ic inbox, ryslig.

[daozhangs]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, XIAO.XINGCHEN. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 018.07.154.55 *** XIAO.XINGCHEN has joined 018.07.154.55 <XIAO.XINGCHEN> You have reached Xiao Xingchen. <XIAO.XINGCHEN> I am often away from my laptop, but I will do my best to answer as soon as I'm able.

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[fishfairy]

[ It’s been too long since Runyu and Xingchen have fed — both are reluctant to deal with that side of this realm again. It’s something they can’t change, can’t control, and Runyu hates it. He can deal with most prices that have come of his decision to seek peace in this realm, but the tension and foreboding that come with feeding are agonizing. His luring of a human to a certain location, one of ethereal beauty, reflect careful planning, mirroring the destruction he crafted in his former world. The trap of the faerie ring is more abhorrent than the actual taking of their life to him for that reason. However, the brutality his friend can never escape wit his feeding is on another, unspeakable level. It would be naive to believe that someone actually killing the human first eases most of his pain.

There is much to ponder — to loathe — as the hunger starts to strangle him, and such turmoil sets loose other demons. Filling his mind with possible steps towards this goal. Of the positive aspects that outweigh the difficulty of the task of enticing a human towards him. Of the possible achievements of choosing the worst of the area around him. That of being in a position to judge and erase the corruption in this world, as he has before. Of using his power to do good as should be done with such abilities. To rewrite his wrongs.

The seduction of such possibilities should be easy to resist. The disgust from the blood already staining his hands should drown out such thoughts. Her voice and his vow should terminate such ambitions.

But the hunger gives more power to the whispers — frays his convictions. It’s as terrible as the grief, the fury that controlled him in the past.

Runyu despises this part of himself.

Perhaps that’s why, one evening when he can still hear his friend pacing in his room, he abandons the attempt of meditation and sits at the table by the window where the guqin rests, the strings glistening in the moonlight. He takes a breath, at first hesitant to touch the music when this much darkness is still churning inside him. But he’s desperate for it to stop, to be able to help again, and to not be a slave to others once more. His sighs and plucks a string, his other hand resting on the table not the instrument, letting the sound echo forth this time. ]

for my own reference: this is set sept. 2-3ish

[daozhangs]

( were they to speak of any of these things, xingchen might have somewhat differing opinions. he thinks himself lucky, for example, for the manner in which he feeds - for the fact that his hunger demands the end product of flesh rather than the act of killing. runyu can't help but kill. before he gained the ability to feed by way of blood as well, neither could jiang wanyin.

he also thinks, however unexpected such an opinion might be, that the temptation to seek and consume only the most incorrigible of the humans is entirely reasonable under the given circumstances. xingchen can scavenge, can access the dead by way of hospital or morgue or even a stroll down bavan's back alleys at night. someone can bring him a meal of flesh, and he can accept it, and it is enough. but were he in a position which forced him to decide who lives or dies (as runyu is), it would be senseless and unreasonable to expect him to leave such a thing to fate. not a single one of them has any right to take life or death into their hands, but they also hold the responsibility of minimizing the damage they cause. and if runyu were to mention such a thing to him - the fact that he struggles with the urge to hunt the wicked - xingchen might not condemn him as quickly as runyu would likely expect. in fact, he might very well agree to the unfortunate necessity of it, if only for the sake of harm-reduction. that said, he would strongly urge runyu to undertake the unpleasant task of such judgment before the hunger grows too strong. because perhaps his companion handles it all much better somehow, but in his own brief considering of that precise thing, he came to the undeniable verdict that his judgment can't be trusted while the hunger tears at the edges of his mind. not with matters of life or death, of judgment and corruption, when something so overwhelmingly desperate as this hunger would be satisfied if he were to only decide that the nearest passably-unpleasant person deserved to die.

but of course, no such conversations are being had. instead they meditate - and failing that, they pace. or at the very least, xingchen paces. especially at night. tonight may very well be the night which he locks himself away again. he hasn't yet decided. he should, perhaps, but a shudder of disgust ripples through him at the thought of it. of the captivity, and the helpless desperate regret which he feels each and every time once he drops off the far end of the plateau of his principles and plummets into a place beyond the light of rationality, a place in which he would gladly consume the first stranger who crossed his path.

then comes a deep and resonant thrum. a guqin string plucked, just the one but it's enough to stop his pacing short. he should leave runyu be, xingchen knows. the man is as tense as he himself is if not more so, and xingchen is laughably bad company at the moment. and yet he finds himself tugging open the cracked bedroom door just a bit further, slipping out just enough to lean mutely against the door frame, even his temple resting (tense but weary) against the wood.

he doesn't speak just yet. simply listens - for more such strumming, or perhaps for evidence that his presence has intruded on said strumming and he should go back inside his room. )

[fishfairy]

[ That his friend considers himself to be poor company in this time is far from Runyu’s thoughts when choosing to play tonight. And that he should discuss these matters with his two friends remains a distant consideration in his mind. Because the details of the hunger is already too closely linked with another part of himself. Admitting to loneliness and even the abuse of his past is one matter, speaking of the darkness within him, that which nearly destroyed the realms and any kind relationships given him, is something else altogether. Runyu does not fear Xingchen relinquishing his friendship — his friend is far too honorable to do that. Whether or not Jiang Cheng will condemn him as a hypocrite and someone who has committed similar acts as the Fog also remains far from his mind. No, what torments him is that giving voice to that side may reawaken that urge inside him, to be recognized and honored as others have been with so little effort. For all his decades alone at night to be venerated.

Runyu abhors that part, his father’s proud golden blood in him.

That he has already given into the temptation of his latent power and cunning — after witnessing what such actions had done to two of the people most important to him — is sickening. Therein lies one of his greatest sins. Knowing, hating, and still using those same methods when broken beneath the wheel of fate.

The hunger is a dangerous beast. But, to ignore it completely, is impossible. He cannot stop committing the act that his new body demands of him, but perhaps, he can erase a portion of his friend’s own suffering by allowing this much vulnerability to surface.

After another moment, Runyu lets himself strum another note, followed by one more. The clear note rings out in the room like a breeze drifting past him in the woods at night, and though the taunting of his hunger lingers in his mind — in his body — the music pulls him into a deeper place. His throat starts to close up for another reason. One he understand but falters to name aloud. But still, Runyu lets the fingers continue, allowing his anxiety to speak when the notes quicken with his agitated mood, slipping through the strings as if chasing something. He could stop and silence it again, the memories and the grief, her haunting support, but he refuses.

For himself. And because he can help another if he breaks through.]