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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no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. )
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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. )
no subject
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.