( it was as he expected. however tired he may be and however surreal all of this may continue to feel, he shouldn't have been quite so readily left unattended. xingchen is nothing if not practical, and he has long since honed the ability to compartmentalize, to tuck any disarrayed thoughts neatly into a qiankun bag in the back of his mind until whatever goal is reached, task is complete, or conversation has parted ways.
but now he's here, he has quite thoroughly run out of tasks to complete, and kaunglu has disappeared. he could summon her again, simply by stepping through the door, but she seems diligent and terribly kind and the last thing she needs is to babysit xingchen, especially when he's no better company than he was when they parted. in truth, he has lingered in his suite for much of the rest of the day for this reason - he was offered free roam of the garden, but if stepping outside truly summons her from whatever else she might be doing, it's hardly worth the fuss.
xingchen was a daozhang, once. now it feels like a lifetime ago - a lifetime ago and a bit of a joke, when those few daozhang tenets which his deaths within ryslig didn't steal from his recollection over the past few years are those which have long since drifted beyond his reach. 'be as water. accept that which is.' he was so good at these things a decade ago, but they were some of the first to fall apart once he found something which he might truly and fiercely care about.
but now he isn't, and this is all just... so much. he still bears the scars and even freshly-bandaged wounds of a war that hasn't let him sleep soundly in months, and even knowing that very war has been won, some part of him halfway expects the fog to have followed him here. it's the same part of him which finds himself itching to shift to his night form here in this sunless place, if only for something to be as he knows it should be. but he won't shift, not tonight or ever again, nor will he see the house he left behind. the people he left behind, or parted ways from as they scattered amongst their proper realms. people who won't remember him now, just as runyu doesn't. or maybe a part of them will, just as runyu nearly does. maybe such memories (of him, of ryslig as a whole) will haunt them just the same. he doesn't know which outcome he'd truly prefer. he isn't sure if he wants to haunt anyone, but he has also long since lost the serenity which allows him to be content with being forgotten. either way, there's no changing it now. there's no returning, no trying again.
it's - dizzying, the immensity of it all. in truth, having been left to his own devices for quite so long is as much a blessing as it is a curse. it means no one is there to see while he kneels on the floor and attempts to catch breath that the tension around his lungs won't allow him to draw. while he paces, restless, sleepless despite his intention to rest.
relief comes the following afternoon, in a thoroughly unexpected place. bby then his qi has already healed up some of the lesser wounds, the bandaging hardly bloodied, and on a whim he cut away the bloodied bits and tied a stretch of clean linen around his eyes. and all at once, his world is so terribly small again. small and familiar, a refuge he might retreat to, just as his house in the woods had been. it's removed, of course, for his brief exchanges with kaunglu (though he isn't yet prepared to make good on his offer to talk over tea), but otherwise this is the way he spends much of his time - and it helps. he finds himself able to meditate again, to focus and channel his qi, though he doesn't waste any time in healing his wounds (it's selfish, but they're one of the last bits of ryslig he has).
in fact, that's precisely what he's doing when he hears the knock at the door, sitting crosslegged on the bed with faint tendrils of golden glow drifting between his palms. and half-distracted as he is, he doesn't think to remove the blindfold - simply calls, ) Come in, ( as he starts to taper the flow of qi down to end the meditation. as footsteps approach, he says, ) Forgive me, I'll be done in a moment, ( and though it's slightly more than a moment, a few seconds later the glow does indeed fade. )
[ Runyu has not meant for days to pass before he returns to his unexpected guest. He knows that he seems content in his stay, at least as well as Kaunglu can tell. He’s eaten the food she’s brought him and doesn’t seem to have anything he needs. But she has noted that he seems withdrawn. He’s self-sufficient to a fault and has rarely left his rooms. The guest has not complained about the night that surrounds them, but but perhaps that is a facade of courtesy. To be honest, there are many questions to be asked and Runyu has run out of time to avoid them. The turmoil he has faced over the last few days has been controlled. It hasn’t left him, but he’s adjusted to the disquiet curiosity that’s taken over him since his arrival. Since his perusal of those scrolls in the dream library. And since he decided to do something he hasn’t done since he left his mother. Playing the dizzi flute. He’s still filled with questions, even demands, behind his calm exterior, but hiding it under a blank friendly slate is familiarizing, grounding.
The entreaty to enter stabilizes him further and he pushes the doors open, halting at the sight of the guest meditating in the center, his golden core glowing, with a white blindfold over his eyes. A pang settles in his chest and he looks away, clenching his hand over the mermaid pearl bracelet. A moment later, he flicks his arms behind him and strides into the room, letting the doors close on their own. He takes a seat on his left and closes his eyes to wait his guest out.
The wait serves two purposes, that of giving his guest the courtesy due him and to recall the strength in patience. Even if he desires answers, he is in no hurry to receive them. Time is something he’s always has too much of. It stretches on forever around him and even within in his own hands when manipulating the heavens above. It is a testament that he can abstain from reckless behavior here. ]
( not ten seconds after his mild request for pardon, the glow has faded altogether and xingchen's hands drop to settle on his knees with a conclusive sort of sigh.
but then he's turning to runyu (though he was occupied, he did track the footsteps and hear where his friend sat down), lips curling in a greeting smile with just the slightest quirk of humor. ) Here I've made you come all the way to my quarters to visit, how terribly inconsiderate of me. ( because it occurs to him now that runyu might very well have been giving him space until he emerged of his own accord. a sightless glance to the door, and - ) I admit that I'm reluctant to venture, if stepping outside summons poor Kuanglu to attend to me. The both of you have done more than enough for me already.
( Runyu's tone is even and cordial as he responds, his usual smile set over his face. ) It is her job to look after my guests and it is something she rarely gets to do. ( Only once, to be honest. ) I don't believe she sees attending to you as a chore but a joy. Besides, even if she said that, the truth is a little more complicated to explain. It was an attempt to simplify things, but if it has confined you to your rooms, I apologize. ( He folds his arms before him and bows slightly. )
( xingchen shakes his head at the apology, opening his mouth to reply, but what does he say? should he speak with him as a friend, or with the same distant courtesy which runyu himself is using?
after a moment, he exhales a laugh-breath, 'gaze' dropping aside. ) Forgive me. All of this feels a bit like a dream that I can't quite make sense of. This realm is so different from either of those which I've known, and yet pieces of it are terribly familiar. ( a beat, and his head tilts a bit, realizing with a pang of something bittersweet in his chest - ) I think I've forgotten how to speak to you as though we're strangers, so I hope you'll be patient with me while I figure it out.
[ The confusion in his guest thaws some of Runyu's anxiety and his smile grows as he inclines his head. ]
You may talk to me as you wish, Xingchen. I'm not disinclined to your friendly tone or dismissing the formalities if that is what you wish to do. ( He pauses, chuckling quietly. ) It might take me a few minutes to reciprocate; it's been a long time since someone's asked thus of me. Please have patience with me as I adjust.
[ Truthfully, there is only one occurrence when he's tried to drop all of the walls around him, or even be there as a companion with no worries of his own, but that time has ended in failure for him. Kaunglu has tried, once, but it has been too much, at that time. ]
In the manner of friends, may I ask about the blindfold? You were able to see when you arrived here. Was that.... different in the other realm?
( the answer he gets is, admittedly, quite a relief - a fact reflected in the broadening of his smile, the way it softens around the edges.
the question which follows, however, has a hand lifting to brush the linen with light fingertips, a wordless realization. xingchen peels the blindfold off now, revealing a mildly embarrassed expression (more at his not realizing he was still wearing it; he's not embarrassed by the blindfold itself). it's set in his lap now, fingers thoughtlessly smoothing it flat. ) It was, ( he confirms. ) I only just regained my sight in the days before I arrived here, so I'm still not quite accustomed to it. ( and the fact that runyu's mind leapt at once to sightlessness isn't lost on xingchen, since the more obvious guess would be more along the lines of a meditative aid. perhaps this is how it shall be, with runyu quite sure that he can't recall this man who appeared in his throne room, while all of his guesswork or assumptions about xingchen prove far too accurate. is intuition in the heart or the mind?
regardless, he speaks again a moment later. ) It's... grounding, I suppose. ( wearing it now, he means, even though he has his sight. ) It organizes the world in a way that I'm used to. I'm not sure if that makes sense. ( but he doesn't seem terribly bothered by the notion that it might not. if there's a harder habit to break than his informality with runyu, it's his honesty. before his friend disappeared from the peninsula, xingchen would've been hard-pressed to think of a single thing he couldn't simply share with him. even if such things were painful, or perhaps some manner of compliment that runyu wasn't entirely equipped to receive.
which reminds him - his gaze lifts to the man seated beside him now, because: ) You've gotten better. Your music, I mean. ( which begs the question: did he retain the muscle-memory for such a thing? did he have to start anew here, or did all of his practice in ryslig leave him with some sort of foundation on which to build? )
[ Runyu starts at the compliment his guest bestows on him, more from the tone it’s relayed than the words themselves. He prefers to play the guqin outside, and he’s more than aware that his music breaks the stillness of the heavenly realm. But this man speaks of the music as if he has played for him before, either as an audience or staying close enough to listen. It’s a difficult vision for Runyu to accept. Even if he’s been unable to strike music from his mind once more since that evening, a disquiet reluctance lingers in him. It’s not that he doesn’t wish for someone to speak of it but that, even now, he fears the repercussions. It’s an instinct he can’t shake. ]
( Runyu clenches his hand before rising abruptly, turns around, before halting. He flicks his sleeves behind him and faces his guest again in his formal pose, as if to protect himself. He bows. ) Forgive me and thank you, Xingchen. Even if I cannot recall this time you speak of, ( A sigh escapes him. ) If there was a place where I could play openly enough for you to judge my talent, I’m glad it’s remembered in some way. Music … ( His head lowers, eyes falling to the bracelet on his wrist. ) It shouldn’t be shut away like a sin…
[ Runyu closes his eyes, wondering why he’s speaking of so honestly to his guest, a man he has no memory of but he may have dreamed of. He is someone he had failed and yet calls him friend and doesn’t seem to demand anything from him. There’s a trust there, unspoken between them, and it terrifies the Night Immortal.
He’s being a terrible host.
As he has been a horrible leader.
A tear escapes him and he turns away, glaring at the door.
He’s never cried since promising his brother to live.
So why, why, should he lose all composure now?
He almost wishes that Xingchen were blind now, but the selfish desire seems wrong for reasons beyond his own comfort.
Runyu takes another breath. He summons a wall scroll, fingering the thread keeping it closed, before turning around and wordlessly letting it fall open between Xingchen and himself. ]
Do you recognize this?
[ It’s an ink painting of a small cabin set in the middle of a forest, black and white with purposeful sparks of color, red tulips and yellow lilies bordering a table with two people sitting at it, and a purple silhouette on the far side, as if to sneak him in without being called out for it. ]
( though he was welcomed to dismiss the formalities, it's quickly apparent that he's taken that very thing a step too far. he shouldn't have mentioned the music. that was what did it, what dissolved away what little bit of ease runyu had settled into, sent him to his feet with all the formality of the moment they first reunited. and xingchen wants to say something, to retract it somehow, but runyu's speaking before he figures out any way to do that. he thanks xingchen, even if the words had upset him - and then he mentions the bit about music not being shut away, and that's precisely what xingchen had expressed, those years ago. he nearly mentions as much, but at this point he isn't quite sure whether that would make it better or worse. he isn't sure how to approach this at all, really. it's more precarious than it seems at the surface, and it's far too easy to fall naturally into a grave misstep and -
and make his dear friend cry, apparently. fingers curl around the blindfold in his lap now, gripping that to suppress the urge to rise to his own feet and wipe that tear and any others away with the edge of his sleeve, because that isn't their friendship anymore. it wouldn't be welcome. instead, he draws a breath with the intent to at the very least apologize, but that's when runyu turns to present a painted scroll.
xingchen's breath huffs out in a quiet rush, hands releasing the blindfold at once to reach out for the scroll - but he remembers himself just before taking hold of the edges, stopping short, withdrawing his hands to curl one around the other against his own chest. belatedly, and perhaps entirely obvious by now, he says - ) Yes, ( and that single word is both delighted and faintly choked, like a bird slipping through grasping fingers and taking flight. his lips press together for a moment, then one hand reaches out again, a shaking fingertip ghosting over one painted window to say, ) This window led to your bedroom.
[ Runyu’s throat closes up at Xingchen’s reaction and before he can stop himself, the scroll slips from his fingers. If it tears or creases, he doesn’t move to stop it. He can always paint another. Falling to his knees before Xingchen, he bows his head. If Xingchen’s rising from his sitting position, Runyu is oblivious to that or any entreaty to rise. ]
( He’s speaking in a rush. ) I’m sorry, Xingchen, that I abandoned you. I don’t have any concrete memories of this time you speak of, but - but I’ve dreamed so many things, as if I spent years there before returning to my torment here, and they refuse to leave me. There’s pain and so much blood, but there’s also something there that’s warming, soothing. It feels like I am home. Something I’ve lost in this realm forever.
I-I don’t know why you’ve come to someone who left you in such a place. It’s wrong. I don’t deserve this trust you offer between us. I don’t deserve your rescue by coming into my life again, and yet- yet… ( His voice drops to a whisper as another tear slips down his cheek. ) I can’t turn you away.
( and xingchen's so terribly focused on the painted scroll that he doesn't quite realize the emotions unfolding on the other man's face. all he knows is that suddenly the scroll is falling away, and he can't help but make a faint throat-sound of protest and an abortive half-reach to catch it before his attention is drawn back to runyu - runyu who has dropped to his knees now, head bowed, words too quick and absent of any shred of his prior formality.
and he says so very much, a fervent apology, a confession of his dreams and how they feel, a declaration of what he does or doesn't deserve, all of it filling xingchen with a desperate formless ache that he doesn't quite know how to ease. he doesn't know the right thing to say, doesn't know if telling runyu more would be wounding or healing him. he doesn't know why, even at this moment of his beloved friend's distress, he feels an inexplicable swell of relief. he honestly doesn't feel like he knows much of anything at all right this moment, save for the fact that he desperately needs for runyu to stop crying.
his movements are thoughtless, driven by that very need, as he slips down onto the floor as well, arms winding tightly around runyu's shoulders and upper back to pull him into an embrace. and for a few moments (the duration of three or four unsteady breaths as xingchen himself adamantly refuses to cry), it's just that silent embrace - then one hand lifts to smooth down the back of his hair in quiet, urgent need to help, and - ) You- ( the word is choked, and he stops again, exhaling a stubborn breath as he swallows hard to try to get rid of some of the tightness in his throat. then he shakes his head a little. ) My friend, you didn't abandon me. ( his words are shaky, but his tone is so achingly fond. ) You weren't given a choice. ( but that's all he can manage by way of actual speech, so he's whispering now as well. ) You wouldn't have gone by choice. You would have stayed.
[ The words spoken by Xingchen, someone he can almost let down all of his walls around instinctually, is nearly enough for Runyu to fall into the embrace and cling to the good fortune his presence is for him. And yet, he’s wearing the mantle of his office, that which he took in an attempt of enacting justice but by destroying the only two people to care for him in this realm. Because he was too much of a coward to look for another means to crush the hypocrisy that had strangled him for eons. Because he was too weak to bear any further change without lashing out with all the darkness that’s been buried in him. Runyu wants to give in and accept the peace Xingchen’s mere words offer him. But he doesn’t deserve it. He can never deserve it.
Runyu shuts eyes against the dazzling stardust before him, turning away from the hope as his guilt and regret drowns him. His momentary fear of being rejected by his friend if he were honest replaced by the overwhelming weight of the sins upon his shoulders. ]
You’re wrong, my friend. I’ve run from too much before. How can you know that I wasn’t a coward again and that I took the easiest path to escape the pain there, turning a blind eye to any other torment but my own?
( it has been a small handful of days since runyu visited, healing away his wounds and whisking himself away to attend to business a few short hours later.
xingchen hasn't seen his dear friend since - but that's fine. it's not as if runyu is gone from this place, and it has been over a decade since xingchen has needed to see someone to feel grounded in their presence. though his actual senses are hardly so sharp as they were throughout his time in ryslig, the return of his qi offers an entirely different sense of the world around him. the life existing therein. and perhaps it's his qi or perhaps it's entirely a trick of his mind, but he can't quite shake the certainty that he can sense runyu's presence somewhere at the edge of his perception, not concretely but well enough to guess at where he might find him if he were to go looking.
and then, of course, there was the music. something his companion never afforded himself before his time in ryslig left him with memories shaped like dreams, but his melodies have broken the quiet of the realm three times now since xingchen's arrival. however mournful some of the melodies might be, it's nonetheless a flicker of warmth melting away at the chill of this realm. it did the same in ryslig, with the chill in runyu's heart. other things did so, as well... the coin tied around his neck, now settled deep in the pocket of xingchen's robe for safekeeping. and the flowers. those helped as well.
xingchen recalled the tale his friend once told, of all the flowers disappearing from the realm save for once, then that one disappearing as well - but only now, in seeing this place, does he truly realize what a tragedy their absence is. the realm is beautiful in much the same way as an ornate memorial crypt, elegant but terribly cold. flowers are precisely what it's missing. and so he set about the task of bringing them back.
it didn't work. of course it didn't. every time xingchen is sure that ryslig has finally burned away what naivety he still contained, he's proven wrong anew - because naive is precisely what he had been. between the library scrolls and kaunglu's ever-helpful presence, he learned the circumstances surrounding the flowers' departure, and through that he learned of precisely who he needed to entreat for their return. but the flower immortals were resolute, and xingchen returned with naught to show for it save for the mild satisfaction of managing to surprise beings far older and more powerful than he. but that doesn't bring flowers back to runyu's home.
anyone else might have felt discouraged.
xingchen, however, did not come all this way just to watch runyu self-isolate in misery simply because he mistakenly feels he deserves it. if the flower immortals won't grant him flowers, he'll make them himself.
the task has proven more difficult than he had hoped, but no more so than expected. a day was spent attempting to cultivate flowers by his own spiritual strength, an attempt he had to make before he could discount the avenue entirely, but now it has been sufficiently discounted and xingchen has looped around to a slightly different approach.
and so, on the fourth morning since the two of them last parted ways, a glowing golden flower is sent to to runyu by way of kaunglu. it isn't entirely out of the blue - she has almost certainly already told him of xingchen's attempt to bargain with the flower immortals and the results thereof. regardless, she has been given polite but firm instructions to deposit it somewhere within runyu's direct vicinity, and to send him to xingchen if he objects. some hours later, when the beast of dreams arrives to visit the night immortal, it's with a similar flower tucked carefully in the 'v' of one little antler.
but it's not until runyu next visits his own quarters that he truly discovers the scope of this endeavor. it's as if a field of luminescent wildflowers has grown up around the path to runyu's room, mostly gold but with an increasing number of blue flowers, red flowers, even luminescent white ones toward the outer edges. and right there before his eyes, one more glowing flower (another blue this time) drifts in, as if on a leisurely breeze, to settle gently at the edge of the array.
if he follows the flowers to their source, he'll find xingchen at the table in the garden just outside of his own quarters. his blindfold has returned, and his forearms rest on the table, hands cupped palm-up as if to scoop water from a basin... but what he's doing seems far less like collecting than creating. a faint glow emits from his palms, brightening as the next flower buds and then blooms. his hands part then, just long enough to 'pluck' the flower at the nonexistent stem and release it vaguely into the air, before they curl palm-up again to begin anew. the flower dutifully drifts off along the path to runyu's quarters, no doubt to join the others.
focused quite thoroughly on his task, xingchen hasn't yet noticed that his friend has arrived. )
[ Even if he hasn’t visited Xingchen in the last few days, he hasn’t been far from Runyu’s mind, whether it be when he’s alone in his study or when Kaunglu is making her daily reports. It’s not hard to realize that the beast isn’t always at his side anymore either, as if it wants to check on their guest too. Therefore, he’s aware of his friend’s visit to the flower fairies, even why he would make such a futile journey. It doesn’t seem his place to stop him though. He only hopes that the journey doesn’t upset him. They haven’t spoken of what caused those scars that remain on his back, but Runyu knows that he wouldn’t forget something like his own experience in war quickly. Runyu hopes that he can help him if the memories are painful, even if he is too much of a coward to reach for the memories offered at this time. He doesn’t deserve to accept that joy. And not only because of his past. He’s barely been able to offer anything to Xingchen for coming, and until he discovers some way to compensate his friend for what he’s lost, it doesn’t seem right that he should be asking for more.
To be honest, pondering what he can offer Xingchen in return for his company takes as much of Runyu’s time than hours of atonement or his duties.
His arrival has completely upset the order inside him, but it’s a different way than when a certain flower fairy crashed into his life. It’s easier to adjust to and somehow more precious.
He should push him to explore the other realms, places with more life in them, even entrust him to his brother. (His heart clenches at the thought.) But he’s too much of coward, again, to do what would be right.
Especially when the first flower appears on top of his scrolls.
And when another is set in the v of the beast of dreams’ antlers.
Any sense of discipline, of propriety, is completely silenced as he runs his fingers through these ethereal petals, examining the spell holding them together only after he’s stared at it for what seems to be hours.
Finding no fault or danger to Xingchen within the spell, he sets one flower in a bowl by his desk and the other in his sleeve.
There is no scent to these but they hold a beauty inside them that makes his heart ache and a fluttering warmth to grow inside him.
He doesn’t deserve these gestures, but he will accept them nonetheless.
However, Runyu can no longer keep up this restrained acceptance when he heads towards his quarters and the field of spiritual flowers greets him, all different shapes and colors. If he were a lesser man, he would have gasped and fallen to his knees. But something must be done to express himself. And so, he turns around, lifting a hand to his face to compose himself, blinking quickly as his heart pounds against his ears before slowly turning around again and trying to take it in without letting his emotions go wild. It’s a foolish, stunning gesture, and if he didn’t see the first two flowers, he would have believed that Xingchen merely missed the color of the real world. But he knows differently. This is another gift for him.
A blue flower drifting on the heavenly breeze brushes against his cheek and Runyu catches it in his hand. Another one passes by him a few minutes later.
Runyu exhales, throat tight. Apprehension, gratitude, regret, and warmth war inside him.
Slowly, he releases the flower, watching it join the others, and eyes suspiciously moist, he turns to follow their trail back to their source.
He’s not sure what he wants to do when he finds Xingchen, but seeing him intent on creating yet more flowers and sending them towards his chambers, leaving none for himself, and with an slight smile on his face, leaves Runyu helpless. He can’t find words to speak and his face is a torn between longing and anxiety. He could sweep this all away with one hand if he willed it, if he let his fear and regret take hold. But he doesn’t.
Slowly, he takes a seat and waits for that flower to float away before speaking, deflecting his turmoil by focusing on his companion. ]
I don’t believe anyone’s passed out with such an endeavor as your own, my friend, but I don’t want to find out. There … are enough flowers now.
( much as he did during the hours in which runyu healed his wounds, xingchen has once again assumed a meditative state - but a proper one this time, one which allows him to focus his qi and refine it into so delicate a thing as a flower in bloom, and to do so again and again. at this point, it has come to feel like the ebb and flow of tide, each flower forming and departing in such a way that feels rhythmic, in this focused state apart from time.
it's the words which draw him back with an abrupt, quiet breath which fills his lungs, his shoulders relaxing fractionally from the stone-still posture he's held for the duration of his efforts, and the flower in his hands halt mid-bloom. after a moment, xingchen sets it carefully on the tabletop, hands lifting instead to slide the bandaging from around his eyes so that he can meet runyu's gaze with a hint of a smile. )
Not nearly, ( he says, though for what it's worth he's stopped for now. the effort isn't taxing, though, at least not yet. all these flowers are required to do is to float a bit and then lie there and glow, and (at risk of immodesty) his cultivation has been abnormally high since long before he left baoshan sanren's tutelage.
after a moment, he tilts his head just slightly and, just a little bit softer now, ) Do you like them?
[ Runyu opens his mouth to speak but words fail him and he looks away, the hand on the table clenching momentarily and a severe frown overtaking his face at his weakness. He lowers his his eyes, trying to gather his senses about him, takes a breath, and turns back to Xingchen.
He nearly offers an apology for his clumsy inability to reply but decides against it. Such may make the situation worse, and the last thing Runyu wishes to do is make Xingchen regret something as generous as this. He’s not that cruel. ]
I do. They’re more than I’ve seen here in a long time, even when the former emperor created his illusions of flowers.
[ He glance back towards the ethereal wisteria glowing faintly in the back of his garden. He brings a hand up to his lips, an attempt to hide how tricky it is to describe his emotions here. ]
They’re different. Brighter.
Warm
[ He composes himself a few moments later. ]
But it is not worth you overextending yourself. Please take care.
( though xingchen's not entirely unfamiliar with the manner in which runyu sometimes needs to work through such things as emotion, runyu himself is no longer used to him being there to witness it, and so xingchen lets his gaze shift back down to the half-finished flower on the table, hands curling carefully around it again to nourish it slowly but surely to bloom.
'i do.' though he doesn't yet look up again, his smile broadens again despite his best efforts to resist. he's glad that runyu likes them, and he's glad that they're different from those of runyu's father or anyone else who treated him poorly within this realm. 'but it is not worth you overextending yourself,' his dear friend argues now, and xingchen hums a fond little hum. ) You'll find that we have rather different opinions regarding your worth, ( he says, the glow in his hands dimming slightly. the flower is at full bloom and needs no further qi from him.
this one isn't released into the air, however. instead, it's deposited lightly onto the table in front of runyu. xingchen's eyes finally lift to meet his again, to say, ) I'm quite resolute on the matter.
[ Runyu’s eyes meet his, gazing at him in a studious silence that stretches a few minutes before the immortal’s eyes shift away, first towards the garden then, once more, falling to the flower set before him. He reaches into his sleeve to pull out the other one and places it by the new one. These details are enough to distract him from examining his tingling feelings about Xingchen’s words.
He understands that it may be futile to persuade him away from this task. ]
Why are you so insistent? ( he finally utters, waving a hand at the two gifts. ) With the flowers, I mean. I’m sure you heard what the flower fairies said.
( the silence stretches on for a bit, a searching sort of stand-off which xingchen has no trouble acquiescing. for his part, he doesn't yet begin another bloom. he's made his stance quite clear, and any further flowers just yet feels a bit willfully contrary.
then runyu averts his gaze, and xingchen watches quietly as he pulls his own flower from his sleeve - admittedly a bit pleased that he kept it close at hand rather than leaving it wherever kaunglu had placed it for him. but now he's setting it on the table, and xingchen can't quite discern if it's just to look at the blooms together or if it's some terribly polite attempt to put his foot down, to put a stop to this thing he doesn't feel that he deserves.
but at the very least, the questions are simple enough to answer. simple enough that he feels very much like he's answered them already in some manner, or at least circled them well enough to make his position clear. regardless, his gaze lingers on the flowers for now as he says, ) I did. ( one hand reaches out to brush fingertips against the edge of the bloom he's just crafted, adjusting a couple of petals that seem a bit crooked but probably aren't. ) Would you like to hear what I said in return?
If you wish to tell, (Runyu murmurs, following the fingers' smoothing of the petals, his own twitching to keep from pulling the flowers back from him. )
[Xingchen gifted the flowers to him. There's no reason for him to harm or take them away -- and there's no reason for Runyu to feel possessive of such small things, either. ]
( It takes a moment for Runyu to realize how his words may be taken, and he speaks again to keep that from becoming true. The last thing he wishes to do is to make his friend uncomfortable because he's expressed himself in a way that has led Xingchen to believe that he doesn't care. He does. He's only unsure how to answer the worthiness his friend regards him with. ]
If you believe the tale is worth telling. I don't want to remind you of any futile feelings on the matter. The flower fairies have been set against the heavens since before I was born.... and honestly, their reasoning is far from petty.
The heavens and I have earned this animosity with our own hands.
I never thought them petty. ( he seems sure enough of that, the slight pondering note to his words seeming more relevant to his examination of the flowers than the discussion at hand. things aren't so black-and-white as to declare the flower immortals 'petty' for nursing unhealed wounds. terrible things have been done to them, lives have been lost. xingchen knows this. he also quite vividly knows the pain which the 'heavens' (or those who act as such) can cause, and how callously they can do so.
but he also knows the folly of painting the entirety of the 'heavens' with one clumsy brush. there are exceptions, in each and every case. jiang wanyin. hanguang-jun, at last he heard. and here in this realm, runyu may very well have caused great harm as well, but there's a difference between those who cause harm out of privilege and those who cause harm as they flinch away from the pain of a wound inflicted upon them. runyu has always been the latter. xingchen is more certain of this than of most anything else, anymore.
he ceases his fussing now, leaving the flowers unbothered as he retracts his hands to rest them on the table before him, one clasped over the other. and he lifts his gaze to runyu again, whether or not his friend will return it. )
I told them that the heavens are empty now of all of those who did them harm, save for one. One single immortal remains, who sees no other way but to torture himself over that which he's brought to pass. Much like they do, he thinks himself only capable of harm - but he isn't. I myself have seen that he's capable of great good as well, even if the immortal himself doesn't recall. All that he needs is acceptance, care. Things which so many take for granted, perhaps, but they've never once been afforded him.
And I told them, of course, that I don't presume to try to tell them that this immortal - or I, myself - could ever begin to make up for all that they've lost. But... ( his gaze drops back to the table now, brow knitting just slightly, his focus on drawing his past words to mind - or at least the gist of them. recalling what comes next, his lips curl slightly at the corners. ) I told them that, perhaps it might sound silly, but I've always had a sort of admiration for flowers. Autumn might drown them in rain and then winter might freeze them or bury them in snow - and yet, come spring, they grow anew.
I told them that this realm has been drowned, buried in snow, and frozen through. Nearly all who wounded the flower immortals are gone now, save for one who was wounded quite gravely before he hurt anyone else in turn. And perhaps that doesn't excuse his actions, and perhaps nothing can - that's certainly how the immortal feels, perpetuating his own wounds, isolating himself in that frigid winter as he's so sure he deserves.
But I told them that I would be indescribably grateful if they might allow me to bring flowers back to this realm. To bring about that spring for the night immortal to grow anew, as well.
( xingchen lets all of that hang in the air for a good few seconds - a little time for the words to sink in, for runyu to make his way through at least a few of the feelings (or internal protests) they've brought to bear. and then his hands shift, unclasping to once again cup delicately around a hollow space which soon begins to glow. ) Understand that I've no 'futile feelings' on the matter, ( he says, the initial bud of a sunset-orange flower forming now between his palms. ) I'm quite capable of bringing about the spring on my own.
[ Runyu’s attempt to remain collected and poised during the story fade away as Xingchen’s story progresses and more stormy emotions tear at him. He turns his head away from that honest, trusting gaze at the mention of his sins — even as background information — to force back another wave of regret and rage. The two are too tightly intertwined after that day on the shore of the lake. But such seems even more futile with his friend’s emphatic focus on his pain, not the harm he’s caused and suffering from that fall, but on what he lost. Hands clench in his sleeves and moisture once again forms in his eyes. If these words were spoken by anyone else, he’d dismiss them either with a scoff or a rebuke, denying himself that ‘excuse’ to escape the suffering he perpetuated. However, Xingchen is different. Someone who does not come from his realm yet seems so at peace with his existence in this frigid place of a criminal, no, at his friend’s side. His words are once more too mystifying to dismiss or tear apart.
Fortunately, before he’s utterly undone, Xingchen ends his story with another declaration of his intent to make spring on his own. The teasing, taunting note prompts a shaky laugh. His turmoil calms and he releases a breath to still any lingering discontent. Regaining that semblance of composure so to offer better conversation to his friend. ]
If that is your wish, then I won’t stop you. ( He tilts his head to the side. ) Such may even be a problematic endeavor and would require more time than is beneficial if attempted. ( He pauses, the calm freezing yet again, shifting between apprehension and intrigue, foolish yearning and the lingering darker fear ripped out from his psyche. ) But do not harm yourself over this and don’t deprive yourself of such a sight. It’s unfair.
[ What a safe, pitiful manner to describe himself, and yet those meager words are all he can offer in lieu of asking his friend to take care of himself at this time. As he is now, he has little right to ask anything of anyone, even more so when he won’t allow Xingchen to share that realm which binds them together. It may seem a kind gesture, but he knows all too well how even those words can destroy a person’s ability to choose for themselves. It’s better to let ambiguity stand between them until Runyu can choose to safeguard his words and actions.
If such is possible at this late time.
He’s already stepped further towards him than he should while he remains in this miasma. ]
( even if runyu did attempt to dismiss his words, to deny their validity in the face of the harms he has caused or to rebuke them as some unearned avenue of escape, xingchen wouldn't be deterred. he might simply have to explain that runyu's own pain is no less significant simply because he, too, has caused pain - and that not all release from the suffering of harms inflicted is an escape. one can work through their wrongs and the ramifications thereof, over time and with the appropriate reflection on the impact of their actions. it has been a number of years now since runyu last inflicted pain on another, and he has spent most of that time all but drowning in the weight of it. it wouldn't be unreasonable to allow himself the first tentative steps down the long and winding path toward the forgiveness of self, or however close he might one day come to it. perhaps simply allowing himself to receive happiness as it comes is as close as he might manage to reach, as he did in ryslig before this - and really, that's enough. runyu allowing himself to be happy, even just sometimes, will always be enough.
fortunately (if somewhat surprisingly), whatever objection may have been forming in his dear friend's mind seem to fall away in favor of something much closer to acquiescence. acquiescence and acknowledgment that contesting xiao xingchen on this may be far more trouble than it's worth, a declaration which curves his mouth into an amused and mildly self-satisfied quirk of a smile. it has taken impressively little time for runyu to come to terms with the severity of xingchen's stubbornness, far less than it did in ryslig proper. has he grown more stubborn over the years, or simply learned how best to fondly bully some sort of surrender out of runyu in particular? it's difficult to say. both, perhaps.
next comes the token attempt to appeal to his self-preservation, and that little smile broadens to something softer and warmer. the sunset-orange bloom between his palms is taking on a somewhat different shape, with five long and slightly pointed petals rather than the wealth of lotus-esque petals the rest of the flowers bear. and as he speaks, it seems to shift a bit - to roll onto one side, with another similar flower forming just beside it, attached to the first by the bit of 'stem' now poking out from the blossom's base. )
I'm quite certain, ( he says, warm and perhaps a bit contemplative, ) That you would prefer not to invite my candid thoughts on what is or isn't fair. ( since the vast majority of them pertain to runyu, and stand in direct opposition of what the immortal himself believes that he deserves. ) While these flowers do draw from my qi in order to bloom, rest assured that they do so too slowly to truly exhaust me. ( as for depriving himself of the sight of them, these flowers are negligible compared to the sight which he truly aspires to see - runyu's smile, however briefly it may be - but that is, perhaps, too bold to declare at this particular juncture. it goes well enough without saying, regardless.
as for the flowers in his palm, by now a third connected bloom is nearly done. soon a fourth will begin, then a fifth and a sixth, slowly but surely (over the next few minutes) forming the faintly-glowing tower of a vivid orange hyacinth. xingchen doesn't expect runyu to recall the hyacinths he stationed in front of their woodland home, but perhaps he might like it regardlss. )
[ Runyu listens to the explanation given, a small huff escaping him at Xingchen’s gentle warning, but remains silent, his eyes already drawn to the flow of energy from Xingchen’s hands.
Runyu doesn’t recognize the flower created. Most of the flowers in his dreams are but impressions of colors more than actual shapes, and it had taken him numerous attempts of painting them with the cabin to create the landscape that had pulled Xingchen and himself together. But he can hardly miss the detail with which his friend has crafted the hyacinth before his very eyes. The slow yet steady process brings to mind another time, of his own slow routine of caring for the night cereus so long ago. Of the satisfaction that filled him of coming closer to fulfilling a wish. He reaches out, tempted to feel the small star-shaped petals, but stops himself.
The reason for that hesitation is unclear.
Being underserving of the gift or a reluctance to harm it.
He glances back over to Xingchen and then away, wondering if the more complex spell will hold if his friend attempts to send it away.
A lump catches in his throat and he rises from his seat, hesitating again before waving his hand, a tall pottery pot with earth appearing at their side.
That same hand quickly flips behind his back afterwards as he speaks. ]
This one is taller. It would be a waste of your effort if it failed on the journey to the flowerbed. This way, that won’t happen.
[ Runyu is turned aside, not quite looking at Xingchen, not quite moving away. ]
[ Runyu had been reluctant to leave Xingchen after that night in the garden, but as much as he yearned to stay by the warmth of his trusting friend, another part of him needed to leave. To take a moment to gather himself away from his knowing presence.
Xingchen’s earnest gestures were too auspicious to accept in his condition for long, not as someone who had grown used to the hollow regrets that weighed him down in each exchange between Xufeng and himself. His brother had cut the chains of despair from him, but in that same moment, he had set forth the sentencing of his atonement. And in the present state, his generous eyes neither condemned or judged him when he visited, and yet that compromise seemed all the more distancing for Runyu. When still, his brother was better than he at the conclusion of their war.
Xufeng had grown out of his suffering — to put it in painful terms of poetry, he’d found his eternal spring with his flower.
A spring in which Runyu would never belong, even if that spring would offer her forgiveness.
His own hands had destroyed enough there.
And yet the gentle gaze of Xingchen, someone he’d left far behind, in another war nonetheless, did not cause such pains for the Night Immortal. His smile did not expose another hole in his psyche, a loss that Runyu would carefully cover in another period of solitude and work. No whispers of deceit or graceful lies rose to his mind to darken the confessions gifted him because even the filthy corruption within him remained dormant. He didn’t understand it, and such lack of knowledge, of foresight into the situation, left him bereft of his usual composure to handle the situations. And without that discipline, he worried what he could do.
Xingchen trusted him, but even if the darkness within lay quiet, Runyu would not extend that same faith to himself.
He’d proven himself to be lacking in that area of genteel behavior.
However, even if he kept his distance, as the Heavenly Emperor and the Night Immortal, Runyu kept the presence of Xingchen in mind, learning his routine and smiling, albeit briefly, when the man seemed to be content in his little garden and house. Even when Kaunglu and himself had extended him an invitation to explore the heavens as he wished, he didn’t seem to go far beyond the library. Sometimes, he allowed himself to wonder if he were waiting for company for such exploration, but he didn’t dwell on these ideas long. Weighted by the wrongs he had committed and the loss echoing deep in him, too many wishes, too much warmth hurt to contemplate for long. When in forced seclusion again. And when much of his existence was as cold as his torn soul. But Runyu couldn’t ignore his presence, even when at a distance from him.
Not that the flowers allowed him to.
Xingchen’s flowers had continued to fill his corners of the vast realm, filling his garden, Xingchen’s own garden (at his own insistence), and even outside the library. They had yet to reach the throne room, and Runyu was at peace with that absence. Not sure he could accept such color in that arena of pain and deceit.
He was still at a loss on how he could ever attempt to repay his new companion for his generosity. Stubbornness aside, the scope of his gifts were too much to equal with any simple thing.
Perhaps that’s why when his friend did not leave his room on time Runyu found himself deviating from his original path, turning away from his walk of sins and returning towards the guest houses on the other side of the other side of the royal palaces. His pace may had been quicker than his usual stride, too, but he did not allow himself to consider that meaning. This was necessary.
Foolish, too, if nothing were amiss.
He halted at the steps to his friend’s new abode, breathing in. Hesitating. Before going farther. Before showing such a sign of regard. ]
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settling in. (evening, the day of his arrival.)
but now he's here, he has quite thoroughly run out of tasks to complete, and kaunglu has disappeared. he could summon her again, simply by stepping through the door, but she seems diligent and terribly kind and the last thing she needs is to babysit xingchen, especially when he's no better company than he was when they parted. in truth, he has lingered in his suite for much of the rest of the day for this reason - he was offered free roam of the garden, but if stepping outside truly summons her from whatever else she might be doing, it's hardly worth the fuss.
xingchen was a daozhang, once. now it feels like a lifetime ago - a lifetime ago and a bit of a joke, when those few daozhang tenets which his deaths within ryslig didn't steal from his recollection over the past few years are those which have long since drifted beyond his reach. 'be as water. accept that which is.' he was so good at these things a decade ago, but they were some of the first to fall apart once he found something which he might truly and fiercely care about.
but now he isn't, and this is all just... so much. he still bears the scars and even freshly-bandaged wounds of a war that hasn't let him sleep soundly in months, and even knowing that very war has been won, some part of him halfway expects the fog to have followed him here. it's the same part of him which finds himself itching to shift to his night form here in this sunless place, if only for something to be as he knows it should be. but he won't shift, not tonight or ever again, nor will he see the house he left behind. the people he left behind, or parted ways from as they scattered amongst their proper realms. people who won't remember him now, just as runyu doesn't. or maybe a part of them will, just as runyu nearly does. maybe such memories (of him, of ryslig as a whole) will haunt them just the same. he doesn't know which outcome he'd truly prefer. he isn't sure if he wants to haunt anyone, but he has also long since lost the serenity which allows him to be content with being forgotten. either way, there's no changing it now. there's no returning, no trying again.
it's - dizzying, the immensity of it all. in truth, having been left to his own devices for quite so long is as much a blessing as it is a curse. it means no one is there to see while he kneels on the floor and attempts to catch breath that the tension around his lungs won't allow him to draw. while he paces, restless, sleepless despite his intention to rest.
relief comes the following afternoon, in a thoroughly unexpected place. bby then his qi has already healed up some of the lesser wounds, the bandaging hardly bloodied, and on a whim he cut away the bloodied bits and tied a stretch of clean linen around his eyes. and all at once, his world is so terribly small again. small and familiar, a refuge he might retreat to, just as his house in the woods had been. it's removed, of course, for his brief exchanges with kaunglu (though he isn't yet prepared to make good on his offer to talk over tea), but otherwise this is the way he spends much of his time - and it helps. he finds himself able to meditate again, to focus and channel his qi, though he doesn't waste any time in healing his wounds (it's selfish, but they're one of the last bits of ryslig he has).
in fact, that's precisely what he's doing when he hears the knock at the door, sitting crosslegged on the bed with faint tendrils of golden glow drifting between his palms. and half-distracted as he is, he doesn't think to remove the blindfold - simply calls, ) Come in, ( as he starts to taper the flow of qi down to end the meditation. as footsteps approach, he says, ) Forgive me, I'll be done in a moment, ( and though it's slightly more than a moment, a few seconds later the glow does indeed fade. )
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The entreaty to enter stabilizes him further and he pushes the doors open, halting at the sight of the guest meditating in the center, his golden core glowing, with a white blindfold over his eyes. A pang settles in his chest and he looks away, clenching his hand over the mermaid pearl bracelet. A moment later, he flicks his arms behind him and strides into the room, letting the doors close on their own. He takes a seat on his left and closes his eyes to wait his guest out.
The wait serves two purposes, that of giving his guest the courtesy due him and to recall the strength in patience. Even if he desires answers, he is in no hurry to receive them. Time is something he’s always has too much of. It stretches on forever around him and even within in his own hands when manipulating the heavens above. It is a testament that he can abstain from reckless behavior here. ]
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but then he's turning to runyu (though he was occupied, he did track the footsteps and hear where his friend sat down), lips curling in a greeting smile with just the slightest quirk of humor. ) Here I've made you come all the way to my quarters to visit, how terribly inconsiderate of me. ( because it occurs to him now that runyu might very well have been giving him space until he emerged of his own accord. a sightless glance to the door, and - ) I admit that I'm reluctant to venture, if stepping outside summons poor Kuanglu to attend to me. The both of you have done more than enough for me already.
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after a moment, he exhales a laugh-breath, 'gaze' dropping aside. ) Forgive me. All of this feels a bit like a dream that I can't quite make sense of. This realm is so different from either of those which I've known, and yet pieces of it are terribly familiar. ( a beat, and his head tilts a bit, realizing with a pang of something bittersweet in his chest - ) I think I've forgotten how to speak to you as though we're strangers, so I hope you'll be patient with me while I figure it out.
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You may talk to me as you wish, Xingchen. I'm not disinclined to your friendly tone or dismissing the formalities if that is what you wish to do. ( He pauses, chuckling quietly. ) It might take me a few minutes to reciprocate; it's been a long time since someone's asked thus of me. Please have patience with me as I adjust.
[ Truthfully, there is only one occurrence when he's tried to drop all of the walls around him, or even be there as a companion with no worries of his own, but that time has ended in failure for him. Kaunglu has tried, once, but it has been too much, at that time. ]
In the manner of friends, may I ask about the blindfold? You were able to see when you arrived here. Was that.... different in the other realm?
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the question which follows, however, has a hand lifting to brush the linen with light fingertips, a wordless realization. xingchen peels the blindfold off now, revealing a mildly embarrassed expression (more at his not realizing he was still wearing it; he's not embarrassed by the blindfold itself). it's set in his lap now, fingers thoughtlessly smoothing it flat. ) It was, ( he confirms. ) I only just regained my sight in the days before I arrived here, so I'm still not quite accustomed to it. ( and the fact that runyu's mind leapt at once to sightlessness isn't lost on xingchen, since the more obvious guess would be more along the lines of a meditative aid. perhaps this is how it shall be, with runyu quite sure that he can't recall this man who appeared in his throne room, while all of his guesswork or assumptions about xingchen prove far too accurate. is intuition in the heart or the mind?
regardless, he speaks again a moment later. ) It's... grounding, I suppose. ( wearing it now, he means, even though he has his sight. ) It organizes the world in a way that I'm used to. I'm not sure if that makes sense. ( but he doesn't seem terribly bothered by the notion that it might not. if there's a harder habit to break than his informality with runyu, it's his honesty. before his friend disappeared from the peninsula, xingchen would've been hard-pressed to think of a single thing he couldn't simply share with him. even if such things were painful, or perhaps some manner of compliment that runyu wasn't entirely equipped to receive.
which reminds him - his gaze lifts to the man seated beside him now, because: ) You've gotten better. Your music, I mean. ( which begs the question: did he retain the muscle-memory for such a thing? did he have to start anew here, or did all of his practice in ryslig leave him with some sort of foundation on which to build? )
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( Runyu clenches his hand before rising abruptly, turns around, before halting. He flicks his sleeves behind him and faces his guest again in his formal pose, as if to protect himself. He bows. ) Forgive me and thank you, Xingchen. Even if I cannot recall this time you speak of, ( A sigh escapes him. ) If there was a place where I could play openly enough for you to judge my talent, I’m glad it’s remembered in some way. Music … ( His head lowers, eyes falling to the bracelet on his wrist. ) It shouldn’t be shut away like a sin…
[ Runyu closes his eyes, wondering why he’s speaking of so honestly to his guest, a man he has no memory of but he may have dreamed of. He is someone he had failed and yet calls him friend and doesn’t seem to demand anything from him. There’s a trust there, unspoken between them, and it terrifies the Night Immortal.
He’s being a terrible host.
As he has been a horrible leader.
A tear escapes him and he turns away, glaring at the door.
He’s never cried since promising his brother to live.
So why, why, should he lose all composure now?
He almost wishes that Xingchen were blind now, but the selfish desire seems wrong for reasons beyond his own comfort.
Runyu takes another breath. He summons a wall scroll, fingering the thread keeping it closed, before turning around and wordlessly letting it fall open between Xingchen and himself. ]
Do you recognize this?
[ It’s an ink painting of a small cabin set in the middle of a forest, black and white with purposeful sparks of color, red tulips and yellow lilies bordering a table with two people sitting at it, and a purple silhouette on the far side, as if to sneak him in without being called out for it. ]
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and make his dear friend cry, apparently. fingers curl around the blindfold in his lap now, gripping that to suppress the urge to rise to his own feet and wipe that tear and any others away with the edge of his sleeve, because that isn't their friendship anymore. it wouldn't be welcome. instead, he draws a breath with the intent to at the very least apologize, but that's when runyu turns to present a painted scroll.
xingchen's breath huffs out in a quiet rush, hands releasing the blindfold at once to reach out for the scroll - but he remembers himself just before taking hold of the edges, stopping short, withdrawing his hands to curl one around the other against his own chest. belatedly, and perhaps entirely obvious by now, he says - ) Yes, ( and that single word is both delighted and faintly choked, like a bird slipping through grasping fingers and taking flight. his lips press together for a moment, then one hand reaches out again, a shaking fingertip ghosting over one painted window to say, ) This window led to your bedroom.
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( He’s speaking in a rush. ) I’m sorry, Xingchen, that I abandoned you. I don’t have any concrete memories of this time you speak of, but - but I’ve dreamed so many things, as if I spent years there before returning to my torment here, and they refuse to leave me. There’s pain and so much blood, but there’s also something there that’s warming, soothing. It feels like I am home. Something I’ve lost in this realm forever.
I-I don’t know why you’ve come to someone who left you in such a place. It’s wrong. I don’t deserve this trust you offer between us. I don’t deserve your rescue by coming into my life again, and yet- yet… ( His voice drops to a whisper as another tear slips down his cheek. ) I can’t turn you away.
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and he says so very much, a fervent apology, a confession of his dreams and how they feel, a declaration of what he does or doesn't deserve, all of it filling xingchen with a desperate formless ache that he doesn't quite know how to ease. he doesn't know the right thing to say, doesn't know if telling runyu more would be wounding or healing him. he doesn't know why, even at this moment of his beloved friend's distress, he feels an inexplicable swell of relief. he honestly doesn't feel like he knows much of anything at all right this moment, save for the fact that he desperately needs for runyu to stop crying.
his movements are thoughtless, driven by that very need, as he slips down onto the floor as well, arms winding tightly around runyu's shoulders and upper back to pull him into an embrace. and for a few moments (the duration of three or four unsteady breaths as xingchen himself adamantly refuses to cry), it's just that silent embrace - then one hand lifts to smooth down the back of his hair in quiet, urgent need to help, and - ) You- ( the word is choked, and he stops again, exhaling a stubborn breath as he swallows hard to try to get rid of some of the tightness in his throat. then he shakes his head a little. ) My friend, you didn't abandon me. ( his words are shaky, but his tone is so achingly fond. ) You weren't given a choice. ( but that's all he can manage by way of actual speech, so he's whispering now as well. ) You wouldn't have gone by choice. You would have stayed.
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Runyu shuts eyes against the dazzling stardust before him, turning away from the hope as his guilt and regret drowns him. His momentary fear of being rejected by his friend if he were honest replaced by the overwhelming weight of the sins upon his shoulders. ]
You’re wrong, my friend. I’ve run from too much before. How can you know that I wasn’t a coward again and that I took the easiest path to escape the pain there, turning a blind eye to any other torment but my own?
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i'll swap back to no-blindfold icons when i stop needing so many emotional ones
I get you xD ))
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whoops pretend the last tag said 'on the floor around him' rather than bed
Oops xD
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improvising. (late afternoon, a few days after 'settling in'.)
xingchen hasn't seen his dear friend since - but that's fine. it's not as if runyu is gone from this place, and it has been over a decade since xingchen has needed to see someone to feel grounded in their presence. though his actual senses are hardly so sharp as they were throughout his time in ryslig, the return of his qi offers an entirely different sense of the world around him. the life existing therein. and perhaps it's his qi or perhaps it's entirely a trick of his mind, but he can't quite shake the certainty that he can sense runyu's presence somewhere at the edge of his perception, not concretely but well enough to guess at where he might find him if he were to go looking.
and then, of course, there was the music. something his companion never afforded himself before his time in ryslig left him with memories shaped like dreams, but his melodies have broken the quiet of the realm three times now since xingchen's arrival. however mournful some of the melodies might be, it's nonetheless a flicker of warmth melting away at the chill of this realm. it did the same in ryslig, with the chill in runyu's heart. other things did so, as well... the coin tied around his neck, now settled deep in the pocket of xingchen's robe for safekeeping. and the flowers. those helped as well.
xingchen recalled the tale his friend once told, of all the flowers disappearing from the realm save for once, then that one disappearing as well - but only now, in seeing this place, does he truly realize what a tragedy their absence is. the realm is beautiful in much the same way as an ornate memorial crypt, elegant but terribly cold. flowers are precisely what it's missing. and so he set about the task of bringing them back.
it didn't work. of course it didn't. every time xingchen is sure that ryslig has finally burned away what naivety he still contained, he's proven wrong anew - because naive is precisely what he had been. between the library scrolls and kaunglu's ever-helpful presence, he learned the circumstances surrounding the flowers' departure, and through that he learned of precisely who he needed to entreat for their return. but the flower immortals were resolute, and xingchen returned with naught to show for it save for the mild satisfaction of managing to surprise beings far older and more powerful than he. but that doesn't bring flowers back to runyu's home.
anyone else might have felt discouraged.
xingchen, however, did not come all this way just to watch runyu self-isolate in misery simply because he mistakenly feels he deserves it. if the flower immortals won't grant him flowers, he'll make them himself.
the task has proven more difficult than he had hoped, but no more so than expected. a day was spent attempting to cultivate flowers by his own spiritual strength, an attempt he had to make before he could discount the avenue entirely, but now it has been sufficiently discounted and xingchen has looped around to a slightly different approach.
and so, on the fourth morning since the two of them last parted ways, a glowing golden flower is sent to to runyu by way of kaunglu. it isn't entirely out of the blue - she has almost certainly already told him of xingchen's attempt to bargain with the flower immortals and the results thereof. regardless, she has been given polite but firm instructions to deposit it somewhere within runyu's direct vicinity, and to send him to xingchen if he objects. some hours later, when the beast of dreams arrives to visit the night immortal, it's with a similar flower tucked carefully in the 'v' of one little antler.
but it's not until runyu next visits his own quarters that he truly discovers the scope of this endeavor. it's as if a field of luminescent wildflowers has grown up around the path to runyu's room, mostly gold but with an increasing number of blue flowers, red flowers, even luminescent white ones toward the outer edges. and right there before his eyes, one more glowing flower (another blue this time) drifts in, as if on a leisurely breeze, to settle gently at the edge of the array.
if he follows the flowers to their source, he'll find xingchen at the table in the garden just outside of his own quarters. his blindfold has returned, and his forearms rest on the table, hands cupped palm-up as if to scoop water from a basin... but what he's doing seems far less like collecting than creating. a faint glow emits from his palms, brightening as the next flower buds and then blooms. his hands part then, just long enough to 'pluck' the flower at the nonexistent stem and release it vaguely into the air, before they curl palm-up again to begin anew. the flower dutifully drifts off along the path to runyu's quarters, no doubt to join the others.
focused quite thoroughly on his task, xingchen hasn't yet noticed that his friend has arrived. )
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To be honest, pondering what he can offer Xingchen in return for his company takes as much of Runyu’s time than hours of atonement or his duties.
His arrival has completely upset the order inside him, but it’s a different way than when a certain flower fairy crashed into his life. It’s easier to adjust to and somehow more precious.
He should push him to explore the other realms, places with more life in them, even entrust him to his brother. (His heart clenches at the thought.) But he’s too much of coward, again, to do what would be right.
Especially when the first flower appears on top of his scrolls.
And when another is set in the v of the beast of dreams’ antlers.
Any sense of discipline, of propriety, is completely silenced as he runs his fingers through these ethereal petals, examining the spell holding them together only after he’s stared at it for what seems to be hours.
Finding no fault or danger to Xingchen within the spell, he sets one flower in a bowl by his desk and the other in his sleeve.
There is no scent to these but they hold a beauty inside them that makes his heart ache and a fluttering warmth to grow inside him.
He doesn’t deserve these gestures, but he will accept them nonetheless.
However, Runyu can no longer keep up this restrained acceptance when he heads towards his quarters and the field of spiritual flowers greets him, all different shapes and colors. If he were a lesser man, he would have gasped and fallen to his knees. But something must be done to express himself. And so, he turns around, lifting a hand to his face to compose himself, blinking quickly as his heart pounds against his ears before slowly turning around again and trying to take it in without letting his emotions go wild. It’s a foolish, stunning gesture, and if he didn’t see the first two flowers, he would have believed that Xingchen merely missed the color of the real world. But he knows differently. This is another gift for him.
A blue flower drifting on the heavenly breeze brushes against his cheek and Runyu catches it in his hand. Another one passes by him a few minutes later.
Runyu exhales, throat tight. Apprehension, gratitude, regret, and warmth war inside him.
Slowly, he releases the flower, watching it join the others, and eyes suspiciously moist, he turns to follow their trail back to their source.
He’s not sure what he wants to do when he finds Xingchen, but seeing him intent on creating yet more flowers and sending them towards his chambers, leaving none for himself, and with an slight smile on his face, leaves Runyu helpless. He can’t find words to speak and his face is a torn between longing and anxiety. He could sweep this all away with one hand if he willed it, if he let his fear and regret take hold. But he doesn’t.
Slowly, he takes a seat and waits for that flower to float away before speaking, deflecting his turmoil by focusing on his companion. ]
I don’t believe anyone’s passed out with such an endeavor as your own, my friend, but I don’t want to find out. There … are enough flowers now.
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it's the words which draw him back with an abrupt, quiet breath which fills his lungs, his shoulders relaxing fractionally from the stone-still posture he's held for the duration of his efforts, and the flower in his hands halt mid-bloom. after a moment, xingchen sets it carefully on the tabletop, hands lifting instead to slide the bandaging from around his eyes so that he can meet runyu's gaze with a hint of a smile. )
Not nearly, ( he says, though for what it's worth he's stopped for now. the effort isn't taxing, though, at least not yet. all these flowers are required to do is to float a bit and then lie there and glow, and (at risk of immodesty) his cultivation has been abnormally high since long before he left baoshan sanren's tutelage.
after a moment, he tilts his head just slightly and, just a little bit softer now, ) Do you like them?
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He nearly offers an apology for his clumsy inability to reply but decides against it. Such may make the situation worse, and the last thing Runyu wishes to do is make Xingchen regret something as generous as this. He’s not that cruel. ]
I do. They’re more than I’ve seen here in a long time, even when the former emperor created his illusions of flowers.
[ He glance back towards the ethereal wisteria glowing faintly in the back of his garden. He brings a hand up to his lips, an attempt to hide how tricky it is to describe his emotions here. ]
They’re different. Brighter.
Warm
[ He composes himself a few moments later. ]
But it is not worth you overextending yourself. Please take care.
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'i do.' though he doesn't yet look up again, his smile broadens again despite his best efforts to resist. he's glad that runyu likes them, and he's glad that they're different from those of runyu's father or anyone else who treated him poorly within this realm. 'but it is not worth you overextending yourself,' his dear friend argues now, and xingchen hums a fond little hum. ) You'll find that we have rather different opinions regarding your worth, ( he says, the glow in his hands dimming slightly. the flower is at full bloom and needs no further qi from him.
this one isn't released into the air, however. instead, it's deposited lightly onto the table in front of runyu. xingchen's eyes finally lift to meet his again, to say, ) I'm quite resolute on the matter.
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He understands that it may be futile to persuade him away from this task. ]
Why are you so insistent? ( he finally utters, waving a hand at the two gifts. ) With the flowers, I mean. I’m sure you heard what the flower fairies said.
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then runyu averts his gaze, and xingchen watches quietly as he pulls his own flower from his sleeve - admittedly a bit pleased that he kept it close at hand rather than leaving it wherever kaunglu had placed it for him. but now he's setting it on the table, and xingchen can't quite discern if it's just to look at the blooms together or if it's some terribly polite attempt to put his foot down, to put a stop to this thing he doesn't feel that he deserves.
but at the very least, the questions are simple enough to answer. simple enough that he feels very much like he's answered them already in some manner, or at least circled them well enough to make his position clear. regardless, his gaze lingers on the flowers for now as he says, ) I did. ( one hand reaches out to brush fingertips against the edge of the bloom he's just crafted, adjusting a couple of petals that seem a bit crooked but probably aren't. ) Would you like to hear what I said in return?
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[Xingchen gifted the flowers to him. There's no reason for him to harm or take them away -- and there's no reason for Runyu to feel possessive of such small things, either. ]
( It takes a moment for Runyu to realize how his words may be taken, and he speaks again to keep that from becoming true. The last thing he wishes to do is to make his friend uncomfortable because he's expressed himself in a way that has led Xingchen to believe that he doesn't care. He does. He's only unsure how to answer the worthiness his friend regards him with. ]
If you believe the tale is worth telling. I don't want to remind you of any futile feelings on the matter. The flower fairies have been set against the heavens since before I was born.... and honestly, their reasoning is far from petty.
The heavens and I have earned this animosity with our own hands.
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but he also knows the folly of painting the entirety of the 'heavens' with one clumsy brush. there are exceptions, in each and every case. jiang wanyin. hanguang-jun, at last he heard. and here in this realm, runyu may very well have caused great harm as well, but there's a difference between those who cause harm out of privilege and those who cause harm as they flinch away from the pain of a wound inflicted upon them. runyu has always been the latter. xingchen is more certain of this than of most anything else, anymore.
he ceases his fussing now, leaving the flowers unbothered as he retracts his hands to rest them on the table before him, one clasped over the other. and he lifts his gaze to runyu again, whether or not his friend will return it. )
I told them that the heavens are empty now of all of those who did them harm, save for one. One single immortal remains, who sees no other way but to torture himself over that which he's brought to pass. Much like they do, he thinks himself only capable of harm - but he isn't. I myself have seen that he's capable of great good as well, even if the immortal himself doesn't recall. All that he needs is acceptance, care. Things which so many take for granted, perhaps, but they've never once been afforded him.
And I told them, of course, that I don't presume to try to tell them that this immortal - or I, myself - could ever begin to make up for all that they've lost. But... ( his gaze drops back to the table now, brow knitting just slightly, his focus on drawing his past words to mind - or at least the gist of them. recalling what comes next, his lips curl slightly at the corners. ) I told them that, perhaps it might sound silly, but I've always had a sort of admiration for flowers. Autumn might drown them in rain and then winter might freeze them or bury them in snow - and yet, come spring, they grow anew.
I told them that this realm has been drowned, buried in snow, and frozen through. Nearly all who wounded the flower immortals are gone now, save for one who was wounded quite gravely before he hurt anyone else in turn. And perhaps that doesn't excuse his actions, and perhaps nothing can - that's certainly how the immortal feels, perpetuating his own wounds, isolating himself in that frigid winter as he's so sure he deserves.
But I told them that I would be indescribably grateful if they might allow me to bring flowers back to this realm. To bring about that spring for the night immortal to grow anew, as well.
( xingchen lets all of that hang in the air for a good few seconds - a little time for the words to sink in, for runyu to make his way through at least a few of the feelings (or internal protests) they've brought to bear. and then his hands shift, unclasping to once again cup delicately around a hollow space which soon begins to glow. ) Understand that I've no 'futile feelings' on the matter, ( he says, the initial bud of a sunset-orange flower forming now between his palms. ) I'm quite capable of bringing about the spring on my own.
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Fortunately, before he’s utterly undone, Xingchen ends his story with another declaration of his intent to make spring on his own. The teasing, taunting note prompts a shaky laugh. His turmoil calms and he releases a breath to still any lingering discontent. Regaining that semblance of composure so to offer better conversation to his friend. ]
If that is your wish, then I won’t stop you. ( He tilts his head to the side. ) Such may even be a problematic endeavor and would require more time than is beneficial if attempted. ( He pauses, the calm freezing yet again, shifting between apprehension and intrigue, foolish yearning and the lingering darker fear ripped out from his psyche. ) But do not harm yourself over this and don’t deprive yourself of such a sight. It’s unfair.
[ What a safe, pitiful manner to describe himself, and yet those meager words are all he can offer in lieu of asking his friend to take care of himself at this time. As he is now, he has little right to ask anything of anyone, even more so when he won’t allow Xingchen to share that realm which binds them together. It may seem a kind gesture, but he knows all too well how even those words can destroy a person’s ability to choose for themselves. It’s better to let ambiguity stand between them until Runyu can choose to safeguard his words and actions.
If such is possible at this late time.
He’s already stepped further towards him than he should while he remains in this miasma. ]
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fortunately (if somewhat surprisingly), whatever objection may have been forming in his dear friend's mind seem to fall away in favor of something much closer to acquiescence. acquiescence and acknowledgment that contesting xiao xingchen on this may be far more trouble than it's worth, a declaration which curves his mouth into an amused and mildly self-satisfied quirk of a smile. it has taken impressively little time for runyu to come to terms with the severity of xingchen's stubbornness, far less than it did in ryslig proper. has he grown more stubborn over the years, or simply learned how best to fondly bully some sort of surrender out of runyu in particular? it's difficult to say. both, perhaps.
next comes the token attempt to appeal to his self-preservation, and that little smile broadens to something softer and warmer. the sunset-orange bloom between his palms is taking on a somewhat different shape, with five long and slightly pointed petals rather than the wealth of lotus-esque petals the rest of the flowers bear. and as he speaks, it seems to shift a bit - to roll onto one side, with another similar flower forming just beside it, attached to the first by the bit of 'stem' now poking out from the blossom's base. )
I'm quite certain, ( he says, warm and perhaps a bit contemplative, ) That you would prefer not to invite my candid thoughts on what is or isn't fair. ( since the vast majority of them pertain to runyu, and stand in direct opposition of what the immortal himself believes that he deserves. ) While these flowers do draw from my qi in order to bloom, rest assured that they do so too slowly to truly exhaust me. ( as for depriving himself of the sight of them, these flowers are negligible compared to the sight which he truly aspires to see - runyu's smile, however briefly it may be - but that is, perhaps, too bold to declare at this particular juncture. it goes well enough without saying, regardless.
as for the flowers in his palm, by now a third connected bloom is nearly done. soon a fourth will begin, then a fifth and a sixth, slowly but surely (over the next few minutes) forming the faintly-glowing tower of a vivid orange hyacinth. xingchen doesn't expect runyu to recall the hyacinths he stationed in front of their woodland home, but perhaps he might like it regardlss. )
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Runyu doesn’t recognize the flower created. Most of the flowers in his dreams are but impressions of colors more than actual shapes, and it had taken him numerous attempts of painting them with the cabin to create the landscape that had pulled Xingchen and himself together. But he can hardly miss the detail with which his friend has crafted the hyacinth before his very eyes. The slow yet steady process brings to mind another time, of his own slow routine of caring for the night cereus so long ago. Of the satisfaction that filled him of coming closer to fulfilling a wish. He reaches out, tempted to feel the small star-shaped petals, but stops himself.
The reason for that hesitation is unclear.
Being underserving of the gift or a reluctance to harm it.
He glances back over to Xingchen and then away, wondering if the more complex spell will hold if his friend attempts to send it away.
A lump catches in his throat and he rises from his seat, hesitating again before waving his hand, a tall pottery pot with earth appearing at their side.
That same hand quickly flips behind his back afterwards as he speaks. ]
This one is taller. It would be a waste of your effort if it failed on the journey to the flowerbed. This way, that won’t happen.
[ Runyu is turned aside, not quite looking at Xingchen, not quite moving away. ]
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A week or two later - when the flow is disturbed
Xingchen’s earnest gestures were too auspicious to accept in his condition for long, not as someone who had grown used to the hollow regrets that weighed him down in each exchange between Xufeng and himself. His brother had cut the chains of despair from him, but in that same moment, he had set forth the sentencing of his atonement. And in the present state, his generous eyes neither condemned or judged him when he visited, and yet that compromise seemed all the more distancing for Runyu. When still, his brother was better than he at the conclusion of their war.
Xufeng had grown out of his suffering — to put it in painful terms of poetry, he’d found his eternal spring with his flower.
A spring in which Runyu would never belong, even if that spring would offer her forgiveness.
His own hands had destroyed enough there.
And yet the gentle gaze of Xingchen, someone he’d left far behind, in another war nonetheless, did not cause such pains for the Night Immortal. His smile did not expose another hole in his psyche, a loss that Runyu would carefully cover in another period of solitude and work. No whispers of deceit or graceful lies rose to his mind to darken the confessions gifted him because even the filthy corruption within him remained dormant. He didn’t understand it, and such lack of knowledge, of foresight into the situation, left him bereft of his usual composure to handle the situations. And without that discipline, he worried what he could do.
Xingchen trusted him, but even if the darkness within lay quiet, Runyu would not extend that same faith to himself.
He’d proven himself to be lacking in that area of genteel behavior.
However, even if he kept his distance, as the Heavenly Emperor and the Night Immortal, Runyu kept the presence of Xingchen in mind, learning his routine and smiling, albeit briefly, when the man seemed to be content in his little garden and house. Even when Kaunglu and himself had extended him an invitation to explore the heavens as he wished, he didn’t seem to go far beyond the library. Sometimes, he allowed himself to wonder if he were waiting for company for such exploration, but he didn’t dwell on these ideas long. Weighted by the wrongs he had committed and the loss echoing deep in him, too many wishes, too much warmth hurt to contemplate for long. When in forced seclusion again. And when much of his existence was as cold as his torn soul. But Runyu couldn’t ignore his presence, even when at a distance from him.
Not that the flowers allowed him to.
Xingchen’s flowers had continued to fill his corners of the vast realm, filling his garden, Xingchen’s own garden (at his own insistence), and even outside the library. They had yet to reach the throne room, and Runyu was at peace with that absence. Not sure he could accept such color in that arena of pain and deceit.
He was still at a loss on how he could ever attempt to repay his new companion for his generosity. Stubbornness aside, the scope of his gifts were too much to equal with any simple thing.
Perhaps that’s why when his friend did not leave his room on time Runyu found himself deviating from his original path, turning away from his walk of sins and returning towards the guest houses on the other side of the other side of the royal palaces. His pace may had been quicker than his usual stride, too, but he did not allow himself to consider that meaning. This was necessary.
Foolish, too, if nothing were amiss.
He halted at the steps to his friend’s new abode, breathing in. Hesitating. Before going farther. Before showing such a sign of regard. ]