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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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it's no secret that runyu is troubled. something about this storm seems to have burrowed under his skin with the precision of a well-honed blade, leaving him tense and haunted by things unseen. and xingchen knows far too little yet to guess at what might be troubling him, left with no real grasp of how to assist unless runyu tells him what's wrong - which he doesn't. after all that they've shared between them, of their troubles here and of much of the worst of their lives before this place, runyu still doesn't tell him. and it's not as if xingchen left him no opening to do so, either. but by now in their friendship they keep very little from one another, so if he asks if runyu is alright and his dear friend still chooses to deflect, then such is a boundary which deserves to be respected.
so at this point, all xingchen can do is to try to assist less directly. to brew runyu's favorite blend of tea, and to make certain the house remains warm despite the elements. to gently tease when he can, or to offer warm sentiments over things unrelated to runyu's current state in lieu of being able to address it directly. to offer grounding touch whenever it might be welcome - a light hand on runyu's arm as he speaks to him, or perhaps briefly leaning shoulder-to-shoulder if they both happen to sit on the couch.
but even that grows more difficult as the week goes on. not for anything runyu has done wrong, of course - it's just that he isn't the only one xingchen is worried for at the moment. jiang wanyin's hunger is rapidly nearing a breaking point, and the weekly bloodletting of recent months has escalated to nearly every visit now to tide him over until they figure out some sort of alternative. xingchen needs to find time to visit the hospital. their best bet, he thinks, might be for him to exchange volunteer hours for enough blood to make up the difference between his own offerings and however much jiang wanyin needs -if the hospital is amenable.
it's just... a bit difficult, at the moment. even bolstered by the ambient fogborne healing, he's utterly exhausted. his joints ache, and his limbs feel much too heavy. he's halfway lightheaded at the best of times anymore, and he knows that would certainly be remedied by sight but calling forth his sight only drains the energy he has left - energy which he currently needs in order to keep any of this from concerning runyu when he's already under such duress. but while xingchen can keep up his posture, the warmth in his tone and his smile, and whatever small supportive gestures he sees opportunity to offer, there are facets of this which he can't quite disguise. he's too pale, he notices on one of his rare sighted endeavors, and his hands shake far too often now despite his best efforts to still them... hands which, he realizes, likely seem far too cold to the touch to afford the same grounding bits of contact he may have offered so far.
but a fox can't be 'too pale', nor does it fall prey to chill or tremors quite so easily - and so a fox is precisely what he has been for much of the last day or two, fortunately not an unusual occurrence during the fog (he prefers it over his night form, after all). perhaps that doesn't quite hide how much he's napping at the moment, but it seems to suffice so far.
not even the exhaustion, however, can fully combat his werebeast nighttime instincts, the restlessness which overtakes him for the first couple of hours each evening. tonight, he has hovered on the edge of sleep for nearly an hour and a half, his mind a fog while his vulpine body listlessly tosses and turns for some sort of comfortable manner in which to lay when his limbs itch to run. it's that exact tension, coiled tightly at his core under the soft and heavy blanket of fatigue, which drags him abruptly upright at the choked cry from the adjacent room. a moment of hesitation follows - of listening, assessing. weighing whether or not he would do best to allow runyu his privacy in this.
but runyu has been given his privacy thus far, and it only seems to be getting worse. and perhaps all of this has worn down xingchen's patience, or perhaps his vigilant consideration has lapsed somewhere along the line, but he finds that he can't stand for it. he can't lie here and allow runyu to wallow in his pain and his misery. he just can't.
soon, runyu might see the door to his room pushed gently and wordlessly open, from barely a crack to just wide enough for a large, slim fox to slip through. but said fox seems to skip right past any pleasantries, making his way to the foot of the bed and nosing up under the blanket and slipping up onto the mattress beneath it. he scoots up beside runyu now, tails already fanning out over the man's legs while he nudges at his friend's chest with his blanket-covered forehead. pointed, guided nudging, gentle but insistent as he wordlessly urges the man to lie back down.
if runyu acquiesces, it earns a tired but appreciative little hum, and the fox makes short work of tucking into the space between runyu's arm and his side, the side of his head coming to rest where shoulder meets chest with a deflating full-body sort of sigh.
if runyu can't be persuaded to lie down, however, the fox simply shifts to drape across his lap instead. perhaps his companion won't speak of what's on his mind - that much xingchen can reconcile, if he must - but he won't be left to suffer through it alone. )
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Reluctant to fall asleep as long as the storm persists with the same ferocity as the current manner, he brings a hand up to stroke the thick fur, eyes still closed. He halts for a few moments, reminding himself that his friend shouldn’t be treated like a pet, before continuing when his friend remains there in his lap.
And perhaps, Runyu can blame that soft deep fur when he starts to speak. ]
Sorry to wake you, my friend. This is something that will pass, and I’m not sure how much talking about it will help. Some of it… is because of my sins. My worst one, in particular. But, at the same time, it’s not. After suffering a certain torture, storms and acute flashes of pain bring flashbacks and tremors to me. I can’t seem to rid myself of them. Maybe it’s because it was after she murdered my mother, when I was still in shock. Or because there was no rest during the whole time once I subjected myself to the punishment. It’s the worst physical pain I’ve ever felt and I received no treatment for it. ( Runyu released a low scoff, thick with emotion. ) Not until days had passed and I had been sworn into silence on the whole affair.
( He glances to the bracelet on his right wrist and shakes his head. ) Ridiculous and not worth bothering you over when you're not well, either.
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but of course, lending comfort isn't quite so easy as optimism may have led him to hope - despite his wordless urging, his companion either won't or can't allow himself to lie back down, merely shifting to give xingchen space that he doesn't need or plan to make use of, a point made well enough in the way that he scoots his vulpine form right along with runyu with a profound lack of regard for his personal space.
the stroking of fur feels nice, though it fortunately remains light enough not to risk soothing him to sleep as it otherwise might. and when the hand halts for a moment, a brief moment's assessment reads it as uncertainty, as hesitation - and so he shifts just enough to lean into the touch, to assure that it's welcome, the renewal of petting now earning a vague hum-sigh of approval.
and then come the words. an apology, of course there's an apology - but so much more as well. about sins and torture, about the death of his mother at the hands of a nameless 'she' (she who orchestrated his torture, or was that injustice by different hands?), and about swearing a vow not to speak of that which he had endured. xingchen can't imagine he'd have spoken much of it regardless, such seems to be runyu's way - but that should have been his choice, not another's.
meanwhile, early on in the quiet explanation, xingchen has shifted upright enough again to lean the side of his head against runyu's chest as he would have if his friend had lie down after all. there's a chance that it only works the other way around, with runyu's head against xingchen's chest, but even if this doesn't prove grounding as he might hope, he has to try. at 'the worst physical pain i've ever felt', he even lifts his snout a bit so that he might tuck his furry head up under runyu's chin a bit, the side of his nose settling against the man's shoulder. it's as close to a comforting embrace as he's capable of in this form.
'ridiculous and not worth bothering you with when you're not well, either.' to this, however, xingchen huffs out a dismissive little scoff-sound. ) I'm well enough, ( he grumbles at just above a whisper, a bit more petulant than usual in his worn-out state - perhaps even a bit comically so, considering its prevailing impotence. the next words that come are a gentler murmur instead, but no less certain as such. ) Understand that it's always worth bothering me. ( no - that isn't quite right, because it isn't 'bothering him' at all, but the point still stands. )
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The slim amusement remains when Xingchen speaks, a wordless chuckle escaping his lips at the near scolding he’s receiving from his friend, even in this compact form. Taking the further distraction from his torment, he can’t help but refute his friend’s remarks. ]
You might think differently if you had seen how you often you list to the side or miss the chair when sitting down this month, Xingchen. Telling you only robs you of the little sleep you seem to manage.
[ However, his eyes slide shut as his fingers sink into his friend’s fur, betraying how little any potential ‘argument’ bothers him. ]
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(but then, has runyu ever embraced him back? he didn't when xingchen returned from the mountains, the fox recalls that fact now with the faintest flicker of doubt - nor did he do more than grip at xingchen's hands, that troubled night after runyu first sprouted antennae.)
the vaguely amused accusation of missing his chair manages to distract him, and his next huff is faintly indignant. ) Listing, perhaps, but I haven't once missed a chair, ( he argues back, tired but good-natured. ) And I'd argue that I've managed more sleep than usual. ( which is, in and of itself, a symptom of his ongoing difficulties - but that's beside the point. the point is that he's more than capable of deciding on his own whether or not he has the fortitude to shoulder one more concern, and perhaps the point might also be that taking such choice away from him at first sign of duress really just teaches him to hide that duress a bit better.
and he wonders if an additional point might also be that he has grown much too bold as of late, too pushy, too ready to inflict contact upon someone who already feels too indebted to him to deny him that contact - but then fingers comb into his fur, and that particular doubt is held at bay for the moment. )
Only speak of it if you think it might help, ( xingchen says now, a murmur lacking the flicker of fire from his argument. ) You owe me no explanation.
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[ He takes a breath, as if bracing himself, arms burrowing into the fur further, more sinking more into the warmth offered than actually closing his arms around him for a hug. A subconscious choice not to overwhelm him. ]
You already know that I I lost my mother tragically. What you don't know are the details, the fact that she was killed right before my eyes, even as I begged her killer to have mercy. To forgive her vengeance for my sake only. She was already broken and I did everything else that that woman had asked of me. ( His breath hitches as a longer shudder ship rips through him. ) But even that death wasn't enough punishment for that woman. Not when she wanted to erase the whole existence of my mother from the realm. When my father was too much of a hypocrite to stop her. And not when I had dared stand against her. No, after taking that life, after ignoring the one favor I asked of her, she set before me an the impossible choice. To be punished for my mother’s sins or to stand by while she destroyed those who remained, including two foster brothers, one still a child. The Heavenly Punishment has killed lesser immortals. Thunder, lightning, and fire, all at once with no rest, enough for 30,000 lives, to break me once and for all and never let me forget.
[ Runyu’s voice fades. For a few moments, he is silent, shaking, his arms buried in the thick fur of his friend. He's finally given into the need for comfort perhaps because he has never spoken of this moment. ]
This was my final gift to my mother, after abandoning her for decades. The pain is something I can never escape, not completely. And if I didn't learn of the true depth of my father's treachery, nothing would've changed. That woman would have won. I would have remained their silent servant to their sins.
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and he listens, of course, careful not to interrupt - though when runyu's breath hitches, he does let out the slightest discontented huff-breath of his own and lean his head that much more firmly against runyu's chest, his snout tucked more solidly along the spot where neck and shoulder meet. as if it were possible to simply wish comfort into a person, if you only could will it strongly enough.
then the retelling is through, and they're left in a quiet thick with the weight of it and with the ever-impending threat of the next flash of lightning looming just on the other side of a roof which has never quite felt so thin as it does right now.
there's nothing that xingchen can say. or maybe there is but he's in no state to properly think of it - regardless, his impotence thickens deep in his gut, congeals into something much too heavy to ignore. but there's nothing which fixes this. there's no reassurance, no insight or wisdom, nothing but the raw and miserable truth of that which runyu has endured.
from the nine-tailed fox comes a long, slow exhale - contemplative, but also perhaps suggesting that runyu attempt to breathe similarly. and then, ) You forget that you're no longer enduring such things alone. ( which doesn't lessen the pain or the torment of such memories, but it may very well be able help his friend weather these nightly reminders thereof. ) We'll lie down, ( xingchen murmurs, quiet but assured despite runyu's earlier refusal to do precisely that. ) If there's any use to all this fur, it's muffling thunder and shielding one's eyes from flashes of light. ( which is precisely his plan: to curl around runyu's head and bury him in enough tails that he hardly recalls that it's storming at all. )
Failing that, I've found that it's quite difficult to stay awake when you're trapped beneath a sleeping cat. One would only assume that holds true for foxes as well. ( because there's very little chance that xingchen will be awake for long, once runyu has calmed even slightly. )
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And then there’s the solution. Runyu releases a shaky laugh that is more of a breath than anything else at the kind silly notion. An answer that doesn’t compel him to do anything else but rest.
But not alone.
Such a resolution is almost a dream. ]
Can you truthfully sleep like that, Xingchen? ( he mumbles, head remaining tucked against all the fur around him. )
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so no, he won't tire of it. he will tire of a great many things here, no doubt - but never this.
and every little ounce of relief he seems to offer to runyu washes over xingchen himself as well, a different sort of relief perhaps but just as palpable. that runyu allowed himself to embrace this vulpine form was a relief. to feel him breathing in time (as best he can, at least) is a relief. then comes that fragile laugh-breath, and that too is a relief.
as for the question, it's one which earns what sounds suspiciously like a chuckle-breath of his own. ) A proper daozhang rarely affords the luxury of a bed, ( he murmurs right back. ) One might be surprised where I'm able to sleep. ( he did sleep in a coffin for nearly three years. and that's putting aside how utterly exhausted he is at this particular juncture. )
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The rain continues to pound outside his window. ]
It seems discourteous to give you … anything less for your- your generosity.
[ A quaver escapes from his lips and he falls silent, regulating his breathing again. ]