[ There was nothing inherently wrong about what he wants, was there? To continue their relationship. Prosperous as it was beneficial to their people, it was... a curious thing. Perhaps, Barbatos in his nature, was all about overcoming impossible odds.

Bringing Morax to Mondstadt feels like one of those challenges.

Yet... he is also lazy. He yields, if only to keep pleasant company and enjoy the day – he wasn't lying about that. This strange sense of pity for Morax melds with a hint of resentment.

This was the first time someone denied him, okay!

It happens too quickly for him to react. The expanse of his wings defensively falls, pressing curled to his back when Morax's fingers grab to that rounded chin. He feels his shoulders fall next, his eyes washed with a nervous jitter – where should he look? Would he be reprimanded if he tilts his gaze away in embarrassment?

The words and question slip past his lips without any buffer – they're sharp but... ]

I told you.

[ Barbatos' weapons were words, but he does not fight so freely. ]

You welcome me to your lands, yet when I do it... you find an excuse. You must trust your people to carry on your teachings or else you may hold onto them too firmly.

[ Duties and their roles were easy to use as an excuse, but Barbatos and those soft eyes of his close when his words leave next: ]

I wanted to enjoy an apple with you walking through freshly paved paths and find the same joy our people have earned. Festivals do not last weeks, or years, or centuries. I wanted a moment with you, Morax.

[ And then, a gust of wind surrounds them. Barbatos' braids glow cool cyan, whipping around them every which way as his childish temper tantrum was as playful as it was serious. ]

Think, blockhead!