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The freezing walls of the Tsarista’s palace match well with the cold looks of the Harbingers. Save for one warm-toned fox in the corner. After three long years abroad, chasing gnosis from Liyue to Inazuma, Tartaglia has finally returned to Snezhnaya. Though he returns for no joyous occasion, for the funeral over Signora has just ended and the somber mood is barely beginning to clear.
With normal people, you would expect silence while wrapping up a moment of mourning. But the Harbingers are no normal people. So, no more than a minute after Pierro’s speech, they go back to their scheming chatty ways.
Being the youngest and least deceptive harbinger of them all, Tartaglia is usually left out of these conversations. Which is why he’s extremely surprised by Arlecchino leaning over and smelling his hair. As if marking the beginning of a vicious hunt, her nose scrunches.
“Little Tartaglia, you smell like petrichor.” She says it like a revelation. Her red eyes narrow at him, not so much distrustful as they are suspicious. Their youngest has never once not smelt like an ocean’s breeze.
“Can’t a fox get enthusiastic in some mud? It’s not my fault the ground looked so inviting.”
Even with his tail waving laxly through the air, Childe is sweating bullets. Hopefully, under all his clothes, the others can’t see that. Arlecchino laughs, which unfortunately catches the attention of the rest of the room. Leave it to the Harbingers to latch on to the one difference he wanted to hide.
“1. There hasn’t been any rain, 2. Your fur isn’t caked with dirt, and 3. You look a bit too nervous to be innocent, ‘Taglia.” Columbina pipes up from across the coffin. Apparently, she’d been listening in. She leans herself over Signora’s coffin, her chin resting in her palm. The grin on her face is fitting of the third harbinger of the Tsaritsa.
Childe’s ears twitch before he forces himself to relax. The other Harbingers can smell fear, after all. Even more so with the newfound attention to his scent. “I took a shower before coming, of course, I wouldn’t disrespect Rosalyne by showing up to her funeral dirty.” He tries to look as confident as possible. The Harbingers’ eyes feel like they're burning a hole through his coat. He can only pray that they don’t notice the fabric of his trademark red scarf has transitioned to a rich Liyuean silk as well. Knowing his luck, they’ve noticed and chose to focus on the more pressing matters instead.
“Besides, so what if I smell like wet earth? Surely it’s common enough for one to smell different after being abroad for so long.”
“That would be true if it were anyone but you we were talking about, Tartaglia. Why you’ve always been particular about your appearances to others.”
Great, now Pantalone was on him too. “It couldn’t possibly be that Liyue’s gossip was true, could it?” Regrator’s horribly smug look matches his evil loan shark archetype too well.
Childe’s tail stops wagging. A horrible tell. Had Hutao gotten too enthusiastic about spreading the news regarding her acclaimed consultant? Or was it Chef Mao from Wanmin, who had gotten tired of their lovesick dates? “What gossip?” He can still feign ignorance.
“My Liyue informant told me there was some scandalous news involving a Schneznayan diplomat and a funeral consultant. Hmm, that sounds awfully familiar…” Pantalone smiles behind his hand.
Childe looks anywhere but the Harbingers’ faces, silently cursing the depth of the Fatui information network. Ekaterina had probably tried warning him about the rumors at some point during his time in Liyue, but he had been too entranced by a certain someone to listen.
“I heard Morax himself was disguised as a funeral consultant. A bold coincidence.” Capitano adds on. There really is no escaping the wrath of the Harbingers once they’ve gotten interested.
Childe can see the moment Pulcinella reaches a conclusion.
“Dearest Tartaglia…” His traitorous father figure says.
“No.” He won’t stand for this.
“Are you perhaps-”
“No!”
“Are you dating Morax?”
“NO!” Childe’s voice rings through the room. His ears are flat against his head.
Silence.
“Okay, maybe I am…” Childe’s tail goes limp as he resigns himself to the endless ridicule that is to come from sharing his secret.
Silence again.
“Did he…scent you before you came here?” Sandrone dawns upon that possibility with mild aversion.
“He was very persuasive,” Childe mumbles into his scarf, giving up all pretenses.
“Please tell us you were safe with him.” Pulcinella, at least, is reliably concerned about the right details. Maybe his father figure is not so traitorous after all.
Dottore takes this opportunity to yank Childe’s scarf away, revealing the borderline cannibalistic bite placed squarely on Childe’s neck along with a collar bearing the Geo symbol. Childe considers reaching for it, but after seeing the look on the Harbingers’ faces he can tell the damage is already done.
“Safe to say we can rule that out,” Dottore says, disappointed.
The Harbingers (save for Tartaglia) collectively let out a deep sigh. How could their dearest Tartaglia be so careless with a foreign god?
“Do you love him?” Pierro asks, his voice filling the room.
“Yes,” Tartaglia answers, taken aback. Of all the questions for Pierro to ask, he certainly didn’t expect that one.
“Does he treat you well?” Capitano follows.
“He has been nothing but kind to me since the day we met.”
“Has he ever made you cry?” Arlecchino dares to ask.
Childe sucks in a breath. His chest hurts as he recalls the details, but he’s filled with hope at the conclusion. “Yes, he has. He has betrayed me. But, it was under contract with Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa. He has apologized, I have as well, and we are both forgiven.”
“That’s all we can ask for, Tartaglia.” Pulcinella comforts.
“Our innocent ‘Taglia has been defiled,” Columbina mutters not so quietly. Childe blushes, but they all notice that he doesn’t deny it. Everyone laughs lightly as they head to exit the room.
“Be sure to tell him the entirety of the Fatui will be after him if he breaks your heart again, Harbingers included,” Dottore says as he pats Childe on the back.
“I will, though I’m not sure how well we will fare against Morax himself.” Childe smiles.
“There are eleve- nine of us and one of him. Not to mention the gnosis we have. I hope that day will never come, but we won’t let him hurt you without a fight.” Capitano has never been one to console, but this time he does.
“Thank you,” Tartaglia whispers, his tail wagging once again, and he has never been happier to meet the Harbingers.