Chapter Text
Morax is not one for interacting with mortals. They are...fragile. Delicate, almost. Like Glaze Lillies. Their lifespans are incredibly short compared to his kind as well, and there are plenty who revere the ground he treads upon and refuse to touch him because it is 'sacreligious.'
And then there is you, one hand firmly planted on the back of a mortal while gripping the other. You, a being with power far greater than his own, is smiling and laughing as the mortal woman trips over your feet. The momentum in the swing sends the woman flush against your chest, and you lean in close until the woman glows red and releases your hand to hide her face.
Around them, the rest of the mortals continue to cheer and make merry to the sound of erhu and drums. You allow the woman to burrow into your chest, laughing all the while, but it isn't long before you are swept up by a swell of other people, each eager to practice the foreign dance you'd attempted to teach them earlier in the day.
A 'tango', you had called it. Morax thinks it sounds like a word of Natlan, but he has never visited the nation to know.
"Little Dragon!"
Morax blinks out of his stupor and eyes you and your wide smile. He is still unsure who taught you that phrase. Based on the hearty laughter of the chef serving bowls of porridge to the carpenters alongside one of Marchosius' copies, he has his suspicions, but it is too ingrained in you to stop it now.
(And the warmth that Morax feels tickling his chest always seems to seal his throat shut whenever you say it.)
"Come, come," you call and beckon for him. "I need a partner!"
Morax's brows twitch. On his own seat, far above the courtyard, he can see several dozen available dance partners waiting to join you. "Do you now?"
"Yes," you say, almost exasperated. Hands on your hips, you raise your brow and tilt your head, entirely too human and mortal. In fact, Morax has seen that exact posture on a harried wife when she'd caught her husband slipping candies to their children earlier. "Do not be a Wimpod and get down here! "
A Wimpod? Morax raises a brow at that. You've told him before that the phrase is meant to imply cowardice (which, according to you, does not make sense because Wimpods transform into Golissopods, which are rather protective of their masters and loyal to a fault. You had said more about how strange your humans' language is, but Morax had been a bit distracted by the excitement in your voice to pay attention).
But he is not one to rise to such petty retorts, so he merely says, "Pardon?"
"I know you heard me." You click your tongue again and cross your arms. "Will I have to drag you down myself?"
He knows you wouldn't. If he truly resisted, you would end up relenting for the night, offering an apology in the morning over their routine cup of tea.
But Morax sets aside his cup and slips from the beam, buffeting his descent until his feet graze the stone. The nearby mortals tense under his presence, but you happily march up to him and snatch his wrist, waving your free hand at the gathered civilians.
"Okay!" You clap your hands, the crowd falling silent as you speak. "The tango is a dance of Paldea, but the waltz is of Galar. It is a different pace, but steps are much more simple."
You continue your explanation, translation efforts faltering the more your voice grows with excitement. It always does. From attempting to describe dishes to the cooks to describing the world to historian and cartographers, your tongue always trips over the Liyuean Morax taught you centuries ago.
After a few more instructions, you clear your throat and, with all the pomp and theatrics of an opera singer, bow to Morax, offering a hand for him to take. "May I?"
Morax chuckles and accepts the offered hand. "You may."
Morax thinks that the waltz is, in fact, simple. All it is is three steps, following along the three beats played by the gathered musicians. The others pick up the movements quite quickly, and he is soon swarmed by twirling bodies and cheers. In theory, he should be able to follow your foreign dance easily.
Instead, he finds himself tripping over your feet so often he's surprised he doesn't topple into another couple.
"Two left feet, huh, Little Dragon?" you ask when he steps directly on your toes.
"What-" You accidentally cut Morax off by swinging him hard. His ponytail snaps against a pair of young women, but they merely laugh and thank him for such a blessing. "-do you mean?"
"Mm..." You catch Morax before he can slam into a young man behind him. "You are bad at dancing."
"I wasn't aware I was being tested," he says and flinches when his foot accidentally sweeps your ankle out from beneath you. You recover easily enough, and the smug smile you give him only makes him flush. "Am I truly that awful?"
It draws a bright laugh out of you. "You have not break my bones, so...no."
"I have not broken your bones," Morax corrects before adding, "and you do not have bones, anyhow."
"No, I do not," you agree and laugh. "But, once, I see...ah, I saw a young man break his foot because his wife had tripped him. I'd laughed so hard they heard me and..." Your laughter trails off, expression fading like the light at sunset. It stirs Morax's chest with rage.
"They were afraid?" he asks. You don't answer. You don't have to. Morax tightens his grip on you as your steps begin to slow. He readjusts his hand, slipping yours onto his shoulder whole setting his under your arm. It's the position of the leader, you'd said, and he squeezes your hand tight until you finally look up.
"Do you recall," he says, "the night we'd met?"
You blink as Morax begins to lead the waltz. "Yes?"
"Can you recall what you did?"
Your mouth falls open in...offense? Alarm? Embarrassment? "I already apologized-"
"That does not matter," Morax says, a smile sneaking onto his face. "You nearly killed me."
Your mouth sputters, this time in absolute embarrassment. "B-Because I thought you were a threat!'
"And just who were you with that led you to believe I was a threat?" Morax tilts his head and chuckles when you follow the gesture, seemingly without realizing it. "Do you remember?"
Your lips turn, brows knitted in thought before you mutter, "I was with that little boy. Lin."
"Correct." Morax takes a risk and decides to lift your conjoined hand. The gesture leads you into a twirl, and as you struggle against a proud smile, he continues. "You'd emerged from his shadow, where you'd been hiding for years, and tried to kill me. And why was that?"
When he resets his hand, it is far lower than it should be. The angle forces your arm to bend at the elbow and flushes your body to his. Morax's skin warms at the touch, and your eyes avert as you say, "Because you made him cry."
"Precisely." Morax squeezes your hand, which draws your eyes back to him. "You are a protector. I do not doubt that you would have done the same if I had fallen in your world. If your mortals fail to understand this, then it is not your fault, but merely a lack of understanding between them."
Your brows pinch, eyes shining. Once more, Morax wonders if your claim of being an immortal beast like himself is a lie. For a being who claims to have existed since the birth of the universe, you're incredibly soft hearted.
And when you laugh and rest your head against his chest, Morax simply feels grateful that your soft heart has led you here. "My brothers could handle you easily, Little Dragon."
"And I do not doubt it." Morax allows his shoulders to relax, smiling as your waltz slows into a gentle sway. The music seems to have followed along with it, and the musicians immediately avert their eyes when he glances their way. In fact, most of their gathered dancers have given him a wide berth.
When you notice the sudden lack of dancers, you let out a startled laugh and straighten up. "Ah, we have ruined the...hm..."
"Atmosphere?"
"Atmosphere!" You nod, then curl in sheepishly. "Apologies, friends."
"Nonsense," one of the women he'd hit with his hair says, a cheeky smile on her face. "You seemed comfortable."
You stick out your tongue as the other women laugh, and Morax decides commenting on the way your grip on him tightens even further. Instead, he chuckles, which draws your gaze almost instantly.
"What other dances do you know?" he asks.
"Hm..." You tilt your head, brows pinching in thought before your entire face lights up. "Square dance! It is the dance of the people from Solaceon Town! The music may be harder to play, though..."
The erhu player gasps, a hand on his chest. "You doubt my ability to transpose foreign music, friend?! The audacity!"
Your laughter only grows stronger, and you finally release Morax to join the musicians. You fit in almost seamlessly, arm slung across the erhu player's shoulder as the percussionist attempts to follow your humming. In your flowing clothes and decorated face, one could almost mistake you for an adeptus of Liyue. The mortals surely think so with how often they flock to your side for safety, but they do the very same when it comes to a night of celebration and drinks.
The mortals here love you, Morax thinks. If only yours had done the same.