@elegant-equilibrium
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 shines beneath the moonlight as Yone’s feet trudge exhaustively through the Ionian forest. His head is spinning with lost time, confusion, & he continues to look down at his own hand, peel away the searing bandages as if still uncertain whether this is a dream or reality. No, the sound of the wind rustling the trees & the land’s creatures scattering underfoot are far too REAL to be a dream . . . & besides, Yone has not dreamed in years. Before now, he has been dormant.
Feet trip over the undergrowth. He is unused to this living realm, the way that the plants melt together in such harmony. He is unused to walking : the feeling of floating finally escapes him, & now, Yone, he feels . . . ( trapped ) FREED from his prison of death. But he only has one place to try to find answers, at least now. Yasuo is gone : his family has been scattered. Yone is alone.
There is only one person who might take him BACK.
A pointed chin lifts, blazing eyes peering up towards the towering monastery of the Kinkou Order. He had never been particularly fond or hateful towards their practices, but he has never felt more relieved to see a place like this . . . even if he does not know what it will hold for him when he reaches its heights. A leap in his chest as he considers the possibility — Shen, are you still here ? — but he does not allow himself to raise his hopes. At the very least, he can get his bearings here before he begins a new path of solitude ( after all, what more is a CORPSE supposed to do ? ).
Before he can progress any further, Yone hears the crumble of footsteps in the foliage nearby. His head turns, hands resting on twin blades by his side, hopeful that it will not be something willing to IMPEDE HIM. Instead, as his eyes harden & his gaze narrows, the assassin watches a figure emerge from the shadows ; & the flash of recognition blooming across his face is undoubtedly real. ❛ 𝑺𝒉𝒆𝒏. ❜ He can’t help but murmur, form freezing as he prays that the other will recognize him, too ( & that he will not be repulsed by what he sees ). A few moments of hesitation pass between them, uncertain on either side, & by the time Yone’s trembling fingertips finally fall away from his weapons, he cannot hope to stop himself from stepping desperately closer to the other. His movement is fluid, his breaths caught up in his chest, & though there is another fearful pause before he reaches out, Yone does, thumb brushing against the underside of Shen’s chin.
❛ 𝑰 . . . ❜ He does not know what to say. It has been a long time : he can sense this much, despite not knowing the exact count of years. It pains him, the possibility that Shen may have built a new life for himself, & after this realization, Yone’s hand falls away to his side, & his lips thin as he swallows. Despite this retraction, his voice is still rough & cracking when he speaks again, eyes glittering in a celebratory astonishment : ❛ 𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍. ❜
