idea: qin su and jiang cheng
...Oh. I am intrigued.
Perhaps they would meet during the Sunshot Campaign--we know that that’s where she met Jin Guangyao in canon. Maybe she would be helping her parents defend their doors against the corpses and failing, death becoming a horrifying inevitability when this cannonball launches himself into the fray out of nowhere, setting about with zaps of bright purple light, soon to be joined by his small army of Jiang disciples who can’t quite keep up with the speed of their young master. He’s covered in blood, face set in a snarl, sword flashing, and unfortunately, gorgeous.
It’s unfortunate because, as soon as the battle is over and her father, panting, makes his way over to thank him and it turns out that this man--this boy, she corrects, seething--is dismissive and curt, eyes already roving to the horizons, as if searching for something. One of his disciples hastily accepts the thanks, and pleads a sheepish apology with his eyes and bow. She can tell by the set of her father’s mouth that he is displeased, but he is polite and bows back.
“I’m sorry we’re less interesting alive than dead,” she mutters, louder than she knows she should--but she nearly died! With her family! And this little bloodthirsty prick seems to care more about finding more corpses to cut his teeth on than to deal with a little propriety! She’s covered in blood and goop, her arms are leaden weights, and she thinks that she’s probably earned a little frustration!
Her mother, of course, immediately shushes her, forever scandalized by her temper (what little she has of it, she really doesn’t think that she has much of an attitude when she’s not pushed to the edge by war and ill tempered man-children) but the Jiang Clan Leader hears her and blinks over at her, eyebrows raising in shock. Qin Su might wish that she felt a little more shame or fear in that moment, but all she can do is continue to try to control her breath and grip her guts-slick sword tight--yes, they stopped fighting only moments ago! Hello! She’s still alive, thank you!
His eyes catch on her and widen. “I-I--” Fascinatingly, he flushes a deep scarlet. “I apologize. I was...distracted?”
As this was certainly not the response she was expecting--she was used to blustery Clan Leaders, pompous men so hopped up on their own self importance that to speak against them was a grave insult, she blinks back. And yet he was blushing, and it softens his cutting, austere face into something cute as he fidgets and looks at the ground. She wishes she didn’t find that charming. She wishes that that straightforward annoyance would come back because now, as he bows, viscera-stained hands wrapped around the hilt of his sword, a fleck of ooze sliding it’s slow way down his cheek, her knees are not simply weak from the fight leaving her system.
When she sees him in Lanling at a gathering she attends with her father, months later after the War is done, he is resplendent in vivid teals and purples, patterns wheeling finely over his robes in dizzying arrays. And he turns and catches her eye. And blushes again.
![#also; OOOOOOZE [flaming_elmo.gif]](/tag/also%3B%20ooooooze%20%5Bflaming_elmo.gif%5D){kind=link}