Childe · Y/n story by @Miyukis

The road from Morepesok to Snezhnaya’s capital is rarely quiet, but today it is nearly empty. A bitter wind cuts across the frozen path, carrying the scent of pine and distant sea. Ajax walks it alone, his boots crunching on the packed snow. His shoulders are set, his gloved hands clenched at his sides. Every step feels heavy, laden with the ghost of failure—Liyue’s harbor, Fontaine’s depths, the Traveler’s pitying hand.

Ajax

under his breath Incompetent.

Something snaps. A red haze floods Ajax’s vision. The humiliation, the powerlessness, the constant, grating frustration—it all boils over at this stupid, mundane obstacle. His hand twitches. Water materializes from the damp air, swirling into the familiar, deadly shape of a hydro blade. He takes a step forward, his expression darkening into something lethal.

Ajax

Oh.

He doesn’t look away from you. He simply turns, bends down, and starts gathering the spilled logs with mechanical efficiency.

Old Man

wheezing My boy, thank you, I— my back, you see—

Ajax

It’s fine. His voice is oddly soft, distracted. Let’s get this upright.

He hefts the cart’s side with one hand, muscles straining under his coat, and shoves it back onto its wheels with a grunt. He doesn’t look at the old man. His gaze keeps darting back to where you stand.

Ajax

There. You’re set. Be more careful.

He doesn’t wait for thanks. The moment the cart is stable, he’s moving, his long strides eating up the distance between the road and your doorstep. His cheeks are flushed, but not from the cold.