[whatever xiao xingchen has gone through before rescuing this boy, it's clear he's tired, and that's not just because he collapsed in the middle of the road either. there's also an unsettled air in the room despite the safety; it's palpable, electrified in an unexplainable sense, except for the fact po xiao can feel it, which discombobulates him somewhat. regardless, he's steady and undeterred, patient while his newfound company regathers himself.
the whole time, his head twists one way then the other, turning from the man to where he knows he'd set xingchen's sword. part of him insists he go collect it, return the weapon to its owner because one: it's his, and two: it'd do better there anyway in case something happens. (but wait, what's going to happen? nothing, of course, they're completely safe here for now.)
he does redirect again, right as xiao xingchen introduces himself, earning a warm, affirming hum.] Nice to meet you, [a moment's hesitation then,] Circumstances aside. Uhmβ [though he stops once more, contemplating, trying his hardest to remember if there had been anyone else they passed while on their way to the inn. nobody had tried to stop them and he hadn't heard any individuals following, so it feels safe enough to assume they are in the clear, but.] I cannot say if anyone saw us on the way. Nobody I could hear, that is, but I do know for sure the innkeeper's the only person who knows we're in this room right now.
[and so far, she's proven herself as po xiao's one ally during all his troubles. he sees no reason not to trust her.]
( the pleasantries, though well beyond xingchen's own capacity for normalcy at the moment, have a tired little smile curling the edges of his next exhale. the kindness barely warms the surface of him, a fleeting relief so deeply at odds with the death-chill still clinging to his bones, with the disquiet of his racing heart - but a fleeting brush of warmth is still better than none at all, better and perhaps even more grounding.
and then po xiao continues - he's circled back to the question that xingchen asked, albeit with a confusing lack of observational insight... at least until 'nobody i could hear,' at which point a number of things click into place. the care and precision in so many of his quiet movements, not unlike xingchen's own. the men on the road had said 'another blind man'.
this man, who carried him along miles of wooded road and then tended his wounds, can neither fight nor see. it's a fact which xingchen's next inhale carries all the way down to the pit of his gut, where it thickens, congeals in a way which turns his stomach.
(he wonders if a day will come in which he no longer needs to view others in terms of how easily xue yang might kill them.)
all of this has decided quite definitively that he needs to put distance between himself and this man as soon as he's physically able. he lets out his breath (he hadn't quite realized he was holding it), and with it comes: ) My sword? ( 'where is it?' sounds like the question at hand, though he's already casting his qi out to answer that very question for himself... all while he shifts again, scooting over to the edge of the bed and placing his feet on the floor. and oh, there's frostwork's energy just over there on that table - so he lifts a shaky hand toward it. ) Forgive me, I would just prefer to have it with me, ( he says, his words half-distracted as frostwork audibly scoots across the surface of the table in their direction,
and then clatters to the floor.
the next breath that xingchen lets out sounds just short of punched, in a way that he hides quite poorly despite his best efforts. it might seem at first like suppressed frustration, but in actuality, he's rapidly drained what little of his qi his body has not yet dedicated to healing his wounds - and he's dizzy. his free hand grips the edge of the bed for balance now, and the hand which presumed to summon frostwork now drops by necessity to do the same.
a slow and measured breath... and then come words. ) Po-xiong, I'm quite certain I owe my life to your kindness today, ( xingchen says, quiet but sure, ) And that's a debt which I'll be repaying summarily. You can't stay here. I'll pay you for the room, that's no trouble - but please, put as much distance as you're able between yourself and this place. ( and xingchen, is the true concern. he swallows hard, 'gaze' dropping to land on a nondescript bit of bedding beside where he sits. a bit apologetically, ) I would do so myself, were I able. ( but he can't even call back his blade, let alone stand up and leave from this inn. )
[although many people wouldn't deem it necessary for him to be so polite, po xiao knows manners are important, isn't one to abandon them just because he's in unfamiliar company; this man still rescued him, after all, the least he can do is show proper appreciation and help him with his wounds to the best of his ability.
allowing him somewhere safe to stay for however long he needs also feels right despite it simply coming alongside what's already been offered. (and po xiao would sleep on the floor if needed, he wouldn't mind whatsoever!) while no answer comes immediately, his first thought isn't worrisome, but the longer the silence stretches, the more he begins considering what sort of situation xiao xingchen's been drawn into that has him so concerned with wherever his sword might be. he knows weapons are an extension of a warrior, something he assumes this man is, and much like with feng ren, it makes sense they'd want those within arms reach in case something awful happens.
at least that way, should any of those foolish men attempt hunting them down again, they'll be made quick work of? and don't think for one minute po xiao's not wondering what exactly it is xingchen wants to get away from, either.
which is why he doesn't hesitate to avert his attention to where the sword lays, opening his mouth in response, only to come up short once he realizes the other male's moving.] No forgiving needed, really, I understand, but you shouldn'tβ [even if it's far too late to stop him. so, po xiao clamps his mouth shut and lets him do as he pleases, shifting back slightly, yet keeping himself close enough in case there's a chance xingchen needs help. the distinct sound of that same sword shifting of its own accord draws his attention again, has his eyebrows lifting with surprise as it rattles, slides over the table, then promptly hits the floor still some few feet away. that's more than a little intriguing and, fascination aside, he's pleased he'd guessed somewhat correct about him.
without missing a beat, his focus is back on xiao xingchen, on moving both his hands to his shoulders and gently urging him back toward the bed. βpo-xiong,β already so casual, it makes him smile though it won't last long following that remark. can't stay here? what does that mean?] Xiao-gongzi, you needn't fret about such things right now when you should be resting and regathering your strength. [clearly, he shouldn't have to point out how his failed attempt to retrieve his sword proves this.
he moves then, gathers up xingchen's sword and brings it over, crouching back down in front of him while offering it.] Afterward, we can leave this place, go our separate ways if necessary even. But until then, I assure you that we are safe here.
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houseofsushi2021-04-19 12:15 am
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the whole time, his head twists one way then the other, turning from the man to where he knows he'd set xingchen's sword. part of him insists he go collect it, return the weapon to its owner because one: it's his, and two: it'd do better there anyway in case something happens. (but wait, what's going to happen? nothing, of course, they're completely safe here for now.)
he does redirect again, right as xiao xingchen introduces himself, earning a warm, affirming hum.] Nice to meet you, [a moment's hesitation then,] Circumstances aside. Uhmβ [though he stops once more, contemplating, trying his hardest to remember if there had been anyone else they passed while on their way to the inn. nobody had tried to stop them and he hadn't heard any individuals following, so it feels safe enough to assume they are in the clear, but.] I cannot say if anyone saw us on the way. Nobody I could hear, that is, but I do know for sure the innkeeper's the only person who knows we're in this room right now.
[and so far, she's proven herself as po xiao's one ally during all his troubles. he sees no reason not to trust her.]
no subject
and then po xiao continues - he's circled back to the question that xingchen asked, albeit with a confusing lack of observational insight... at least until 'nobody i could hear,' at which point a number of things click into place. the care and precision in so many of his quiet movements, not unlike xingchen's own. the men on the road had said 'another blind man'.
this man, who carried him along miles of wooded road and then tended his wounds, can neither fight nor see. it's a fact which xingchen's next inhale carries all the way down to the pit of his gut, where it thickens, congeals in a way which turns his stomach.
(he wonders if a day will come in which he no longer needs to view others in terms of how easily xue yang might kill them.)
all of this has decided quite definitively that he needs to put distance between himself and this man as soon as he's physically able. he lets out his breath (he hadn't quite realized he was holding it), and with it comes: ) My sword? ( 'where is it?' sounds like the question at hand, though he's already casting his qi out to answer that very question for himself... all while he shifts again, scooting over to the edge of the bed and placing his feet on the floor. and oh, there's frostwork's energy just over there on that table - so he lifts a shaky hand toward it. ) Forgive me, I would just prefer to have it with me, ( he says, his words half-distracted as frostwork audibly scoots across the surface of the table in their direction,
and then clatters to the floor.
the next breath that xingchen lets out sounds just short of punched, in a way that he hides quite poorly despite his best efforts. it might seem at first like suppressed frustration, but in actuality, he's rapidly drained what little of his qi his body has not yet dedicated to healing his wounds - and he's dizzy. his free hand grips the edge of the bed for balance now, and the hand which presumed to summon frostwork now drops by necessity to do the same.
a slow and measured breath... and then come words. ) Po-xiong, I'm quite certain I owe my life to your kindness today, ( xingchen says, quiet but sure, ) And that's a debt which I'll be repaying summarily. You can't stay here. I'll pay you for the room, that's no trouble - but please, put as much distance as you're able between yourself and this place. ( and xingchen, is the true concern. he swallows hard, 'gaze' dropping to land on a nondescript bit of bedding beside where he sits. a bit apologetically, ) I would do so myself, were I able. ( but he can't even call back his blade, let alone stand up and leave from this inn. )
no subject
allowing him somewhere safe to stay for however long he needs also feels right despite it simply coming alongside what's already been offered. (and po xiao would sleep on the floor if needed, he wouldn't mind whatsoever!) while no answer comes immediately, his first thought isn't worrisome, but the longer the silence stretches, the more he begins considering what sort of situation xiao xingchen's been drawn into that has him so concerned with wherever his sword might be. he knows weapons are an extension of a warrior, something he assumes this man is, and much like with feng ren, it makes sense they'd want those within arms reach in case something awful happens.
at least that way, should any of those foolish men attempt hunting them down again, they'll be made quick work of? and don't think for one minute po xiao's not wondering what exactly it is xingchen wants to get away from, either.
which is why he doesn't hesitate to avert his attention to where the sword lays, opening his mouth in response, only to come up short once he realizes the other male's moving.] No forgiving needed, really, I understand, but you shouldn'tβ [even if it's far too late to stop him. so, po xiao clamps his mouth shut and lets him do as he pleases, shifting back slightly, yet keeping himself close enough in case there's a chance xingchen needs help. the distinct sound of that same sword shifting of its own accord draws his attention again, has his eyebrows lifting with surprise as it rattles, slides over the table, then promptly hits the floor still some few feet away. that's more than a little intriguing and, fascination aside, he's pleased he'd guessed somewhat correct about him.
without missing a beat, his focus is back on xiao xingchen, on moving both his hands to his shoulders and gently urging him back toward the bed. βpo-xiong,β already so casual, it makes him smile though it won't last long following that remark. can't stay here? what does that mean?] Xiao-gongzi, you needn't fret about such things right now when you should be resting and regathering your strength. [clearly, he shouldn't have to point out how his failed attempt to retrieve his sword proves this.
he moves then, gathers up xingchen's sword and brings it over, crouching back down in front of him while offering it.] Afterward, we can leave this place, go our separate ways if necessary even. But until then, I assure you that we are safe here.
[βfor now,β is something he leaves unsaid.]