houseofsushi | lan sizhui ♪ the untamed (open post)

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.

"Are you not pleased with my form?"

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.”

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.

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.

"Did I surprise you?"

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?”

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."

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.

A relieved sigh passes his lips, the slope of his shoulders relaxes and he nods understandingly in return. Once Zhuque sits, Sizhui turns toward him, unable to keep himself from looking even more concerned now. If his new guardian is worried, obviously there's still something and perhaps he isn't much help in this situation, but... it doesn't mean he won't try.

Question is: what's he troubled by? Feeling himself disappear or not knowing if the other master's friend was okay? “And yet here you are.” His attention downturns, the hand nearest Zhuque reaching out, fingertips gently settling on his forearm. “If you saw the snake die, then surely everything ought to be alright, yes?”

“Surely,” he agrees. “Bo Ya gave his flesh and blood so I could be summoned. With the destruction of the serpent, the flesh and blood should have returned to him.” He looks at his new master. “Your need must be great if I was to keep this form.”

His hand on Zhuque's arm pulls away, settles back into his lap, the other joining it so he can anxiously twiddle his fingers together. Yes, he knows, ‘gave his flesh and blood—’ Sizhui feels continuously worse the more they linger on it, agh...!

“Perhaps, and Jingyi's gift was sweet but,” a moment's hesitation then he inhales and proceeds with, “I'm sure there are more important people that need you, Zhuque.”

“You’re important,” he says plainly.

He picks up Sizhui’s hand that had been on his arm and placed it back there, moving it up and toward his back, watching him carefully.

“...would you like to see them again?”

Such plainness has Sizhui feeling somewhat taken aback, his mouth momentarily hanging open, although no words come to him. Zhuque takes his hand and he watches intently as it's placed on his arm again, moved up then back, which is where he realizes he's not just being led, his hand has started moving on its own.

Somehow, even though his words are slow-coming, Sizhui's voice doesn't break while his fingertips drift across where the tattoo begins right below his guardian's nape. “The... wings, you mean?” And those fingers curiously dip, tracing the intricate design down Zhuque's shoulderblade, the opposite hand reaching toward one of the other tattoos stretching across his torso.

The touch is cool, Zhuque notices, and he wants to lean into it. No. He cannot have attachment. Love is what drove Shouyue to madness. Yet Killing Stone...had he not loved as well? Instead, he concentrates on moving closer, easing Sizhui into tracing more of his tattoos along his skin. He keeps his dark eyes on the cultivator then nods slowly.

"The wings, if you wish." Or he could continue touching, which is certainly something Zhuque is interested in as well. He moves even closer and notices how he easily looms over the other. "You may do what you want."

Even though the other male doesn't lean into his shy affection (yet), Sizhui isn't deterred, it seems. He keeps right on letting his fingers drag over the markings, expression brightening, his eyebrows lifting with interest once Zhuque moves even closer. Being watched while he's pretty much feeling someone else up is something he didn't know he'd be doing with his day but honestly, he can't complain, and even shifts so he can peer over the man's shoulder at the body art.

“Show them to me,” he murmurs against Zhuque's cheek, withdrawing slightly to meet his gaze after he shifts again, one hand resting just below the tattoo on his back while the other drifts up and clutches his shoulder on the same side. Don't worry, he plans to, so long as whatever he does is also comfortable with Zhuque.

A sizzle and a hiss and the dark marks along his back rise, unfolding into great black wings that nearly fill up the entire room without knocking anything over. They loom for a moment before covering them, lowering so that Sizhui could reach out and touch as much as he likes.

The noises are a little concerning, but as soon as the wings appear, Sizhui can't contain his excitement and he certainly doesn't resist giggling whenever Zhuque's feathers almost span the length of his room. Then they drape around them, a dark, protective curtain from the outside world. He exhales, slow and deliberate, adjusts to where he's halfway straddling the man's thighs while both hands stretch out toward those offered wings.

And ever-so-gently, he ghosts his fingers over them, unable to help the wide grin coming across his face as he moves along the muscle where the appendage connects to Zhuque's shoulder. “Beautiful,” the younger whispers breathlessly, doe-eyed gaze on Zhuque's face, entirely focused on the task at hand. (Pun intended.)

He holds onto Sizhui’s waist, balancing him as he crawls over and practically straddles him. He keeps his eyes on Sizhui the entire time, only widening slightly when he feels the cool wandering fingers touch between his wings and his back.

“Thank you,” he replies quietly.

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