[seems fitting, considering, but it's most definitely something that's still bizarre from someone like lan sizhui. he glances between the flower petal and jiang cheng's face, watches him gawk, blink, and look somewhat discomposed for a brief moment before it passes just as fast as it'd come. whatever it was, sizhui's not simply brushing it aside, filing it away for later consideration instead so his attention can focus on the task at hand for now.
which is making sure jiang cheng gets healed and doesn't choke to death on flowers, thorns and his own feelings blood.
unfortunately, the latter will prove difficult whenever sizhui's adamant on the former; it's unlike him to give up so easy, but there might come a moment where the pressure proves too much and he buckles beneath its weight. (there's some joke here to be made about prodigious lan clan arm-strength, except it's something else entirely when speaking of emotions rather than physical power.)
oh, but if only jiang cheng knew what rules had been broken . . . his fingertips recapture the flower, pinch tight around the floret, thumbnail cutting into its softness, his gaze unwavering from the older man's.] You're right, [he finally says. then, without missing a beat, he discards that blossom and lowers his hand, obediently folding them both across his lap.] My apologies, Jiang-zongzhu, I shouldn't speak out of turn.
[the distance between them increases as jiang cheng leans back and sizhui follows suit by slouching down, hands interlocking tighter, still looking fixedly at him.] Do whatever you wish. [sizhui's lips pinch then, blood catching in his own throat rather than spilling from his mouth; it's thick, coppery and it takes all his willpower to not cringe, yet he manages.
what he doesn't resist doing, however, is disentangling his hands, reaching out with the left one and using his sleeve to blot away the red smearing jiang cheng's lips.]
no subject
which is making sure jiang cheng gets healed and doesn't choke to death on flowers, thorns and his own
feelingsblood.unfortunately, the latter will prove difficult whenever sizhui's adamant on the former; it's unlike him to give up so easy, but there might come a moment where the pressure proves too much and he buckles beneath its weight. (there's some joke here to be made about prodigious lan clan arm-strength, except it's something else entirely when speaking of emotions rather than physical power.)
oh, but if only jiang cheng knew what rules had been broken . . . his fingertips recapture the flower, pinch tight around the floret, thumbnail cutting into its softness, his gaze unwavering from the older man's.] You're right, [he finally says. then, without missing a beat, he discards that blossom and lowers his hand, obediently folding them both across his lap.] My apologies, Jiang-zongzhu, I shouldn't speak out of turn.
[the distance between them increases as jiang cheng leans back and sizhui follows suit by slouching down, hands interlocking tighter, still looking fixedly at him.] Do whatever you wish. [sizhui's lips pinch then, blood catching in his own throat rather than spilling from his mouth; it's thick, coppery and it takes all his willpower to not cringe, yet he manages.
what he doesn't resist doing, however, is disentangling his hands, reaching out with the left one and using his sleeve to blot away the red smearing jiang cheng's lips.]