"How did the young master summon me if he does not know who I am?"
He stands and bows deeply.
"I am Zhuque." He raises his head and the red energy that flows through his
body and into his eyes, "the Vermillion Bird, one of the great protectors
of the Imperial City."
“I...didn't...” Not intentionally! but he does not say this. Instead, Sizhui's attention briefly flickers away, desperately searching for his friend, who has either abandoned him (unlikely) or is hidden among the nearby brush (more likely).
He clambers upright as well, lowering both arms to his sides, although he regrets doing so the moment Zhuque says his name. Certainly, there's no way that's true, right? Why in the world would someone so powerful, so important come to him? Whether it's an accident or not anymore, Sizhui's unsure, but in spite of this, he immediately lifts his arms again, circles them in front of himself and bows.
“Shizun,” is probably the most gracious term he can offer in return, his head still politely inclined even when he continues, “my friend was experimenting with magic. My hand accidentally got cut, the power surged with my blood and—” Well, now here they are!
“Zhuque,” he repeats breathlessly, hardly anything above a whisper as the man once again swears fealty to him. But I didn't, he wants to say. Surely, this isn't right! Yet Zhuque only moves closer.
Lan Sizhui is not easily intimidated; he's faced ghosts, demons, monsters— all sorts of unspeakable atrocities and yet when Zhuque's close enough to be looming over him, he can't help feeling a little uneasy. The breath catches in his chest, there's blood whooshing in his ears and he's almost certain his heart has skipped a beat, but before he can protest further, the abrupt cry of ‘Sizhui!’ has him whipping his head in the direction of the other Lan disciple who has finally decided to join the party.
Unfortunately, it's with his sword drawn, running at a full sprint toward them both. “Jingyi, no!” And without second-guessing, he moves, twists until his back is facing Zhuque, his arms thrown out in a desperate attempt to protect him, which at least has Jingyi coming up short.
He looks behind the young master when his name is being called. He waits
for the young master to turn around, to greet the others that seemingly
appeared from the forest. The sword is drawn and Zhuque frowns deeply,
knowing that it's an attack of sorts. He almost moves before he sees the
young master throwing himself in front of the blade. The attacker, dressed
similarly to the young master, stops and gawks at him looming from
behind Sizhui.
"Who is this?" he asks. "He does not seem to be a friend of yours if he is
rushing toward you with a blade."
Blessed immortals above, Jingyi has quick enough reflexes to not run him through with his sword, and had the situation been different, it would've almost been amusing, seeing him gawk as well. Except it's not funny that he decided to attack outright without thinking things through a little more. “It's okay,” Sizhui assures, both hands still raised as he moves toward his friend. While it takes some soft coaxing, Jingyi does relax, though his attention doesn't leave the larger man, even when Sizhui pivots toward Zhuque.
“He is my friend,” he sighs, “he's simply not thinking clearly.” A brief, narrow-eyed glance toward the other Lan disciple then he turns back to Zhuque again. “The magical outburst must have rattled him.”
It doesn't take much to understand that it was this friend that caused the
cut that Zhuque had healed upon his master's hand. He stands, unblinking,
unmoving, as he awaits for the next command. Zhuque kneels and great red
and black wings erupt from his back before he stands once more.
"Then I was summoned for a reason."
He doesn't sense any type of danger nor any type of demon around them. He
looks closer at the friend, who seems to gulp and turn red all at once.
Another onmyoji. They all are onmyoji. But they are...different.
Honestly, who else could have if not Sizhui himself? Poor Zhuque, being left to his own devices must be something he's unused to, but Sizhui's desperate to know why this is happening, and especially now that Jingyi is beginning to look a bit more guilty about what's going on. He's readying another retort, though as Zhuque crouches, he hesitates, a surprised yelp escaping at the abrupt appearance of wings before he's right back on his feet.
“But... why?” This time, he does turn, brow knitted with confusion. “Jingyi?”
Which only makes Jingyi's face redden further. ‘It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday! Something went wrong, I'm not sure what, but... happy birthday? Ha...haha...’ Sizhui blinks once, twice, then lifts a hand a slaps it across his forehead, a nonverbal answer in and of itself.
A surprise for the young master's birthday? How sweet and quaint.
"It is the blood to whom I am the guardian to," he adds, "Your friend may
have summoned using the spell but it was your blood that called me here."
He reaches and takes the young man's hand, inspecting the palm. He had seen
what would happen when a spiritual servant had been endowed with an
obsessive love. Somehow, he doubts that he would let himself spiral out of
control like Shuoyue had.
His blood that called this man here? He's not serious, right? Obviously, Jingyi just made a mistake and—
But why? Sizhui asks himself for the hundredth time, sighing heavily as he lowers his hand, only to have Zhuque take hold of it before it gets too far. He upturns his gaze, staring long and hard, considering his next move for a few long moments then reaching the free hand out, fingertips mere inches away from one of the large bicolored wings.
Hopefully, he's allowed to do so, but if not, then he'll have to pray Zhuque doesn't try snapping his arm... or worse. Sizhui's unable to help himself, really, and who can blame him? It isn't often they meet someone with wings, after all.
He watches as the young man's hand reaches toward him and steps closer,
allowing his wings to fold forward so that he wouldn't need to go far.
Zhuque would feel warm, warmer than the average human.
With the two of them so close, he could see what this young man is. Onmyoji
yet...different. Something about him feels so much like home that he
doesn't mind being the guardian of this one. Even if he was summoned for
less than pure purposes. Purpose. He looks over at the young master's
friend, who looked as if he wanted to be swallowed up by the earth itself.
"Perhaps your friend thinks you to be lonely and could stand company."
Albeit with some obviously lingering nervousness, Sizhui stretches his hand up further, splays his fingers across the feathers, drifts them all the way down to where the appendage conjoins with Zhuque's shoulderblade. The warmth is startling compared to his own cooler temperature, so much so that it's almost instinctive to pull away, but he holds steady, withdrawing before he gets too adventurous and actually touches the man's skin.
Speaking of, after noting his lack of a shirt, he wonders offhandedly if that's a reason he's not wearing one. Something that niggles at the back of his mind even when Zhuque redirects to Jingyi again. Although he's still concerned and also outrightly troubled by this predicament, his friend's sentiment is nice, despite his confusion.
“Lonely?” Wait, could stand the company? Like a lightbulb suddenly coming on, it clicks, and Sizhui's head whips in Jingyi's direction. To be frank, that's all it takes for Jingyi to further spill his guts, to start babbling on about how his friend hadn't seemed like himself ever since his parents left a week ago.
Together, as it were.
Which isn't exactly something he wants to discuss at this moment, so. “Give me your cloak.” Jingyi hesitates a moment then, ‘What?’ and the shorter male sighs, asks again a bit more insistently. “Your cloak. Now, please.” And once it dawns on him, there's a soft oh! before Jingyi hands over the item in question, then Sizhui sheepishly holds it up. “Here, you should put this on before we go.” It won't fit in a proper sense, but it will cover most of him long enough for them to sneak through the back mountain and to his room.
He doesn't stop the young master from feeling along his feathers, letting
them shimmer red whenever his fingers brush against them. He is confused
when he pulls his hand away. He watches the exchange, mildly entertained at
how he seems to bicker with the other onmyoji that summoned him. But then
he demands a cloak and Zhuque steps forward wrapping his wings around the
young master, providing warmth should he be seeking it.
Zhuque tilts his head at the cloak offered. His wings recede, sinking into
his back and appearing as a deep black tattoo along his shoulders once
more. He takes the white material and drapes it around himself,
covering...some of him.
They're so absolutely captivating, it's a wonder Sizhui's able to tear his eyes away long enough to do anything else. Later, he reminds himself, we will be safer not out in the open. Fortunately, the squabbling between him and Jingyi isn't offputting and when Zhuque's wings are suddenly wrapped around him, that does prove a good distraction. Something he's reluctant to protest, even after Jingyi's hand touches his, silently urging the cloak into it.
Sizhui tries his best to not sound disappointed whenever the wings withdraw; the warmth had been nice, he could've easily tucked himself against Zhuque and soaked up all the heat he had to offer, but not in front of Jingyi. (Though that would at least give him an excuse to scold him for watching!)
He swallows thickly following the remark and shakes his head, “N-No,” he stammers, but then he reassures with a smile, “I mean, no, your form is... it's fine.” Perfect, really— (Come on, Sizhui, focus!) “This will be easier for, ah, keeping you hidden from others.”
Not the best way to word it, admittedly, but the fact he doesn't argue helps.
“Only for a little bit.” Until he can make absolutely sure nobody will be upset or attempt sending Zhuque away, even if his fathers are gone, Grandmaster Qiren is ordinarily indisposed and Zewu-jun is still in seclusion. “Into our home, Cloud Recesses.” He takes one of Zhuque's hands, catches Jingyi's forearm with the other then begins leading them back.
The cloak feels nice around him and they're all lucky that Zhuque does not
feel most normal human emotions. After what he had seen with Shuoyue...he
doesn't want to. He follows along, graceful and unashamed, as he is dragged
along with the other young man. He turns his wrist and holds onto the young
man's hand.
"You needn't guide me like this," he says.
Zhuque easily moves out of his hold and reaches up, plucking a feather from
his wing. Easily, it transforms under his will into a black and red token,
no different than the one that already hangs from his belt.
"Use this to summon me. I would not wish for more of your blood spilt
because of me."
With a bow, he disappears in red embers and manifests as a bird charm on
the token.
If it had been Jingyi's intention to find someone who would keep him company in a particular sense, perhaps this might not have the best result. Still, whenever Zhuque's hand turns and interlocks with his own, Sizhui gingerly squeezes his fingers, the little gesture causing his heart to pitter-patter faster than he ever would've thought possible. Unbeknownst to him, Zhuque may not feel human emotions, but the younger male most certainly does and this moment isn't any different.
“Hm?” He hesitates momentarily at the comment, glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised with confusion.
Releasing Zhuque's hand is disappointing, but Sizhui's loath to hold someone against their will. (Funny, considering...) His brow knits after the man reaches up, the faintest wince creasing his features when he removes one of the pretty feathers, though his eyes reopen just in time to see it transform.
Oh. Well, that might be easier, it's true.
He accepts it, nodding slowly, knowing full-well there's nobody who would harm him in such a way, yet feeling somewhat more at ease with this plan. The token gets tucked away into the confines of his robes, he reaches with the newly freed hand to pick up Jingyi's cloak and tosses it around his shoulders before continuing onward.
Their remaining trek back is rather quiet, with Sizhui clutching the charm against his chest the whole way and Jingyi watching him closely. At the point where they split off, his friend gives a soft apology, to which he smiles, shakes his head and loops an arm around the other disciple in an appreciative hug. “It's okay,” he reassures, “the birthday gift is wonderful, even if it didn't exactly go according to plan.” They share a laugh and, with Sizhui's blessing, go their separate ways once they've reached his bedroom where he wastes no time dipping inside.
Now perched on the edge of his bed, he carefully twists the medallion between his hands, thumbing over the bird charm, his heartbeat thumping at an uncontrollable rate. “How do I summon you once it is safe?” he asks, sighing quietly while drawing the item to his chest again.
When he is able to draw the medallion against his chest, red embers spill
forth from the medallion as Zhuque is summoned again. He takes form,
kneeling before Sizhui and remains there.
"Zhuque, the Vermillion Bird, at your service," he says quietly.
He looks up at the young man, eyes burning fire bright for a moment before
settling into dark brown once more.
Unexpected as it is, he can't help letting out a surprised gasp, the token dropping into his lap after he reaches to cover his mouth when Zhuque appears in front of him again. Sizhui stares, so taken aback by the abrupt materialization that he's initially at a loss for words.
‘At your service,’ he says, and Sizhui's throat grows abnormally tight once those fiery eyes are on him.
But the longer he gapes, the more he realizes, this is real; there's an important god-like figure, ready at his beck and call, willing to satisfy his every whim, no matter what it may be? He swallows thickly, lowers a hand to his lap, the one that had been injured earlier reaching to shyly touch the mark on his forehead, fingertips following it all the way down the bridge of his nose, though he stops there and moves to withdraw before curiosity gets the best of him.
He closes his eyes when he feels cool fingers touch along the mark on his
forehead. It appears to sizzle, glowing like hot embers and with a golden
energy that matches Sizhui's signature. Truly, he is a guardian of this
young master now. When he withdraws his hand, he opens his eyes again,
looking up at him.
Goodness, if he'd left his hand there, would it have eventually burned? Sizhui's tempted to reach back out and test that theory, but Zhuque reopens his eyes, causing his throat to tighten again instead. Somehow, he manages still looking like the ever-composed Lan disciple, except for maybe the flicker of lingering curiosity in his eyes.
“A little,” he admits quietly, sheepishly, unable to help the faint smile that curves his mouth as he interlocks both hands across his lap. “But that's okay since... I should probably get used to it, yes?”
"I've only had one other master that I served as guardian in recent memory.
Some masters...never get used to seeing my form. Not like this. But
whatever other form I have." He thinks of Qingming. "That other master had
been surprised of how I am as well. His dear friend gave his flesh and
blood so that I may be summoned and stop the great serpent."
Sizhui shifts sideways a bit, gesturing beside himself for Zhuque to sit. No reason for him to continue standing, after all, considering he'll be staying for a while.
He sits silently, listening to what he's being told, carefully considering Zhuque's words, his expression creasing with concern at the revelation. ‘Gave his flesh and blood,’ that can only mean one thing, right? “Did it work? Were you able to defeat the serpent?” And if he wasn't, does that mean Jingyi has dragged him away from his duties in the Imperial City to instead keep him company here? Gods, he hopes not.
He nods once. At a price, they were able to defeat the serpent. He looks
down at his hands before he takes the invited seat next to his new master.
"I...I protected Qingming." His brow furrows. "And the serpent had started
to disintegrate. I took the brunt of the damage. I felt myself burn up." He
could have sworn that he would return the flesh and blood to Bo Ya. Yet
instead of returning to his stone form, he found himself summoned to this
place to the bewilderment of his new master.
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houseofsushi2020-05-22 10:34 pm
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He blinks.
"How did the young master summon me if he does not know who I am?"
He stands and bows deeply.
"I am Zhuque." He raises his head and the red energy that flows through his body and into his eyes, "the Vermillion Bird, one of the great protectors of the Imperial City."
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He clambers upright as well, lowering both arms to his sides, although he regrets doing so the moment Zhuque says his name. Certainly, there's no way that's true, right? Why in the world would someone so powerful, so important come to him? Whether it's an accident or not anymore, Sizhui's unsure, but in spite of this, he immediately lifts his arms again, circles them in front of himself and bows.
“Shizun,” is probably the most gracious term he can offer in return, his head still politely inclined even when he continues, “my friend was experimenting with magic. My hand accidentally got cut, the power surged with my blood and—” Well, now here they are!
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“Zhuque. Not shizun. It is you that had summoned me and I swear myself to you as your guardian,” he replies easily.
He steps forth until he towers over the young master.
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Lan Sizhui is not easily intimidated; he's faced ghosts, demons, monsters— all sorts of unspeakable atrocities and yet when Zhuque's close enough to be looming over him, he can't help feeling a little uneasy. The breath catches in his chest, there's blood whooshing in his ears and he's almost certain his heart has skipped a beat, but before he can protest further, the abrupt cry of ‘Sizhui!’ has him whipping his head in the direction of the other Lan disciple who has finally decided to join the party.
Unfortunately, it's with his sword drawn, running at a full sprint toward them both. “Jingyi, no!” And without second-guessing, he moves, twists until his back is facing Zhuque, his arms thrown out in a desperate attempt to protect him, which at least has Jingyi coming up short.
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He looks behind the young master when his name is being called. He waits for the young master to turn around, to greet the others that seemingly appeared from the forest. The sword is drawn and Zhuque frowns deeply, knowing that it's an attack of sorts. He almost moves before he sees the young master throwing himself in front of the blade. The attacker, dressed similarly to the young master, stops and gawks at him looming from behind Sizhui.
"Who is this?" he asks. "He does not seem to be a friend of yours if he is rushing toward you with a blade."
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“He is my friend,” he sighs, “he's simply not thinking clearly.” A brief, narrow-eyed glance toward the other Lan disciple then he turns back to Zhuque again. “The magical outburst must have rattled him.”
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It doesn't take much to understand that it was this friend that caused the cut that Zhuque had healed upon his master's hand. He stands, unblinking, unmoving, as he awaits for the next command. Zhuque kneels and great red and black wings erupt from his back before he stands once more.
"Then I was summoned for a reason."
He doesn't sense any type of danger nor any type of demon around them. He looks closer at the friend, who seems to gulp and turn red all at once. Another onmyoji. They all are onmyoji. But they are...different.
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“But... why?” This time, he does turn, brow knitted with confusion. “Jingyi?”
Which only makes Jingyi's face redden further. ‘It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday! Something went wrong, I'm not sure what, but... happy birthday? Ha...haha...’ Sizhui blinks once, twice, then lifts a hand a slaps it across his forehead, a nonverbal answer in and of itself.
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A surprise for the young master's birthday? How sweet and quaint.
"It is the blood to whom I am the guardian to," he adds, "Your friend may have summoned using the spell but it was your blood that called me here."
He reaches and takes the young man's hand, inspecting the palm. He had seen what would happen when a spiritual servant had been endowed with an obsessive love. Somehow, he doubts that he would let himself spiral out of control like Shuoyue had.
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But why? Sizhui asks himself for the hundredth time, sighing heavily as he lowers his hand, only to have Zhuque take hold of it before it gets too far. He upturns his gaze, staring long and hard, considering his next move for a few long moments then reaching the free hand out, fingertips mere inches away from one of the large bicolored wings.
Hopefully, he's allowed to do so, but if not, then he'll have to pray Zhuque doesn't try snapping his arm... or worse. Sizhui's unable to help himself, really, and who can blame him? It isn't often they meet someone with wings, after all.
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He watches as the young man's hand reaches toward him and steps closer, allowing his wings to fold forward so that he wouldn't need to go far. Zhuque would feel warm, warmer than the average human.
With the two of them so close, he could see what this young man is. Onmyoji yet...different. Something about him feels so much like home that he doesn't mind being the guardian of this one. Even if he was summoned for less than pure purposes. Purpose. He looks over at the young master's friend, who looked as if he wanted to be swallowed up by the earth itself.
"Perhaps your friend thinks you to be lonely and could stand company."
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Speaking of, after noting his lack of a shirt, he wonders offhandedly if that's a reason he's not wearing one. Something that niggles at the back of his mind even when Zhuque redirects to Jingyi again. Although he's still concerned and also outrightly troubled by this predicament, his friend's sentiment is nice, despite his confusion.
“Lonely?” Wait, could stand the company? Like a lightbulb suddenly coming on, it clicks, and Sizhui's head whips in Jingyi's direction. To be frank, that's all it takes for Jingyi to further spill his guts, to start babbling on about how his friend hadn't seemed like himself ever since his parents left a week ago.
Together, as it were.
Which isn't exactly something he wants to discuss at this moment, so. “Give me your cloak.” Jingyi hesitates a moment then, ‘What?’ and the shorter male sighs, asks again a bit more insistently. “Your cloak. Now, please.” And once it dawns on him, there's a soft oh! before Jingyi hands over the item in question, then Sizhui sheepishly holds it up. “Here, you should put this on before we go.” It won't fit in a proper sense, but it will cover most of him long enough for them to sneak through the back mountain and to his room.
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He doesn't stop the young master from feeling along his feathers, letting them shimmer red whenever his fingers brush against them. He is confused when he pulls his hand away. He watches the exchange, mildly entertained at how he seems to bicker with the other onmyoji that summoned him. But then he demands a cloak and Zhuque steps forward wrapping his wings around the young master, providing warmth should he be seeking it.
Zhuque tilts his head at the cloak offered. His wings recede, sinking into his back and appearing as a deep black tattoo along his shoulders once more. He takes the white material and drapes it around himself, covering...some of him.
"Are you not pleased with my form?"
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Sizhui tries his best to not sound disappointed whenever the wings withdraw; the warmth had been nice, he could've easily tucked himself against Zhuque and soaked up all the heat he had to offer, but not in front of Jingyi. (Though that would at least give him an excuse to scold him for watching!)
He swallows thickly following the remark and shakes his head, “N-No,” he stammers, but then he reassures with a smile, “I mean, no, your form is... it's fine.” Perfect, really— (Come on, Sizhui, focus!) “This will be easier for, ah, keeping you hidden from others.”
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Hidden from others? Zhuque doesn't understand but he nods anyway, bowing his head to his master.
"Then I will stay hidden for you," he swears, "Where are we going if I must be hidden from others?" he asks, tilting his head.
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“Only for a little bit.” Until he can make absolutely sure nobody will be upset or attempt sending Zhuque away, even if his fathers are gone, Grandmaster Qiren is ordinarily indisposed and Zewu-jun is still in seclusion. “Into our home, Cloud Recesses.” He takes one of Zhuque's hands, catches Jingyi's forearm with the other then begins leading them back.
no subject
The cloak feels nice around him and they're all lucky that Zhuque does not feel most normal human emotions. After what he had seen with Shuoyue...he doesn't want to. He follows along, graceful and unashamed, as he is dragged along with the other young man. He turns his wrist and holds onto the young man's hand.
"You needn't guide me like this," he says.
Zhuque easily moves out of his hold and reaches up, plucking a feather from his wing. Easily, it transforms under his will into a black and red token, no different than the one that already hangs from his belt.
"Use this to summon me. I would not wish for more of your blood spilt because of me."
With a bow, he disappears in red embers and manifests as a bird charm on the token.
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“Hm?” He hesitates momentarily at the comment, glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised with confusion.
Releasing Zhuque's hand is disappointing, but Sizhui's loath to hold someone against their will. (Funny, considering...) His brow knits after the man reaches up, the faintest wince creasing his features when he removes one of the pretty feathers, though his eyes reopen just in time to see it transform.
Oh. Well, that might be easier, it's true.
He accepts it, nodding slowly, knowing full-well there's nobody who would harm him in such a way, yet feeling somewhat more at ease with this plan. The token gets tucked away into the confines of his robes, he reaches with the newly freed hand to pick up Jingyi's cloak and tosses it around his shoulders before continuing onward.
Their remaining trek back is rather quiet, with Sizhui clutching the charm against his chest the whole way and Jingyi watching him closely. At the point where they split off, his friend gives a soft apology, to which he smiles, shakes his head and loops an arm around the other disciple in an appreciative hug. “It's okay,” he reassures, “the birthday gift is wonderful, even if it didn't exactly go according to plan.” They share a laugh and, with Sizhui's blessing, go their separate ways once they've reached his bedroom where he wastes no time dipping inside.
Now perched on the edge of his bed, he carefully twists the medallion between his hands, thumbing over the bird charm, his heartbeat thumping at an uncontrollable rate. “How do I summon you once it is safe?” he asks, sighing quietly while drawing the item to his chest again.
no subject
When he is able to draw the medallion against his chest, red embers spill forth from the medallion as Zhuque is summoned again. He takes form, kneeling before Sizhui and remains there.
"Zhuque, the Vermillion Bird, at your service," he says quietly.
He looks up at the young man, eyes burning fire bright for a moment before settling into dark brown once more.
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‘At your service,’ he says, and Sizhui's throat grows abnormally tight once those fiery eyes are on him.
But the longer he gapes, the more he realizes, this is real; there's an important god-like figure, ready at his beck and call, willing to satisfy his every whim, no matter what it may be? He swallows thickly, lowers a hand to his lap, the one that had been injured earlier reaching to shyly touch the mark on his forehead, fingertips following it all the way down the bridge of his nose, though he stops there and moves to withdraw before curiosity gets the best of him.
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He closes his eyes when he feels cool fingers touch along the mark on his forehead. It appears to sizzle, glowing like hot embers and with a golden energy that matches Sizhui's signature. Truly, he is a guardian of this young master now. When he withdraws his hand, he opens his eyes again, looking up at him.
"Did I surprise you?"
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“A little,” he admits quietly, sheepishly, unable to help the faint smile that curves his mouth as he interlocks both hands across his lap. “But that's okay since... I should probably get used to it, yes?”
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He tilts his had as he stands.
"I've only had one other master that I served as guardian in recent memory. Some masters...never get used to seeing my form. Not like this. But whatever other form I have." He thinks of Qingming. "That other master had been surprised of how I am as well. His dear friend gave his flesh and blood so that I may be summoned and stop the great serpent."
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He sits silently, listening to what he's being told, carefully considering Zhuque's words, his expression creasing with concern at the revelation. ‘Gave his flesh and blood,’ that can only mean one thing, right? “Did it work? Were you able to defeat the serpent?” And if he wasn't, does that mean Jingyi has dragged him away from his duties in the Imperial City to instead keep him company here? Gods, he hopes not.
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He nods once. At a price, they were able to defeat the serpent. He looks down at his hands before he takes the invited seat next to his new master.
"I...I protected Qingming." His brow furrows. "And the serpent had started to disintegrate. I took the brunt of the damage. I felt myself burn up." He could have sworn that he would return the flesh and blood to Bo Ya. Yet instead of returning to his stone form, he found himself summoned to this place to the bewilderment of his new master.
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