@ningxue sent ‘ RUN. ’ - [ my / your ] muse runs to [ mine / yours. ]
「 RP MEME : WAYS TO REACT TO AN INJURY . 」
It was a close fight- the kind she hates the most, yet is most fulfilled by. The yao had been headed in the direction of a densely populated area, and she couldn't have that on her conscious. Not when she'd seen it's eyes, dark red and full of hatred.
Still, these fights always left her drained, and were often hard on her clothes as well. This time, she didn't think her robe was salvageable. Massive claws shredded her shoulder, leaving the fabric- and her skin- in tatters.
Too tired to shift forms, she walks along the road, hoping to come across both someone, and no one.
Like many things I do, this is @yiling 's fault. <3
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About the same time very night, from what Wen Ning can tell, the young man comes down to wrench the nails from his skull.
He can't actually tell if it's day or night down in the Jin Dungeons. There's no light. It's one of their more exquisite tortures. It's impossible to tell how long one has been down here. Wen Ning doesn't care. His family is gone. A-Yuan is gone. His sister is gone. There are times too, when Wen Ning wishes he was gone too. Most of the time he is. The nails cloud his brain so there's a blissful nothing.
But still, the young man comes. Taking the nails out is an ordeal. It's painful. It's the only sensation Wen Ning can feel, ever since Wei-Gongzi resurrected him. The iron of the nails pokes at tender tissue, and when the young man slides them back in, flesh tries to seal them back in, as if he were still alive and healing.
And yet, Wen Ning doesn't care. The young man introduced himself after the first time as Xue Chengmei, and told him he'd take the nails out for him every night in exchange for stories and anecdotes about the Yiling Patriarch. It's a fair trade for a few hours of clarity, even skewed in his favor. Wen Ning could spend years talking about Wei-Gongzi.
"Farming? You must be joking," the young man says, a biting smile at his lips. Xue-Gongzi always behaves that way, as if everything that ever came out of Wen Ning's mouth was amusing, even simple tales of harvest time at the burial mounds. Xue-Gongzi looks up at him with his legs crossed on the dirty floor, elbows resting on his knees and his hands curled up into fists at his chin. His red eyes sparkle when he looks at him through a thick layer of dark eyelashes.
Xue-Gongzi always does this. He listens to every story Wen Ning tells him with rapturous attention, the blush on his cheeks pink and warm. Not even Wei-Gongzi ever treated him with such attention. Wen Ning almost wishes it could be nighttime forever, if only to keep Xue-Gongzi from leaving him in the mornings and gently shoving the nails back in to avoid them being caught. Xue-Gongzi is even sort of pretty; the natural inquisitiveness in his eyes shows his soul is roughly made of the same stuff Wei-Gongzi's was, too. Without even thinking, Wen Ning raises a hand and gently brushes his cold, dead fingers through Xue Chengmei's straw-rough hair.
"I knew you'd have good things to say," Xue Chengmei tells him, linking his fingers through Wen Ning's. "You understand. No one else understands."
For a moment, Wen Ning locks eyes with Xue Chengmei and imagines what it would look like if Wei-Gongzi had ever looked at him the same way. He never did. Wei-Gongzi looked at him the same way he looked at Jiang Wanyin; like he was a little brother to look after. Xue Chengmei looks at him like he's never met anyone he found more interesting in his life. Then, the watchtower drums begin to beat a steady rhythm once again.
"It's sì gēng," Xue Chengmei says, standing up fully and brushing his Jin guest disciple robes clean. He picks up the iron nails at his side and aims the tip of the first one back into the holes he'd hammered into his skull the first time.
"--- you're home reminds much of what mine used to be, frozen, empty, and certainly not a place to be living. However, I will admit somehow it seems peaceful"
