daozhangs | ic inbox, ryslig.

That’s a good question.

[ Runyu chuckles, smile dimming. He lowers his glass of cider, lacing it between his two hands and takes a minute to gather his thoughts. Truthfully, his experience in gardening is limited, arguably comparable to his friend’s, but that brief interlude remains something special. Even connected to the woman he betrayed on so many levels, he can’t cut the opportunity away. Perhaps it’s the moments connected to that bloom that he empathizes with, naive words followed by forgotten promises, struggling on his own in darkness alone, appearing invisible even when putting forth the effort. ]

Maybe I shouldn’t tease you about them. Really, they remind me of a flower gifted me long, long ago. It’s just the one time but I couldn’t fail. ( He shakes his head. )What was another challenge set before me to master alone without any guidance? Although, if I had taken it that way, perhaps it wouldn’t matter now. Be that as it may, I watched it grow from a tiny warm seed in a pouch to a sprout into plant ready to shine like the stars I envied above. It was my first flower. ( He snorts gently, reprimanding himself, and lifts his cup, taking a longer drink of the cider, supporting the ache that’s risen. ) Perhaps- ( He lowers the cider, a whimsical smile rising over his features, letting the words form as they never have before. ) Perhaps that is when I fell in love with her. And when I lost her.

( though runyu chuckles at the question, it's a different sort than his warm, lively chuckling and laughter of the past couple of minutes, and xingchen can't help but feel the slightest sinking of disappointment that he's managed to sour the mood on such a rare and joyous occasion.

but the disappointment is incomplete, since he does still get the chance to learn more about his friend and that's never something which xingchen can properly lament regardless of circumstances. and so he listens, mug of cider held thoughtlessly between his hands, as runyu tells of a single flower which he challenged himself to grow from seed to sprout to bloom. and as it turns out, a love which does the same - though the love seems regrettably shorter-lived, if grew with the flower and was lost when it came to bloom. xingchen hums a quiet sympathetic hum, but otherwise allows the words the space they deserve.

it gives him a moment to consider how to respond. does runyu wish to talk about it? would such a thing help? or would it only dishearten him on this otherwise joyful day? xingchen isn't entirely certain. in truth, he isn't sure that he himself has ever been in love. make no mistake, he has loved with every ounce of his being, but that's hardly the same thing. he has heard of two manners of being 'in love' - the coy and intricate dance of gentry courting, and the passion so terribly strong that one needs to possess and to make the person one's own - and neither have ever really resonated within him. he has little use for any gentry formalities, and as for the latter... the love which xingchen has experienced in his life has always made him lighter. softer. an open palm to alight on in trust, knowing he would not grab or capture or harm, because all that he seeks from those whom he loves is to allow him to do his best to bring them happiness.

perhaps being in love isn't at all as he's heard of it. perhaps it can be an open palm, a breeze to hold someone aloft when their wings grow tired. it doesn't truly matter either way, does it? for one who asks nothing of those whom he loves, it makes very little difference in outcome.

here and now, the considering pause isn't so long as the depth of his thought might seem - a few short seconds, certainly less than ten. then he takes a drink of his cider now, lifting his 'gaze' back to runyu where he sits. then, quiet and sure, ) We could grow flowers as well, if you'd like. ( but he realizes how that might sound, considering the connotation that 'growing a flower' has in runyu's life, so - ) I met a girl not far from Yi City shortly after I lost my sight. I still hadn't quite returned to myself, so I nearly passed by her without thinking to stop - but every couple of steps she took, I heard a quiet dusty little thump, something dropping to land on the road. And then she'd huff, so longsuffering, so much less like an eight-year-old child than a tired mother of eight, so I couldn't help but stop and inquire.

As it turns out, she was carrying radishes. Both arms were absolutely full of them, overfull, full enough to spill out no matter how much care she took, and that was the sound which I'd been hearing. And so I helped her carry them home, and in exchange for a place to sleep for the night, I figured out how to weave her a basket to carry such things in the future.

( a beat, and the slightest hint of his own bittersweetness has crept just barely into his tone when he continues. ) I settled in Yi City shortly after, but I never quite had the time to visit. A curse had begun to sweep through the smaller villages in the area, one which left no survivors, and I'd dedicated myself to bringing that curse to an end. But the following summer, a night hunt brought me close to her village, so I thought to check in on her. But her village had fallen to the curse as well, sometime before I arrived.

( which brings him to his actual point. he draws a slow breath, as if drawing himself back out of the gravity of the story a bit, and - ) For a number of weeks, the simple act of carrying a basket reminded me of her. Of lives which could have been saved if my timing were better, if I'd paused in fighting against the futility of that ridiculous curse for a day and a night so that I could check in soon enough to protect her.

But then one of our baskets found its end in the campfire one evening, and the other sat for a little too long in a puddle that A-Qing hadn't seen - the bottom dropped out as soon as we tried to use it. And so, as was only practical, I once again sat down to attempt to weave baskets. And the first one - ached, quite terribly. But the second one ached a bit less. By the end of the week we had six brand-new baskets, more than enough to account for whatever terrible fate at least one of them might encounter... And by the last of the baskets, it hardly ached at all. As if some part of what I'd been feeling escaped into each new basket I made.

( the slightest tilt of his head. ) Perhaps you'll need more than six flowers to dull your own ache... But I think we can manage, if you'd like. I can think of far worse fates than a yard full of flowers.

I- ( Runyu hesitates, as if weighing the circumstances before him, wondering if he has the right to speak this. Closing his eyes in an apology, he speaks the truth. ) I don’t hate flowers or her. Even if she will probably never forgive me. Even if I am responsible for all flowers disappearing in our realm for 10 years. Her flower was the one of the only comforts around me when my world was destroyed. When even my grief was something I had bear in silence because of the corruption. ( He drops his head and clenches his hands around the cup. More words spill forth and Runyu lets them, lets out a moment of hurt that's never been allowed out. Just a sliver of the loss from that time. ) The flower bloomed for me and stayed with me when its mistress didn’t and it was the last thing I could hold onto as I destroyed the realm. ( Runyu drains the last of his mug of cider before reaching for more with another small self-reproaching laugh. ) I’m ruining the mood. I apologize, my friend.

[ If Xingchen tries to interupt Runyu will raise a hand to stall him. ]

I’m not entirely sure why I confessed all of that, but I don’t regret it. And I won’t regret trying to grow more here, if you will allow it. ( He glances outside to the setting sun shadowing the trees, smile growing. ) The heavenly realm created a pale imitations of flowers to fill the emptiness and the garden outside my palace was one of the few sanctuaries I was allowed. It’s one of the few details I miss here and why I spend as much time as I do outdoors.

( these things which runyu speaks of - a world destroyed, all of the flowers disappearing from an entire realm - they're all so astounding in scale that xingchen honestly finds it a little bit difficult to wrap his mind around them. perhaps it might be simper when a person is raised with such a vast concept of existence. he himself hardly knew what lay beyond baoshan sanren's mountain range until nearly two decades into his life.

but then - 'i'm ruining the mood. i apologize, my friend.' and xingchen does indeed shake his head and open his mouth to offer assurance, though it's stopped short by runyu's further words (alas, the raised hand went unseen). instead, hearing his friend refill his cider has reminded xingchen of the mug held between his own hands, and he takes a generous drink of it now so as not to fall too far behind. one of the pitfalls of the entirety of his experience with such spirits taking place in jiang wanyin's company - the concept of not keeping pace doesn't quite occur to him. )

We'll grow as many as you'd like, ( he says once runyu's explanation is through, a smile curling at the corners of his own lips. ) As soon as the weather grows a bit more hospitable for them. ( and he finishes the little bit left in his cider. the cup is set down so he can hold onto his trailing sleeve with his off-hand as he leans to retrieve the cider from where he heard runyu set it back down, then pours his approximation of another half-mug of it. )

[ Runyu releases a gentle laugh at the generosity offered him by Xingchen yet again, wondering what he’s done in his poor life to deserve the friendship and freedom this man gives to him for so little in exchange. He doesn’t understand it. But he doesn’t regret accepting it either. In the past, a similar, more fleeting warmth is what saved pieces of his soul from the oblivion of his existence. And now, Xingchen's reach is deeper, more complete, making the wish engraved on his pendant a possible dream.

He tilts head up towards his friend.]

How’s the cider?

( what has he done to deserve it? that's a question he'd do best not to ask xingchen himself, lest the man shower him with innumerable reasons compiled over their time as housemates thus far. perhaps the better question is why he's ever been judged to deserve anything less.

when runyu asks after the cider, xingchen exhales a sheepish little grin. ) It's quite pleasant. Certainly different from that which I've tasted before. Do you like it? ( he was really just guessing at runyu's tastes, and there were two or three other ciders to choose from. )

( The declaration brings a warm smile to his companion's lips as he turns his cup in his hands. ) I do, indeed. There's enough of the spirit's warmth in the bouquet to brighten the night but enough sweetness of the apples to temper any wanderings. It's a good choice for you, too; although, you don't have to keep up with my pace. Drinking is easier on your body if it's at you leisure.

( it's amusing, the almost poetic way that runyu speaks of the facets of their beverage of choice - and it's amusing in an entirely different way when he's called on his attempt to match his friend's drinking (he was, in fact, taking another drink of cider right at the moment it's mentioned).

with a little laugh-breath, ) Forgive me. Apparently Jiang Wanyin has taught me bad habits. ( he does lower the cider to the table now, at least for the moment. )

[ Runyu nods with a small hum, looking outside the room. One hand tugs out the pendant he's been given, rubbing his fingers against the wish engraved upon it. His mind returns to the challenge of the garden. ]

Xingchen, is there something that you want in the garden or house? Something you've missed from your past life that can be recreated?

( is there anything he wants? xingchen takes a moment to reflect on the question, to think back across his life and the things which he has treasured most throughout it, all the while taking a drink of the cider to fill the contemplative pause.

then he shakes his head, followed up with a reassuring smile. ) No, I'm not sure that there is. ( a flicker of his brow, considering. ) Or I suppose it's more fitting to say that we already have. ( as much as it was all one more facet of xue yang's overarching trickery, after his first couple of months in ryslig found him living alone, xingchen couldn't help but miss the odd domesticity of their strange little life in yi city. runyu's presence within his home has all but alleviated that ache altogether. )

Edited 2021-02-26 09:54 (UTC)

[ It takes Runyu a few moments to realize what his friend means with those words, but when the intent dawns on him, he can't help but turn away to the window for a few moments, covering his smiling face with a covered fist. This fluttering feeling of welcome has been such a rare thing for him in his life, after all.

Truthfully, Runyu’s not sure why he’s hiding his expression — as if he’s forgotten his friend’s blindness — but perhaps he’s loathe to break the moment. It's becoming increasingly harder not to react to the curling of warmth in his chest from Xingchen's words or actions on his behalf. There’s no question that the words are honest. But it doesn’t make the surge of emotions easier to control; on the contrary, he has too little experience with actual joy and not the facade he’s created for himself for the benefit of mostly keeping his brother's, Xufeng’s world intact.

How does he keep from alarming his friend by overreacting to each thing? ]

Edited 2021-03-01 03:04 (UTC)

( for whatever it might be worth, positive overreaction isn't likely to alarm him. perhaps it might amuse him, but only with utmost fondness. it's not as if he doesn't know by now that runyu isn't accustomed to receiving good things, especially not those delivered to him with intent. and it's also not as if runyu's reactions are even the most dramatic, among those in xingchen's life who aren't accustomed to good things. if he can handle jiang wanyin bristling and squawking about it, he can handle a little of runyu's endearingly obvious smile-shaped throat-clearing.

he allows the man his silence for a bit, drinking a bit more of the cider all the while. xingchen's no longer drinking to keep pace necessarily, but he also doesn't want to fall too terribly behind, that feels like it isn't in the proper spirit of such sharing of drinks. then, ) Cider now, flowers in the spring, and hopefully peace of mind all the while, ( he muses, half thoughtful and half something like amused. as far as the pursuit of runyu's happiness is concerned, it seems they've got the beginnings of a solid plan in the works.

it reminds him, rather roundaboutly, ) Mm, but you were going to tell me more of that which you like to do with your time, weren't you? Hobbies and such. ( if he wasn't, he should have been. )

( Runyu chuckles as his friend returns to the question of activities he spent time on in his past and slips the pendant back under his clothes. ) There’s much I’ve done with my time since it was a rare occurrence for me to have company. Whether it be training alone or reading alone, most activities blend together after they’ve become routine. There are some activities that seemed to be more, but most of those I had to discard or be willing to regulate it to the shadow of my existence. Music belonged to Xufeng, and any attempts at calligraphy or art could be destroyed the next day. In the end, I think I picked up woodworking out of instinct, a yearning to create something beautiful that could belong to me, if I discovered a way to make it so. Fortunately, it seemed removed enough from anything else I considered before and beneath most people. An art reserved for the mortals.

[ Shaking his head, Runyu retrieves his cup of cider, taking another small sip. ]

After a few decades, it was easier to look for activities that couldn't be destroyed. Strolling through the grounds at night and even spending time removed from the palace, if only for a few hours. And despite my birth, most people wouldn't object to a game of Go. If only for a chance to humiliate me. I saw no reason to object to those.

( though he was only just considering it, runyu having grown quite accustomed to the absence of goodness, hearing 'it was a rare occurrence for me to have company' still makes xingchen ache just the slightest bit. he himself has spent much of his life unaccompanied - even when working in tandem with zichen, they were apart nearly as often as they traveled together - but it was never quite the same sort of alone. it wasn't the sort of alone in which one can be surrounded by people but know that none wish to be around them. he can't quite imagine how that might feel.. the closest xingchen has ever come to that was the time just after zichen decided it best that they part ways, when he stumbled back down the mountain into a world which had no interest in associating with one they saw as 'crippled' lest they be trapped by responsibility for his care. he needed no care, but that was hardly the point, and even that much can't possibly compare to a lifetime of it.

then comes the part about discarding most of what few activities gave more purpose to the daily and routine, and runyu might catch a flicker of xingchen's brow at 'music belonged to xufeng' because how can music belong to a person? that's ridiculous. he takes another drink of his cider now (perhaps to occupy his mouth so he doesn't interrupt to say as much) and listens on, about woodworking and night-time walks and a game which runyu only refers to as 'go' - a game used to humiliate him, apparently.

and perhaps he has finally reached a bit of a breaking point on the matter, or perhaps the spirits have simply begun to affect him at least a little bit, because the care which it takes to reply to such a thing tactfully seems senseless right at this moment. ) Runyu, my friend, ( he says, quite definitively, ) the life which you've lived offends me. ( and if his tone is any indication, he means it offends him on runyu's behalf. in runyu's defense, perhaps.

and while it may have simply been an ambient declaration when he said it, it seems to congeal into something far more actionable, or at least something he intends to make actionable. he drains the rest of the mug now just as definitively as his words, then sets it aside for now to straighten up a bit in his seat, both hands settling on the edge of the table as if intending to stand but with no actual follow-through. ) The shop which sells my paint has plenty in more reasonable colors, so I'll fetch some of those next time I'm in Bavan - and perhaps some canvas? And you should perhaps describe this game of 'Go' to me, so that I might pick that up as well if I happen upon it. I'll be quite terrible at it, so there's no chance of humiliation there.

( and perhaps he should stop there, but he has too much momentum by now, so - ) And I'm terribly sorry to disappoint those within your realm, but music can't belong to a person. That simply isn't how such things work. That's like saying color belongs to a person, or that someone claims possession over a spring breeze. It's nonsense. Now, had they allowed you to enjoy music, ( or anything else it seems, ) was there an instrument you might have favored? Or do you prefer song?

[ Runyu can’t help but choke on some of the cider with his friend’s emphatic declaration on his behalf, his smile wide and somewhat lopsided. He looks into his mug. It’s still halfway full. He wonders if he’s already slowing down and feels a twinge of regret in his chest. His free hand twitches in a minute rebellion, unwilling to do just that.

Perhaps in the past, he has deserved some sympathy for these details of his life, but after the destruction he had wrought, he hasn’t considered the previous life to be enough punishment. The absence of much around him had been enough to ground him a righteous life, but his strength had been brittle. When his balance tipped, so too did his emotions and his nature. After the destruction, he has wondered, if the stillness in his life had held back the monster inside him. ]

( Runyu tips his cup back for a deeper drink before tilting his head, a melancholy lights flickering in his eyes, a yearning for something in past. ) Perhaps I don’t need to justify this; however, the truth is that it didn’t belong to him in that sense, but that he already showed an aptitude for it and my attempts could jeopardize his chances of recognition. Or so she believed. To be honest, the competition would have prepared him for the future, if he had been so inclined.

[ It’s habit, this defending of Xufeng’s position in their childhood, and despite the bloom of envy that's strangles him from their short war, he’s largely returned to that acceptance, ever since his brother appeared before him afterwards. His naivety had condemned them but there were worse factors at play. And in the end, Xufeng was still his brother. The only relative he had that still embraced him.

Still, his protests are not enough to stop the ripples of joy from escaping his soul with Xingchen's confident words. As if nothing would change them.

And with his confession already between them, perhaps nothing would.

The pressure of the coin pendant warms against his heart where it rests. He lets another secret out. ]

My mother played the goqin and taught me at a young age. There … aren’t many moments I shared with her like those when she was guiding my fingers and watching me. ( He chuckles again and looks out the window. ) Perhaps that’s why I got the dizzi and tried to learned it. I wanted to surprise her. That … didn’t happen. ( He drained his cup again. ) I had forgotten that.

( the token protest regarding music and xufeng is noticed, even acknowledged with an understanding little hum. the nuances will likely always be lost on xingchen, having grown up apart from such intricate politics, but he does understand that nothing is quite so black-and-white, and that xufeng himself may not have been at fault in the slightest for his supposed owning of the concept of music.

regardless, catching the faint sounds of runyu's drink reminds him to refill his own, now that he no longer has a point of strong importance to deliver. he's quite sure that he's starting to feel it, this cider - there's a warmth in him that even reaches his fingertips (or perhaps makes him forget the chill of them), and everything feels both slightly softer and slightly more vivid. more present in this moment rather than moments prior or moments to come.

but he's still far from properly intoxicated (yet?), and when he sets the bottle a bit closer to the center of the table so that runyu might reach, it's with no absence of his usual grace or spatial awareness. his friend has actually begun to answer the actual question now, his own head tilting a bit as he listens. then, )

Perhaps it didn't, but at least you made the attempt, ( he says, smiling a bit. then comes a sip of his cider and a thoughtful little hum, and the next words have a bit of a wondering lilt. ) I've always admired those with any talent in the arts. Music, artworks and painting, storytelling... I've found that I'm not especially creative, at least not in that sort of way.

( Runyu pours them both more of the cider, swirling it in his cup as he looks over his friend, a devious grin overcoming his features. ) You know I cannot believe that unless I see it. If you can write a letter, you can draw a picture. ( He chuckles, recalling the colorful ink the letter’s inscribed in. ) And you certainly enjoy your vibrant colors. Why not enjoy them more?

In my defense, ( xingchen fires back at once with a grin he can no longer deny, brows lifting just slightly, ) It's not my fault they're vibrant. I take whatever it is they've offered at discount. They could've been perfectly normal colors, for all I had known, or - ( he stops short, because a thought seems to have occurred to him. then comes a laugh, and: ) It could've been white. I could've written your letter in white paint and I'd never have known. ( and only here after the fact does it strike him that such a thing was possible.

but then he's dragging himself back to the topic at hand, realization fading some but his mood still bright. ) If you'd truly like me to paint you a picture, so be it, but once it's over you're entirely responsible for whatever abomination I've wrought. Are you sure you're prepared for such a thing?

[ Xingchen isn't the only one laughing at the shop sparing his friend from writing a letter in white and Runyu is still grinning when his friend returns to the topic of the painting

Head on his hand, his next words ring out in an even more flippant jest, something he's rarely ever let himself do - even with Xufeng. ]

Only you, my friend, would manage to create such a terrible thing out of a simple painting, but since I've put you up to it, I suppose I'll have to deal with the consequences.

Edited 2021-03-21 00:16 (UTC)

ic inbox, ryslig.

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