if i will tho #also hi #it's been a minute #how you guys doing #school sucks that's how I'm doing #despite that I'll probably be posting another oneshot tomorrow #not as sad thankfully #anyway yeah this was more just a self challenge to see if i could do imposter au without breaking the characterization I've got going rn #luckily he's just so full of trama that i can make constant references to that to help tie things together #anyway lantern rite how we feeling

497 notes · View notes