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[ The energy feeding... Well, he had had an easy start with that, in a way, between having fed first in a frenzy and then while he was someone who actually relished it, so by the time he used it as a weapon at the circus it had come almost easily to him, at least on the physical level. It hadn't felt strange anymore.

This, though... It is the very first time he has fed on blood, with a body which doesn't even feel hunger or thirst anymore, drinking blood in a way which a mind still thinking like a human's can barely comprehend as the act of any sort of drinking...

And yet, as soon as the first drops of blood reach his systems, he feels overcome by a strange hunger, a need, some diffuse want for more - not from true starvation but simply that hunger of someone who has stumbled across something delicious and wants more, regardless whether he actually physically needs to eat.

Jiang Cheng wants to eat. ]

I... [ His voice cracks, trailing off in high-pitched mechanical noises and his other hand twitches, curls and uncurls at his side, reaches for Xiao Xingchen's throat but draws back before he can touch though certainly close enough that he will be able to sense the movement. He balls it into a tight fist against the needles wanting to pop out but that only places his knuckles perfectly for the knuckle needles to release and he wants... ]

It feels good. [ It does. It's not the sharp relief of eating when starved but it feels good, he... ] I feel alive.

( it becomes clear quite quickly that his friend hasn't heard a word that xingchen has said, which sobers the moment up rather quickly, unexpected mirth fading to an attentive silence. it's just in time for what was likely a valiant attempt at words by jiang wanyin to fracture into inhuman sounds, the likes of which xingchen has only heard (and in much different and more drastic form) when the man screeched in misery during their time in captivity.

a movement is made then, one which he can't quite identify at first and (stupidly, naively) trusts jiang-xiong too much regardless to properly brace himself for - and sure enough, the hand stops short before it finds its target (his throat, as it turns out). perhaps to someone else, such a thing might be concerning. to xingchen, it confirms that which he already knew: that jiang wanyin won't allow himself to harm him.

'it feels good. i feel alive.' ) I'm glad, ( he says, the corners of his lips twitching in threat to smile again despite the situation. but all seems to be going well enough so far, doesn't it? his arm below jiang-xiong's grip feels distinctly colder and slightly more numb, but that's to be expected since much of the blood is being intercepted before it reaches his fingertips. it should be fine once they're through. )

You shouldn't be [ he barks, his voice curt and on the verge of being snappish with frustration and alarm - mostly at the very fact that Xiao Xingchen isn't alarmed at all. He must have sensed the hand going for his throat, he is trained as a cultivator even if he can't cultivate right now. He must know. He simply... Jiang Cheng digs his nails into the soft flesh of his palm of the human-soft hand. ] You shouldn't be glad about any of that.

[ Nobody should be happy to be drained of blood, no matter what it does to the one doing the draining. No matter that it makes him feel thrum with energy and life and has him feeling so alert, so... So much closer to being himself, only in a way which isn't him at all. This giddy rush, this almost-drunken, euphoric feeling, that is nothing like what being Jiang Cheng feels like. ~~But it is very much like what it had felt when he sank his feeding cables into the men at the circus, only then the rush had been all the cruel glee of vengeance, and he hadn't thought to question it.~~

But no he is feeling this, he is feeling good... and he wants more. He needs more. Craves more. His left hand shakes. ]

( but xingchen, for his part, is unfazed by the barked words. ) I shouldn't be glad that you feel alive? ( spoken with a note of something between challenge and skepticism - because even if jiang wanyin feeling alive without needing to kill for it for the first time since felfri wasn't fundamentally something to be glad for, how little must he know xingchen not to assume that he would be glad for it regardless? honestly.

but jiang wanyin isn't given too much time to answer - some two or three seconds later, the next breath xingchen draws brings with it a heady sort of lightness, and he knows quite well what that means. his free hand lifts now to wrap, unhurried but firm, around the wrist of the hand drawing blood from his arm. ) That's enough for now.

Edited 2020-12-18 14:09 (UTC)

[ He isn't surprised when the hand settles on his wrist, he isn't surprised at all - and yet he still gives a little jerk, startled with the realization that this is something he should have been thinking of. ] I hadn't... I wasn't... [ He hadn't been thinking at all of stopping. Stopping hadn't been part of his thinking anymore. And even now, with Xingchen's hand on his and his enough he finds himself not wanting to stop.

He is so alive right now. This feels good. He doesn't want to stop, doesn't want this feeling to stop, and really, why should he?

He squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth. ] I know. I know.

[ How do you stop this? He tries to somehow.. shut it off, tries to find the willpower to even want to. But there is hot, fresh blood pumping through his systems and he needs, he craves... He needs to want to stop. His other hand reaches out again, feeding cables extending from his fingertips before he even knows what's happening and he quickly balls that hand back into a fist.

With a staticky yell, he yanks his hand back, the needles still extended, just tears it away and takes a stumbling step back, blood-dripping hand now cradled against his own chest. ]

( the hand and request alike do seem to get jiang wanyin's attention rather quickly, but the man almost doesn't seem to know quite what to do with that. with the sudden concept of stopping, of releasing xingchen's arm from his hungry grip, even as he acknowledges that he does indeed know that it's time.

but xingchen is nothing if not patient, and he gives jiang wanyin one, two, three seconds before his mouth opens to insist a bit more firmly - which is precisely when the hand all but tears away from his arm, a sharp and vivid sting blooming along the inside of his forearm, a trickle of blood dripping down the length of his arm and hand (still held out a bit, no need to bleed on himself).

except he doesn't quite notice the blood. he's not sure whether jiang-xiong drew more quickly after he declared it enough or if xingchen himself had simply waited too long to do so, but even as he stands here he feels not unlike the air at the summit of a mountain - less tangible, not entirely present in the way that he should be. were his sense of place more concrete, he would recall that they've positioned themselves at bedside in case of this very thing, but it isn't and he doesn't. )

You did well. ( a fact that he sounds quite pleased by, but his voice isn't quite right in a way that he can't put his finger on. ) Didn't I tell you that you wouldn't harm me?

I... [ Jiang Cheng is still holding his hand cradled against his chest, his left hand now firmly around the right's wrist as if he doesn't trust himself to lash out again - he does, in fact, not trust himself not to lash out again. The euphoria is passing already, replaced by raw need and his eyes are transfixed on the blood running down Xiao Xingchen's arm. What a waste, he should...

He shakes his head and takes another step away from him, towards the door, and turns his back on him. The smell of blood still hangs heavy in the air, all his senses are attuned to it now.

Belatedly, he realizes that Xingchen had sounded funny, not quite right, not quite... ] You should sit down. I would help but...

( what's happening around him - specifically, what jiang wanyin is doing and where he's going - should be quite a bit more clear to him than it is. he realizes that much, and the thought gives him enough pause that he (ironically) nearly misses the suggestion to sit. ) There's no need, ( he says, but a moment later realizes to clarify - ) To assist, that is. I'm alright. ( because he has remembered the bed now, taking a slightly unsteady step in the direction he recalls it being - and sure enough, there it is.

xingchen sinks gratefully down to sit, arm still held out a bit before it occurs to him that the blood is probably the issue. ) Ah - forgive me, ( he'll be drawing his innermost sleeve from amongst the sleeves billowing around his free hand, pressing that against the spot to clean it up a bit. )

You shouldn't... [ Too late, so he trails off and simply winces. ] That blood stain will be trouble to wash out. [ Especially when you can't even see if it has successfully washed out. But that's something Xiao Xingchen must be dealing with a lot these days, with his twice-daily transformation and all the bloody messiness of it.

Either way, it is easier now for him to handle his hunger, and he can't deny being grateful for the reprieve, even if he keeps his safety distance. He looks down at his hand. The needles have vanished, not a trace of them left on his porcelain hand. ]

That went better than I had expected [ he admits, sounding a little suspicious still of his own good fortune. ]

( worry not, xingchen has washed many a bloodstain from snow-white robes before - and that was without the ability to smell any blood which the material retains. ) It's the inner sleeve, no one will see if it does, ( he assures, or perhaps dismisses pleasantly.

but now jiang wanyin seems to have gained enough distance from the matter to be able to speak of it, and his words earn a pleased hum and the curl of his lips into a faint smile. ) And on the first attempt. You see? We're more than capable of doing this responsibly. ( his voice sounds more or less back to normal now, though his movements are still a bit stiff, a bit stilted. typically, even without his sight, it's habit to 'look' at someone as he speaks to them - but his head still swims, and the direction from which jiang wanyin's voice is coming seems much more ambiguous than it should. instead, he fixes his attention on the floor directly in front of him, allowing his friend's location (and, really, the location of anything) to matter a bit less. )

Responsibly? Is that what you would call it? [ The damage done may not be severe and yes, he knows he should be counting his blessings for that, he knows it has gone so much better than he had expected and far better yet than he had feared but still... He looks down at his porcelain hand, then at the flesh hand which had nearly released his feeding cables at his friend. Does he even realize how close Jiang Cheng had come to forgetting that he is his friend and not merely a meal? No, there hadn't been any damage done. But still. ]

I hate what becomes of me when I'm feeding [ he confesses quietly, face and eyes averted, though his head is proudly raised high. So far so good, except Xingchen won't see that, but he can easily hear the slight shaking of his voice. ]

Edited 2020-12-20 00:20 (UTC)

( in fact, xingchen would call it 'responsibly'. they stopped before any proper damage was done, they did so next to a bed in case xingchen found himself unsteady, and jiang wanyin seemed to take measures afterward to make sure that he didn't try to continue. the process needs a bit of refining, but it was a very promising first attempt.

but his friend speaks again before xingchen can answer, these words quite a bit more grave (and faintly shaken) than the last. and so comes another hum, this one quiet and just slightly sympathetic, and a little nod as well. ) I can certainly understand that. ( xingchen, personally, disliked who he had been in the hours before he fed - the feeding was impossibly quick, in comparison.

after a moment, he scoots a foot or so down the bed and pats the space beside him. ) Would you like to sit? ( instead of hovering near the door. a beat passes, then his brow knits in realization. ) Or - ah, I suppose we meant to return to your own quarters, didn't we? Shall we do that, then? ( the dizziness, while still present, is something he's growing accustomed enough to that he could almost certainly navigate back to jiang-xiong's quarters without much trouble. )

Are you certain you don't want to rest some more? [ The question comes along with a squinty-eyed look, as if such scrutiny could actually tell him more about the state his friend is in than he permits him to see.

But he knows that, of course, and so after a momoment he mimics a sigh of defeat. ] I expect you will tell me not to worry. In which case, yes, we should return. You should eat and drink. I can get you whatever suits your needs... within reason. [ Not the one thing that would truly invigorate him, of course, but they know that. ]

( jiang wanyin has predicted his response quite effectively, enough so that xingchen is spared from giving it. still, he offers the slightest compromise in the form of, ) I can rest just as well in your quarters with tea. ( he isn't exactly abandoning rest altogether, simply adjusting the location of it so that jiang-xiong isn't kept waiting here for his head to clear. such a thing will likely take quite a bit longer than his friend has in patience. they will have to take a bit less next time, he thinks. but such is a problem for next time.

for now, he rises to his feet, focusing sharply through the perceived sway of the world around him in order to close the distance to where jiang wanyin waits with smooth (if overly-careful) steps. and with a slight nod, ) Let's go, then.

[ Jiang Cheng leads the way back to the rooms where tea is waiting, promising himself he will figure out what Xingchen would like to eat, since he didn't touch the sweets from Kulen's bakery that he had offered in the past.

He makes a point to walk slowly and covertly keep an eye on his friend just in case he will need to insist on offering support, which for now he is willing to refrain from and spare his dignity.

He walks tall and proud, a hand behind his back. And yet there is stolen - no, gifted - blood invigorating his robotic body now. It's not something he can simply ignore. ]

I owe you my thanks for what you have given me.

( and while xingchen does not, at any point, actually need the assistance, he does welcome a fractionally slower pace than before. something almost stroll-adjacent, not painstaking by any means.

it allows him a bit of focus to spare for jiang wanyin's gratitude, and for mulling over which words correctly convey that which he wishes to say in response, a quiet 'mm' acknowledging said gratitude in the interim so that it doesn't seem to go ignored. then, ) I wonder if it might be simpler not to hold debts between us. To owe or be owed. ( perhaps all that jiang wanyin 'owed' this time was his thanks, but this is all a bit deeper than that, touching on an undercurrent which has flowed throughout the entirety of their friendship so far, not unlike the very blood for which he's supposedly owed. and he has attempted to say this before - that he isn't owed, that he doesn't want to be. it has always been dismissed as undue selflessness, or something like it.

but now, within the near-ironic lack of clarity he feels at the moment, he has figured out precisely what it is that lies at the heart of it. ) I told you quite recently that the things which I do on your behalf are not borne from duty or debt. I also told you just last night that in this endeavor, as is most often the case, I seek only your happiness. I understand that you don't quite believe it. Perhaps you don't understand it, or you think me too naive to lend the notion any credence - but I would very much like for a day to come in which you recognize those things as true. A day in which you understand that nothing I do on your behalf is tethered by any sort of debt.

( which is... quite a bit for jiang wanyin to wrap his mind around, he knows. fortunately, xingchen gives him the opportunity not to do so - there's a second piece to this, one much more relevant to the present moment and perhaps more easily stomached. ) Just the same, it would please me greatly to know that if you choose to do something on my behalf, it's of your own volition - not because you feel that I'm owed. Debt is a burden, and all such a thing does is show me how exactly I've burdened you.

( while all of it ended up a bit more honest (particularly at the end) than he may have intended, xingchen feels strangely light in the aftermath. perhaps a little too light, and he narrowly resists the urge to lift a steadying hand to find the nearby wall. by his estimate, they should be arriving at jiang-xiong's quarters about now, regardless. )

[ Yes, they are just about arriving by the door and Jiang Cheng stands there by the door, watching him, watching a little helplessly even as he tries to find the right words to respond to... that. It had been a powerful speech, a touching one even, but not one he truly knows how to respond to - or even how to feel about it.

No, he truly doesn't understand, though he isn't going to insult Xiao Xingchen by thinking of him as naive. Thinking of it as debts seems to be the easiest way to think of it, or at least the most predictable one - even though debts come with their own discomfort.

Jiang Cheng stands there, proud and somewhat stiff though Xingchen won't even be able to see his perfect posture. ]

I don't know what else I should think of it, but I'm not going to force you to think of it as a debt... or a duty. Not that you owe me any duty at all. I... [ He trails off again, quietly frustrated with his own inability to think of anything but the proper courtesies. All of these seem terribly inappropriate. ] I will just give you my gratitude then, without speaking of debts. If that is acceptable to you.

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