( even the sigh (soft, relieved, laced with neither mischief nor malice) is enough to still the hand formerly seeking his blade, though it hovers impotently rather than properly settling. and while he doesn't immediately recognize the voice, that very fact in itself is enough to loosen the icy panic constricting his lungs. 'the one you helped on the road,' the man says - and there's a moment in which xingchen doesn't quite respond. instead his brow flickers in faint bemusement, because in truth, the better part of the last day or so has been somewhat of a numb and half-dizzy blur.
but then a memory lifts from the mixed-up haze. there were bandits, weren't there? xingchen killed them. that's what this man means by 'helped'.
only now, with this man's identity (or at least relevance) placed and serving as one final bit of proof that this isn't some manner of trap set by xue yang, does he finally let out a sigh of his own - a slow, heavy sort of sigh which drains the remaining tension from his body. his grip on the other man's wrist goes lax, though it takes xingchen another couple of seconds to think to let go of it altogether. )
Forgive me, ( he says, this time far closer to the polite and cordial tones of their initial encounter, though with an undeniable fatigue just below the surface.
and though this is the part where one tends to explain ('forgive me, i mistook you for another' or something like it), no proper explanation is coming. there isn't really anything he might say which could explain so strong a reaction - so he doesn't. instead, both hands settle on the bed now to help xingchen shift into a more sustainable sitting position, and he says - ) It's good to know that you're alright. ( he recalls asking as much before he collapsed, but not any answer he may have received. ) You have my gratitude, for the aid you've offered. This is... an inn? ( the bed feels like that of a small-town inn, and the air smells very much like an inn's guest quarters. )
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but then a memory lifts from the mixed-up haze. there were bandits, weren't there? xingchen killed them. that's what this man means by 'helped'.
only now, with this man's identity (or at least relevance) placed and serving as one final bit of proof that this isn't some manner of trap set by xue yang, does he finally let out a sigh of his own - a slow, heavy sort of sigh which drains the remaining tension from his body. his grip on the other man's wrist goes lax, though it takes xingchen another couple of seconds to think to let go of it altogether. )
Forgive me, ( he says, this time far closer to the polite and cordial tones of their initial encounter, though with an undeniable fatigue just below the surface.
and though this is the part where one tends to explain ('forgive me, i mistook you for another' or something like it), no proper explanation is coming. there isn't really anything he might say which could explain so strong a reaction - so he doesn't. instead, both hands settle on the bed now to help xingchen shift into a more sustainable sitting position, and he says - ) It's good to know that you're alright. ( he recalls asking as much before he collapsed, but not any answer he may have received. ) You have my gratitude, for the aid you've offered. This is... an inn? ( the bed feels like that of a small-town inn, and the air smells very much like an inn's guest quarters. )