daozhangs | ic inbox, ryslig.

( oh. oh, 'drunk like this', he is making a fool of himself. jiang wanyin said that he'd warn him in such a case - is this that warning? or had something he'd said been warning before, and xingchen had missed it?

regardless, the realization is slightly sobering in its own right, and he straightens his posture a bit, scraping together all that remains of his discipline to successfully wipe the smile from his face with a slow exhale. there. he thinks it should be fine enough now. he perhaps doesn't feel not-drunk just yet, but he can do a much better job at acting the part.

which all lends quite well to the question which follows - ' what is there that you wouldn't say?' - because if jiang wanyin delivered such a word as 'nipple' with utter seriousness, he owes it to his offer to do precisely the same. ) I could tell you the name of the blue drink, if you'd like. It's fantastically impolite.

[ Jiang Cheng makes an indignant little noise and fakes a glower though his lips are already twitching. Fortunately, that is something Xiao Xingchen can't see. He takes another large gulp from his drink, emptying the glass, though he is somewhat annoyed now at the lack of effect it is having on him. ]

Fantastically impolite? [ He gives him an arch doubtful look. ] You're giving me high expectations, I hope you can keep up.

[ As if that isn't going to be easy, as easily as he is flustered - but there's no need to actually admit to that. ]

( the echo of 'fantastically impolite?' earns an affirmative hum and the tiniest nod, most diligent in this approximation of dignity now. and once jiang wanyin's words are through, it's with that very same poise that he offers (after a brief pause, perhaps for suspense), )

I believe he called it the 'Adios, Motherfucker'. ( and it's delivered with a distinct lack of shame, just as jiang wanyin's 'nipple' was. ) 'Adios' is, by my understanding, a term which means 'farewell'.

[ Jiang Cheng is... just going to need a moment here to process the fact that Xiao Xingchen, the famed daozhang, has just been vulgar. Even if only in the context of cocktail names. It still counts.

So there he sits, wide-eyed. ] You said motherfucker [ he echoes numbly because that's where he is now, as far as coherent thoughts go.

And he still isn't even the tiniest bit drunk. ]

( you see?? it's not so easy after all, to maintain decorum when someone has said so unexpected a thing. xingchen feels inexplicably vindicated in his nipple-related laughter as the stunned silence stretches on.

then, 'you said motherfucker.' it's spoken almost as if he's reached out and slapped him, and xingchen can't help it - his disciplined facade crumbles briefly into a grin again before lips press together and he regains composure. )

I did, ( he confirms. ) And what have you to say about it?

[ No, no, it really isn't easy to maintain decorum under such circumstances. It isn't easy when he is absolutely certain that Xiao Xingchen is only barely holding back from laughing at him, either.

He scowls, a very pouty scowl at that, and opens his mouth to argue some more but... What does he even have to say? ]

You're not supposed to use words like that [ he finally offers. ]

Wasn't that the point of the exercise? ( he truly is just barely holding back, a lilt of humor in his tone even as he distinctly fails to break composure. ) To say that which I shouldn't so that we might be even?

That's... That's not even...!

[ He isn't even drunk and yet here he is, sputtering and deeply flustered. The universe is truly an unfair place. ]

That was not the exercise [ he finally declares solemnly, attempting at some kind of haughty dignity to hopefully let Xiao Xingchen forget that he had started this. ] There is no exercise. You are drunk.

Am I? ( yes, yes he is, but he's doing so well (at least he thinks he is) at acting now as though he isn't. he isn't laughing, he's fixed his posture (what little it lapsed in the first place, which wasn't that much). he even releases his tiny hold on jiang cheng's sleeve now to fold his hands in his lap. ) I'm afraid you have no proof of that.

That...! I...! You...!

[ Oh, the outrage! His outrage could fuel... something. Maybe his own robot body. If only he could run on outrage alone, he would never run out of battery.

He shoots him a cranky look, not that Xiao Xingchen is likely to appreciate that. ] Oh yes? Well if you're sober, prove it!

( his chin lifts just slightly, the most subtle of challenges. ) And how should I do that? ( he might very well do it, if a suggestion is posed. )

[ Umm... That is a very good question and Jiang Cheng has no answer.

Time to bullshit. He makes an irritated noise and lifts his empty glass. ] Prove you are still coordinated by getting me another drink.

( that's all? xingchen is quite able to do that, for certain. he's uncrossing his legs now, swiveling to set them on the floor, and standing up - oh, this might be more difficult than expected. his balance isn't quite so compromised as his senses, his hearing and his sense of space and so very many of the other things which would guide him over to the bar.

there's a moment's pause, then he exhales a laugh-breath, head bowing slightly in concession. ) My friend, you've proven your point more quickly than I expected. ( and he shifts again with every intent to sit back down, but amidst the quiet chatter a peal of impish laughter rings out somewhere closer to the bar and xingchen freezes stone-still in place.

he has heard that laugh before. in joy, in cruelty, he has heard it in so many shades and something frigid grips his spine, congeals in his stomach, and he exhales as if he's been punched. on that breath comes a hollow and haunted - ) He's here. ( and as if the words spoke it into proper truth, the frigid grip of fear is quickly overcome by an all-too-familiar heat, a burn which courses through his veins and swells rapidly until it no longer quite fits inside his body - just as it has every night in the seconds before his change. he's lost his concept of time and place, his only thought being a formless dismay that the monstrous man whose laughter he just heard now gets to watch xingchen prove himself monstrous as well.

from jiang wanyin's perspective, this all happens quite quickly. xingchen standing, conceding, his freezing still - and now an abrupt choked sound of poorly-masked pain as he drops heavily to his knees in the space between the couch and the coffeetable, forehead dropping to press against the floor even as his ears stretch longer, grow paler with ivory fur. there's a bit of a wet sound, terribly ambiguous in origin (is it his teeth being pushed from his face and into his cupped hands? is it the claws forcing their bloodied way out of the tips of each finger? perhaps even the sound of his feet extending, thickening to one more segment of leg protruding out from under his robes?).

and then it's over, just the shudder of his shoulders with each breath remaining, and even before he's lifted his head from the floor comes - ) I'm dizzy, I can't - I have to leave, ( not an apology, but a quiet desperate plea - he has to go, has to get away from this place and from xue yang if he's truly here and from the scene he's just made, and he can't even properly visualize which direction the door is, like the whole world has been rearranged around him but someone keeps spinning him so he can't grasp at orientation. )

[ It is funny. Yes, it is funny to watch Xiao Xingchen be so hilariously drunk like he would have never expected to see a daozhang as dignified as Xiao Xingchen. He smirks and tries to stifle his little snickers when the man wavers and surrenders himself to his fate before he has even tried to make his way to the bar.

Only. Then it suddenly isn't funny at all anymore.

He can only gape in confused horror, doesn't even have time to demand an explanation for that He's here before somethingis happening with his friend. ] What...?! [ he yelps as Xiao Xingchen drops suddenly to the floor.

It only gets worse from there, as Jiang Cheng has to watch him change right there in from of him, in the middle of the bar. The other patrons are screaming, yet they are only background noise to Jiang Cheng while the terrible wet sound feels unbearably loud to him. There is suddenly so much blood, there are teeth dropping to the floor, there are sharp claws tearing through flesh and skin on his fingers...

As soon as he speaks, Jiang Cheng finds himself yanked out of his stupor and he drops to his knees never mind the blood, he grasps him by the shoulders and squeezes firm. ] I'll get you out. Don't worry. Just keep calm. Just breathe. Trust me, I will get you out of here. [ Yet his voice shakes, his eyes are wide. The teeth... the blood... He had seen the aftermath already and yet. Nothing could have prepared him.]

( the other patrons may be background noise to jiang wanyin, but xingchen hears them vividly (how could he not? they're screaming) even if he's too disoriented to process quite where they are. ) I'm sorry, tell them it's alright, tell them I'm sorry, ( he all but pleads now, muffled by his position on the floor, which he knows he should get up from if he wants them to stop screaming but he's not sure how. everything's spinning even down here, even the ground is spinning and none of the smells make sense and xue yang is here somewhere and xingchen can't even stand. he doesn't even have his sword - he has claws now, will it be enough? can he even find him with everything spinning? will it -

but then there's jiang wanyin, appearing before him from what feels like the ether and taking him by the shoulders,

and the spinning stops. not completely, the world itself still spins, but xingchen no longer feels like he spins along with it. he's grounded, enough so that he can recognize (at 'just breathe,') that his breaths are coming too quickly and not nearly deep enough, and he forces himself to draw a long slow breath despite how desperately it wants to hitch again into something manic. he pushes himself up onto one palm now, the other hand helplessly dumping the handful of teeth and blood into one of his pockets (it would be rude to leave them) before he steadies himself on that one too. ) I'm sorry, ( but this time it's a whisper, this time it's for jiang wanyin, because this isn't supposed to happen, not in the daytime. he shakes his head just slightly, but that just makes him dizzy again. ) I don't know why. ( why he's shifted, he means, not why he's sorry - hopefully jiang wanyin can put that together because he doesn't think to clarify. but the fur on the back of his neck still stands on end, still waits for some sort of attack or even a sneering remark, and so he repeats - ) I have to leave, we- we have to go. ( because if he's escaping this mess, jiang wanyin is coming with him (even outside of the fact that this very man is probably the only reason he'll be able to make his way out of here). )

[ I don't know why he says and that's just great because it makes two of them who doesn't know what is happening here and oh yes, has he mentioned that this is just great? At least some direction would be nice here because maybe if he knew why or how Xiao Xingchen has transformed in the middle of the day, then he could figure out how to undo it. No chance of that now.

He looks around nervously, noticing that they are now alone in this room but there is a bunch of loud and agitated people gathered by the bar - and with the cultivation world's love for mob mentality, the conclusions he draws from this aren't reassuring at all. ]

You're right. [ His voice is curt and he forces himself to his feet, hands under Xingchen's arm to haul him onto his feet alongside him. ] We have to get out of here. You have to walk. Don't make eye contact with anyone. Quickly now. [ There is so much blood and everything is horrifying and he can still hear that wet sound of tearing fleshbut there is no time for horror now. Later. Right now, they have to get out of here before fear turns to anger. ]

( and xingchen allows himself to be tugged to his feet, though his stance is slightly too wide as he reachieves balance on these new feet. jiang wanyin is speaking again - about walking, not making eye contact (how??), and moving quickly. and xingchen nods, humming an uneasy assent, one hand snagging his boots so he doesn't leave them behind. the other hand finds jiang wanyin's arm for balance before recalling the claws and retracting it like he's been burned, tucking the hand instead into his chest in a billowing sleeve as if such a thing might hide his monstrous condition.

but they have to go, and so he goes, the entirety of his focus dedicated to balancing on these awful limbs as he follows jiang wanyin from this place as though following a beacon of light through a foggy night. )

[ In spite of Xiao Xingchen being cooperative, Jiang Cheng's impatience still leads to him more dragging than guiding the man out of the bar, not even daring to linger long enough to leave some money for the mess they have made. That is for later. No, his skin is crawling now with anxiety to get Xiao Xingchen behind walls and closed doors, away from all these horrified, fearful eyes.

Dragging him onto the street, they are enough of a spectacle that they are again drawing attention but at least there are less people around and they aren't trapped with people between them and the door anymore, so he finds himself relaxing somewhat. Jiang Cheng for his part is glaring at anyone who even looks at Xingchen too closely. ]

Let's get you back to your apartment. Everything else can wait until then.

( a spectacle is certainly what they are, between the blood on xingchen's white robes and the uncanny shape that his legs seem to take in the brand new six inches poking out from under his now ankle-height robes and the questionable writhing bulge of four tails in turmoil beneath the robe along his lower back - so it's fortunate for xingchen that he doesn't quite realize the scope of it, now that nobody seems to be screaming.

'let's get you back to your apartment,' jiang wanyin says as he hauls him along (it's appreciated, the hauling), and xingchen says, ) Of course, ( even as he wonders what 'everything else' there even is. )

[ The everything else... Yeah, Jiang Cheng isn't quite sure either what that will entail. Probably him doing his best not to let on how much he was shaken by witnessing the gruesome violence of the transformation first-hand. Pushing it all aside to be dealt with later, when he is back home. His own thoughts are nothing to burden Xingchen with, after all.

He is mulling on that as he guides him back to the apartment, though he makes sure to keep an eye on their surroundings and the other people on the street, just in case anyone shows signs of being overtly hostile. Jiang Cheng himself passes as human well enough as long as he doesn't speak so it is hard for him to gauge just how much hostility you arouse just through your monstrous presence and he'd rather not take risks.

He heaves a sigh of relief as they make it back to his house, where he stands and sighs heavily, worry showing itself in frustration as it does so often. ] Can you even use a key with these hands?

( were xingchen even slightly aware that he has become (or created, but it would certainly feel like 'become') something jiang wanyin must swallow down and deal with elsewhere in privacy, he would be taking steps right here and now to remove the burdensome weight of his struggle from his ally's shoulders. they're nearly to his apartment, are they not? he could make it back from here. he should make it back from here, but alas, his ability to grasp at emotional subtext is quite absent at the moment - so all he manages is to make it up the stairs to his apartment without stumbling, already fishing his key from his pocket before the words are spoken. so in response, jiang wanyin receives only a vaguely affirmative hum as he adjusts the key between his slightly-padded fingertips and slips it (with only mild fumbling, mostly flipping the key right-side-up) into the lock.

and then they're inside, the key set clumsily on the counter by the door, at which point he 'glances' toward the stove (or his approximation of where the stove is) with a reflexive, ) Should I- ( oh, he's forgotten to enunciate around his teeth, trying again: ) Should I put on tea? ( he feels like that's both the thing to do and the thing he shouldn't do, and he isn't entirely sure which to listen to. )

[ Jiang Cheng makes an irritated little noise at the back of his throat, even though none of this irritation is strictly speaking aimed at Xiao Xingchen. At the circumstances, for sure. At the world. Even at the people on the street who had been staring, at the ones in the bar who were scared, disgusted, horrified - even though Jiang Cheng had been horrified, too.

But none of that matters now. What matters is that he handles the situation right here and right now, and give Xingchen the normalcy he is apparently craving. ]

What you should do is clean yourself up and then sit down and rest. [ Another noise, more of a growl now. ] If you insist, I will take care of the tea. You are going to sort yourself out so we can have it like civilized people.

( it's not even normalcy he's craving, truly. it's rebalancing, it's some means by which to remove the weight of his struggle from jiang wanyin's shoulders and bear it once again on his own. whether or not he knows of the horror he has inflicted upon his treasured friend, he still feels a distinct unease at burdening him with this for any longer than necessary. )

I don't insist, ( he says, and if jiang wanyin has released his arm by now then he's making his careful but otherwise fairly smooth way toward the door to the restroom. ) But you're welcome to it, if you would like some. ( that had been the intention - not to drink tea, but to serve it as a proper host would.

and he makes it to the bathroom door without yet having caved to the urge to say 'forgive me', one which grows ever-stronger with each growl, irritated huff, or scolding word jiang wanyin expresses. but what good would it do if he did say it? he would be in this state regardless. the best thing to do is to proceed as he's been told to - to clean himself up, sort himself out.

the bathroom door closes, faucet turning on, and for nearly five minutes the sound of the faucet runs largely uninterrupted. one would likely assume he's slowly and drunkenly washing himself, but the chilly walk was inexplicably sobering and the faucet now serves as a sound to focus his attention on as he meditates, sitting on the floor in some approximation of crosslegged with his back leaning against the tub. this should be fine, if he can clear his mind into some semblance of coherency. into stability, even while part of it races with the lingering icy hum of alarm and fear. where has xue yang gone? could he have followed them here?

was he even there to begin with? xingchen heard the laugh, he was so certain, but nothing else seems to add up. nothing else lends credence to the notion that xue yang has arrived here, a fact that has his face pressing into his palms in frustrated mortification. gods, xue yang was never here at all, was he? and xingchen has embarrassed himself spectacularly. he understands now why it's best not to drink.

but these thoughts aren't helping him sort himself out, so focuses once again on the sound of the faucet, clearing the thoughts from his mind one by one until he can draw and release a long slow breath without tension threatening to stutter it. and then, not ten seconds later, a sharp and increasingly familiar pain seizes him - he's shifting back? monstrous teeth are spit into the wastebin (he's in no proper state to wash and jar them at the moment), claws fall free to allow his fingertips to heal over again, and his feet draw back with a hollow stabbing sort of ache to their proper shape.

that's something, at least.

his outer robe is shed and hung over the towel rack, to be cleaned up later, and he rolls his inner sleeves up to finally wash any blood from his hands, from his face. his hair is released and re-tied, since he's fairly certain he mussed it with a clawed hand at one point. and, based on a preliminary bit of sniffing, his inner robe was spared of the blood of his impromptu shift. small mercies, he supposes.

xingchen is still a bit dizzy when he finally turns off the faucet and steps back to take stock, but it's a sharper sort of dizzy - rather than utter disorientation, the world simply sways a bit in a way that he can account for if careful. he can be careful. and so the bathroom door opens again and xingchen emerges, the matter of his partial undress remedied after a thoughtful pause by the extra couple of steps to collect his cloak from where it hangs just inside his bedroom, drawing that over his shoulders in lieu of an outer robe. it's a bit long, it was intended to reach the ground even at full monstrous height, but it will do.

and thus he returns to jiang wanyin, sinking down into one of the table's chairs. ) Thank you, ( he says after a moment, ) For helping me back here. ( it was either thanking him or apologizing, and xingchen is currently making a concentrated effort not to do the latter until he's certain he's through with all of that which he would apologize for. )

[ While Xiao Xingchen is busy trying to put himself back together in the bathroom, Jiang Cheng makes tea.

It has never been a task he found particularly calming or meditative or even pleasant at all, it is simply a task which is usually done by servants and for lack of them, it needs to be done. No ceremony to it, no deeper thought or meaning. Yet today, he takes his sweet time and forces himself to focus only on the simple little steps of heating the water and measuring the exactly right amount of tea - with such care as he usually never takes, as he ultimately cares little if his tea is a little too strong or too weak as long as it's piping hot to warm him up in this cold, unpleasant Ryslig autumn.

He is still done long before Xingchen returns and as he sits there, there is nothing to do but think and remember.

So maybe his hands are a little tight around the edges of the table, maybe he is a little tenser than is strictly politic.

By the time Xingchen returns, looking so much more like himself and even returned to his human form, he can pour him a cup of tea with a calm, steady hand. ] You owe me no thanks. I was of little help. [ No polite demurring, for he doesn't bother with polite demurring unless he really must. No, he's quite serious about it. There was little he could do, and even less he knew to do. ] But you have returned to your... normal form. You look perfectly human again. [ He wants to ask what happens. Maybe he needs to know what happens. This time, he had remained in control of himself but will he the next time? Yet he can't bring himself to make such a demand, not when he recalls how stricken Xingchen had been. ] Is this going to happen again?

( fortunately for jiang wanyin's tension, that's one more thing he's spared from having xingchen notice in his ongoing recovery state as he sits across from him, listening as the cup of tea is poured. he listens perhaps too sharply, trying to focus in on the clarity of the sound to achieve a bit more clarity in his mind, but such is apparently the effect of drinking spirits: No quantity of meditative practices can truly offer that clarity. Only time.

'but you have returned to your... normal form,' jiang wanyin says. 'you look perfectly human again.' there's a question within the observation, but xingchen isn't confident he can parse it quite so indirectly, so he carefully claims his tea mug between his palms and waits. the patience pays off. the question works itself free on its own, and he hums a quiet hum. ) I'd like to tell you that it won't, but I'm not sure that I can. ( a pause to consider words, to think back (vaguely, distantly) to how it felt at the time. ) It wasn't arbitrary. It was like... something beyond my choice or will called it forth in my defense. ( alternatively, it was like the moment his emotional discipline lapsed, the shift burst in through the crack. but he'd like to assume it's the former. he'd like to assume he isn't constantly a brief slip away from becoming that. )

ic inbox, ryslig.

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pretend those last brackets said jiang wanyin, i'm a failure

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