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@unfinishedsentences
I’m trying to make watercolor portrait of characters from MPHFPC
So far I have Enoch and Fiona and tbh, I don’t know if they’re done or not. I mean that, right now, I like how it looks even if it isn’t finished at all because I just focused on what interested me today. But I may add the missing details later. I don’t know.
Also, the size aren’t right. I mean, to me, Enoch is not that tall compared to Fiona-
Voltron Paladins teeth headcanon!
Look, that may sound weird but hear me out, teeth says a lot about someone so here I go:
New day, new thoughts about Krolia and Keith.
When she left Earth, she hoped to see them again. After years of being a warrior, she finally found out she was able to be kind and sweet. She wanted to stay and raise that child with him. And yet she has to leave, to protect them, to ensure her child would grow.
Turns out her wish is granted: she sees Keith again. But he's involved in the war she so desperately wanted to keep away from him.
And also, he's all grown up. She wanted to be his mom but she missed all the important years of his life. She was never there for him and now he doesn't need her anymore. She wants to hold him close and protect him from everything, but she knows she lost that right the day she got on the shuttle to leave Earth.
Maybe the worst is that even if she was still allowed to be Keith's mother, she's not know what to do.
She wants to be Keith's mother but he stopped needing her years ago.
And maybe the worst is that Keith also wants a mother. He longs to be like any kid with their parents. But Krolia and him are not any parents and he doesn't know how to be her son. He grew up to rely only on himself, it took him a while to accept Shiro and he came with no expectation of a friendship. With Krolia, the blood in his veins feels like an expectation.
After the Quantum Abyss, they know each other but they don't know each other.
It feels like they're both trying to reach a mirage: an idea visible but intangible.
They both want so much but know neither how to give or receive.
Keith watches how Pidge acts with her father.
Krolia looks when Shiro talks to Keith.
Random thought but imagine Krolia on Earth, getting used to Earth custom with Keith's father, realising how thin human skin is compared to galra skin, how easily her own claws could break that man.
Imagine Krolia, learning to touch with just the pulp of her fingers, seeing all the tenderness she can give with her hands so used to fighting. Imagine her starting to refer to her claws as nails. How she cuts them before Keith's birth, decided to leave everything behind, to only use her hands just to share her love.
Imagine her sadness when she lets her claws grow again as she leaves them behind.
And when she meets Keith again, her claws are longer than ever.
I like to imagine that some of Keith and Lance's fights just start during lunch/ dinner because Lance would make too much noise while he eats and Keith can't take it.
Lance isn't even chewing with his mouth open, but just the sound of food goo in someone's mouth is driving Keith crazy (no matter who's eating). Lance just so happened to usually make firm jaw movement so both the view and noise are too much for Keith.
Good old noise sensitivity, good old misophonia!
Plus, since I have misophonia myself I can tell you you'd have to pay me to be near someone eating some of that goo. Makes me angry just to imagine the noise.
[I wrote something about Keith and Krolia (with Lance as you'll soon notice)! I swear I don't hate her, I just find interesting to imagine how Keith must have felt upon meeting her so late in life. Also I know it does not work in Voltron's timeline but do i look like I care? Right, I don't!! Enjoy, it's over 2k long]
"So, what ya wanted to talk about?"
Lance's reflection barely spares him a glance as he carefully applies some product on his face. Keith thinks it's moisturiser. He's not sure. He doesn’t answer the question. Lance doesn’t push.
Keith can’t really explain how he ended up here, in Lance’s bathroom so late in the night. Alright, technically he could: he used his feet and walked and then knocked, that’s physically how he came here. The real wonder was why. He could have visited Shiro, he knows for a fact his brother would always open his door for him. Yet somehow he didn’t. To be honest, he intended to visit him but when he passed Lance’s door, a stupid thought rushed to his head, a dumb maybe and before he registered it, Keith had knocked on the door.
Lance has been surprised, who wouldn’t have been. “What’s up, man?” He had that face with a single raised eyebrow and uncertain eyes like he didn’t really know what to expect and yet was still surprised. Keith couldn’t give him any answer, he felt just as lost. His brain was empty; he opened his mouth just to close it again when he realised no word came to him. Lance was wearing his pyjamas and had surely been on his way to bed, Keith shouldn’t bother him.
And yet he made no move to leave, and Lance stayed too, a hand on the doorframe to keep it open. There were many questions in his eyes; Keith’s mouth was dry and suddenly Lance’s slippers were the most interesting thing. Except no question came and they stayed in silence for some more time.
Keith was seriously considering turning away and running to Shiro when Lance seemed to come to his own conclusion. He moved aside to let him in.
How long has it been since Keith last came here? Maybe a few months for Lance but for Keith it feels like it was an eternity. And maybe it was, two years in a space out of time could very well be a lifetime.
After coming in, Keith stayed silent, trying to take everything in. No matter where he looked, all he could see was Lance; Lance in the jacket hanging near the door, Lance in the crazy amount of pillows in the room, Lance in the carpet near the bed, and most importantly, Lance in the smell.
His senses had sharpened, probably due to being part Galra but maybe it was just a result of not finding that scent in such a long time. The smell of Lance was so strong he felt dizzy, it was heavy, warm with a sweet undertone. It reminded him of the heated soil in summer, of watching the dust dancing in the morning light. It feels like coming back to the hut you used to play in as a kid, nostalgic and comforting.
Lance beckoned from the bathroom. Keith followed.
He leaned against the opposite wall while Lance went to the sink and grabbed his nighttime products. Keith wasn't familiar with them, but he sometimes smelled them when Lance walked by.
Keith knows he should say something, after all he’s been the one who came here in the first place. The words are on his tongue, ready to come out but something stops him. Talking is breaking the soothing silence that settled on them. Talking is risking Lance laughing to his face. It’s painful to realise that Keith isn’t sure he’ll be able to take it if Lance makes fun of him.
God, he should have gone to Shiro.
“You use two moisturisers?”
Lance meets his eyes in the mirror and huffs.
“This?” He raised the bottle in his hand. “It’s no moisturiser. It’s a cream.”
“Oh.”
“Why? You wanna try?”
He has that playful grin that tells Keith he would pay to see that happening.
“How do you do it?”
“Oh well you know, you just put some in your han-”
“No,” he cuts Lance, “I mean, your mom…”
Lance freezes. Their eyes meet in the mirror, but Lance maintains a cautious neutrality; he waits for an explanation, probably unsure if he's been insulted. Even from afar Keith can smell the product on his hands: it's strong, floral, and excessively sweet. It makes him sick. Or maybe it's just his stomach that's in knots.
“How do you love your mother?”
Saying the words doesn’t make him feel better. It feels wrong, unreal. For a quick second he feels like pressure is crushing his skull like he’s too deep underwater. He feels like he’s watching the scene unfold from far away. He sees himself looking down to the sink.
Lance puts a bottle down, the subtle noise is enough to bring Keith back. Lance is now resting against the sink, facing him.
“You don’t have to.”
That hits something in Keith’s chest. A little anxious knot that has been growing in his ribcage since he met Krolia. Deep down he knew he should forgive her, should understand, and he does. Yet no matter what, he could still see the young boy he once was, dragged from place to place but never really home. He couldn’t help but wonder how things would have been if she stayed on Earth.
She’s an alien, you wouldn’t have a normal childhood anyway, a part of him says. But surely his life would have been easier if he knew about his own heritage, wouldn’t it?
“I love my mom because she’s always been sweet, kind, caring for me and my whole family. She’s always been there for me in both good and bad moments. She gave us everything and she’s helped build the person you see today.”
Keith can feel Lance's eyes on him, steady and cautious but he doesn’t have the strength to meet them. Instead he observes the point of his boots.
“Krolia gave up everything to keep us safe.”
“Yes but it doesn’t erase how she abandoned you. She wasn’t there for you for what? 15 years? More?” He huffs angrily as if it was such a ridiculous thought. Keith winces. “There isn’t a textbook about family relationships. Hell, blood relationship is just pure biology. Feeling, experiences, memories within a relationship is what makes love and family.”
Lance sighs and when Keith raises his head, all traces of his past frustration are gone, replaced by a profound fondness.
He nods to the toilet “Come here.”
Keith sits as he’s told and Lance soon joins him, two bottles in his hands. He puts one somewhere behind Keith’s head. When he opens the one he kept, Keith doesn't recognise the smell. It’s floral but probably not the same species as what he used before.
“I’m going to touch your face if that’s ok with you?”
Lance's voice is soft, barely above a whisper so as not to startle him, and Keith, curse his treacherous tongue, is speechless. He simply nods, and that seems to be enough for Lance, who opens the bottle. He warms it between his fingers before walking to stand between his legs.
From this close, Keith is pretty sure he can taste Lance’s scent, it’s everywhere around them like a warm blanket.
“What I’m trying to say,” Lance’s fingers touched his skin and Keith shivers, despite his effort, the product is cool against his burning cheeks,”is that you don’t owe her anything for giving you birth. You don’t owe her affection and love. You’re allowed to be angry, resentful, mad, disappointed or any emotion of the sort.”
His voice is dripping with compassion and Keith realises he doesn’t mind. He used to feel undeserving when Shiro would look at him with that genuine tenderness that screamed I’m with you, whenever you need. He used to hate how he felt like he was forced – even expected – to reciprocate. But tonight, in Lance’s bathroom, with some weird unknown product on his face, Keith finds it natural, easy to meet his eyes and pray he understands what he can’t yet say; thank you, I’m with you, let me be with you too.
And Lance smiles, one of those fond smiles that reveals his dimples and makes Keith’s knee weak.
He grabs the second product and pours some in his left hand.
“It’s good for scar tissues.” It's the only warning before he carefully grabs Keith's chin and tilts it to the side.
The cream is no warmer than the first and Lance has to hold his head firmly. Keith is pretty sure he puts too much, he doesn’t have this many scars, but he doesn’t mention it. He lets himself be cared for, even if it’s just for a few minutes.
Eventually it has to end and Lance lets his hand slide from Keith’s chin to his neck, his thumb stroking his jaw. He searches his face for potential forgotten scars. Obviously there’s none, Lance is good at skin care like that.
“All good, Mullet.” He’s grinning.
Keith thinks they’ve come a long way. Years ago, he would have snapped. Years ago, he would have a stupid nickname to throw back. Years ago, he might also have pushed Lance away. But tonight he just snorts softly, because tonight he went willingly to Lance for comfort. Tonight he lets fingers trace patterns on his jaw.
“You know,” Keith’s voice is raw and each word burns on its way out, “I spent many years cursing her for not being there with me and dad.”
It’s barely a whisper but Lance is close enough to hear it anyway.
“Anger, it’s tiring. It’s always there, it’s overpowering.”
Slowly, as if not to break the little bubble they had created for themselves, Lance let his knees touch the ground. Now that they were at the same level, Keith could escape the blue eyes and their endless tenderness and he briefly wondered if Lance felt his heartbeat under his palm.
“I don't want that rage anymore. I’m done, I just, I just want-”
Keith himself isn’t sure how he would have ended this sentence if his voice hadn't given up but Lance gets it regardless. His second hand draws soothing circles on Keith’s knee.
It's one of the many qualities he finds impressive about Lance: his emotional sensitivity is incredible. He's amazing at reading people, detecting unspoken burdens, and, most importantly, being there to help them. Shiro is excellent too, but he tends to work logically . Meanwhile, Lance feels his own emotions so deeply that he gains great empathy for those of others. He seems to always wordlessly know how to appease people. Pidge once said that Lance was the goofball of the team, and sure Lance can be a perfect dummy, but if Keith had his word in this debate, he’ll say Lance is the emotional one. And not in a bad way, he’s so unapologetically emotional and open that he’s able to easily connect and relate to people’s burden. It’s a strength that most of the team could only dream to ever acquire, especially Keith.
“I think you already are on the right path. You spent two years with Krolia.”
“It’s not the same. We were on a mission, we were cooperating.”
Lance shrugs. “I refuse to believe that. You did not spend 24/7 on that mission.”
Now it’s Keith’s time to shrug which makes the other laugh.
“You know that’s how we build relationships, right Mister Loner? We spend time with people, we learn about them and we let them learn about us. That always works, whether it's a friend, lover, brother or mother.”
Keith rolled his eyes and tried to move away but Lance strengthen his grip on his jaw to keep his eyes on him.
“I mean it, you have in you the strength to build whichever relation you want with Krolia. I know it. If you want to let her take back her place as your mother then all you have to do is let her in, she’ll come running. The blade was hers, right? She always meant to get back to you eventually.”
Lance lets his thumb brush one last time before he carefully moves back. Keith instantly miss his presence.
“The choice is all yours.”
And he’s right, Keith knows he is, but it may be the hardest choice to make. He spent his whole life wishing to meet his mom but now that she’s here, he doesn’t know what to do. Motherly love isn’t a language he was taught as a kid, it’s something he now has to fight to understand. But maybe it’s worth it.
“Thank you, Lance.”
He hopes those three words convey all he can’t voice, he hopes Lance can read between the lines how deep his gratitude is.
“Anytime, Keith.”
And his smile is so sincere and fond that Keith feels his own lips move in response.
They must make for a pretty strange sight like that, Keith sitting on the toilet in his everyday attire and Lance in his fluffy robes and lion slippers, both with ridiculous grins adorning their faces. But they find it doesn’t matter, especially when Lance suddenly points at the door.
“Should we go back to my room so I can tell you all the crazy stuff Pidge and Hunk have done while you were with the Blade?”
Keith stands up with a laugh. “I hope nothing exploded.”
[Just me writing something silly because I like to imagine what a character could look like if we gave them many more unique features (even if I understand a bit why they do it to animate), and here is one about Keith and his teeth! I'd like to write more about the other characters as well because I have MANY ideas!!]
Many things about Keith surprised Lance, he has yet to decide whether it's because he's been truly unattentive or if it's because Keith is that secretive.
If asked, Lance would argue it's the latter but wouldn't dare say it can't be the former, because he physically can't not notice Keith.
Not that he hasn't tried, he's been purposely looking away when Keith entered a room, he's been trying to keep himself busy away from him; and yet his eyes always found their way to him.
So obviously he saw it today, couldn't have missed it. Lance saw how Keith's eyes lighted up when Shiro entered the room, saw the way he waved him over and how his lips curled into a teasing smile.
And maybe he didn't hear what he said but he definitely spotted the toothy grin Keith gave Shiro when he rolled his eyes. He took it all in, how his whole face seemed to lit up, the little wrinkle under his eyes (more pronounced on his right one), the way his shoulder rose as to follow the movement of his smile. He even noticed how his canine pushed against his upper lips.
And that's what surprised Lance; Keith had the most crooked teeth he'd ever seen. They all seemed to be fighting for space in his mouth (a small voice told Lance they weren't the only ones, he silenced it), but none of them were winning. He was pretty sure canines weren't supposed to emerge that high in the gum or be that long, and he knew full well that Keith's month must have been a nightmare for any dentist.
And yet there was something entertaining in this sight, the same way the too big ears and bulging eyes were cute on a baby kitten: you could see something was off from your cat standard stereotypes but somehow it worked. Keith, with his mullet and belt above his shirt – how even did that – made it all seem effortlessly endearing.
And maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. Maybe he could have guessed. He should have known it made sense: Keith and his broken-multiples-times nose, Keith and his scared knuckles, obviously he was also Keith and his crooked teeth.
Still Lance was surprised.
Keith’s close-mouth smiles were like precious jewelries only handed to the most trustworthy companions. So how should he have guessed that he would ever witness an open-month one?
But as quickly as it started, it’s gone as Keith is dragged out of the room by his brother.
<<< >>>
They were in the lounge, everyone had long gone to sleep but they said they needed to finish some rapport. It may be true for Keith but honestly, Lance hadn’t wrote anything in the last 30 minutes
“I didn’t know you had crooked teeth.”
Lance would have slapped himself, that was the worst way to start a conversation. He could see on Keith’s face as he raised his eyes from his pad that he was thinking nothing less.
“I know why you have no girlfriend, good night.” He answered as he stood up to leave.
Well, he can’t deny he deserved that one, and yet he couldn’t let the conversation end like that.
“Wait!” It effectively stopped Keith.
“I think it’s nice.” That sounded like both the worst explanation and worst apology at the same time. “I mean it suits you, and your mullet and your crooked nose, it’s like a big twisted picture…” Nevermind, that was the worst explanation.
Keith raised an eyebrow – a single one, Lance can’t help but notice that he does not help the previous twisted face remarques – but says nothing. For a long minute, there’s only silence and Lance wonders if he really fucked up.
“Krolia said it was the galra genes.” Keith explains at last.
“What?”
“Galra have prominent teeth, Humans don’t. My jaws may be too small for all of that.”
So his teeth truly were fighting for some space.
“And, I mean, you know I didn’t have the best environment growing up so I didn’t really see any specialist.” Keith shrugged. “Although, let’s be honest they might not have been able to help.”
He sat back on the couch he just left and Lance followed him, aware of the limited space between them.
“Some stuff don’t need to be fixed. Or helped.”
Keith shot him a little grin. “I know. People always criticized them but I never hated my teeth.” He suddenly bumps their shoulders together. “Wanna know something else?”
“Sure.”
“They’re sharper than yours.” Keith gives him a huge smile, one of the ones that show off all his teeth and make his eyes glint with mischief.
Even if Lance wanted to disagree here, he’s not sure he could find the words.
-------------
[Ok but hear me out because I truly think Keith with crooked teeth makes so much sense and I love it so much. But also I think it was especially bad when he was younger but it gets better as he grow up because his jaw gets bigger.]
[No proof reading because I currently don’t feel in the mood. Enjoy the raw thing I just imagined and had to write down. Feng Xin’s been injured, Mu Qing takes care of his injuries. There’s some mention of blood and wounds obviously.]
"Aïe, you're too fucking rought."
Mu Qing was changing the bandages the medical god had made, muttering curses under his breath.
"Well, your problem for nearly dying." He punctuated the sentence with a hard pull as he ties the end. "If you weren't injured I wouldn't be there."
"And no one asked you to come assist m-" He had to cut himself to not scream because Mu Qing had just unfasten another bandage. The blood had stuck to the material and the sudden movement made the wound feel raw again. "If you're gonna help, can't you at least be nicer?"
Mu Qing hummed a laugh and didn't answer. At least Feng Xin felt his movement softening as he cleaned the wound.
"You should have waited for me, I told you I'd come with you since it involves my territory too." He turned to wash the clothe. "Plus, I had more knowledge than you about that ghost."
"Oh, come on! We both knew we were running out of time! It was doing too much dama--argh!"
Feng Xin had tried turning to face Mu Qing but he has been roughly shoved back in his seat.
"Don't move, i'm in no mood for sewing you back together."
Feng Xin snorted. "Are you ever in the mood?"
Mu Qing glared at him and went back to his bandages.
You would never get Feng Xin to agree but maybe, maybe, Mu Qing was right. He was definitely lacking some information to flawlessly take down that ghost. But why has no one told him even a simple brush against that ghost could make him dizzy?
Ok yeah, Mu Qing definitely told Feng XIn he was going to gather some more information and to wait. But then an urgent matter kept him in Southwest for an undetermined amount of time. People were in danger in the South, Feng Xin could not let them die like that.
So he went and it had been a really stupid idea. He tried keeping his distance, but the ghost had managed to touch him. After that his memories were blurry but he does remember how the ghost used his own attack against Feng Xin. He remembers feeling a lot of pain.
He also remembers Mu Qing arriving, all black and sharp saber attack. He had taken the ghost down in no time (Feng Xin would say it's thanks to how he exhausted it before but truthfully, Mu Qing surely just knew its weakness). He nearly had seemed worried when he had reached Feng Xin's spot on the ground, although it couldn't be true, Xuan Zhen never worried about Nan Yang.
And yet, after bringing him to the medical gods, Mu Qing had stuck around to fix the mess those useless gods had made. His own words really.
It was a bit weird, Feng Xin was sitting while Mu Qing checked him, making sure to redo anything the medical gods had done and looking for any forgotten wound. It kind of reminded him of how Mu Qing took care of His Highness back in the days. Although he was definitely more gentle with the Crown Prince.
Feng Xin couldn't really help himself, he had to bring it up.
"I thought you didn't want to be an assistant anymore"
"I'm not serving you."
That made Feng Xin snorts. "Like hell you are."
"I'm taking care of you, moron."
And that made Feng Xin shut up. In fact, even Mu Qing stopped talking.
Eventually he stood up.
“All done. Now, you should eat something and go have some rest. Don’t put your bandages in water or I’ll kill you myself.”
“Alright.” Feng Xin’s voice felt weak but Mu Qing made no comments, he just nodded and turned around.
As he reached the door, he suddenly stopped and looked back. “I’ll come check them tomorrow.”
Mu Qing didn’t wait for an answer but Feng Xin could see how red his ears were when he finally left.
[Little WIP of a fic I'm working on: Keith is an artist in his free time, somehow he finds a muse.]
Maybe this is the reason, or maybe it’s something completely different that pushed his hand to start moving. Slow and calculate, leaving careful lines on the paper. It wasn’t his first time, Keith has been drawing for years now. He was used to the whole eyes-hand movement. Yet, it was his first time drawing with this much detail, trying this hard to capture the sight in front of him, since they met Allura and Coran.
Sure, he did sketch Pidge and their big glasses while Coran tried to teach them the use of their weird-space-fridge (he took the time to tell them the real altean name, no one worried about remembering it). Sure, he drew Shiro's chunk of white hair, a few months after they arrived at the castle, as they sat together, reminiscing about the good old days. Sure, Keith scribbled during long boring meetings.
But this, committing every detail to memories through the tip of his pen? This they had no time for. There was a whole war going on, training each day, the new lifestyle and customs to learn and understand… He had no time for subtle freckles on olive skin or long eyelashes.
And maybe it genuinely made him lose interest in that hobby.
Regardless, in that overly bright room during that overly annoying conversation, Keith suddenly wanted to draw. In that instant, he felt like he had time. He wanted to capture the line of Lance’s jaw, the arc of his nose, the sharpness of his eyebrows, to touch with his eyes the softness of his cheeks and the strength of his shoulders.
So he did it.
[Gonna be honest, the text was originally kinda angsty because it was based on some personal struggle, but I finally chose to give it a more light hearted turn. Also, sorry I'm a bit rusty, I haven't written anything in a big month.]
"Do you think about the past?"
They were sitting under a tree, somewhere in the south. Xie Lian had said something about how they should spend more time together so they did. How could they have said no when his smile was so bright?
They had settled on meeting one afternoon, something simple mostly to please His Highness. Feng Xin brought some cherries while Mu Qing came with tea.
(Feng Xin could help but notice it was his favourite.)
But regardless of their intentions, it has been awkward. Both tea and fruits stayed untouched between them and the conversation had died hours ago after politely greeting each other.
"Sometimes."
Mu Qing stayed silent and Feng Xin thought he wouldn't answer. He had already set his gaze back on the house of the village at the foot of the mountain. It seemed calm, people were peaceful making their way to their house. Soon, lights will shine through the windows.
"I think about it all the time."
"What?"
For a second their gaze meets but Mu Qing quickly averts his own. Feng Xin didn't. He kept his eyes on the southwest god, it was rare to get him to open like that.
"I can't stop thinking about what happened, what I did."
"Nothing's black or white. We all made our mistakes."
Once again, Mu Qing didn't answer for a while. In the village, a few lost souls enjoyed the last rays of sunshine. Today has been a warm day after a week of rain, who knows what the weather will be like tomorrow.
"Sometimes it just feels like it's so easy for you."
Feng Xin nearly missed it, nearly didn't hear the words whispered under the gentle wind.
"What's so easy?"
"Letting go."
Even in the law light, Feng Xin could see the subtle redness under his eyes. Mu Qing stared away at a point both too far and too close.
"I'm not letting go." A beat. "I'm not letting you go."
This got a reaction from Mu Qing, a huff that strangely sounded like a laugh.
"I mean it." He truly did, no matter their shared history, Feng Xin was glad to have Mu Qing by his side. Although, he couldn't really say it like that. "There are many things I regret doing or not doing. With His Highness, with you." Mu Qing's jaw clenched here. "If I could go back in time, Heaven knows there are so many things I'd change. Fuck, I'd even slap my younger self." Another of Mu Qing's laugh-y huff. "But I also know that I would do anything in my capacity to make sure we can be here today." Together.
Mu Qing didn't answer but Feng Xin wasn't expecting anything else. The sun had set, lights shone in the village.
"The tea has gone cold."
Feng Xin snorts. Just like that, the moment was gone. Mu Qing wasn't really able to be sentimental for too long.
"Your fault for not drinking it.
"I brought fruits!"
It was a silly excuse because the cherries hadn't been touched either. They both knew it. Mu Qing grabbed the cups and stood up.
"Come to my palace and I'll brew some more.”
[ Went with something nice for the Xianle quatet :) ]
The first time they all eat together is awkward.
Xie Lian had made a habit of inviting Mu Qing and Feng Xin to lunch every week. He says he needs to catch up on everything that happens to them during those eight hundred years.
(Despite the disgusting food, none of them can say no to Xie Lian so they always go.)
But when Hua Cheng comes back, something shifts. The atmosphere is heavier, the silence louder. Everyone can see the tension, even Xie Lian who pretends he doesn't.
Those meetings are always fake smiles and barely concealed barbs. And yet, it eventually gets nostalgic, after all it's hard not to be when you're insulted in Xianle's dialect. They may be the last four still remembering and following some of the old kingdom's customs.
So well, maybe it was bound to happen.
Maybe Feng Xin was meant to be kept by Ling Wen and Mu Qing was meant to go to Pushi Shrine alone. Maybe Xie Lian was meant to struggle with his cooking.
Or maybe it's all a coincidence.
In any case, that happens, and Hua Cheng and Mu Qing end up spending some time together. It starts as criticism, insults but somehow it ends as confessions hidden below snarky comments.
But they both know their way with words.
When Xie Lian joins them, he is surprised to see them both sitting peacefully.
And maybe as Mu Qing is about to leave, maybe they share a glance heavy with new found understatement.
The next week, for untrained eyes, things are the same: they "politely" insult each other as they always have. But some may notice the little details because something has definitely changed.
[About a week ago, I wrote about Feng Xin after Mu Qing's death. Now, let me introduce you to Mu Qing, after Feng Xin's death, who is trying to pick up pieces of himself he never thought he would lose.]
---
When Feng Xin died, the Heavenly Capital could be divided in two categories: those heartbroken by the loss of a fellow colleague, and the one congratulating Xuan Zhen.
For a long while, Mu Qing didn’t know which group he belonged to.
He couldn’t be part of the first group. Him? Heartbroken over Feng Xin? Hell no. Although he couldn’t say he was genuinely unaffected: his heart sank when Xie Lian’s gaze would turn distant while remembering memories with his old friend. Plus he did feel a sort of loss at the empty space on his right side. Sometimes he would catch himself raising his hand to contact Feng XIn through the Array before remembering it wasn’t possible anymore
But he didn’t feel like he belonged in the second group either. Even if he barely reacted after the initial shock, he just took Nan Yang deputies in and kept living his life. He felt it was pointless to cry for the late General anyway. Yet, he didn’t feel like celebrating the death like so many people thought he would. He still lost a great coworker.
Maybe he belonged in no group, as he always has. He’s been a loner all his life.
No that wasn’t true, he wasn’t a loner when he had Feng Xin’s attention on him.
It was a shame that the only person that came close to knowing him had to leave. But still, he wasn’t heartbroken, or not in the same way the Nan Yang deputies were, exhausted with red puffy eyes. He was just surprised, it wasn’t common for a god to die. He just needed to get used to it.
That’s what Mu Qing told himself as days passed.
But weeks turned into months and months into years and soon, some mortals started turning to him for their prayer. He felt the merit and his own powers grew, he saw the changes in the south; people were getting mad at Nan Yang for his inaction and leaving. Mu Qing wanted to scream to them it was pointless anger, that Nan Yang wasn’t mean, he was dead. But he didn’t, it wasn’t his place, instead he kept looking from afar. Maybe he was still not used to it.
As a god with a pretty much eternal life, time seems different, it felt like he barely looked away and mortals were already turning Nan Yang temple into Xuan Zhen ones. Mu Qing should have been ecstatic at the sudden increase in his martial powers, but surprisingly he wasn’t. It all happened too soon, how long has it been, barely 5 years? He sensed the need to destroy this temple but he couldn’t do so without damaging his reputation. Plus, deep down he understood, during the last five years, Xuan Zhen has been the one to answer prayer (or his deputies, if credit had to be given) so it made sense for those mortals to turn to him.
And yet he couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t accept that they would forget Nan yang so easily after eight hundred years of hard work.
But all he could do was watch as new merit and prayers came.
●・○・●・○・●・○・●
It took 50 years.
50 years before General Xuan Zhen commonly became the Martial God of the South.
50 years before every single Nan Yang Temple got replaced.
Or they thought so. There was one last temple.
Back a few hundred years ago there used to be a town where they worshipped Nan Yang. Those people preferred to live by themselves deep in the first until one day, a beat attacked them. General Nan Yang killed it, of course, but after, the inhabitants chose to leave and settle elsewhere. The temple stayed and at first some people came to maintain its state, but eventually they stopped and the temple was lost to time.
Mu Qing couldn’t really explain why he chose to visit it but he did. He took his Fu Yao appearance in case he met some mortal and travelled to this forest.
Finding the temple proved to be quite the tough task: nature reasserted itself and no path was visible anymore. It was getting really dark and he thought about abandoning it when he saw it, a glimpse of a roof.
The temple looked just as you’d expect after many centuries without any care for it: there used to be a path but it has been long since covered in grass and moss, the walls were dark and rotten and a part of the roof had fallen. It was quite a pitiful sight for a once remarkable god.
He carefully made his way to the doors. He had to force them open, swollen by the humidity, but when they finally gave in, the sight he was met with was no better than the exterior.
Some light came in from the broken roof and Mu Qing could see some remains of paint and gold on the wall. He could make out the shape of some offerings atop the altar. Behind, a huge greyish cloth was covering the statue of General Nan Yang. Mu Qing went straight for it, floor creaking under his feet.
The altar was even more miserable from afar, spider, broken porcelain and even something that must have been fruits. He even saw some incense sticks but truth be told , they were surely useless now.
His attention went back to the statue. Without a second thought, he grabbed the cloth and yanked it away.
Saying he didn't expect this sight would be an understatement. Feng Xin was never known for caring about how his followers depicted him, Mu Qing used to tease him about it endlessly. But this statue here? It was carved into a stone block and some elements were quite roughly sculpted: his bun was barely shaped, his ribbon lost in his hair and Mu Qing wasn’t really sure where the clothes ended and when the skin started. And yet, the statue was standing confidently, bow in hand, eyes fixed on an invisible point far away. His jaw was strong and sharp and his soulless gaze was carrying the same energy as in Mu Qing’s memories.
It wasn’t perfect but it looked like him just enough to hold the illusion.
Mu Qing didn’t really mean to start talking, he couldn’t really explain what possessed him. Maybe it was the fact that he was alone in the middle of a forest or just the result of finally seeing the face he longed to find. In any case, at this moment it felt natural to speak.
“Hi Feng Xin.”
Of course he was met with silence, which should have been reassuring considering Feng Xin was dead and could not answer. But it wasn’t comforting. This made something snap in Mu Qing’s chest.
“You didn’t come to our training session for a while. It’s mean of you, do you know how long I've waited?”
His voice was sharp, steady. He was angry. Feng Xin was a coward. Disappearing like that, for what? Because he was too scared to fight and lose against Mu Qing?
“You’re an asshole, you know that?! Do you know how sad Xie Lian was?” The silence was like oil on a flame. Mu Qing wanted to scream. “We promised him to come to his stupid dinner with this stupid Crimson Rain!”
It’s good that the area is quite abandoned, he can be as loud as he wants without fearing a mortal coming in.
“Gods are not supposed to die! You always talk about how I left back in Xianle but truly you’re the one who abandoned me!” His voice broke.
There, that was the heart of the matter. Feng Xin had no right to leave. Or maybe he did, wasn’t he free to move his body however he wanted? But death was a different matter. For a second, Mu Qing considered leaving. He shouldn’t have come anyway. But he doesn’t, instead he tries to honour their time together as best as he can, by doing what they tried to do before Feng Xin’s death: express their emotions.
“I- I apologise.” He turns his gaze away from the figure and settles on the dirt on the ground instead. “Honnestly, you didn’t miss much during that dinner. Xie Lian cooked so.. Yeah and, as usual, Crimson Rain loved the food.”
Maybe he should come back later with something to clean. Not a broom though. He wouldn’t give Feng Xin that honour.
“Back then, I didn’t really know what to do with you and now that you’ve left, I realised I don’t know what to do without you either.”
He sat on the altar back facing the statue, the blind eyes of the god too heavy to face. It was hard to talk, even if deep down he knew Feng Xin couldn’t hear him. The weight that has been inhabiting his chest for years now was slowly making its way in his throat.
“But you know,” he swallowed, he was choosing his words carefully, one missteps and he felt he would break, “maybe it was.. Easier to navigate things with you by my side.”
His eyes fall on his sleeves. Funnily enough he’s always wore red when dressing as Fu Yao as a means to truly disguise himself. His disguise never worked and now the color just reminds him of Feng Xin and their time together.
“Some people in the Heavenly Capital congratulate me for finally doing it. They say I’ve finally beat General Nan Yang. They say it’s what I’ve always wanted.”
This temple was a blessing and a curse: as glad as he is for the statue, it’s probably for the better that the artist is long dead. If the statue was uglier, further from Feng Xin’s true appearance, maybe Mu Qing wouldn't have felt so exposed under the blind gaze.
“ At some point it was what I wanted, but it’s been a while since I last punched you without knowing you could take it.” A broken laugh escaped him. “I guess it’s been a while since I last punched you anyway.”
For a while all that could be heard was the wind outside and Mu Qing’s trembling breath. It took him an incredible amount of strength to will the next words to come out of his mouth.
“I guess I just- I think I miss you.” Oh. there it was, the weight was done ascending his throat and was now sitting in his jaw, the knot heavy in his cheeks. “And if I miss you it means you’re really gone and you’re not coming back.”
It felt like someone had opened a dam in his chest and suddenly every tear he kept for himself came flooding his face. The weight he used to feel was now everywhere and nowhere, being his eyes, in his stomach but also in the air painfully coming to his lungs. Despite that, he kept talking, sentences interspersed with sobs and wet hiccups.
“I don’t know- it doesn’t make sense, how to rule the south without you. You- Your deputies, instead of glaring at me, they call me general. I know what to do- but also I don't… Everything I see- anything I hear- it reminds me of how I lost you.” His breathing was ragged but he kept going, he needed to get the words out of his chest. “It’s like- I just feel like,.. My chest, it’s just a huge hole that you dig yourself and- and you didn’t even care enough to come and fill it!”
Every thought and feeling he kept locked inside were now coming out freely.
“Your comments were always dumb, but surprisingly they sometimes managed to clear my mind. It’s-” He was cut by his own sobs, too out of breath to keep going.
The moon was high in the sky when the tears finally stopped, and as he came back to his senses, Mu Qing noticed his head was now resting on the statue’s calf. He didn’t move, the solid shape was grounding. Moved by a sudden will, he grabbed an incense stick and used his martial powers to light it. The smell was strong, it reminded him of Feng Xin: overpowering, earthy and comforting.
“I would have ruled the South with you for eight hundred more years, you know? I would have done anything until the world ended as long as I was with you. All I needed was for you to be near me.”
Mu Qing wished there was a way for Feng Xin to hear him. He wished the leg being his head was muscular and warm instead of cold and hard. He wished mortals still came to worship General Nan Yang.
He wished so much, and yet nothing came true, and his confession stayed a secret whispered in an empty room.
[It takes Feng Xin, Mu Qing, a stupid argument and some event dumber fights.. but they work things out eventually]
The sun was shining on Taicang Mountain as Mu Qing and Feng Xin made their way to the training ground.
It all started yesterday. They broke into yet another petty argument, none of them could really explain what led to it this time, probably a snarky remark from Feng Xin or a pointy comment from Mu Qing. Something quite common for them, but this time they decided to settle that on the training ground.
Today, His highness was spending the afternoon with Guoshi so it was the perfect time for his attendant to both leave.
Which let them, here. At that hour, there was no one training, except for a few people practicing their sword moves alone. They settled down and prepared themselves.
"So," Feng Xin starts, his eyes on his bow as he's stringing it, "how should we do that?"
Mu Qing rolled his eyes while fixing his pony tail. "Why are you asking me? It was your idea to do that, I would have gladly kicked you ass yesterday."
"Sorry for asking your opinion, asshole."
"We both know you have no care for my opinion."
They glare at each other. Now both ready, they're facing each other, weapon in hand. They chose to use their weapon of choice; it may be hard to fight saber against bow, but at last they'd both be at their strongest.
"Alright, we fight. Three matches." Feng Xin started carefully, his hand on his quiver while he checked once again that he has all his arrows: he can't have missing arrows as his reason to lose. "Whoever wins more is the winner. End of the story."
Mu Qing takes his time before answering, eyes on his saber. "What does the winner get?"
"What?"
Mu Qing sighs, "If there's a winner, then there's a price. What is it?" Feng Xin is a bit taken aback, he truly hadn't thought about that. His rival seems impatient to fight. "So?"
"A.. gift?" Mu QIng is unimpressed. "The loser has to give a gift to the winner." He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced so Feng Xin explains. "Something meaningful, not a congratulatory punch or whatever."
Mu Qing shrugs. "Ok, whatever. Let's do that"
They start shortly after. They are both skilled fighters who know each other inside out. Each attack is met by an equally strong answer, each dodge by another feint. Their fights are quite unusual, every trick and hit allowed as long as it grants them victory.
Eventually Feng Xin managed to stick Mu Qing's saber under his arm and use his adversary's own strength to make him fall to the ground and disarm him.
"Do you surrender?" Feng Xin asked out of breath.
In lieu of answer, Mu Qing kicks his leg to bring him down before standing up. He grabs his weapon and gets into a fighting position.
"Don't look so smug, you haven't won. Rematch."
The second match is shorter. Using a feint, Mu Qing manages to pass being his adversary and, with a blow being his knees, makes him kneel. After that, it's easy for him to disarm Feng Xin.
One point for each, the last match will be decisive.
This time, Mu Qing once again found a way to bring Feng Xin to the ground and disarm him, but this time Feng Xin takes his last defense dagger out. He uses the effect of surprise to turn the fight to his advantage. He brings Mu Qing to the ground while kicking his saber away and tackles him under his weight.
He won.
"That's not fair!" Mu Qing screams once he's back on his feets. "You were supposed to fight using your bow, not some dagger you took out of your ass!"
Feng Xin snorts as he answers. "Don't be a sore loser, we've always been using dirty tricks together, it only bothers you because you lost."
"Sore loser? Dirty tricks? You have to be joking!" He furiously grabs his saber. "That wasn't in the rules of our fights, you cheated!"
"Whatever you say, I still won." Feng Xin smirks. "I'll be waiting for my gift."
After that he walks away to retrieve his arrows scattered around the training ground. While the rare persons still there left, they were now all alone. When he walks back, Mu Qing is still fuming in the same spot, gaze fixed on the ground.
As he passes next to him, he's sure he hears him talking. "You want a meaningful gift asshole?"
The next thing he registered is a hand on his neck, stopping him in his tracks and turning him around before lips crashed on his own.
Mu Qing likes to say Feng Xin is stupid but here it doesn't take him long to take the hint and return the kiss.
(After that Mu Qing acts like nothing happens. It takes Feng XIn kissing him again three days later for him to finally recognise the event.)
[My take on Mu Qing and Feng Xin's friendship; take place after the event of the book ofc]
Most friendships are built on things in common, on the happiness they bring to each other. Most friendship are like that.
Not all. Theirs isn't.
Maybe it could have been the case eight hundred years ago if Mu Qing and Feng Xin had talked. But they haven't, instead they chose to scream and fight. They let self-hatred and guilt drive their own action.
During eight hundred years they learn where to strike to hurt the most, crawling under skins to bring the worst out of each other, yelling and criticizing in hope to ease their own regrets.
They weren't friends but in the end they knew the other so well that it was troubling. Maybe that's why some weren't surprised when they first tried to act civilly together.
Some people in the Heavenly Court believed that their relationship was meant to be, that after knowing someone for so long you had to get along.
Both Mu Qing and Feng Xin strongly disagreed. Nothing between them was meant to be. Everything was due to their own action and inaction. It felt too easy to say they were fated to one day put their differences aside.
In fact, it took them many decades to find their pace together and a few more to truly become friends. There was so much guilt and regrets built between them, so many habits to break, and it took a while to stop purposely hurting each other.
Their friendship wasn't built on things in common, not because they don't have any, but because too much happened in eight hundred years. Things in common mean nothing when your rival knows how to use everything against you in the vilest way and when you can do the same.
No, their friendship was built on forgiveness. Building it required strengths that some may never have: the will to look at someone and confess I hurted you and I hurted you too. I am so sorry and to respond I forgive you.
It wasn't easy, it takes being brave to let someone see you vulnerable, but, after a hundred years, both Mu Qing and Feng Xin would agree that it was worth it.
[Post-Canon, Mu Qing dies and Feng Xin has to go through his belonging. Yes today I chose suffering.]
Death isn't pretty, no matter how beautiful the victim is. Feng Xin learned that the hard way the day Mu Qing died.
-
"I'm glad it's you," his breathing was laboured, he had to stop every few words and Feng Xin could see how each gulp of air was more painful than the last. "I'm glad because I can't trust anyone but you to see me like that."
“I had so much, so much,” Feng Xin wanted to tell him to stop talking, he wanted to tell him to keep his strength, to not use it in something as futile as talking. But no words left his mouth, even he could feel his breath hitch. “I had so much to tell you.”
"I wish we had more time."
-
After Mu Qing's death, a lot changed. More prayers, more deputies, more responsibilities, more work... But somehow all of these are minor changes for Feng Xin.
What truly makes him sick to the stomach is the silence. He walks in the Heavenly Capital and no one screams after him, no one trains with him every week, no one stands near him during meetings. One day he even tried to contact him through the Communication Array, needless to say it was fruitless.
As they say, you only know what you have when you lose it.
He's not surprised when Ling Wen asks him to sort through Mu Qing belongings. He didn't had many friends after all, and since he also took in his palace Mu Qing's deputies, it seems only normal for them to do this task.
It doesn't mean it's an easy task.
As Feng Xin's standing in his rival's bedchamber, he has to fight the will to vomit. Nothing has changed but everything's different.
His weapon no longer harbours his spiritual energy, the ink on his desk has dried... Even his bed, despite still smelling like him, a new layer of dust has settled on the blanket.
It's odd being in a space where it feels like Mu Qing could furiously enter the room at any moment while seeing proof he should have arrived days ago.
He feels defeated, he feels angry.
Eventually he tries opening the drawer on his bedside table and finds two things: a letter folded in half and a neatly wrapped package.
It seems to be something private and precious, maybe he should leave it alone, let Mu Qing have his secret even in death. Unfortunately no one is here to stop him so Feng Xin grabs the letter.
The first realisation is that it's not a letter. It's a draft at most, maybe a draft for a speech, covered in crossed-out sentences and ink puddles.
The second one is that it's written for Feng Xin. It seems like Mu Qing was looking for ways to speak his mind to him.
Feng Xin,
We've known each other for 820 years now, we haven't tried to kill each other lately we've been somewhat civil to each other for about 5 and I like you even number so I felt like it would be nice to celebrate it a bit.
Today is your birthday. I know we haven't given presents to each other since we were mortal but I believe it's what friends should do. I want to be your friend Don't worry, I'm not expecting you to give me anything for my birthday, it was just important for me to give it to you. Sorry I was too much of a coward to give it to you last year
I love sparring with you
There's a place I'd like to show you in the Southwest
Happy birthday
Feng Xin would nearly laugh if he didn't feel like crying already. If he's honest, he thought about getting a birthday gift for Mu Qing, but he too had been a coward. He was afraid he would somehow find a way to take it wrongly.
He grabbed the package. Technically it's not his birthday, but technically Mu Qing wasn't supposed to die before giving it to him, so maybe it's only fair to open it today, right?
It's neatly wrapped and quite light and small, it fits easily in Feng Xin's hand. He carefully opened it, trying to not tear the wrapping: it's also a part of Mu Qing, he can't destroy it.
In his hand is a long yellow band of silk. It takes him a second to understand what it is. It's a ribbon, a hair ribbon. More precisely, it looks like the one that broke during a fight years ago. But it had been mended, a silver thread was piercing both parts together. Mu Qing had also added some silver embroidery to compliment the golden ones already there.
Feng Xin hasn't cried since the day Mu Qing died in his arms. But here, surrounded by his smell and his belongings, Feng Xin felt the first tears fall and soon enough he’s sobbing on the golden and silver ribbon.
He can’t even say he hates Mu Qing.
-
Mu Qing was crying. It was quite a rare sight. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw that.
“I-” Feng Xin carefully removed his hair from his eyes, when he looked at them, he could see fear, pain and something else, something warm and tender. His voice was barely above a whisper now. “I always thought you looked amazing while shooting arrows, even when-” His next words are cut off as he coughs more blood.
“Hi, don’t talk,” his voice sounded weak and broken and Feng Xin wanted to laugh. In his last moment, that’s what he chose to say. “You’re also amazing with your saber. You always are, no matter what you’re doing.” He carefully brings his hand to his face and lets his thump stroke his cheek in a gesture that he hopes is reassuring. “Now, don’t say anything anymore Mu Qing.”
Obviously, he’s too stubborn to listen, even as his voice grows weaker, he continues talking.
“Even when we were mortals I-” he’s coughing more blood, his face contorted in pain. Yet the next moment their eyes meet, that tender feeling is back. “I always liked you a lot.”
Mu Qing: I hate to say ‘I told you so’—
Feng Xin, *interrupting*: No, you don’t. You would marry 'I told you so’ and have a baby with it and buy adjoining burial plots
Xie Lian: ...
Habits die hard, especially when they're built on resentment and defensive behaviour.
That's why it's not surprising for Feng Xin and Mu Qing to bicker as much as they do. If you asked them why they fight, they'd both give you a complete and thorough explanation of exactly how much of a moron the other is (with precise exemples to complete the reasoning if you let them talk).
But in truth, most of their points are hundreds of years old. Their bodies have just become accustomed to reacting a certain way when they hear the other. And they never tried to question if there was any other way for them to act.
Habits die hard but habits are comforting, especially after 800 years. Somehow they bring a sense of familiarity and belonging.
So it's not surprising that, even under disguise, they start fighting. Or maybe it is; truly, their cover would have worked better had they stayed civil to each other. But they haven't, how could they have after recognizing each other at first glance (stupid hair, stupid name).
Beside the names, their fight as Fu Yao and Nan Feng weren't different from the ones as their true self, it was mean, aimed to hurt as always. What actually changed was the rest.
When fighting Mu Qing, Feng Xin felt his anger in his hands, in his shoulder, his stomach, his throat or even his nose (but that was just an unconscious memory of the few times it was broken by his rival). But when he heard Fu Yao laugh at Xie Lian antics, it wasn't the same feeling. It was a warmth rooted in his chest and growing in his throat, building up until his fingertips felt like twitching.
And Fu Yao was pretty, Mu Qing would never allow himself to look anything beside perfect after all, but they were really different. While the latter would always act as a snowstorm, cold, dangerous and blinding, Fu Yao did the opposite. He would lean toward Xie Lian when fakely whispering embarrassing stories about General Nan Yang and would take that self-satisfied smile whenever Nan Feng raised to the bait. Which did happen frequently, for obvious unnamed reasons.
It was driving him crazy. So maybe Feng Xin should have seen it coming. But he hasn't.
One day, when he was yet again bickering with Fu Yao, he nearly froze when a traitorous I wouldn't mind kissing that pout off his lips crossed his mind (he punched him hard, embarrassed by his own brain). Even some time later, when he saw Mu Qing sitting near a pond, expression so peaceful as he watched the carps leisurely swimming, a firm part of Feng Xin wanted to sit next to him and rest his head on his shoulder (he ran away to his palace before doing anything stupid).
Sometimes, Feng Xin wonders if they'll ever find a way to accept each other's presence. He wonders if Mu Qing ever thought of them kindly greeting each other in the morning instead of fighting.
Only time would bring him those answers and, to be honest, right now he may have to focus on the Ghost King Xie Lian decided to befriend.
