ic inbox, ryslig.
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It doesn't stop him from giving a derisive scoff. ] We have all been twisted into something grotesque. Do you think that makes you special? [ He looks down at his hands, the fingers are still bare metal and wire while the palm is covered by porcelain once more. ] I'm already burdened.
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he supposes he'll just have to trust. )
Give me a moment. ( a concession, with the faintest note of despair. then there's the sound of claws on bathroom tile again, and shortly after, the bathroom sink turning on. washing his mouth and chin just in case any of the times he's bitten his tongue or lip have left blood there, washing his gruesome misshapen hands for good measure. he fixes his thin inner robe, righting it as best it can despite the surplus of anxiously-shifting tails bulging it awkwardly at the back.
a hand lifts, fingertips brushing along the tips of his foremost teeth where they peek out from under his lips. he can close them entirely if he needs to, but his new teeth are horrid bulging things and he can only imagine it makes his whole lower face look terribly swollen.
jiang wanyin will hear the faucet turn off now, claw tips clicking lightly against the door a good two or three seconds before xingchen says, ) Move back from the door now. ( low and quiet and bracing. when he hears such a movement, he turns the lock with slow deliberate movements, opening the door just the same.
the xingchen that steps out the bathroom door, one hand lingering on the frame, is very much as he described. much too tall, for one - he seems to have gained something like six inches, all stemming from the fact that each heel is now significantly farther from the ball of his foot, creating the illusion of a brand new mid-leg joint. too many too-sharp teeth poke out from behind his lips, in place of the ones lost onto his living room floor. his hands do indeed have claws, and the thickness of palm that he described can also be found on the underside of his fingertips - paw pads, nearly unmistakable. his ears have shifted into long pointed ears covered in silken off-white fur, and such fur can be seen along the back of his shoulders and neck as well. the two longest tails poke out from below the hem of his robe, fluffier but a similar creme in color.
his careful and courteous effort to be free of blood, meanwhile, is entirely shattered by the blood-stained bandages wrapped around his upper face. both eyeholes are a deep read, with drips of it trickling faintly from underneath the cloth, smeared at the bottom where he wiped away what he thought was simply tears. )
Have you any ideas? ( it's carefully neutral now, because he can't entirely trust his voice to sound sturdy if he allows it even the slightest scrap of emotional affect at the moment. )
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Once the door opens and the daozhang revealed, all thoughts of hiding his own condition are completely forgotten. He is grateful for the man's blindness since he certainly isn't able to hide the horror and disgust showing on his face - disgust not at him, maybe, but rather at what the Fog God has reduced a respected cultivator to, yet he has no delusions that Xingchen would have made such fine distinctions. No, it is for the better he can't see how Jiang Cheng is looking at him now, even if he couldn't keep himself from audibly sucking in air.
His fingers twitch with the need to take his sleeve and wipe away the droplets of blood trailing down from the blood-soaked bandages but he just clenches his hands behind his back and remains where he is.
His weight shifts from one foot to the other. He licks his lips. Xiao Xingchen is trying to focus on the necessities and so should he. Even if... His hands! These teeth, how much it must have hurt when his jaw shifted to make room for these bulging teeth... A shudder runs through Jiang Cheng. ]
I... I'm not sure. [ His voice isn't even faux angry anymore, just small. ] Give me a moment.
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(if it's any consolation, the blood from beneath his bandages is already long since dried, not at risk of messying anything further.)
the sight of him is apparently bad enough to drain all practicality from jiang wanyin's demeanor, and for that reason more than anything xingchen says, ) I can return to the bathroom, if you'd prefer. ( this, at least, has a note of reassurance - a vocal indication that he isn't wounded by the concept, that he wouldn't take offense if such is the case. )
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[ Fuelled by his own indignation, he finds the courage to take a step forward, looking at him again though his mind still wants to refuse the sight and its reality, that this is how things can end up even for a cultivator. It's wrong. It's so completely, deeply wrong... And there is not a thing Jiang Cheng can do about it. ]
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then he straightens just slightly with a decisive throat hum. ) Then I suppose I'll serve the tea. ( and with that, he steps past jiang wanyin - an oddity in itself, as his legs bend oddly now and each step takes too long, covers too much distance - and heads for the kitchen. as much as he would like such a feat to be smooth and confident, it only accomplishes the former, his steps slower and more careful, clawed fingertips lightly out to each side to find landmarks. too much of his sense of place, even in this familiar set of rooms, is dependent on his ability to sense how far he's moved with each step. it will take time to learn such a thing in his new form.
the shift from carpet to tile tells him when he's entered the kitchen, and with significant assistance from his heightened sense of smell and his giant unwieldy ears, he locates the teapot with no difficulty. another mug is claimed from the cupboard, and if jiang wanyin has any mercy left after he bullied xingchen from the bathroom, he won't comment on the awkward delicacy with which clawed padded hands tilt the teapot to pour some in each.
both mugs are brought to the dining table then, one set in front of the nearest chair and the other set halfway across the table for his guest. a clawed finger snags on something on the way back, and only as he quickly catches hold before it falls over does he realize it's.... another mug.
ah. his lips press together a bit, and he moves the mug aside to set it near the table edge that rests against the wall. ) Forgive me, I seem to have lost track of a bit more clutter than I realized.
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It is painful to watch him like this, as painful as it is infuriating. He had always admired this daozhang his principled ways and here in Ryslig, he has come to admire him even more for how clever and resourceful he is at working around the limitations of his body. It hurts to see him reduced to fumbling.
But he stays silent, only quietly seething to himself at the indignity of all of it.
There is something deeply bizarre, too, about the way his friend is making tea in a blood-splattered kitchen with dried blood on his face and bloodied mugs everywhere, and there is still the bloody robe thrown over that chair, too...
He takes the bloody clothes and wads them up, putting them on a counter before he takes the chair. There is still dried blood clinging to the backrest, so he makes sure not to lean back.]
It doesn't matter. We can clean that up. [ The teeth, too. Somebody really needs to sweep up the teeth. ]
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his nameless companion was often also angry on his behalf, anytime he was slighted at the market, anytime he pretended not to notice the beggar he just gave coin to then turned around to pick his pocket. it had warmed him, selfishly. he wonders now how many of them xue yang had gone back to threaten, murder even if given half the chance. xingchen was a fool to let it warm him as it did.
and yet he once again finds himself warmed by this seething on his behalf, like a fool. perhaps he'll always be a fool. at the very least, he knows that jiang-wanyin's fury is just - that it won't end in harm coming to those who don't deserve it.
at the very least, the words that come do well to dump cool water on that warmth, though he smiles a quiet appreciative smile regardless. with a shake of his head, ) A generous offer, but your company is quite enough. ( he won't be having jiang-xiong scrubbing his blood from the furniture. ) I should be able to tidy up well enough in the next day or so. I find that my senses are quite a bit sharper now, so finding that which is bloodied shouldn't be difficult.
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Payback will come. In due time. If there is one thing the last 16 years have taught Jiang Cheng, it is some measure of patience.
He cradles the tea cup between both hands, enjoying the warmth more than anything else. ]
It doesn't matter to me. I'm not afraid of a little bit of blood. [ Or teeth. Let's not forget the teeth. Does Xiao Xingchen even know they are scattered everywhere? ] You wouldn't put any great hardships on me.
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as for the offer, he swallows his kneejerk refusal and takes a moment to consider, lifting the tea to his mouth to sip it despite the temperature. xingchen did assure obi-wan that he would ask for help if help is needed. he'd like to think he'd have the sense to do so regardless, but his word was given, and so he asks himself: does he need this help? )
I think, ( he says, slow and considering, ) that this is a task which I should undertake on my own. I think that completing it unaided might do me some manner of good. ( which is not, at least, an offhanded rejection just for the sake of refusing to impose.
a beat, and a sightless glance at where he's moved the abandoned mug. ) Though it would be of great value to me if you could help me assess the scope of the mess I've made. ( he straightens a bit, head tilting fractionally as he pulls together a mental picture of the place - a thing which he wasn't able to accomplish just a couple of hours ago, and yet now he can. thoughtfully again, ) The blood, I'm able to find. There's at least one more mug somewhere, I should find that well enough too - and the teeth, I know that those are somewhere in front of the bathroom door. I think I've just heard you move my garments aside, so I've found those as well. Is there anything else?
( aside from the mess on his very own face, that actually pretty much covers it. )
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Your face [ he blurts out with his usual measure of tact and grace. He crosses his arms over his chest just to deal with his own discomfort and the scowl deepens. ] You need to change the bandage over your eyes and wash your face.
[ Vague, maybe, but he’s not going to humiliate the man further by expounding on the mess that he is. He is tactless, not purposefully cruel - not unless someone actually deserves his cruelty, anyway. ]
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Ah, forgive me, ( he says, mildly perplexed. ) I changed them just yesterday, I'm not sure how-... ( but that's when his fingertips skim across a slightly rougher bit at the crest of his cheek. rough with salt from when he wept, or so he had thought before, but why would it still feel like this?
though he stopped mid-word, his mouth closes, pressing to a line for a long moment. then, ) Thank you. I hadn't realized. You've likely just saved me quite a bit of embarrassment in the future. ( all while he's standing again now, making his smooth and steady way back toward the bathroom. it may occur to jiang wanyin, if he thinks about it, that this isn't a facet of the change. that xingchen's face and bandaging were similarly bloodied when he first encountered him in that museum.
xingchen doesn't bother to close the bathroom door this time, it should be quite quick. the bandage is removed and set aside (he'll deal with that later), and after the brief run of the faucet, his face is scrubbed somewhat thoroughly with a damp rag. when he re-emerges, both hands hover up behind his head, attempting to tie a simple knot with these clumsy clawed hands. it doesn't occur to him to ask for help, instead saying, ) There's that taken care of.
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Yet all he can do is murmur his assent and patiently wait for him to return, trying to make as little fuss about it as possible. Even if his thoughts do wander, and wonder. As far as he knows, what lies beneath the bandage is the same as has been before, he had even been wearing bloodied bandages like this when they first met at the museum. This issue must be older than the monstrous transformation.
When he returns, all Jiang Cheng has for his acknowledgment of the situation is a bland, polite smile. ] Of course. [ And that's it, he is willing to leave it at that, no further questions even though he is burning with curiosity. ]
How have you been settling in? Before... this happened, anyway. I'm impressed you're still living in the city. I didn't last a week.
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but the curiosity burns silently within jiang wanyin and xingchen is none the wiser. instead, they've turned the conversation to his choice of residences. he hums thoughtfully, and - ) Quite honestly, I didn't plan to. I - ( ope, he sure did just clip his thigh on the table - both hands fumbling with the bandaging means he doesn't have one to guide himself and he definitely misjudged the turn back into his seat. his lips press together with an huffed exhale that from anyone else would likely have been some sort of curse if he were the cursing sort. but then he's stepping around the corner properly to sink into his seat, continuing as if nothing happened. ) - I suppose I assumed that I'd know the right place to settle once I found myself able to travel peninsula.
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Not everyone out there hates and fears monsters. There are even a few communities where they live and work together peacefully. I had thought of settling in one of them and protecting the people but it's so terribly far away from the water. But I think that would be good work. We are still cultivators at heart, we are obligated to do our best to help people with whatever cursed powers we have now.
[ The truth is: he hasn't been able to make himself think much of the future anymore after killing, that had stolen his optimism, but it still feels right to say it. Maybe it will become true again. ]