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vocaloid-simp · 2 years

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The Prosperity and Fall

PART TWO

Warnings: bad bad bad memories, archons being dickheads, recalling of your death, more gore and blood, graphic descriptions of death, kidnapping, lots of swears, PTSD

Lemme know if I missed a warning, and I hope y’all enjoy!

—

You spend the next week off of work over the toilet puking or in your bed sleeping. No matter how hard you try, you can’t keep anything other than jello and pineapple juice down, and, well, that doesn’t make for a good condition to come into work.

Your boss wishes you good health, understanding the severity of your sickness (even if she doesn’t understand the reasoning behind it) and even being nice enough to make those days paid-off-time. With a hoarse voice, you thanked her, hanging up the phone and immediately rushing to the toilet to dry-heave anything you consumed, though nothing but bile comes up your throat.

When you finally recover enough to do at-home work, your thoughts are filled with nightmares of the Archons, of Liyue and Mondstadt, of Inazuma’s citizens jeering at you. The experience in Teyvat renders you sleepless, and you even resort to visiting a psychiatrist to be prescribed sleeping aids. They do, but even they don’t provide more than a few hours of sleep every few days.

Eventually the nightmares back off to every couple of nights. You still don’t go to your actual workplace. Every time you think of doing so, the memory of rocks and sticks and stones and fruit pelting your back comes into mind. The front door shuts and your shoes come off; the tears fall and the sobs become louder.

You unsubscribed from any Genshin YouTubers, actually deleted your Twitter account, blocked Genshin TikTokers, stuffed the figurines in storage, almost refunded your purchases (before breaking down again at the error screen, you clicked the exit button on your browser and collapsed to the floor), and tossed anything Genshin-related.

And after a while, it starts to feel better. You start to feel more normal. You text your friends dumb memes, actually being able to laugh at them instead of staring at them blankly like you did months prior. They take you on small, short outings to nice restaurants that aren’t too crowded, and you enjoy yourself instead of being flooded with panic attacks.

Unbeknownst—and without a care in the world—to you, however, Teyvat is suffering.

—

“Klee, I can’t give you any more water. We’re almost out.”

“But—“

Albedo looks down at his sister, dark circles under his eyes, and sighs tiredly. He’s exhausted, and has been for months now. Mondstadt’s famine—no, Teyvat’s— has only gotten worse recently, and a drought has begun to plague the lands with no regard for its inhabitants. He’s been working for a while on a solution, but has yet to come up with one that actually works. Even those who were forgiven or ignored have been affected by the sheer severity of ofthe situation.

“Here. You can have the rest of mine.”

“Thank you, ‘bedo.”

Klee clutches the half-empty bottle tightly and scurries back off to her room, leaving Albedo to his thoughts.

Ever since They were executed by the Archons, quality of life has quickly declined to the point that it’s nigh impossible to survive if you don’t live in one of the main cities of the nations. Liyue, especially, has been affected, what with being the city that Their blood coated the streets in.

He thinks back to the horrific memory.

Unable to help Them any more without being jailed for high treason, Albedo watches from a back corner in Liyue’s darkened alleyways, shaking his head sadly.

Gods, what has this world come to?

He would ask the Archons for help, but they’re the ones executing the Divine One right before his eyes, by their own hands, in one of their own cities. It’s a useless hope, one that would only get him killed.

Albedo looks away as the execution begins. Small gasps and screams come from your mouth, followed by the cracking of your bones (to this, he winces, closing his eyes tightly). The smell of burning meat makes his nose wrinkle and his expression turns grim. He does not want to be here, but he doesn’t have an option; he was requested (demanded) to accompany the Acting Grand Master to the City of Contracts.

“Perish, mimic.”

The shing of the Electro Archon’s signature killing blow reaches Albedo’s ears, and he tries to block out the noise of the sword delving deep into your chest, carving your heart out as a trophy.

But the collective gasp from the surrounding crowd catches his attention.

His gaze, formerly trained down to his feet, flicks over to view Ei’s sword retracted from your rib cage, your heart impaled firmly on the blade, golden blood and arteries and all the things you should never see of yourself hanging off and dripping down to the street tiles.

The Archons look shocked at their actions, and all Albedo can do is focus on your face, expression turning from hurt to stunned to smiling maniacally.

He hears your giggle echo throughout the silent streets.

“Oh well. Better luck next time. Or not.”

And then you (your body, your shell, your dead self) drop to the ground, blood pouring from the cavity in your chest. It’s gold and silver and star-splattered, so you and everything you represent, and all anyone can do is stare.

There’s a sudden frenzied panic, an uproar, the crowd going insane at your death. Baal, Barbatos and Morax all try to recover your lifeforce, but it’s already far, far too late. Your body begins to disintegrate like the fallen Hilichurls or slimes do, fading into ashes to be carried away on the mourning wind.

All that’s left is a stain. A stain of sins. A stain of those who wronged you.

Albedo merely chuckles.

“I can’t say I didn’t warn you,” he murmurs to Jean, who watches the final specks of you fly away. “But of course, why would you listen to me?”

“Albedo,” she tries, but he cuts her off.

“And it’s your fault,” the alchemist spits with venom, entirely uncharacteristic of him, “that The Divine One is dead.”

Albedo slumps in his chair, paper discarded to the side. He knows it’s only a matter of time until everything that’s happening catches up to him and his sister, and that hourglass is losing its sand far too quickly for his liking.

He’s running out of time.

When was the last time he got sleep? A full meal? Anything of sustenance, for that matter?

Sustenance…

The alchemist jumps up from where he sits, almost shouting from the idea that pops in his mind.

Them! What if he brought Them back? Obviously, They didn’t know who They were, so there has to be a world where They came from!

Of course. Why didn’t he think of this earlier? It was so obvious!

Albedo spins around and rushes out of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, being met with a grey, dead sky, but he ignores it, feet pounding the ground as he races towards where a certain Anemo Archon-turned-bard normally resides.

The familiar green outfit greets Albedo’s eyes on top of Venti’s statue, right where he thought the bard would be. Albedo waves at Venti frantically, motioning for him to come down; he does, greeting the alchemist with a slightly less cheery hello than he would have nine months earlier.

“I have—an idea,” Albedo pants, trying to catch his breath, “but I need your help, along with Morax’s and Baal’s.”

“Why?” Venti asks, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the idea?”

“Just trust me.”

—

A week later, three of the Seven are gathered around the Geo alchemist, talking amongst themselves quietly.

A door opens, revealing Jean, Eula, Kaeya, Lisa, Diluc and little Klee, who looks much more sickly than she did a week ago. Still, she cradles Dodoco sweetly in her arms.

“Did you tell them yet?” Jean asks. Albedo shakes his head in response, to which the five adults that just entered the room look confused at.

“Tell us what?”

Diluc is the one who speaks, crossing his arms.

“This seems a little suspicious and very… deceptive of you Knights, more so than usual.”

“Would you shut up for once about the Knights?” Jean hisses at Diluc, a glare accompanying her words. “This isn’t about our damn rivalry. It’s about the whole of Teyvat.”

That shuts the wine tycoon up, but not without a harrumph and a cross of his arms, followed by him glaring at the floor.

“Fine. What is this plan?”

“As you know, the Divine One was executed—“ The Archons wince at this. “—around nine months ago, and as you also know, Teyvat has fallen into ruin because of it. I propose that we bring them back.”

“Necromancy? My, I never thought the Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius would be into that sort of thing,” Lisa says, flipping absentmindedly through her catalyst; instead of the Oathsworn Eye it normally would be, it’s a mere Apprentice’s Notes, but it still makes for a good light reading. “Still, do go on.”

“No, not necromancy. Otherworldly travel.”

That gets the witch’s attention, along with everyone else (sans Klee, who has fallen asleep, snoring softly).

“Other worlds?”

Kaeya this time. The Khaenri’ahn seems intrigued by the prospect, with being friends with the Traveler and all.

“Yes, other worlds. My theory is that They came from another world, hence why They didn’t know of the status that They held here, and also why no memories came to Their mind.” Albedo pauses to clear his throat. “I need a few witnesses to my little test, should it result in a catastrophic failure, or if it results in a success.”

The atmosphere of the room seems to shift a bit, hope returning into the eyes of the people within its confines.

So, with everyone seemingly on board, Albedo begins to explain the full extent of his plan and the process behind it, gesturing to the Seven while speaking. The gods look a bit scared in their own immortal way, but the same hope that filled the Knights’ (and Diluc’s) eyes begins to stand stony behind their gazes.

“You think there’s a chance that… we’ll be okay again?”

Ei’s voice is weak, a shock to all in the room but Albedo himself.

“Yes.”

“And if this doesn’t work?”

Kaeya.

Albedo stays silent at that.

“I need a sliver of your power from your Gnosis, each of you. Yes, I am aware that you no longer hold possession of them, but there is still a small bit of stored power left in your bodies. I need it.”

Venti’s eyes widen momentarily before settling back down, expression fading into determined confidence.

“And you.” Albedo turns to the Knights and Diluc. “I need a touch of your element, all of you. Barbara was kind enough to give me some of hers, and I already have the essence of a Dendro slime, so we don’t have to worry about that.”

“How is this going to work? Do you even have a plan?” Eula asks, leaning on her claymore.

Albedo sighs and pinches his nose at the demanding questions from the Spindrift Knight. Of course she of all people would be the one to question and potentially hinder his plan.

“Don’t ask questions.”

She grumbles but obliges, summoning a small Cryo blade; the others follow suit with their own element, solidifying it into reality before handing the essences over to the Chief Alchemist.

Albedo then turns to the Archons, who each hold an orb of their respective element in their palms. It glows brighter than the Vision wielders’ elements, but nonetheless, they are all beautiful.

“Let us begin.”

—

“Fuck!”

The mouse in your right hand slams down on the table when your computer freezes up for the third time today. Of course Microsoft’s software decides to be picky when you have a very important deadline looming right over your head. Why wouldn’t it?

“Come on, you stupid piece of shit, work!”

But alas, Word is still frozen in time, your computer’s fans kicking on to account for the additional strain on it.

You slump back in your chair with a loud huff. Great. Why wouldn’t your literally-just-bought computer work? Of course, it’s stupid piece of shit—

The monitor suddenly bluescreens and begins to glow really, really brightly, much brighter than it should.

“What the hell?”

The fans whir faster, spinning into overdrive, and the glow only gets brighter.

Is my computer going to blow up? Dammit, I’m out of here, I can just tell HR I need a tablet or something—

Just as you’re about to exit the room to complain toyour boss, everything goes dead silent.

Then an ‘oof’ comes from behind you, followed by three more thuds that sound suspiciously like something living hitting the ground.

“Your Grace?”

That voice…

You freeze in your tracks, not daring to look at who you swear to the gods you left behind in that hellscape. Memories flood your head, ones you tried to repress and thought you did so.

Apparently not.

“Your Grace…?”

A different voice this time, the one that sucked the air out of your lungs, and you sense a third and even a fourth presence behind you, slowly standing up and brushing themselves off.

You slowly turn around, facing the three Archons and Albedo himself, each looking extremely relieved to see you alive and well. Their faces display exhaustion, stress and sleeplessness; for what, you don’t know.

“Get away from me.”

The voice that comes from your lips is steady save for a small quaver in the underlying tone.

“Thank goodness you’re alive!” Ei exclaims, tears beginning to gather at the corners of her eyes. “You—we—“

“I said, get away from me.”

The Electro Archon freezes up at your tone, ceasing her slow approach to your figure, which, unbeknownst to them, is grabbing your phone and preparing to dial 9-1-1, also digging the small switchblade you always carry out of your pocket.

Those self-defense lessons and weapons training sessions? Yeah, you picked those up fourfold after the event happened.

Albedo tries to get closer to you, to which you flick the blade out, threatening to stab him if he gets any closer. The alchemist looks stunned at your willingness to potentially injure him, and stops in his tracks before you get a chance to.

“You are going to get away from me.”

“Your—“

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you spit with poisonous malice. “You lost that right when you executed me after hunting me down over all of fucking Teyvat, all because I shared the same damn face as your stupid fucking god.”

The other hand, the one holding your phone, holds down the home button to summon your assistant.

“Assistant, call 9-1-1–“

Venti makes a grab for the device, but it’s already dialed, and you’re running to the bathroom to lock the door.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, yes there are four strangers in my house that are saying I’m their god and are trying to kidnap me. Please send the cops!”

“What? C—ould you repeat that?” The line goes staticky for a moment, then returns to normal.

“Four strangers are in my house and are saying I’m their deity.” Your voice goes deadpan.

A bang comes from the locked door behind you, but you press back against it, checking that you still hold your blade tightly.

“Alright, we’re sending the police to your location. They’ll be there in about ten minutes, okay honey?”

“Okay, thank you.” A quaver shakes the underlying monotone of your voice.

“Can you stay on the line for me?”

“I can try—“

The bang that rattles the wood scares the shit out of you, and you feel the lock begin to jiggle.

Your phone suddenly shuts off, sparks coming from the charging port; frantically pressing the power button, you curse, dropping the now-useless device on the white tile. Guess it’s up to your little trusty knife to defend you now.

Until then, though, you have to stall for time.

Nine minutes.

“Please, Your Grace!” Venti begs, his voice muffled from the wooden barrier separating you two. “Teyvat is dying!”

“I don’t give a fuck!” you yell back, grunting as the door rattles hard again. “Where were you when I was dying? Oh, yeah, you’re the ones that KILLED ME!”

Eight minutes.

“The Abyss is getting worse!”

“I don’t fucking care! Fuck you! I’m not coming with you!”

“Please…”

Albedo speaks this time, who, unbeknownst to you, has begun to pick the doorknob’s lock silently, trying to get it open so that they can bring you back to Teyvat.

You laugh. “Blondie, I ain’t goin’ with ya just because you were nice to me. Go to hell!”

Seven damn minutes.

The lock rattles hard, unlocking; you panic and grab the knob, trying desperately to prevent it from turning and opening.

You’re successful in your endeavors, but look around for a weapon to defend yourself with that will give you a bit more range than the blade in your other hand. Alas, there is nothing (other than a toilet brush, but that’s flimsy plastic and will probably break if you so much as look at it for too long).

The doorknob turns more to the left.

Six minutes.

“Your Grace, please. Think reasonably.”

You snort at Zhongli’s words and the irony of the situation; him, one of your three murderers, trying to kidnap you, telling you to be reasonable.

Yeah. If that’s their ‘reasonable’, you’d rather be crazy in their eyes.

Five minutes. Dammit time, hurry up!

The seconds on the clock seem to taunt you relentlessly, tick-tick-ticking away at your sanity.

The door slams open, knocking you onto your back with a loud thump and a pained groan; you scramble to get your bearings, fumbling for your knife, which was knocked out of your hand when your head hit the ground. Dizzy, your eyes meet blonde hair and blue eyes reaching down to grab you.

In a panic, you kick your leg out, landing a hit to Albedo’s gut. He stumbles backwards, caught off guard for a moment, but regains his senses when Zhongli asks him if he’s okay.

“Please, Your—“

“Fuck off.”

The knife has returned to your hands. You glance up.

Four minutes.

You can already faintly hear the sirens closing in on your location; now it’s just a matter of frantically stalling for time.

“Your Grace, if you don’t cooperate with us, we will have to resort to… more unpleasant methods, and I really don’t want to.” It’s Zhongli who speaks this time, his voice hardening. “So, if you would kindly come with us, we will not have to use these methods.”

Geo essence begins to line under his eyes, reminding you that, even if he is retired, he’s still a damn Archon, even in your mortal world.

Three minutes.

“Time will not go by at all while you are gone, if that is what you’re worried about.”

“No!” You snap. “What I’m worried about is bein’ ripped right from my world into the hands of my goddamn murderers when I’m just recovering!”

You yank your shirt up, showcasing the death scar that stands out, white contrasting brightly against the rest of your skin, which is also marked with smaller, but no less traumatizing marks; lightning marrs your ribs, earth scars your arms, and the whipping of the wind left slashes against the bones of your hips.

“You fucking traumatized me, and all because I looked like your so-called ‘Divine One’. And, yet…” Your voice drops an octave, chuckling darkly. “—and yet, you expect me to forgive you, to allow myself to be dragged back into the world that is punishing you!”

Two minutes.

That’s the final straw for them; all of them (sans Albedo) have tears in their eyes, but apparently their sympathy isn’t enough to stop Venti from grabbing you and dragging you, kicking and screaming, into his arms, passing you over to Albedo. He strokes your hair as you sob loudly.

“You will be treated like the god you are.”

One minute.

“But…” you sniffle. “I don’t want to go back.”

“I know, dearest one.”

The world suddenly warps violently, and all you know is the void.

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