lan sizhui ♪ the untamed (open post)

[deferences]

Comments

@mannerless (tfln)

[deferences]

[continued from here]


Oh, I see. Is this not something that could've been remedied by wearing the mask you carry around? Or are you with people where it does not matter? (For what it may be worth, my face doesn't always help, either.)

As I said: drink more. Keep your mouth busy.

[which is probably the exact opposite of what he should be encouraging, but sizhui'd rather not walk into an argument or worse— an outright fight.]

@concisions (tfln)

[deferences]

[continued from here]


Jingyi, Jin Ling, Ouyang Zizhen, and a few others.

[concisions]

Too many to handle on your own. You were right to text me.

@legbreakings (tfln)

[deferences]

[continued from here]


[he has been Shamed. :(]

Yes, of course. I'll try catching the rabbit myself next time rather than bother you. Again, I am sorry for your troubles and if you happen to change your mind, I still have salve that could help ease the discomfort.

[legbreakings]

Don't act pathetic.

[ Regret. There it is.

So much for trying to... Well. Trying. To do something there. Some kind of offered olive branch. He kinda burnt that olive branch, huh? ]

You're too old for whimpering.

@sadflutenoises (tfln)

[deferences]

[continued from here]


Perhaps, but what excuse would we have to all go out together? [also: will lan wangji be accompanying them?]

I'm sorry, Xian-gege. I've just gotten used to being the one who looks after everyone else while they drink. Ah, but if you had this sort of tolerance, it would truly be much easier for... a lot of people.

[sadflutenoises]

Doesn't the great Hanguang Jun suggest cultivators go where the chaos is? Whether great or small? Surely it's never a bad time for juniors to gain experience. [If Wei Wuxian has any say in the matter, absolutely.]

If all else fails. I can be VERY convincing.

I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities to play mother hen to the other fledglings. Would it be easier? I can't recall the last time I was too drunk to walk home, but I'm happy to make the attempt the next chance I get~

let's go with a selection of tfln

[fairyherder]

1. Did u pay ur friends to not make fun of me?
2. I've decided that it's a bad thing. But I've also decided that I don't give a fuck.
3. I just woke up in my locked bathroom. It's 5 PM. What happened?
4. I said "one day" and that day is not today.
5. I will kick you in all of your body parts. All at once.

god i... i laughed so hard at that last one LMAO (2 is tempting for the f bomb but lets go 5)

[deferences]

[all of his body parts, all at once? okay, well, his attention has effectively been grabbed because now he has to know:]

And how exactly do you plan to do that?

@angrysongs (tfln)

[deferences]

[continued from here]


[being quite honest, sizhui doesn't know, either; he's simply doing whatever zewu-jun asks him to. although this case is technically different in the fact that he volunteered for the plain and simple reason that he wants to help. if that means being kind and respectful to someone who many people don't think deserves such niceties, then so be it.

and from what the message says in return, it seems like meng yao is going to try, at least.]

So long as you're sure, I'll not worry about it as much. [oh, there is absolutely something he could say to make jin guangyao upset beyond belief— isn't it nice that sizhui isn't that type of person, though?

accepting his gift, like sizhui's something that special! he is, but don't call him out for not believing.] I'm collecting my things then I'll go by the kitchen and be there soon.

[angrysongs]

[ It is very fortunate indeed that Lan Sizhui isn't the kind of person to upset others, even if these others have done so much more to his uncle than simply to upset him. Jin Guangyao isn't unaware either how exceptional such kindness is, though he is now working on himself to actually give Sizhui the benefit of the doubt. Or at least a reasonable pretense of it, if he can't bring himself to actually believe in his goodness.

It is still so hard to trust that anyone other than Lan Xichen himself may be willing to give him a chance, or not to see enemies wherever he looks. ]

Thank you for informing me how long you will be, Lan-gongzi, it is very attentive of you, but I can assure you, there is no danger that you will find me otherwise occupied. [ A hint of humor, maybe, to lighten the mood? ]

♪ right from the start, you were a thief, you stole my heart

[deferences]

[on the side of the road is where sizhui finds this bizarrely-dressed stranger. whoever he is, it's quite obvious he's not from around anywhere nearby and if he were to leave him, there's a likely chance the poor foreigner would first: be imprisoned then secondly: be executed when he has no way of explaining his whereabouts before he arrived here.

what's also extremely convenient? the fact he rode horseback rather than fly on his sword or else carrying jason would've proved far more difficult than simply setting him on the mare's back behind himself.

the ride to the inn isn't rushed, either. he takes it nice and easy the whole way, manages piggybacking his injured party most of the walk inside before ultimately having to set him down near the stairs. it's a wonder the innkeeper lets him stay, but he'll chalk it up to luck (plus being of the lan clan) and take whatever he's given. right now, that's just the awkwardness of the proprietor watching him – as carefully as possible – maneuver jason upstairs, inside the room then onto the bed. after taking a brief moment for checking the male's breathing, sizhui slumps down beside the bed's edge, takes some odd minutes to catch his own breath then immediately gets back to his feet to gather supplies.

when he returns again, it's with a small bucket of lukewarmish water, clean cloths, bandages, and medicines, the former two things which are getting used right away. channeling his qi into his injured guest lets him know everything's fine aside from what's on the surface and— oh. oh no, wait, his arm is... definitely broken? except that's alright, all of those wounds outside are easily handled and the bone can at least be halfway mended. this guy's gonna be unhappy with his situation once he wakes, but it's better than being decapitated.

fixing and setting jason's arm he does first, so once he likely starts stirring, sizhui's leaned over him, using the remaining unsoiled rag for cleaning the cuts along his face.]

[afuckup]

(one step off and one long fall, that's it. everyone hates him. they hate him so much they're blaming him for shit he doesn't even know about. he wasn't good enough for bruce. dick knew better than to even let him try, knew he was a fuck up from the start... and jason went and proved it. nearly fucking died.

not like it's the first time. it's been his whole damn life, he thinks, standing there on the ledge. bounced between foster care and juvie, because no one can fucking stand him. conner shouldn't be laid in the infirmary bed, jason should be six foot down. he's fucking a curse. he's so sick and tired of it. he thought he had this one nice thing going and like every other goddamn time, he fucks it up.

dick tries to talk him down, you know. but it's so fucking half-hearted, man. it's a joke. what a fucking joke. no one can fix him, no one wants to waste their time with his bullshit.

he jumps.

he wakes up, slow and groggy with a pained groan, eyes fluttering open at the soft feeling of a rag cleaning his face. blurry, he makes out a pretty, elegant face. long hair. an angel, his dumb groggy mind wonders. he's dead. except when the rag presses against his face, the fibers of it are rough on a cut, stinging and that has realization hitting him quick and abruptly he's pushing himself to sit up with a gasp like he's waking from a nightmare. another groan follows quick, face twisted up with the pain of a fucked up arm. he craddles it to his chest.) Who the fuck are you? (he asks, voice rough and raw and unsure. he's supposed to be dead.)

@levamen (tfln)

[deferences]

[continued from here]


Me too! It's okay though, I don't really mind taking the reins for a little bit.

[there's just one slightly minor detail he may have forgotten to mention:] Doesn't seem like any of us will be going anywhere soon.

[levamen]

A-Yuan. Explain.

♪ fightin' for my trust and you won't back down, even if we gotta risk it all right now

[deferences]

[it's after work one day – damn near close to almost the one month mark of jason's birthday back where he'd accidentally messed everything up (???) by inviting dick inside – when sizhui stops at the nearby corner store to collect junk food to take home. because if there's something he's fallen in love with, it's having sweets at his fingertips. while roaming the aisle for gummy snacks, he sees an advertisement for alcohol and an idea briefly flickers through his thoughts: jay's been known to leave some stuff behind in the house, so surely he wouldn't miss a shot or two? there's no way the cashier won't card him, after all.

hmmm, as sizhui considers, decides on a slushee he can sip during the walk back that will cover the taste.

vodka, it turns out, is quite stronger than rice or fruit wine and when mixed with a partially-melted cherry sugar-sludge, one can hardly taste the alcohol. the unfortunate part ends up being he finishes the bottle (which is fine, he'll buy jason more to replace it), but once sizhui's gotten through almost the entire cup, his inhibitions have lowered enough that he doesn't just text dick, oh no. this intoxicated fool pulls up the number, dials then presses the phone to his ear, waiting patiently while it trills. what are you going to say? who knows, to be honest? words seem like they'll come easier without self-consciousness and he's sorely lacking every single bit of it right now.

something about drinks, he finally fixates on. and jason. since dick evidently feels a way about him he hasn't quite put his finger on yet. ‘brothers’ seems like a placeholder; sizhui saw how dick stared though, won't ever forget it or the way it'd made he himself react.

by the time the line clicks through, he's significantly emboldened (and bordering on almost uncomfy with how warm he is, though he'll handle that at a later moment).] Dick? [he murmurs against the mouthpiece, clearing his throat and slurring the faintest amount in spite of himself,] I'm s-sorry, I hope this isn't a bad time...

[thank the stars, sizhui's reminded to wait for an answer before just seguing right into whatever else he has to say; because he'd hate to interrupt if now does happen to be an inconvenient time, but especially so while he's under the influence.]

♪ i know you're scared of the unknown, you don't wanna be alone

[farcry]

[ It’s been a month of slowly but surely pushing that day’s events out of his mind. Dick knows what he’s given to Jason doesn’t truly have anything to do with how things will play out in the future. He’d gifted the bo staff with no presumptions, no expectations, and all in all, he knows he should just be content with the fact that Jason had accepted it.

Jason’s happy with Sizhui. Jason’s working his life out, it seems. And in the end, what he really wanted for Jason was for him to step away from the violence, step away from Robin. And if that included stepping away from him, then, that was fine.

Wasn’t it?

A month and he’s slowly been able to refocus on the Titans. They’ve finally taken down a drug ring they’ve been tracking for a few weeks, and the celebration is a delicious meal and more drinks than he’s allowed himself to have for a long time. Clean up wraps and Dick’s back in his room, stretched out propped on some pillows to read a few pages before he’ll pass out. His phone rings and he lifts a brow at the caller ID. Sizhui. Huh. They’ve been texting back and forth as he tries to nip the habit of checking on Jason now and then, but Sizhui hasn’t ever called before. ]

Hey [ comes his greeting, warm and easy as he answers, before Sizhui’s voice and apology comes through. He sounds slightly—hm, what is it? Out of it? Worried? Slurred? ] Nah, I’m not doing anything. [ There’s a tinge of confusion and concern in his voice that dampens the buzz ever so slightly. ]

What’s up? Everything alright?

♪ now you're feeling fine, hold your body next to mine, if you're feeling so inclined

[farcry]

[ It’s inappropriate and he really ought to be ashamed of it, but he also knows that it’d get weird real fast if he didn’t come. Sizhui had invited him before any of what happened next followed during that phone call. They hadn’t talked about it. They had both been inebriated enough, Dick had been out of it and riding on a high of a mission well done and it was among the worst decisions he had ever made.

He should have cut the conversation off, said good night, and left it at that. The moment Sizhui started talking about Jason with that tone in his voice, Dick should have stopped it. But it was a strange mix of curiosity, guilt, desire that had him continuing. Truth is, they both saw each other and the way they’d been fascinated by that star black bo staff in Jason’s hands.

And here he is again. For drinks. For a test of his resolve, maybe. He grips a pack of beers in a hand while the other raises, hesitates for a single beat, before rapping in quick succession at the door. ]

[deferences]

[improperness is the furthest thing from sizhui's mind whenever a knock finally comes at the door.] I've got it! [he calls, knowing full-well it's better that he greet dick rather than jason since if it were vice-versa, this wouldn't even have a chance of getting off the ground.

with the three-tiered table set tucked away in the closet and the extra chair pushed up against the foot of their bed, there's now an open space between the living room and kitchen for him to easily scamper through, giggling his whole way to the door because of course he's already tipsy. he'd picked particularly this time: watermelon-flavored schnapps blended with frozen lemonade, something super sugary that goes down easy— which is why his mostly empty glass when he answers the door shouldn't be too surprising.

sizhui stands before dick clad all in black, the ribbon around his neck and microfiber tights covering his legs included. he surely makes quite a sight, even has his hair done up, neatly brought together by the flower pin securing the braid behind his ear (both of which are flushed at the tips).] Hello, Dick. [then he shuffles back a step or two, gestures him inside with the slightest tilt of his glass, though sounds far more enthusiastic once he continues,] Come in, come in!

♪ everything collapses around me, overwhelms and astounds me; a terrible truth

[deferences]

[mid-autumn comes far quicker than he ever could have anticipated.

life falls into a steady rhythm even with an unexpected guest; they both wake up at six am, have breakfast, exchange a few words here or there as lan sizhui prepares for the day then he heads out, leaving jason to his own devices. whatever those may be, he isn't sure, he's always simply trusted his friend to stay hidden. he's there when he returns at the end of every day, so what worries should he have? (many, he has many despite never having the courage to question it.) regardless, at nine pm each night, they're asleep together, wake up and do it all over again the following morning.

today, however, is different. he comes back earlier in the evening – thank goodness, jason is here whenever he does! – and announces they'll be going out, explains the festival, what it entails and so on. he surprises jason with a set of robes, tailor-made just for him, measurements having been snuck while he wasn't paying attention. what the actual surprise might be is sizhui stepping out from behind the screen divider in his own set, quite reminiscent to a particular someone he knows. mostly, his intention was catching jason off-guard by wearing his favorite colors too, which works better than he would've expected.

much to his surprise, everything goes rather smoothly. almost too easy, one might think, although the younger boy doesn't consider, especially not when they are in town and making merry.]

Did you enjoy yourself? [sizhui's hoping the traditional mooncakes they shared during the festivities were just as good as he'd gushed about, along with the wine: gusu's famous emperor's smile. he knows he's not supposed to drink, but it's part of celebrating, right? there's no harm in a glass, which quickly became another then another and— well, he's got the faintest stumble in his usual step on their way back to cloud recesses. some backwoods way, obviously, seeing as there's no possible chance of sneaking through the front gate like this. (gods bless lan jingyi, his being privy to the secret paths and his willingness to share them with a friend!) because let's not mention the soft small-talk or how slinking through the back mountain is noisier than usual, it's lucky they'll be far enough away from anyone that might've stayed behind.

once they reach the small pagoda outside his bedroom, that's where he leads rather than inside, guiding them deftly across the stone bridge to sit on the bench. there are still fireworks popping off above them and those are undoubtedly distracting, yet he's far more captivated by how handsome jason looks in his robes; it's a wonder he doesn't make some drunken move right then but his self-control, staring aside, is blessedly firm.

perhaps he looks ridiculous, gawking at him all giddily, blinking dreamily through the lingering alcohol-induced haze after he realizes. sizhui seems unbothered still, just closes his mouth, keeps watching him, enjoying the comfortable silence that's settled between them.]

[afuckup]

[ it's weird how he's managed to fall into a pattern goddamn centuries away from where he should be. hell, that's being generous. he should be dead, not in some weird version of ancient china. sizhui makes it easy, somehow. doesn't mean that jason completely behaves, can't stay shut up all day on lockdown, but he makes it look good. he's always back by the time sizhui is.

but when he comes back one day to announce that jason gets to go to a festival with him, sizhui gets nothing but skeptical looks. he's been pretty clear on the wanting to keep jason out of sight and even with the nice robes, he sticks out like a sore thumb. the whole not asian thing not working in his favor. but sizhui means it, even coming out with some robes of jason's favorite colors. he's said it more times than he could count that white robes were a dumb idea, but he still isn't expecting it. definitely proves his point. sizhui looks good in red and black.

the festival is cool, feels like something out of a foreign movie instead of real life; it's surreal. it doesn't feel any more real when they're slinking through the backwoods and the little buzz thrumming through jason's veins from the alcohol just makes it seem cooler. when sizhui asks, he doesn't have any qualms saying how they should have festivals more often. he doesn't have a single complaint when sizhui forgoes the comfort of the soft bed inside and they cross the little stone bridge to the benches outside. the scenery is kinda worth it.

any given day sizhui is too pretty, but the dark robes and the atmosphere and scenery have him killing it.] Think you should wear these robes more often... [ he comments, thinking that the dark colors look so good on him. they're sitting comfortably close; jason loose and warm from the alcohol. it takes him a minute to realize he isn't the only one staring and how close their heads have gotten when he shifted. the knot in his throat only grows, something bearable with the liquid courage in his blood.] What are you looking at? [he asks, the tone of his quiet voice forced into something jokingly rough.] Got something on my face?

got it bad got it bad got it bad

[zidianing]

It's been a long goddamn day full of grading and if he hears one more smartass quote another wikipedia article, Jiang Cheng swears he's going to just fail the entire class on purpose.

He'd already gotten rid of the maroon waistcoat and pulled his violet tie loose. Hell, he'd even unbuttoned the top few buttons of his lavender button down. Doesn't matter. Wei Wuxian's already left for the day and his is the only light on in the entire department. It's late. The last classes of the day had already been dismissed and fuck if Jiang Cheng has forty papers to still get through in the next few days.

He could also be frustrated because of Wei Wuxian's jailbait like student who keeps showing up like he walked out of a goddamn Lolita novel. Cherry lollipops, innocent bends here and there, asking him questions even when he's not in his class.

He curses and gets up, pacing his office like a caged tiger.

h-h-h-hot for teacher

[deferences]

Even after his last class, Lan Sizhui had stayed behind in the lab, waving all his friends on while he continued with dissecting plants and dyeing cells, examining things underneath microscopes, writing down each and every note necessary to the project due the next morning. Chamomile flowers with their anxiolytic and sedative properties for anxiety and relaxation; Echinacea for treating or preventing colds, flu, and infections, and for wound healing. Milk thistle, Saint John's wort, and a whole other handful of flora they've been studying for weeks on end in preparation for this upcoming quiz. (Ginseng, he's learned, is not only another cure-all, but an aphrodisiac as well? Fascinating—)

He's tired though, bleary-eyed from squinting into eyepieces, twisting lens and switching out multitudes of slides, he finally figures it's time to call it a night.

As Sizhui's wandering down the hall, however, he notices one lone light still on; Jiang Cheng's, of course, and in spite of his earlier decision to head back to his dorm, who is he to pass up such a golden opportunity? They – he, mostly, let's be real – have been doing this tentative dance for a few weeks now, a slow baiting with Sizhui waiting for the perfect moment, which has presented itself tonight of all evenings.

Unfortunately, he hasn't got any lollipops, but he does have a watermelon hard-candy he pops into his mouth after slipping out of his oversized hoodie and deftly twisting his hair back in a messy half bun, leaving him looking comfortably mussed in white skinny-style jeans and an azure, buttery-soft long-sleeved knit tunic.

He approaches the door, tucks the sweatshirt into his arms, squares his shoulders then gently raps on the door, doing everything within his power to fight back the smirk attempting to creep across his features. Not yet, he thinks, not until you get inside.

@ team threesome

[nightwinged]

[ There's a good reason they're here, but he doesn't think it's for a dip in the hot spring. When everyone has talked it up so much, Dick couldn't quite so no, not to a little prize for all their hard work.

And mostly because apparently it's expected. They traveled all this way here for the hot spring, right? Right.

After what was close to pulling teeth, they're here. A hot springs sounds great to him, but Jason doesn't seem like he's as big of a fan. Sweat washed off, but tense under the little nip in the air, they make their way out to the springs. The moon is over head, combining with the dim glow of hanging line lights in creating a cozy, warm atmosphere.

Dick stands at the edge, the warm steam billowing up over the spring's blue water. This time of night, they've got it to themselves seemingly. He glances back at Jason, raising a brow with a smirk. ]

Are you still complaining?

[knucklesbloody]

⟨ Jason stood quite a few steps from the edge. A towel clutched around his waist. That steam felt so inviting and it was beautiful. A nice way to end a long day hidden behind various disguises and suits, right? No. Know why? Cause Jason didn't do nice things. His entire body was taut and tense and wound so tight it could snap. ⟩

I'm not fucking complaining, Dick. ⟨ Sue him if he felt uncomfortable without a knife nearby. It'd taken a lot of convincing for them to even get to the point of working together and now a fucking hot spring? You've gotta be kidding. He shuffled away, trying to put some distance between them. Hesitating a moment, Jay stepped closer to the edge. ⟩ Keep your eyes off, pervert.

[merlinastrice]

Couldn't there just simply be a day when Merlin didn't face a magical backfire? The battle for Camelot had just been won. But no, after Morgana and Morgause disappear, he felt winds pick him up off his feet and toss him away quicker than he could come up with a spell to counter it.

Beautiful music fills his ears and he lands with a thump, hard enough to knock the seven bells in his head. He sees a young man in a ll white before losing consciousness.

Strange. Usually, it's Arthur that loses consciousness.

[deferences]

Of course not, because where there's magic, there is always room for mistakes. (Kind of like that one time Sizhui remembers where Lan Jingyi burned his eyebrows off experimenting with a stronger fire talisman—) Though this is different, keeping in mind the person who abruptly appears during the magical mishap is a total stranger.

He'd urged the other disciples to not experiment so carelessly, but with the aforementioned troublemaker to egg them on, should he really be surprised? No, he shouldn't, which is why he doesn't waste time rushing toward the fallen foreigner that's landed in the nearby thicket.

“Stay here,” he orders, firm but gentle, rushing ahead in hopes that whoever it is, they aren't too badly injured. Thank goodness, he seems unharmed initially, but as he draws closer, that's when the man falls unconscious all of a sudden. Sizhui rushes to his side, crouches down and lifts him with relative ease before hurrying back to his group where they all then rush toward the guest rooms to immediately start tending to the stranger.

And whenever Merlin wakes, it seems like he's alone. (For now.)

[emrysambrosius]

Standing outside the entrance of a place called the Cloud Recesses is a new experience that Merlin certainly has to chalk up to his books. Spell gone awry. That's just how he's going to explain anything. So he crosses his arms and leans against a tree, waiting for someone, anyone to let him into the place. Maybe they have a means to get him home.

[deferences]

When rumors begin to circulate that there's an unknown person hanging around the entrance to Cloud Recesses, Lan Sizhui doesn't think much of it at first. He continues on with his duties, doing everything he can to ignore the whispers, focusing for as long as possible on his calligraphy until curiosity gets the better of him. Sizhui knows he probably shouldn't, but where's the harm in checking it out? Grandmaster Qiren will handle it and before that, he at least wants to see what the fuss is all about.

The man standing in front of the gate really, truly is a complete stranger, though.

He hesitates initially, worried about revealing himself on the off chance it's some bizarre trap, yet the tiny, inquisitive voice niggling at the back of his mind somehow kicks him into gear and his feet are moving before he can second-guess. With the magical barrier between them, it feels safe enough standing only a few feet from Merlin, though he's still just staring rather than greeting the man properly.

a spiritual servant for the best sof boi

[vermillionspirit]

He should have felt his entire body disintegrate. He should have felt the body return to the onmiyoji known to the world as Bo Ya and himself return to stone or even pure energy, returning to the south.

Yet after he felt the barbs that Shouyue had shot into his body, he disappears from sight, body and spirit, and appears elsewhere, in the snow. He stands and looks about, wondering if he had been called to the realm of the Snow Hound. But the Snow Hound was a demon, a spiritual servant, how could he summon him? This place is...peaceful.

Zhuque turns until he sees someone, a cultivator?, and perhaps the one who had summoned him. He must be very powerful if he's able to summon him away from Qing Ming.

shouts and flips a table ( ◕▿◕ )

[deferences]

As always, Sizhui almost immediately regrets joining Jingyi in his magical adventures. Usually, they're pretty harmless, but today is something different; he couldn't quite put his finger on it at first, aside from something feeling off, and that's shortly around the time after his hand was cut on accident and when the bright flash of light had blinded him.

He remembers shouting ‘Jingyi!’ recalls the pain across his palm surging into something almost unbearable, little white lights popping off behind his eyelids and his ears ringing, then silence.

Once he can finally bring himself to open his eyes, he's fallen to his knees, bent with his forehead in the dirt, clutching the wrist of his bleeding limb. It hurts, it hurts so much, yet Lan Sizhui fights through the ache, draws himself upright then tentatively spares a glance around them. His fellow disciple is (fortunately) nearby, even if he can't see him right away, but the person he does see is someone foreign. A man (?) of some kind, large in stature, shirtless and covered in bizarre markings he can't quite make out from this far away. He opens his mouth to say something, though all that comes out is another pained hiss from the throbbing in his palm.

they've been played but hey, they're in love!

[manyuncles]

[jin ling has been sect leader of lanling jin for nearly three years now. with his uncle's help, he's found his way and feels more sure on his feet.

his jiu jiu has taught him how to read people, how to be observant and when to stand his ground in meetings with other sect leaders. jiu jiu also said to be vigilant and to expect the unexpected, but that no one would stand against him with yunmeng jiang supporting lanling's new sect leader.

what he did not say, was to watch out for him as well.

jin ling feels utterly, totally, wholly betrayed as he sits in cloud recess across a small table from sizhui. they're in one of the rooms normally used for lessons, but it's empty now beside the two of them. not that jin ling is here for lessons. a year ago, they'd come up with the plan of match making their uncles. zewu-jun really did fit all of his uncles criteria. okay, nearly all of them but really the man couldn't afford to be picky anymore!

and who in their right mind would be too picky about zewu-jun? it had to work.

so, in the last year they'd worked on trying to help their uncles unknowingly romance each other. and along the way -- jin ling still feels his ears heat when he thinks about it -- realized that maybe some of their suggestions were really things they wanted to share together. which feels like the biggest development of the last week, given they've confessed to each other. they haven't really done anything about it but that's a big step!

he blushes thinking about it even though that's not even top of mind somehow!

jin ling wants to laugh and cry a little, because he's sitting across the table from the friend turned something more that he definitely intends to court! and it's not the biggest development.

he takes a deep breath and crosses his arms, leaning back from the table.] Okay but what do you mean jiu-jiu had his hair up? Up how?

[because if sizhui saw what he thinks he saw, they've been played.]

this is the good stuff, jim

[deferences]

[admittedly, lan sizhui has greatly enjoyed watching his friend flourish in his sect leader position. not once has he ever judged jin ling needing help from his uncle sometimes either, especially when he gained such an important role while still being so young. (unfortunate circumstances aside and all, of course.)

jin ling had grown into his new status, handled it quite well when he'd found his footing, which had also helped the other junior come into himself a little better at the time, too.

and that in-kind helped them both decide the best-laid plan: getting their uncles together before it was deemed they were both a complete loss— well, okay, that's putting it somewhat dramatically... but still! it's true, lan xichen's almost everything jiang cheng wants in a partner; beautiful, graceful and obedient, hard-working, hailing from a respected family, personality not overwhelming, not too talkative and – last, though certainly not least! – must treat jin ling nice. zewu-jun, from what sizhui's witnessed throughout the years, has been nothing but courteous (and even outrightly kind) toward the other junior.

gosh, both of them were even thrust into similar situations with taking care of children unexpectedly? interesting indeed!

perhaps, that's why it shouldn't be surprising lan xichen and jiang cheng were able to turn the tables on them so easy; practically like the circumstances were meant for it. lan sizhui certainly isn't complaining since this new state of affairs has finally brought about confessions and while many wouldn't consider it something huge in their own minds, for himself and jin ling, it's astounding. the tips of his own ears pinken at times too, although having loosened his hair from the usual topknot helps hide them somewhat better.

it's an excellent advantage he's grateful for at the moment! but also: blushing's not his concern after what he'd witnessed only half an hour ago.] Like this! [sizhui pipes, leaning halfway over the table meanwhile, taking all of his loosened hair and holding it in a high ponytail.]

I have never seen him wear such a style. [he lets his hair fall around his shoulders, leans back so he's sitting properly again then folds both hands across his lap.] Have you?

♪ 'cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs (hanahaki, @fennu)

[deferences]

[lan sizhui can distinctly remember the first time he coughed up tiny purple lotus petals; it was during a night-hunt alongside his fellow juniors where they'd ended up overwhelmed by an enemy they didn't understand. this, of course, meant it had taken them far longer to finish their task than earlier anticipated and whenever they finally arrived back in yunmeng from baling, hell broke loose—

no, it wasn't really that bad! though even after the explanation, jiang cheng remained irritated (worried in his own way), scolding jin ling some feet away but, despite their distance, sizhui had no trouble hearing. he'd smiled faintly then, abruptly and all at once, a tightness in his chest made him cough, which in turn caused him to raise his hand and cover his mouth. the disease isn't unheard of, he remembers learning about it during his studies, delving further into its subject for a few weeks until he ran out of material, yet whenever he'd turned away and coughed up flower petals, the only proper reaction was being surprised. that, thinking oh no! and being glad hanguang-jun and wei-qianbei weren't looking so he could dispose of the small blooms before they became noticeable. still, he hadn't gotten away with his sneakiness completely. ‘a-yuan!’ hearing the name from wei wuxian had all but made him jump out of his skin, except as he whirled around, it'd simply been to get his attention so they could get going.

and the moment they had taken off is when his – or so he thought! – artful discarding was brought into their conversation. lucky for him, it's to just question his cough: if he's sick, if he needs medicine or something before they leave, all of which he politely declines and, despite what he thinks isn't discreet enough, effectively plays off. since then, he's done everything within his power to keep things in check, to make certain he doesn't have another flare-up around sect leader jiang; it proves simpler than part of him likes, but his other half's grateful for no more possible awkward mishaps.

this means it would be just his luck to get called away on a night-hunt with said sect leader, of course. blessed immortals above, what sort of karmic backlash has been laid upon him? something unfortunate enough that it ends with jiang cheng getting injured and them trapped inside the cave they'd gone into after the monster fled.

(and all because he couldn't control those ridiculous flowers, ugh!) first, sizhui makes quick work of the aforementioned beast in its weakened state with his guqin, but now that they've gotten it cornered inside this oversized tunnel, there's a sudden cave-in dropping them to the very bottom of the alcove, which is where sizhui'd gotten hurt too. he, however, has nothing besides some bumps and bruises whereas the other man has actual wounds that need tending, regardless of his stubbornness.

sizhui briefly glances up as jiang cheng paces by him again.] You will exacerbate your injuries if you keep fussing. [then he sighs and downturns, still steadily working shi cao and goldenroot flowers into a thick, gritty kinda paste.]

[fennu]

[ None of this is what Jiang Cheng had wanted.

He's well aware of what the curse is, of course, what it means; experience had taught him that at a young age. He had seen his mother cradling lotus petals in her hands, her sister with golden peonies decorating parchment as she had read. He had seen the people of Yunmeng, rare and far between, coming to their Sect to try and find the cause of their sudden illness, the kind of which there is little cure other than brutal, painful honesty.

There had never been a moment in his life where he had imagined that he would be struck down with the same curse, if only because had hadn't thought that he would be able to love someone so deeply. His path had always been the kind of arranged marriage, of finding a suitable wife and settling to create the perfect set of heirs to come after him, a son to raise as leader, a daughter to cultivate her beauty and warmth. Perhaps a son like himself, or like Wei Wuxian, and a daughter with his sister's heart to keep her memory truly alive.

All of that had been ripped from him when he coughed up soft white petals, curling in his fingertips, his mind refusing to accept what it means.

His hand is pressed against a wound to his hip now, a scowl on his face, twisting his features completely into something bitter. He doesn't want this to be his future, doesn't want this to be the path he has to walk, not when his eyes drag over Sizhui and he doesn't know how to handle himself, how to quash the feeling inside of him. Age matters much less between two cultivators, that doesn't bother him, and his brother had married a Lan, so that isn't problematic now, but...

But it ruins all his plans. It ruins everything, and Jiang Cheng is prepared to die to carry that burden. There's no question in his mind that his feelings will never be returned, and the thorns in his throat begin to tear him apart before he speaks. ]

My injuries are fine, I'll deal with them later. [ Robes snapping around him as he shoves his sleeves out the way, he leans down to look over Sizhui, gaze critical, examining, trying to be clinical rather than exploratory. ] Let me see yours.

[lighterclick]

Luca, in all his wisdom, his right hand man, had made it clear that he needed someone to run the household as Vincenzo. Someone alongside the mafia head to temper him. It can't be Hong Cha-Young. She needs to look after the law firm and Geugam Plaza back in Korea. A free spirit that cannot be contained and confined by the rules of what it means to co-head a mafia family. It can't be a daughter or son of any of the Families around Europe or even Italy; the unification would be great but at what price? It would compromise what Vincenzo had brought to the Cassano name.

An old family, consigliere, Luca had said. Clearly, his dear friend had someone in mind. Not someone affiliated with the Chinese Mafia but someone whose family wealth had been steeped deep in the past. It would bring a boon of money to the Cassano family, consigliere.

He had flown to China. He made the bows. The wedding is as beautiful as it could be for an arranged marriage. His bride easily could seem to be a decade younger than he is. Fine. Someone young could potentially bode well, grow into the Cassano family as its matriarch. There was a clause for no dalliances from either of them. Halfway into the celebrations, his attentions were required in Italy and he had to bid his bride a farewell with a soft kiss to the back of his hand, as he figured out very quickly that his bride was no woman, and a promise to meet him at the villa where they were to honeymoon on Lake Como. Everything had been arranged. It should go through swimmingly.

Of course.

Nothing ever goes through swimmingly.

It's nearly two in the morning when he arrives at the property and lets himself into the master suite, panting and sweaty, and with blood splotches all over his suit and some on his face as well. Ah damn, he'll need to have that sent out for dry cleaning. He stumbles over to a loveseat to sit down and just rest for a moment and close his eyes.

His poor bride. Married and tied to a sinner that even the Devil himself wouldn't want.

[deferences]

An arranged marriage hadn't been something Lan Sizhui pictured in his future, especially not one he's only been aware of for a week at most. Short notice appointments from the doctor's office? Sure, those are complete, one-hundred-percent understandable reasons. Random, spur-of-the-moment lunch dates with his friends and-slash-or family? No problem! These are, however, more mundane everyday things he's used to, so the exact opposite of a wedding. Still, it isn't anything he'll complain about (and certainly not where people are listening), of course, he'd just never pictured himself in this position as it's such an older tradition, even both his parents were initially shocked to hear. But knowing the name – Cassano – they're all well-aware it'd be insane to go against whatever requests they might have.

Even if that included Sizhui's hand in marriage.

Despite it all, regardless of the fact he knows money has just about everything to do with their union, he can't help hoping that as time goes on, something like actual feelings could develop between himself and his newly betrothed. Until then, he will simply do his best at being whoever he needs to, which is now a bride. It's fine, he's handled far more difficult things before!

Whenever the big day comes, Sizhui paints an absolutely gorgeous picture, perfection right down to his makeup. Gosh, if people didn't know any better, he very well would've even passed off as older than his actual age, but people never missed a chance to whisper. Nonetheless, the wedding goes smoothly; they make their bows, exchange vows with added stipulations – as if he'd ever! – then are released for celebrating, and that's the moment he seizes to briefly flitter away for a drink. (His wedding, he's allowed this, right?) Yet he does make his way back after some odd minutes of mingling too, just in time for his husband to mention there are other matters he must handle, leaving him with his promise to meet later and the gentlest kiss on his hand. It's a gesture he feels then while nodding that he understands and one he is still feeling well into the day after he arrives at the destined residence.

Sizhui's certain he's seen almost every color of flower in existence here; the scenery is breathtaking, its sprawling landscape and lovely lake, bright-colored houses dotting its walkways. How could anyone resist winding through them? He doesn't, even takes some extra time for his having to already wait so long, collecting blooms, a few cute trinkets and fresh dessert before heading back to the villa— where the man still hasn't shown up.

Admittedly, he's more concerned than irritated by now, but his flustered side rises to the surface in a moment of fleeting dramatics where (selfishly) he downs half the tiramisu cake he'd collected while out earlier then disappears into the oversized bathroom for long-overdue makeup removal.

Being startled awake at almost two in the morning wasn't something he thought he'd have to experience during what's supposed to be a honeymoon, though Sizhui creeps downstairs anyhow in spite of himself, clutching a fluffy, oversized robe around his shoulders that's at least somewhat better cover than the long nightgown underneath. He moves closer toward the noise and instantly lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding once he realizes, “Vincenzo!?” comes out a little too loud for a whisper, far more worried than anticipated, and he's not seen the state he's in yet.

“Where have you been?” Augh, Sizhui hates already sounding like an annoying harpy, but hours have gone by, there wasn't even so much as a call and— he comes up short after rounding the loveseat, eyes wide and mouth falling open in shock at the sight of blood. “Wh... what happened? A-Are you okay?”

not so little you and i anymore

[fatherssword]

Jin Ling sighs as he walks along the main market of Lotus Pier. It's something familiar, happy. Even if jiujiu thinks it to waste of time. He'd spent more than enough years playing nice with sect leaders, undoing the damage that had been done to the Jin name. He grips the sword in his left hand a little tightly.

Not only did he have his grandfather's reputation looming over him, but also xiao shu--he stoops himself--Jin Guangyao. It'd been five years since that night in the temple when xiao shushu showed his true colors, when they learned of...well, everything. The night he became sect leader. He'd had jiujiu, of course. But word somehow got out about the events that transpired that fateful night.

Even more whispers from every part of his world as he took the lead and tried his hardest to undo the damage xiao shushu had done.

When he walks through Lotus Pier, he likes to think he's able to feel his mother's presence amongst the lotuses in the water, hear her converse, maybe, with the different merchants.

He'd grown taller, more lean. Fairy's barks draw him out of his reverie and he smiles at his faithful companion. His only friend besides the other juniors. He'd kept in touch with them but...everything kept them from being able to be together even just for a night hunt. He's grateful for this opportunity to visit jiujiu and had heard that he had Wei Wuxian had even begun to try to repair their relationship. A small hope springs in his heart: perhaps he'd finally see his friends after so long.

[deferences]

All the hustle and bustle of Lotus Pier isn't something he'd forgotten over the years, but given how long it'd been since he himself had visited, it is initially somewhat jarring. The longer Lan Sizhui spends scurrying around between stalls, collecting trinkets, incense, ribbons, food— whatever his fathers allow, he gets, even paying with his own money despite how much he knows they enjoy spoiling him; it's after he's taken his things, put them away and parted ways with Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian that he wanders.

Not far, obviously, just outside the marketplace every so often to see the boats on the docks, watch children flying kites and view the lotuses.

This, of course, means he doesn't go away empty-handed; there's a big purple lotus in his hair and a bag of seeds in one hand, the latter of which gets tucked away in his sleeve for later snacking whenever he isn't distracted by other activities. Including but not limited to: an elderly fellow coaxing him to sample some tea, someone bargaining with toys, a young lady selling cute bunny-shaped candies that he absolutely has to have and—

Wait, why does that person out of the corner of his eye look familiar? (Because that's most certainly Jin Ling, meandering around with his dog in tow, who's just as distinguishable.) Goodness gracious, it really has been a while now, considering how Jin Ling's been busy with sect leader duties and Sizhui's had his own preoccupations being one of the eldest disciples training underneath Hanguang-jun. His fellow junior looks... quite different now, actually? Taller, more filled-out, wearing nicer robes than himself even if in his defense, he's freed of his responsibilities for a while. Alongside his simple two-layered pale blue and white robes, all his hair is pulled atop his head in a high ponytail, far different from its usual half-up topknot.

Sizhui's face has filled out a bit more too, still recognizably youthful yet changed with age, and he might've grown an inch or two. “Jin Ling!” he calls, lifting a hand to wave. Unfortunately, in spite of gaining some extra height, it doesn't help him at all whenever a tall man with a cart obscures the line of sight.

♪ i will be chasing a starlight, until the end of my life

[deferences]

It's a night like any other at the Celestial Tower; Sizhui traveling long, winding iridescent pathways, dotting the skyline here and there with stars as he moves. This time is when he thrives most, burning bright, free to do whatever he pleases while daytime citizens dream away. Right now, the nighttime is his and he plans on seizing, using it to his full advantage and exploring past his usual boundaries that he's always joked about being unnecessary.

Tonight, however, he'll learn differently.

Outside those high protective gates, past the safety of moonlight and into the darkness, near the edges of the plain in sections he's not supposed to go alone is where Sizhui travels, soft starlight guiding him further onward once brilliant paths fade away to untrodden roads. Rumors constantly circled: if one were to travel too far, they might succumb to twilight and lose their way, return different than they'd been before— but sometimes, something worse would happen, like becoming a fallen star and never being seen again. (Nobody has ever disappeared in his lifetime despite hearsay, nor have they lost anyone to such things in the past either, so he hasn't worried nearly as much as he probably should.) The problem here is venturing into the unknown can also reap great rewards that are worth the risk; moonstones, shining with extraordinary light and containing miraculous healing properties, reside in the great beyond and he's determined to obtain one (or burn out trying).

For a bit, everything seems absolutely fine, he even starts the trek back sometime before dawn, precious rocks in hand. Moonbeams of the tower are within sight, pinpricking through the gate slats, thin beacons of reassurance that he's almost home-free in his perilous task, yet just as he's nearest his destination, there's a sudden floundering, a sideways stagger, his arms windmilling momentarily, until he's knocked fully off-balance by something that feels like a gut-punch and is sent rocketing downward by some unseen force.

I wish...

His glowing hand flickers, twinkling bleakly, a sunburst lights up the night sky as he's falling, falling— and Sizhui's eyes slam shut right as he breaks the chilling calmness of a lake. Sinking feels different, but it's being temporarily suspended in cold liquid that rouses Sizhui, has him awakening just long enough to start clawing his way back toward the surface.

[zidianing]

He'd made a wish on a star and snorted to himself at such childish things. But then one of the stars seemed like it was moving at a quick speed.

Jiang Cheng uncrosses his arms and follows the pathway of the falling star, making his way around lakes and lotus patches until he reaches one of his favorite lakes. He hears the loud splash as something bright seemed to land in the dark waters.

It's the soft peach light of the morning sun that he sees that it might be a person that had been thrown into the lake. Immediately, he dives in, swimming deep down until he sees hands reach up toward him. He grabs on and hauls them both toward the surface.

@hatesbeingchased (tfln)

[deferences]

[continued from here]


Southside it is. I'll be there!

[unsurprisingly, that's where he'll be waiting, patient as ever with a black and white speckled horse at his side, munching away on apples. sword-flying would've been faster, but it also consumes quite a bit of energy and he'll have a long way to go after they've convened.

however, won't sizhui be in for a surprise once they finally meet?]

[hatesbeingchased]

[ There would be a screech, from a golden eagle, above Sizhui's head. Zhui Ri basically scouting ahead for Ji Chong. Something that the bird did on occasion or whenever he asked.

We're sure that, for Sizhui anyway, looking at the man on the strong muscled black horse is like looking at a scruffier version of his father figure. He's wearing red, with a bit of black, and his armor. There's a sword on his back and he slips off of the horse, looking toward Sizhui when he does see him, Zhui Ri coming down to land on his arm. ]

♪ you know you stopped me dead while i was passing by

[deferences]

[although it's been more than a few months now since his abrupt appearance in gotham city, sizhui's found it somewhat hard to adapt to his new lifestyle, mostly because he feels like he's being held captive inside this ostentatious mansion. sure, he has free roam throughout it and yes, he has his own room, but at what point is he allowed out by himself without cover and someone chaperoning him the entire time? he knows everything out there is brand new, given his time displacement from the far past of ancient china, yet he also believes in his ability to have adapted even a little during those same aforementioned months, to have gathered enough information for ‘blending in,’ as it were, that he's allowed outside more than a handful of times in the week.

however, he can't exactly complain much either, what with everything being provided to him; that earlier mentioned room, food, clothes, what entertainment can be achieved while staying inside. it's still not enough to dissuade him from lingering near the windows, watching people walk by, or wandering the manor in search of company in the form of those who come by the wayne estate every now and then.

jason is who has arrived today, rather inconspicuously, instantly drawing sizhui's attention away from his book once he realizes so he can chat up the other male instead, bright and exuberant at the idea of hearing about someone else's life on the outside. (such an overdramatic way of putting it, really, despite sizhui thinking otherwise!) the first time they'd talked, he's well-aware he might've not made the best impression, but with time to adapt, adjust and at least halfway find his place, it's become easier to converse.]

Any particular reason you've come today? I do believe it's only Alfred and myself, in case you were looking for Mister Wayne...

[maybe it's silly, having the slightest hope jason's there to see him, that doesn't curb his enthusiasm any, nor does it keep him from being somewhat nosy when it comes to jason's initial reason for visiting.]

[batjokes]

( Someone from another time or universe pops up, and Bruce gets himself all wound up over it. It'd just been another Tuesday by Jason's standards the night he'd found Sizhui wandering around Crime Alley. Someone in that get up sticks out like a sore thumb in a place as dark and gloomy as Gotham, even more so when they're wandering the streets of the places Jason tends to haunt. After the initial and awkward attempt to pull Sizhui into a (mostly) safe spot, he'd done his best to try and explain everything with broken language skills. Not his best moment, but no one got shot or stabbed. Always a plus, right?

But things are never that easy in Jason's life. What had started out as trying to get Sizhui back to one of his own safehouses while he figured out this whole thing, Batman had intercepted. It wasn't pretty. To see two men the size of Batman and the Red Hood squaring up against one another in a heated argument that had gotten a little loud and colorful on Jason's end had to be a worrying sight. And in the end, Batman wins their argument. Batman always wins their goddamn arguments, and Jason is left seething as Batman drives off with the other man. Despite his own anger, Jason can admit this is probably for the best. The Batcave is way more equip to deal with weird things like this, and Alfred will take care of the guy.

Jason keeps his distance at first. Gets the occasional updates from Tim or Dick who reassure him that yes, his walking ancient Chinese friend was safe and doing well. Sizhui is his name. And after a stiff conversation with Bruce, he gets reluctant permission to spot by just this one time. Only - Jason doesn't stop by just once. He waltzes through the front door the first time to check on Sizhui, spends some time with him and learns a bit more. But the times are never quite so direct.

Of course, Jason is sure Bruce knows he's been sneaking in. He's friggin' Batman. But he still does it. No one stops him, and Alfred always gives him the courtesy of telling him when one of the others has arrived or is on their way so he can cut and run as if he hadn't been there at all. It's a strange realization that he can't stay away for long, that something about Sizhui always draws him back to the manor every couple of weeks. Maybe it's the idea that he understands what it feels like to be under metaphorical lock and key of the Bat, to be the dirty little secret of the Batfamily. Or maybe he just likes Sizhui. The latter is a thought he doesn't know how to process, but he's trying to work through it, at least.

It's been a couple weeks since his last snuck in, and he appears in the room silently as many of them often do. But he's got the foresight and manners (ha) to announce himself by leaning a bit too heavily against the door frame and letting the creak of the old wood give away his position. )

It's like you don't know me at all, thinking I'm looking for that guy.

( There's mock offense in his voice, but he offers a small smirk quickly enough as he makes his way over to where Sizhui is sitting. He drops onto the nearest chair, throwing his arms over the sides to get comfortable. )

Thought you could use some company. I know how lonely it is when all you have is a dog and a bunch of hallways and doors to talk to.

( No offense to Ace - he'd been good company when Jason actually lived here and the dog wasn't at Bruce's heels. )

♪ cause there's nothing else in this broken world that i'll ever, ever love as much

[deferences]

[the hustle and bustle throughout caiyi town has always proved to be good coverage when he's out night-hunting; men and their fishing boats, children running about with wild abandon, people selling their wares in the many stores that the line the walkways— they're all great ways to play into where he's taken up space beside a familiar teashop to play his guqin for currency. (or any payment, really, as some of the earlier mentioned children do happily approach and leave him things like flowers and tiny trinkets.) whatever they give is no matter, as his ‘act’ is merely just that: an entertaining presentation to perhaps suss out anyone who might have information about the goings-on in the city lately.

many of them who stop and chat him up don't have much to give aside from what he already knows concerning the fever, though there are a few helpful tidbits from a small group of drunken fellows that stumble their way inside the restaurant to sober up. the particulars aren't much to go on, but admittedly, they're better than nothing.

afterward, once the sun begins to set, he gathers his items and heads toward the nearby inn where he has a room, eats, cleans himself up and goes to bed in preparation to do it all again tomorrow.

however, as he collects more intel between gossipy folks, his tactic changes from morning routine to nightly, which doesn't work well for someone who's so used to being an early bird, but he handles it (and uses whatever means necessary to make absolute certain his body will not choose otherwise for him). with this new choice comes a change not just in awakeness but wardrobe too; a new get-up which offers some half-protection of his identity if the situation were to get dicey.

he plays a familiar tune, something slow and calming, his qi spreading forth an odd amount of feet from where he's sitting, radiating tranquility, yet also feeling for any possible disturbances amongst the buzzing night-life.]

[alafin]

[ Lestat de Lioncourt is in Caiyi. It's a carefully chosen little respite, with rivers that remind him of almost of the river Seine and her tributaries. The scenery is vastly different but still beautiful, breathtaking, even, and Lestat doesn't regret it. He needed to escape, needed to flee Paris, needed to be away from the Theatre, Armand, the things that have happened. Not to flee, but instead to be reborn; to renew and rejuvenate himself and this place with its crowds and its beautiful lotus flowers floating along the river's edge and the soft silks and aroma of spices, this would be his chance to do just that. It's the furthest thing away from his troubles.

And so he is here, and the city is large enough and has enough foreigners that while people gawk and stare, they allow him to rent a room. Lestat is managing to learn what little of the language he can, although his money speaks louder than his words could ever.

Caiyi is a safe place to stay, if for the moment, to get his bearings about him. And so he stays for a few weeks, careful to take out undesirables and always taking care of the bodies as best as he can, careful not to rock the metaphorical boat until he's ready to leave for either a different place on the continent or, if he grows bored, make for the New World.

He finds himself lost in the architecture of the place often, hypnotized by the curving arc of the roofs, the gentle slants of the circular windows. The stained glass of Paris is illuminating, magical, but there is charm in this little place, too. Like the music he hears. Strings from the air, plucked notes floating through the darkened sky, and Lestat at once cocks his head to the side and rises from where he'd been in mid-conversation with his next meal, a foreign man named Alex who had been so relieved to see his blonde hair he bought him a drink that even now remains untouched.

He doesn't matter. Not anymore. Nothing does except those notes, and it's imparitive that he finds the source of the music. Lestat follows it on the wind, elegant in his walk though he finds most folk give him wide berth, most likely do to his paler skin and different physique, and in a matter of moments he finds himself at a teashop watching a white-vieled person play so magnificently, so beautifully, that Lestat finds himself absolutely stunned and near tears.

(There's something, a feeling, strangely calm for an unsettled, undead heart. Not peace but something similar; calm, maybe, something Lestat has never truly felt, not for a long time.)

He claps once the other finishes the song, loud, pointed, absolutely beaming as he takes a step forward. ]

C'est magnicifique, mon petit choux. Vraiment beau.

[ It doesn't matter that the other might not understand him. He's reaching inside his pocket for a coins of a rather hefty amount, eyes alight with wonder. ]

Encore?

pokemon yaoi universe

[thunderbolting]

<sub>[ It wasn't often that Red found himself back on the mainland, but he had met a particularly adorable guy on Grimr who hailed from Lavender Town. The haunted city brought back nostalgic feelings for Red, seeing as he had helped many people there when he was just but ten years old. Red couldn't believe it had been about 20 years since all of that happened..

They had met up several times before and he thought Goldenrod would be a good place to hang out.. especially with what they had discussed and had planned. Red rented out a love hotel for them to stay the night at and they had a list of things to do and they would start their weekend with him meeting up at a cafe. Red sends out a text message: ]</sub>

nearly there...
sorry i am late...

_{[ He got.. distracted. Probably by a Pokemon. ]}

[deferences]

[sizhui can't remember the last time he was permitted to travel; his place had always been in lavender town, as near to the pokemon tower as possible, that way he could be around to pray for pokemons' well-beings and protect them from any evildoers who might be intent on bringing harm to the remaining wild creatures. being able to communicate with spirits, it made sense to stay close, but as he's gotten older and met more people, it was inevitable that he'd travel elsewhere at some point.

there's a particular individual he's encountered more than once now, someone he's grown quite fond of, which is exactly who he's here to meet in goldenrod city. they'd made plans for this, talked about it for a long while before finally making a decision, and yet sizhui's cheeks still flush brilliantly every time he remembers. the cafe proves a nice distraction with its drinks and snacks, the latter of which he chooses initially, figuring it best to not fill up too much, just in case. however, his phone going off mid-sip of his drink immediately has his attention and he can't help smiling at the message, prompting him to respond:]

It's okay, I don't mind. I hope it's alright that I already ordered something.

[sounds exactly like red, honestly, and he wouldn't change him for anything.]