( 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. ]
( when tentative fingertips reach out for the flower blooming, xingchen carefully fails to take visible notice - fails to draw attention to it, in case runyu might actually allow himself to touch it.
no such luck, of course. instead, the hand gives a wave as if that was the reason it hovered all along, and there on the ground beside them appears a lovely flowerpot. 'it would be a waste of your effort if it failed on the journey to the flowerbed,' runyu is saying, but xingchen only halfway hears it. the hyacinth has even paused (if only briefly) in its blooming as he looks at this flowerpot summoned so considerately from the ether, a smile both wondering and deeply amused blooming instead at the edges of his lips.
but if runyu wonders why, he won't be left wondering for long: soon xingchen lifts his gaze back to his dear sweet flowerpot-manifesting companion, lips pressing together a moment to swallow back as much mirth as he possibly can, then: ) You've put soil in it. ( oh, but he sounds so terribly endeared, and it's just a second or two more before his composure cracks in an exhaled laugh-breath, leaving behind a bright and largely involuntary little grin (which he would certainly cover with a hand if he had one to spare, but alas, he does not). ) Runyu, I've made it from qi. It doesn't even have roots. What could it possibly want with soil?
[ Runyu starts, opening his mouth to explain away his obvious mistake, and yet closes his mouth, covering it a moment later to hide a faint blush to his chilled cheeks. He’s never done something so ridiculous as this before. And Xingchen’s laughing. He should be mad or at least indignant — he can’t allow such a jest to pass — but the smile and laughter coming from his companion disarm him of the ability to argue. The gentle peels don’t seem scornful or mocking but express a warmth that reminds Runyu of another’s long, long ago. One almost forgotten.
Xufeng.
The brother he betrayed completely and who forgave him and invited him in his house. But even if their bond had somehow survived, their relationship has changed. Runyu rarely lingers at his home. He comes and goes. His brother is finally free. And as the one who caused much of the anguish he had gone through, Runyu can not tarry in his simple, peaceful abode.
Hearing something similar now, in his realm, is unheard of.
He doesn’t know how to respond. Forming words in face of such goodness is hard enough, let alone combatting his amusement with reasoning.
And yet… he tries. ]
I only tended to one. I-I didn’t know these wouldn’t need such things.
( if warmth disarms runyu, then he'll unfortunately find that he's disarmed more often than not, so long as he hosts xingchen here in this realm. because lo and behold, both the blush rising on runyu's cheeks and the fumbled attempt at self-defense make him all the more endearing still, though xingchen does urge the hyacinth between his hands to continue its blooming in case that manages to divert enough attention to spare runyu any further chagrin. )
You only recall tending to one, ( he corrects, still fairly light in tone but no longer properly teasing. ) In truth, you've cared for quite a number of them. ( though it seems benign enough not to cross into that which runyu would prefer not to talk about just yet, xingchen's gaze remains focused on the flower as he speaks. it's nearly done, just a few buds left to bloom, and paying attention to that gives runyu the option to sidestep it altogether without the unintended pressure of xingchen's gaze. )
[ Runyu opens his mouth to respond again before halting as Xingchen continues to coax life or form from the spelled flower. He is both loathe to let his petty argument ruin the moment as well as compelled to silence by the little detail offered him . It’s a a strange, wondrous belief that he would have the heart to touch another flower after destroying the brightest flower in his life.
But it is an idea that is too far away to consider now.
He lets out a breath. ]
Perhaps in another realm where I haven’t committed such grave sins I could, but even if the fairies were to return them here, I don’t deserve to be the caretaker of another such weak, fragile beauty.
[ Runyu glances away, back to the dark silent sky that has kept him company for so many eternities, as if speaking of this sin, even indirectly, has awoken the pain of the events. To be honest, it hasn't. There's nothing to awake when it's never truly faded. When it remains as a fated weariness inside him even now. ]
They're safer letting the spirits of the elements take that task for them.
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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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no such luck, of course. instead, the hand gives a wave as if that was the reason it hovered all along, and there on the ground beside them appears a lovely flowerpot. 'it would be a waste of your effort if it failed on the journey to the flowerbed,' runyu is saying, but xingchen only halfway hears it. the hyacinth has even paused (if only briefly) in its blooming as he looks at this flowerpot summoned so considerately from the ether, a smile both wondering and deeply amused blooming instead at the edges of his lips.
but if runyu wonders why, he won't be left wondering for long: soon xingchen lifts his gaze back to his dear sweet flowerpot-manifesting companion, lips pressing together a moment to swallow back as much mirth as he possibly can, then: ) You've put soil in it. ( oh, but he sounds so terribly endeared, and it's just a second or two more before his composure cracks in an exhaled laugh-breath, leaving behind a bright and largely involuntary little grin (which he would certainly cover with a hand if he had one to spare, but alas, he does not). ) Runyu, I've made it from qi. It doesn't even have roots. What could it possibly want with soil?
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Xufeng.
The brother he betrayed completely and who forgave him and invited him in his house. But even if their bond had somehow survived, their relationship has changed. Runyu rarely lingers at his home. He comes and goes. His brother is finally free. And as the one who caused much of the anguish he had gone through, Runyu can not tarry in his simple, peaceful abode.
Hearing something similar now, in his realm, is unheard of.
He doesn’t know how to respond. Forming words in face of such goodness is hard enough, let alone combatting his amusement with reasoning.
And yet… he tries. ]
I only tended to one. I-I didn’t know these wouldn’t need such things.
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You only recall tending to one, ( he corrects, still fairly light in tone but no longer properly teasing. ) In truth, you've cared for quite a number of them. ( though it seems benign enough not to cross into that which runyu would prefer not to talk about just yet, xingchen's gaze remains focused on the flower as he speaks. it's nearly done, just a few buds left to bloom, and paying attention to that gives runyu the option to sidestep it altogether without the unintended pressure of xingchen's gaze. )
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But it is an idea that is too far away to consider now.
He lets out a breath. ]
Perhaps in another realm where I haven’t committed such grave sins I could, but even if the fairies were to return them here, I don’t deserve to be the caretaker of another such weak, fragile beauty.
[ Runyu glances away, back to the dark silent sky that has kept him company for so many eternities, as if speaking of this sin, even indirectly, has awoken the pain of the events. To be honest, it hasn't. There's nothing to awake when it's never truly faded. When it remains as a fated weariness inside him even now. ]
They're safer letting the spirits of the elements take that task for them.