fracturarpg | [mingle] the space (april).

Entry tags:

[mingle] the space (april).

interim mingle

( WELCOME BACK, TRAVELERS. )

There's nothing but the clatter of train tracks, and the odd feeling of almost floating.

When you wake, it's hard to tell exactly what it is that you're missing - only that you are. There are pieces that aren't quite right, even if you're not sure where those pieces would normally be. Pieces of what, exactly....? Well, if you had to put a word to it, it would be - yourself, probably. Or did you get something back recently? In addition, characters will find that they've been allowed to bring back souvenirs from this most recent trip - trinkets, nothing violent, but items that can fit in your character's pockets, whether that be sentimental or otherwise.

The place you've found yourself in is strange, certainly. It's probably worth exploring a bit. For those who have been here a while, they might notice some expansions. Though it just as easily seems that the only form of welcome or explanation that you have, comes from nothing more than a slab of marble.

It might've changed since the last time you saw it. Today it reads:

(*´ω｀)o That wasn't so bad, was it?
Hey, you know how that old song goes?
Do you believe in magic? (☆▽☆) Do ya?

Hope you found what you were looking for!

You might have changed since the last time you saw yourself too - perhaps with a new emblem on your clothes, or a portrait on your skin. In addition to that, it seems like Home Base is on the fritz again…?

It seems that suddenly and at random, characters will be able to suddenly see visions of memories that aren't their own flash before their eyes. Pieces of your lives or where you were before this will suddenly slam into other's heads, as clearly as if they experienced the event and the feelings themselves. You might have an inkling of where your memory went and what it was - but you'll need to talk it out with that person in order to recollect it in all its strength back to yourself. Don't you want to keep those precious parts of yourself? It's best if you don't fall more to pieces while you're here. (Memories that have been lost in fragments cannot be sent to others - that's more fun for the future!)

There's no need to fret that much though. You've already gone through the ordeal once, and you might be able to see results from it. Or maybe you'll get a glimpse of where you're going next. Even so, it's best that you don't get too comfortable, because there is still the unshakeable feeling:

There's still much more ahead of you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ wei wuxian is treated to the sight of a makeshift battle hospital. he stands among the sick: the men lying on cots are moaning in pain, and several have burned themselves and cut themselves in an attempt to survive what he will know as the human face plague. most of them have covered themselves in as many bandages as possible, but others can't cover fast enough, as sores in the shapes of gruesome human faces take up space on their body (this image is gross, be ready). they move, they groan and scream on the bodies of their patients, they mouth nothing as the patients are helpless to its spread. the tidal wave of frustration hits wei wuxian, as he knows that the self-immolation and harm that so many have done to themselves is pointless, that it won't cure anything.

he loses his temper and yells, and the face of every infected patient turns from loving, trusting, confused to terror. one tells him not to worry about using his spiritual power or holy medicine, because he can't save them. there's nothing wei wuxian can do.

that grips his heart. the fear, the fury. never in his life has he been stabbed by another's words in such a way. they believe him to be above them, haughty. that he doesn't desire to help. that he won't even deign to it--that his followers are starting to lose their patience with their god. never once in his life has he failed. never once in his life has he done anything but care and love for the people in xian le. it is his very dna, his blood. he descended to help them and now? now he couldn't find the cure fast enough, and it hurt him a hundred more times that they were suffering instead, he'd take it all, he'd take every ounce of the human face plague if he had to--the frustration mounts and mounts until he lashes out and punches a tree nearby--it splinters under his hand--

"there's no need for you to be angry, your highness. everyone here is a patient, and we're all your followers. no one owes you anything."

finally, someone who dared speak the truth. i've bene holding it in, afraid to say anything."

"didn't they say his highness the crown prince was a gentle soul? so he's like this in person..."

wei wuxian's stomach will lurch, and for the first time in his life, he's feeling --terror, complete and utter terror.

"With such an impressive might, why doesn't he just go set fire to enemy camps instead of making us suffer for him?"

he's sick he's going to be sick he's lost every part of himself-- wei wuxian is running, up the hill and past the people, away from his bodyguards, running running until he shouts, "I KNOW YOU'RE HERE! COME OUT!!" at the top of his lungs to the sky.

behind him, two others come--his bodyguards, mu qing and feng xin, mu qing scolding him, but he's silenced as a figure shows up on a vine. the figure is utterly obscured--xie lian's memories are scratched and destroyed here, and he'll feel a sense of fury towards whatever's on that vine as he screams, "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" and starts to charge it.

in an impressive show of force, he catches whatever it is and slams it to the ground by the throat, sword at its heart. The din of voices shouting behind him is silenced by an overwhelming fury, and the--whatever it is, laughs, a delicate tinkle of a bell even as his hand tightens around his throat. "Xie Lian, Xie Lian. It won't matter how much you struggle. You're going to lose. The kingdom of Xianle is doomed!"

wei wuxian screams at the ghostly, glitched figure, slaps what must be his face, but the figure just turns back under his hand. It looks like nothing, a wisp of smoke, a glitched out nothing where something should be. It beckons with an offer. "There is a way you can turn your defeat into victory. It would only depend on your willingness to do it."

wei wuxian feels the bone deep determination. no matter what it is? he'll do it, no matter how horrific. to save the people of xian le, he'd do anything. he hisses, "If you want me to do something, then just say it, and stop wasting my time!"

Come closer, the wisp of nothing beckons, glitching, scratching--

he leans forward, feng xin loudly protesting in the background. his sword never leaves the strange glitched out nothing's body, hand never leaves his throat. The voice whispers and floats in his ears, and wei wuxian's eyes widen with every word.

Xian Le will join me, of course. You will come. In this world, no one but me will truly understand you. No one but me will stay forever by your side. I'll offer you the cure to the human face disease, your highness. It's simple, really.

The way to cure the human face plague is to kill someone. The hand stained with blood is the hand that's immune. There are thousands infected, are there not? This war would end the plague in one fell swoop. The men, women, and children of Xian Le simply must kill each other to destroy the disease.."

[Why is their combined luck so BAD. HERE HE IS, MINDING HIS OWN BUSINESS, JUST WANTING TO PET MAGIC CHICKEN!!

Instead he gets-- too much, all at once. Fear and fury, horrified faces, bodies wracked with excruciating pain, a room full of humans at a dead-end with no hand to grasp for, no one to turn to. A terrifying plague the likes of which he's never seen. The understanding that he himself - "he", that Xie Lian - had also reached a dead-end. That while he had failed at nothing before that point, here it was, looming before him. The biggest possible failure. How could anyone prepare to face failure of this magnitude when they had never failed before?

It's just one blow after the next, too. Frustration mounts, "his" own followers speak the horrible things on their minds, and who could even blame them? What can they do? What can he do? They know it. He knows it. Who could take away their right to think so uncharitably when it's their lives on the line? The lives of their families, their friends?

Even meeting this unknowable thing that answers his call, even threatening its life, catching and pinning it, brings no good news. No relief. No peace. No hope. No prospect of a future in which this does not happen, in which "his" people are okay. The kingdom of Xianle is doomed! He hates and he hates, and he's not sure where his emotions begin and Xie Lian's end.

The Xie Lian of Montevallo had known Wei Wuxian's streak of vicious anger. The Wei Wuxian here has a capacity for even greater viciousness. It's on reflex that he pulls his hand away from Ruoye as though burned, nearly falls as he stumbles backwards. His eyes flicker blood-red; as though magnetized, resentful energy sparks and gathers in the aisle. He is furious - he is sick to his core with raw emotions that aren't and are his own, because he's loathe to see Xie Lian in such a disgustingly hopeless situation.

The men, women, and children of Xian Le simply must kill each other to destroy the disease.

It's been a long while since he's felt the bone-deep desire to reach out and kill someone with his bare hands. To feel the snap of vertebrae beneath his fingers, or blood running down his palms. For a few long moments, fingers flexing, chest heaving, that's all that he can think about.

Give him a second here--]

[ the fall of xian le occured over eight centuries ago, and it's one of the books on a long shelf full of his failures, recently brought to life when he thought he had forgotten. he's often said that he preferred to remember the good things in life--mt. taicang blooming bright red with maple leaves, the taste of tea taken with his mother, cultivating with feng xin and mu qing, ascending on that bridge, being loved --

but the memories don't disappear, either. they come to the surface in nightmares, or a young man with the human face plague, horrifying xie lian of just months before his time here when they thought it was gone. they haunt him on fall days, in battlefields, sometimes here in the space. at this moment, he's not thinking of it, but it feels like something is missing, and he blinks, a bit surprised, and completely unaware that wei wuxian has just seen something close to the culmination of the worst time of xie lian's life.

instead, he sees him flinch to ruoye's approach. he knows--he knows ruoye is a possessed spirit, so reacting badly isn't unusual, but the sparks of resentful energy make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. xie lian leaps up to his feet, ruoye snapping back to him as if protecting him, but xie lian's not afraid. it's overwhelming worry instead, knowing exactly what that sort of energy can do. he won't back off, ever the type of person to run into danger headlong to protect a friend.

(the type of person who would've taken the entire plague upon himself, if it kept xian le safe just a little longer.) ]

Wei Wuxian--! [ he exclaims, concerned, almost immediately stepping towards him instead of farther away. ruoye hovers like a snake, ready to strike (though xie lian would never order such a thing; a 'strike' here would be restraining him instead). this is the first time he's seen him quite like this--it's so raw, and that sort of raw power is dangerous.

little does he know what it's tied to. ]

Stop.

[It's a single, sharp word; Wei Wuxian holds a hand out, and though the gesture is strong, it's more of a plea than anything. He just-- needs a moment. The other hand covers his face as he tries to settle the fresh swirl of memories in his mind, tries to reconcile with the feelings and their raw edges that sit so unpleasantly at his core.

By now, he's seen plenty of memories, felt plenty of emotions. Somehow, this one has unsettled him more than almost any of the others. It's hard to let go of that anger. He can't fully release his grip on his desire to do harm to that figure.

It takes another few seconds before the sharp static of that energy begins to fade, curling around Wei Wuxian like a cat weaving round its owners legs as it withdraws. When his hand slides away from his face, his eyes are their normal color, but steely with deep anger.]

—Hah, I have something of yours, I'm afraid.

[Haha! He hates it.]

[ xie lian stops.

not because he's afraid, but because he picks up on that plea. ruoye hovers and xie lian recalls it back, letting it curl around his neck. it hovers there, and he takes the moment to soothe its worry with a finger, clueless but patient, even if his heart hurts for his friend, watching that energy simmer. he's met few demonic cultivators in his life, ever busy on the more Just and Righteous side of things (being a god tends to do that) and it's monstrously powerful and monstrously concerning even from here. what has wei wuxian been through, to have resentment coiled around him like a snake?

as his hand moves away, some of the tension slides out of xie lian's shoulders, relieved as he seems to come a bit more normal, if not more confused. giving ruoye one final scritch, he instructs it to return and the spiritual device winds around his wrist, out of sight just in case that was the issue. he approaches again, scurrying to close some of the distance between them. just in case something bad was to happen, but mostly to check on wei wuxian.

xie lian opens his mouth to say something, to ask if he's alright, then stops. he has something of his... ?? it closes again, and xie lian tilts his head, giving him a questioning look. what. ]

[Though he doesn't step away or raise a hand to stop Xie Lian again, his posture does stiffen considerably as he draws near. It's nothing against Xie Lian himself; it's just rarely a good idea for him to be so close to other people when his temper is running so high and harsh.

He looks for a moment at the unspoken question in Xie Lian's expression, and his hands clench into fists at his sides.]

...A memory. [Beneath the anger is a note of apology. He's done this before; he knows what to do. He knows it's neither of their faults that this bled through from Xie Lian to him, but it still feels invasive. What a terrible memory to lose and recount, too...]

A field hospital, full of the sick. People covered in sores like human faces that twisted and screamed. It was an unstoppable plague; you were furious and afraid.

[ there are monsters that can steal memories back home--it isn't an altogether unusual thing--but it's a bit surprising to hear, in the space. xie lian's eyebrows raise a bit further, like he's going to ask, but the statement of the memory hits him so hard, it almost makes him dizzy.

even just the description of the plague makes xie lian's blood run cold. he doesn't flinch, but his expression changes immediately, a flicker of terror across his expression before he stops himself. a memory. it's a memory. it's been eight hundred years since the fall of xian le--the human face plague has been exterminated one way or another, not that xie lian can remember how. (he knows the cure--that features in so many of his memories just one borrowed one couldn't dare make him forget, and he doesn't think about what possibly could've made it stop.)

focus. it doesn't help to get drawn up in the past. xie lian exhales, steady after a moment, brow furrowing as he tries to delve into the painful part of his memories and pull apart the thorns, lets himself wade into the waters. eight hundred years and he feels every pinprick, every scream and cry for help. it still feels fuzzy, as he tries to recall. ]

...Xian Le. [ he says, softly, by way of explanation, eventually. the last time the name of his kingdom left his mouth it was in a different world entirely. a mafia family with an unstoppable destruction looming, too. with people hurting, suffering, and xie lian unable to help them.

...he really was useless, wasn't he? even then, even now. his hands tighten, curled into fists in his sleeves. ] The sickness is called the human face plague. It destroyed my kingdom from the inside out. If you saw a battlefield, then it was near-- it was near the end of the war with Yong'an. [ a beat. his heart hurts. ] ...near the end of Xian Le, as a whole.

[There's a sharpness in Wei Wuxian's expression as he watches Xie Lian, watches the way emotions pull at his features and how he consciously rearranges them again. He purses his lips at the mention of Xian Le, too - how could he not? It's not the same, but it's not entirely different, either. He'd had a hand once, in bringing misery to the families of Xian Le.

Now is not the time for self-flagellation or apology, though. He knows the kind of person Xie Lian is, at least to some degree. His gaze shifts for a moment, settled somewhere over Xie Lian's shoulder, before sliding back to his face.]

It did seem like things were nearing a breaking point.

[The people there. Xie Lian himself. The air was tight with tension and bent easily with ill will; that's not the sort of environment he's ever seen last long.]

You lost your temper and they weren't exactly charitable. [And while he's sympathetic to Xie Lian, he can't exactly blame those people for acting the way they had, given their situation. There's no hostility or even judgment in his tone.] Ran out looking for someone or something - you knew it was already there. I couldn't see a face or anything about it, really, but it had a very melodic laugh.

[Now there's hostility - vehemence, a sharp and bitter and biting edge. Let him stab? Let him stab.]

[ eight hundred years later, the fall of xian le is a hurtful memory, but not one he can't content with. he tries to put the pieces together, gives wei wuxian a half smile at the comment about the breaking point, more sheepish than an actual smile, apologetic. he knows. he still feels that break like it was a part of his soul, hundreds of years later. he can still remember the faces of the plague victims, begging for his help, when he could do nothing.

he closes his eyes. the more he tries to focus on whatever wei wuxian is talking about, the more it seems to fade out of his grip. he remembers the anger. remembers the laugh, that sends a chill down his spine. it's almost paralytic. whatever that was, it--it's so close but so far away in his memories that he can't conceive it, and somehow, that's even more frustrating. this is the first time he's ever felt the loss that comes with the fragments so deeply, and it's --infuriating. he doesn't know who or what that thing was, but he knows

he knows it would've been enjoying this. xie lian's suffering, his fury. it aches, something primal, buried deep in his bones. a fear that is associated with that sensation. with that laugh.

he has to put it to the side. it's all he can do to shake his head. ] ...I don't know either. [ how foolish, that he doesn't remember such an important thing. it hurts a part of him he's not willing to uncover, and he sets it aside for now, for contemplating away from his still angry friend.

but. if he's remembering correctly, there's something else, an unpleasant gnawing sensation that chews at his gut. there's another long pause.

xie lian has to ask. he has to know what wei wuxian saw, the secret that xie lian kept that led to the downfall of xian le. he doesn't sound afraid, or timid, but there's a rare moment of hesitance when he speaks.] Did you... you saw the cure.

[ he had to have seen it.

(and in reality, the secret xie lian kept wasn't what ended xian le. it would have ended either way--destroyed by their enemies and the plague, or torn apart from the inside by the human need to protect yourself.)

xie lian looks to the side, his voice tight, so deeply troubled that no amount of time could have cured it. ] ...I never told anyone. I couldn't. [ he wouldn't. the conviction to protect is so deeply entwined in his being that he'd thought i'll find a way to cure it myself besides that but it was hopeless. like that mysterious, unknown thing had said-- there was no chance to save xian le. ]

[The mention of that so-called cure has him laughing - a single, sharp bark of a sound.]

That was no cure.

[He could understand Xie Lian's deep-rooted convictions and refusal to believe that there had to be another way around. He also understands that life is rarely so sweet a thing. Of the innumerable worldly cruelties that constantly seek out the innocent and undeserving, why not a situation like this, where every path leads to the same horrific end?

His fury simmers. He forces himself to flex his fingers, lest the skin of his knuckles tear from how tightly he's clenching his fists.]

You may as well have killed them all with your own two hands if you handed that information over. They would have done the same job in no time, either way.

[ xie lian huffs, a humorless laugh. he can't look at wei wuxian, the emotions so overwhelming that he has to use every ounce of his might to keep them at bay. ] No. It wasn't.

[ he didn't want them to suffer. xie lian never wanted anything but the best for his followers--the people of xian le, the ones who had loved him as a prince as much as they loved him as a god. to see them hurting and knowing the way to fix it was only to cause undeniably more pain had been unbearable. it felt like trying to beat the answer out of whatever that thing was was the best he could do, and when he got it, it was the last thing he wanted.

i tried, he thinks. i failed, not a moment later. wei wuxian isn't the only one clenching his fists, and it takes conscious effort to unfold them, as ruoye wraps around his wrist, trying to soothe its master. his voice stays soft, even, but there's a sorrow so deep it's etched into his every feature, let alone into his voice. xie lian has lost, and lost, and lost. ] I descended from my position as a god because I wasn't allowed to have contact with humans, and I kept breaking the rules. I chose to descend to try and save Xian Le, and Yong'an, our neighbors, who were suffering a drought, too, in hopes to keep the peace and prevent war.

[ he did everything he could, and in the end, it had been too much. for the first time in his life, a shamed human instead of the crown prince, beloved by the gods, xie lian had to turn tail and run.

he exhales. ] The plague died out, since. It's been-- [ not long enough. will it ever have been long enough? will there ever be a time when he doesn't remember what it was like to participate in the whole world falling down around his shoulders? will xie lian ever repent for the ways he failed his people? eight centuries and he remembers, as he did when they returned from montevallo, every pained, miserable face, begging him to save them, recoiling and retaliating when he couldn't.

his voice softens. ] --it's been a very long time.

[The farther away from the memory he gets and the longer Xie Lian talks, the easier it is for him to shake some of that lingering anger away. His rage these days is harder to stoke, but certainly cools just as slowly in cases where he feels it's warranted.

He really would love to snap the neck of that thing, who or whatever it is.]

—Hah, well. Knowing what I know of you, Xie Lian, I can't say any of that sounds unlike you. You'd break any rule and take any hit if it meant you could keep safe the people you care for, yes? In this or any world - to a fault.

[He doesn't say it with an ounce of disdain or judgment. Even if he did want to judge, which is the farthest thing from his mind, no one could be a harsher critic than oneself in moments like this. They really are too similar.

Then, a quiet admittance - something he'd rarely admit to himself, let alone speak aloud:]

Some things stay with you no matter how many lifetimes its been since they've come to pass.

[He understands. Maybe not to the scope Xie Lian's dealt with. Not hundreds of years of greater and greater tragedies, not hundreds and hundreds of people depending on him when he couldn't deliver. He's no god, ascending and descending and re-ascending cyclically. He's never held the weight of a kingdom on his back. People have never fallen at his feet, begging for salvation. Mercy, maybe, in the days when he had none to spare, but never salvation. No one turned hopeful eyes toward him, only to turn away when he finally ran out of options, ideas, luck.

But the crushing grief of not being able to save even fifty people, even one, had been enough to break him, once.

He understands.]

Not just that. [ he corrects, softly, though some of that conviction flickers in his eyes. xie lian does care about everyone. he'd jump in front of a descending sword for a stranger on the streets, and he finds the words coming out of his mouth like he's said them before. ] If I can even save one person, then it would be enough.

[ the gods have different motivations and whims. each god has been through terrible trials to ascend to their position--the princess who slit her throat, the general who broke his sword, thousands of stories of loss and sacrifice to achieve immortality, to achieve worship, to achieve paradise. but the heavenly realm still feels like a foreign place to xie lian, somewhere for these ascended to groom their feathers and look down on the humanity they've found a place above. he'd rather be in the dirt, ploughing fields, in the trenches, fighting battles, taking on the most hopeless odds possible to try and make things right. xie lian's motivations are that intrinsic need to help others; to protect. he has working hands, a body that can't die, skills in cultivation and martial arts, all tools he failed to use to protect xian le that he uses now to try. if that's what he's good for then thats what he'll do. every face saved is another life lived, a tiny, human flame that isn't crushed underfoot by the wheels of time.

he and wei wuxian are alike, in these matters. bleeding hearts, eternally, saddled with guilt so deep it feels etched to the soul. the final comment sticks somewhere deep in his chest, and xie lian nods, just barely, slowly letting his fists unclench. he doesn't like to admit it either--likes to think about the good to get by. has to, lest he dwells on the crying faces of soldiers, of women and children, begging their god to save them when his hands are tied.

after a long moment--maybe out of respect, or to gather his thoughts--xie lian gives wei wuxian a small, sheepish smile. putting on a face, as ever, to try and lighten this heavy, heavy mood. ] Perhaps this one didn't stay so easily.

[ after all, the memory did apparently just escape his head. ] I apologize, that you had to experience such a thing on my behalf, Wei Wuxian. [ clasping his hands together, he bows his head. ] I believe I have everything back, now--I don't believe it was the fault of Ruoye, but I'm sure it would apologize, too.

[ sure enough, the end of the fabric strip pokes out of his sleeve--then bends in half, in a bowing motion. ]

...Mm. [Wei Wuxian hums a little note of neutral understanding.] Of course.

[He can't say it's something he would ever empathize with directly, though. He doubts he'd be as magnanimous as Xie Lian even at his best and most self-sacrificial. To him, a person with the capacity for vengeance and a youthtime spent in war, there are people he wouldn't care for or protect. It's the same as it had been in Montevallo. He'd understood Xie Lian would spare a moment of mourning even for those heinous men. He said as much to Okuni, once, when discussing the things their beloved family head was and wasn't capable of. Xie Lian had wanted to collect their bodies for their families and give them proper burials, where Wei Wuxian had taken small comfort in being the one to send them to their gruesome and deserved end. Is that what sets a god apart from a human? He doesn't know and doesn't bother asking.

He takes his cues from Xie Lian, though, as he tries to move the topic away from its dark and heavy home and into something easier to hold. There's still an anger anchored in him, a raucous swirl of emotions stirred like the sediment in a lakebed, but he manages a smile all the same.]

Please, there's hardly a need for apologies. It's been happening on and off since we got back with little warning or reason. If anyone should apologize, it's me for having to hand you back something like that.

[Though there's no actual note of apology in his voice, because it's not like there was a second option. It's Xie Lian's memory, miserable as it may be. It's his to have and his to keep alone.

fckin rip ruoye though GOD. He just laughs, extending his hand a little toward the fabric but keeping a cautious distance Just In Case.]

Ah-- Sorry about that! What an improper greeting. You don't mind a do-over, do you?

It is mine in the first place. [ and his to hold. he'd rather not inflict such a thing on just about anyone, and doing so makes him feel kind of twitchy, actually. he likes to keep his grief locked up in his head away from anyone and everyone but himself!!!!

luckily, wei wuxian takes on the steering of conversation away with aplomb, and for that, he's more than grateful. ruoye is as ever an excellent distraction, and xie lian turns his wrist out of his sleeve proper to allow it the room it might need to stretch. the look on his face is fond--no wonder he loves chicken the ferret (who is currently running in a ferret ball somewhere in the aisle) so much. ]

Ruoye. [ though ruoye is a bit less delighted at interacting with guys, it doesn't shy away from the outstretched hand as xie lian calls it forward, his voice quiet. instead, it shifts forward to bump against wei wuxian's fingers, then to wind around one if he'll let it, then another, then another, like a snake. it doesn't feel remotely different from any other piece of silk fabric, but there's a hint of resentful energy coming off it, despite the docile behavior. ] It's something of a spiritual device, but more than that, it's a very old friend. I felt a bit incomplete to not have it around, I think.

[ a spiritual device is to a god as a weapon to a cultivator. though xie lian had been a master swordsman in his time in the human realm, now he doesn't have nearly enough spiritual energy of his own (read: none) to power such a thing. ruoye is unique, and comes with its own spiritual properties--its near childish personality is all its own. ]

[Too bad memshares are here to RUIN XIE LIAN'S DAY!! Sometimes even if you want to keep your memories locked up in a tiny box shoved far under your mental sofa, the world has ways of coming for your life even then...

But outside of a faint little smile of acknowledgment, he lets the topic slip away, even if the memory and associated feelings won't leave as easily. It's fine - he's also very good at pushing aside what he doesn't want to deal with in exchange for a smile.]

You must feel much better now that it's here with you again, in that case.

[He watches with amusement as it winds around his fingers, carefully turning his hand like he actually is dealing with a snake or some other living creature and not just an animated strip of cloth that gently simmers with a tiny bit of resentful energy.]

It seems quite fond of you, too! What a quick reaction. Must be a good guard to have in tricky times, yes?

En. It has many uses, more than you might think.

[ said wiggly silk strip continues to wind around wei wuxian, like it's checking him out and making sure he's safe. xie lian watches it as the last of the negativity slips safely back underneath that mental sofa, and he's able to put his attention completely on the little things in life, like his spiritual device and it's uses.

which... ] Ah, here. Ruoye, come. [ at the call of its master, the strip immediately recedes back to xie lian's wrist, and he glances upwards at the tall, tall aisles of the notsco, then back at wei wuxian. hmmm. ] Do you trust me, Wei Wuxian? I'll demonstrate.

[Is Wei Wuxian ever safe, that's the real question. He seems intrigued enough by Ruoye just as it is now, though, and blinks when it's recalled to Xie Lian's wrist.

WHAT A QUESTION, THOUGH. And yet, without hesitation:]

Mm, I do! Demonstrate away.

[Just fucking kill him where he stands.]

[ snaps his fucking neck -

ok no not really. xie lian offers him a smile, then closes the rest of the distance between them so they stand shoulder to shoulder. ] Alright--you may want to hold on. [ turning his gaze upwards, he offers his command to the spiritual device, softly. ] Up there, let's go.

[ ruoye gives him the reaction time to grab onto wei wuxian's around the waist, and then shoots out of the sleeve it was residing in. easily two or three times the length it was before, it seeks out something on the very top of the costco shelves, wraps around it, and yanks, effectively taking them both off of their feet and up like a goddamn grappling hook.

yeet ]

[it's a faster death than he deserves

BUT HE DOES INDEED HOLD ON because he learned his lesson long ago about not heeding that particular warning. He also seems absolutely childishly delighted for the grappling hook prowess of this magic scrap of cloth as soon as he realizes what's happening.]

Oh—! How useful - and so strong, too! How much weight can it carry? Can it stretch even farther than this? Wonderful!

[HE WANTS AN EXTENDO GRAPPLING HOOK SCARF damn.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[mingle] the space (april).

no subject

me fucking running at you fastly to beat you up

come at me scrublord i'm ripped

https://i.imgur.com/YquKmsZ.jpg me v u

its ok my arms are for huggin (and pain pong)

MOSTLY JUST PAINPONG

i have to get my smacks in now before next world

enjoy ur peace while u HAVE IT

one fear

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject