ever after

無論經過多少的寒冬 我決不放手

[xiayixx]

— chap i : side v, solo

lan xiayi feels bare.  exposed.  after shielding himself from the explosion with his arm, his sleeve had partially burnt off, leaving his arm unprotected.  for some time, he had declined the healer’s help, not wanting to draw more unnecessary attention to his injury.  he had tried, in light of things, to chase said healer off in wei yukai’s direction, insisting that the other would need it more, but she would not budge -- so in the end, he allowed her to work on the patches of red that scorched his skin.

when it comes to pain, he is not as resistant as he wishes to be;  he flinches at her touch, his fingers twitching as he tries to hold his ground.  a noise escapes him -- one akin to that a trapped animal -- but no one pays heed, to his relief.  he’s far too focused on the burns that he barely registers the brilliant clash of something that glints against the rising jade.  it’s instinct now to protect himself in case of another explosion, but this time, there’s no fire, no sound.

he raises his head slowly, his eyes falling upon the other disciples.  the earth trembles beneath them, and he thinks surely -- surely, this can’t be it.

( but maybe it’s time to join him. )

no.

he grabs the healer next to him, dragging her down with him so they can steady themselves, in the off chance that the tremors grow worse.  fortunately, that does not happen -- it stops suddenly, and he’s left wondering why his heart is beating so quickly, so abruptly.

[xiayixx]

— combustion

[xiayixx]

weiyukaixx‌:

          [  ---  ]

Unfortunately, Yukai’s cheer was short-lived. The smoke of his first attack quickly dissipated. The demon was barely harmed, but it sure looked pissed as hell. Thankfully, Xiayi’s erhu was doing wonders in keeping the thing at bay. “Hey, Xiayi,” Yukai proposed, eyeing Xiayi’s weapon, “You’re pretty good at handling that thing, huh? You spend a lot of time practicing? You’ve gotten even better than the last time I heard you.” Yukai was rapidly patching a plan together. It was risky, for sure–but the damn demon was too strong and their attacks were too weak to do any real damage. They had to combine their strengths–and combine them fast.

“Xiayi, in theory, could you shrink the force field on that thing? To the size of a fire-ball, for example? Yukai brandished his last flame talisman, bringing it to eye level. “I have an idea–but I need your help to pull it off.”

          it peeves him to no end.  the one time he takes a step out of his usual selfish stride, is the one time he’s denied satisfaction.  one dead is better than two dead -- surely, that’s straightforward enough for even simpletons to comprehend.  but wei’s have always had a heroic streak.  their need to do something, be someone is an innate part of their clan’s growth  ( and would, subsequently, become their downfall -- this, xiayi is certain of ).

          “foolish”---is the only word that escapes from him when the monster rears its ugly head at the bit of flame that sizzling its wing.  foolish, selfish.  he doesn’t need yukai here, but yukai has chosen to stay, which ultimately puts the decision back in xiayi’s hand:  if the monster were to attack them both, he’d only be able to protect either himself or yukai.  had the other left when told to do so, he wouldn’t be in this position to question who is better for the world.

          ( because he knows, deep down, what the answer is. )

          his grip tightens around the bow, the consequential note waning in an awful screech.

          “you’re in no position to ask for my help,”  he grits out, eyes flickering from the monster to yukai for the briefest moment.  it’s more of a coincidence than intuition, but he understands what yukai wants;  and though resilient in each conscious decision to withhold giving in, the situation they’re in now presents no better alternative.

          he changes how he plays - the lulling melody expanding into a series of staccatos.  and as such, the glint representing the barrier draws in to surround the talisman in yukai’s hand.  it compresses the heat, trapping it within the confines of the thin slip of paper, allowing it to raise greatly, rapidly in temperature until---

          “YUKAI!”

          the moment it explodes, he changes his play, drawing back the barrier to protect -- but it does not last long.  a strong gust of heat sweeps their way, knocking him from his perched position on the branch.  the erhu escapes from his grasp, and a deafening silence follows that loud crackle.  he cannot hear, he cannot see, but he can feel the scorch that burns his skin, the heat that suffocates him, rendering his lungs useless.

          in that second, he had chosen to protect yukai from being incinerated, but in doing so, had left himself vulnerable to backfire.  ( stupid boy, there’s no pride in self-sacrifice. )

[xiayixx]

— combustion

[xiayixx]

weiyukaixx‌:

        [  ---  ]

“GET DOWN!!” Yukai’s warning exploded right as the mighty beast descended upon them in a thunderous roar, the sheer force of its mammoth beating wings sweeping some disciples clean off their feet. A sharp flash of red was the only warning Yukai caught before he yanked Xiayi towards him, narrowly escaping the sharp claw which smashed a deep indent into the ground where Xiayi used to be. Yukai yanked Xiayi with such force they were both knocked off balance, and he snaked his palm to the back of Xiayi’s head right before they collided with the ground. With Xiayi tight in his arms, Yukai grit his teeth and dug his heels into the earth to slow their descent. 

Finally, they rolled to a stop. Yukai looked upwards, panting; they had fallen quite a long way, ending at the bottom of the hill as the chaos ensued up top. He could see his fellow disciples engaged in fierce battle–Jiuli, Jiang Lian, Mingyan, Daiyu–everyone was fighting tooth and nail against the inhumane shrieks which painted the sky crimson with fury.

It really is a big fucking bird, Yukai thought sardonically.

“Xiayi,” Yukai checked the bundle in his arms urgently, palm still cradling the back of his head, protecting him from the fall. “Xiayi, you back with me? Are you hurt?”

         like remnants of a nostalgic dream, he drifts until his heart stops -- then he lurches awake.  “qing---”  the second syllable is lost within the gust of air that’s beaten out of him.  he can’t see, can’t focus.  all he knows, now that the fog had cleared from his head, is that they’re falling.  they’re falling to whatever place, to whatever depths, and qingfeng’s -- no, yukai’s arms are around him, his hand cradling the back of his crown, as if he’s coddling him.  in that moment, despite all conditions and potential consequences, he almost berates him.

        almost.

        “get off.  get---”

        he shoves yukai off, never one to be gentle in the first place despite his lan upbringing.  his eyes trail up to the red monster that squawks from above, its claws lashing at the other disciples, striking one in particular across the chest.  there’s yelling, screeches from those he’s grown alongside.

        a single thought intrudes in his mind then:  vividly, cruelly.

        he reaches out and bunches yukai’s robes in his fist once more, lest the other decides to be heroic and charge into battle.  “don’t draw attention to us.”

        the thought brightens, its words trickling into every corner of his mind.  echoing, chanting, it tells him one thing and one thing only:

        leave them.

        his grip tightens around the fabric once more, and this time, there’s a gentle tug in the opposite direction -- a subtle gesture that reads come with me.  this is not a fight they can win.  they’re better off with reinforcements.  

        ( and if their companions die . . . )

        he thinks of jingyun.

        ( well, then, good.  a life for a life. )

        the monster lashes out from above, its wings smacking against one of the lan disciples, flinging her down hill.  her bones shatter one last time as she lands beside them.  blood spews from her mouth, her eyes glossing over.  leave them.  there’s nothing wrong with preserving one’s self.  there’s nothing wrong with -- no.  these are not his thoughts.  the words are twisted, cackling in a voice that sounds so much like his.  but xiayi knows him well, knows him better than anyone.  he would never say something like this.

        “run,”  he utters after a moment, his gaze falling upon the woman’s slain form.  she used to be sickly when she was younger.  qingfeng adored her.  always the kind heart, he visited her daily and poured her tea.  it’s unfair that she’ll get to see him first . . .  “---are you deaf?”  his eyes snap up to yukai now.  “i told you to run.  go.  now.”

        he shoves him away and in the same fluid motion, leaps onto a branch and draws out his erhu.  there’s no hesitation as he begins to play, the strings vibrating against his fingers, their cords carrying upward to create an invisible barrier.  and just like so, it catches the monster’s attention.

[xiayixx]

— combustion

          if he’s to be truthful, the reason he opted to go with the extermination group is because he has little faith that everyone here would not self-destruct.  now, he’s well aware that he cannot do much with his abilities -- they exist to influence and to protect -- but he figures with all the hotheaded, battle-ready disciples, his barrier would prove useful against at least one attack.

          that is also assuming his mind is clear of distraction, his soul void of bittersweet nostalgia.  but this, he doesn’t relay to the others.  from what can be observed, nothing much has changed about the prissy lan;  he has a few strands of hair out of place, is a bit wary of jingyun, but beyond that, he holds himself upright, his chin held high.  he’s haughty with those in this group  ( of which none of them, other than the senior disciple, he gets along with ).  and everything seems normal, ordinary -- until he hears it.

          a-xia.

          he stops in his step, his fingers curling into twin fists.  this time, he does not allow himself to fall so easily -- he stands there, stands his ground, and lets the voice whisper to him once more.

          it sounds warm, inviting.

          and oh, how easy it is for him to envision him there, teetering to the side, his hand outstretched.  he reaches out---and grabs onto someone’s arm.  the fog that clouds his mind does not dwindle.

          a-xia.

          his hand tightens around yukai’s arm, nails digging deep into fine cloth.  through this all, the whispers haunt the hollows of his ears, rendering him deaf.  focus.  focus.  “---you’re not him.  stop pretending to be.”  he says this out loud while looking directly at @weiyukaixx, but his eyes are glazed over -- lost in distance.  there’s someone else here.

[xiayixx]

— at ease

[xiayixx]

jingyunxx‌:

         [  ---  ]

“I…I h-heard…” Jingyun pointed shakily ahead, still too lost in his own thoughts. “Did you hear him? But it’s not possible. He is dead.” He reached out blindly, despite having received a warning to not move. “I know he is! I would know.” His hand encountered something sharp on its search, the sting of the cut he must have gotten pulled Jingyun back to reality. A close call, he thought, he almost had one of his episodes again. 

Every time he tried to remember what happened, insanity would creep in.

“This is not real,” Jingyun said once he recollected himself somewhat. “The demon is making us hear things. Do you remember what we learned from the tea parlour, about how people heard their loved ones speaking?”

         they say pain is in the mind.  they say, with meditation and practice, a person is able to control what they feel.  these are the principles he’s grown up with, the principles he believes.  then tell me why this hurts.

        “how would you know?”  i know him better than anyone.

        a-xia, remember when---

        ( we sat by the steady stream, and i told you yes. )

        and remember how you---

        ( fell into my embrace, how safe you felt. )

        “you’re lying.”  an uncharacteristic tremor travels from the timid accusation, all the way down and through the tip of his danxin.  “you kept him away.”  from me.

        do you feel cold?  come here.  i will warm you.

        just like every fall turned winter, qingfeng had held him behind closed doors.  and he feels it again -- that familiar warmth, that familiar scent.  a demon cannot do this.  a demon cannot infiltrate his mind, his memories like this.  but when the heart yearns, it’ll fill in the blanks.

        there’s a moment of clarity.  the fog has dissipated, and suddenly he can see the truth.  it’s been here all along.  of course, it has.  he’s been blind to it all because he decided to --  “. . . trust you, jingyun.”  he steadies his sword.  “i don’t trust you.”  not anymore.

        he feels the same warmth encircle him, pulling him back, as if saying don’t hurt him, don’t hurt him.  because qingfeng is kind, qingfeng is forgiving.  sorry, qingfeng.  i’ve always been selfish.  he takes a step back and---

        the embrace burns him, yanks him down.  he falls with a choked cry, thinking,

        why do you insist on saving him again?  he doesn’t deserve your protection.

[xiayixx]

— caged bird

[xiayixx]

xxdaiyu‌:

Oh how she found his behavior distasteful. The entitlement seeping from his every pore, as if he were somehow more worthy then her. Be it because she was a woman or from a smaller clan, she could only speculate. But if she were to lay a bet–it probably was a mixture of both that led to this frankly shameless display of disrespect. A pity, she had expected better from the oh so noble Lan Clan. 

It could be because she was tired from the trip, or because there was no one from her clan to correct her behavior, but she felt herself becoming bold as she quickened her pace so that she was standing directly in front of him, blacking his movements as her eyes narrowed at him. 

“You are right about one thing there, Young Master Lan.” She murmured, voice steady and calm despite the fact she wanted to stab him in all of his squishy parts until he bled all over his crisp, fancy robes, “It is not your place to tell me how to lead–nor is it your right to instill your sense of etiquette onto a different clan.” Daiyu let herself smile then, though it was a smile far removed from the vapid smile she had perfected over the years, “Though, please excuse my ignorance–I’m not quite familiar with the duties and responsibilities of the Lan Clan…however, is it commonplace to mistake a First disciple for a maid?” She tilted her head, unflinchingly. 

         he chooses to ignore the pressing, if not slightly provocative, inquiry.  for once, he harbors a bit of embarrassment for his error -- a bit of embarrassment that does not extend to any telling reaction, other than his blatant disregard for a perfectly reasonable question and a rather terse demeanor.

        “how your men act is a direct reflection of your leadership.”  his eyes fall upon her young face.  “discipline is taught first, then expected.  you’ll come to understand that once the lectures commence.”

        there’s bite to her words, and it irks him to no end.  perhaps it’s the way she holds herself -- headstrong and firm, unwilling to waver in the face of adversity.  perhaps it’s the way she challenges him, as if she’s been wronged and is seeking retribution.  unfortunately, he does not bow to dissent easily.

        “once the lectures conclude, whether or not you decide to adopt our etiquette is at your discretion.  however, as long as you walk on our grounds, sleep in our beds, and eat our food, you’re to abide by our regulations.”  he stills in his step and spares her a long look.  “which includes being humble.”

[xiayixx]

— at ease

        a-xia.

        “qingfeng?”

        the old name slips from his tightened tongue quietly, instinctively.  several years of having it burn into the crevasses of his memories, never once uttered out loud since then, has made it sound strange -- foreign, almost.

        a-xia, come here.

        he stills in his step, his eyes casting over to the closest disciple he can make out amidst the thickening fog.  for a moment, no matter how brief, he thinks to ask his fellow lan if he, too, had heard the familiar voice, but after taking into consideration that it’s @jingyunxx, he bites back the inquiry.

        where it stands, his heart is not pure.  he continues on, trudging through the fog, ignoring the winded whispers of his past.  but the farther he goes, the clearer the voice becomes.

        please help me.

        he stops again, his fingers digging into the palm of his hand.  “jingyun.”  then, in a slightly louder voice:  “jingyun.”

        i’m over here.

        that’s not jingyun’s voice.  that’s his.

        ON YOUR LEFT!

        it happens without him realizing.  the warning rings through his ears, and in the same second, he brandishes his sword, thrusting it out in the face of harm.  it doesn’t find solid ground, but he senses someone on the opposing end.  “don’t move.”  he says this instead of lowering his blade.  it’s odd.  he rarely draws his sword, but maybe -- just maybe -- it’s easier with jingyun.

[xiayixx]

— chap i : side i, solo

         first and foremost, xiayi does not like talking to people.  rephrase:  he does not like talking to people outside of his sect.  the thing with being so keenly lan  ( white robes, blue headband, haughty attitude, and all )  is that his revered status is now a joke to some.  as expected of a lan, he’s heard time and time again.  it’s a taunt wrapped nicely in a compliment -- usually after he makes a remark that may or may not be pretentious, depending on who’s asking.

        it’s for this reason he’s slightly more hesitate to approach the townspeople at first.  he knows himself well;  if someone makes an offhanded comment, he’ll snip in response.  that would make it more difficult to obtain information and, all things considered, would reflect badly on the juniors that look up to him.  they’re to be kind to the townspeople.  patient.  unfortunately, neither is his forte.

        but in a surprising twist, the townspeople are rather . . . friendly.  there’s acknowledgement as he walks briskly through the market, and with acknowledgement comes permission to approach.  every so often, he’d catch a vendor’s gaze -- typically a woman’s, though not intentionally -- and when they’re deemed competent enough, he’d stop to ask a few questions.  most are compliant, offering him information that sounds more like tall tales than absolute truth.  he’d deem these a waste of time.

        it’s only when he happens across a comb vendor that she tells him something intriguing.  he thanks her by purchasing one of her designs:  a sleek black with a hand-painted red butterfly, it stands out among the blues.

[xiayixx]

modern! xiayi used social media, primarily instagram, to document his fondest memories.

he didn’t post often, but when he did, it’s usually of qingfeng, his “best friend”  ( except no one believed that, because you don’t post that many pictures of you petting your best friend’s hair, or a picture of your best friend’s bare back in your bedroom, or all the cafes and eateries you two had gone to, anyway ).

when qingfeng passed away, xiayi stopped using his instagram.  he went black icon, and his latest post is the last picture qingfeng took of him.  the comment reads simply, i miss you.

[xiayixx]

mod wwx here with some maybe helpful spreadsheets to keep track of things !!!

events tracker -- will update periodically

merit & traits tracker template -- preview here

total leftover merit points will calculate automatically

insert an apostrophe ( ‘ ) before plus sign ( ‘+1 )

[weiyukaixx]

Full bloom,◞

[xiayixx]

weiyukaixx‌:

[ . . . ]  “Alright, alright,”–And there, that lecherous grin was back on Yukai’s face–“I’ll be serious and remember well. No less than a fingers width between all three layers, right?” Yukai rubbed at the spot where Xiayi fixed his collar. His smile grew more pleased by the second. Suddenly Yukai leaned down, closing the distance between them in a move that mimicked the gesture of two people well-versed in eachother’s presence. “Xiayi, I’ve read the rules for this lecture. It was a really long list. If you’re worried about me breaking any rules… maybe you should remind me what they are, personally. I would hang on to your every word, you know? Perhaps you would be the first Lan in history to make the ideal disciple out of a Wei.” Yukai chuckled, leaning back. “I’m kidding, of-course, I wouldn’t put you through the torture.” He paused. “Unless…”

         the problem with wei yukai is, quite frankly, everything.

        over the years, each chance meeting had given him yet another reason  ( on his already extensive list of reasons )  to avoid this boisterous character.

        it’s not so much his personality, mind you.  he’s had his fair share of dealing with the reckless and the rambunctious.  no, it’s not that;  rather, it’s his attitude.  wei yukai would oftentimes give the impression of living life for the pursuit of pleasure -- something that a few younger lan disciples find endearing, if not shamefully exciting.

        earlier on, word had spread about the wei sect attending their lectures.  while the matter was kept hush-hush for the most part, there were a handful of young men and women who chatted animatedly about a certain wei yukai’s return.  where has he gone as of late?  what stories will he tell?  they’d gush.  he’s so funny!  and cute!  upon hearing xiayi scoff, the small crowd would immediately shut their mouths and look down.  they knew of the terse feelings he has toward the other man -- at this point, most people did.

        it’s their fascination that he finds irritable.  wei yukai is likable, and that is the precise reason he dislikes him.  being likable allows room for favoritism, and favoritism is, undoubtedly, the gateway to getting anything he wants.  it’s a disservice to those who practice self-restraint.

        lan xiayi is far from oblivious.  the first time they had met each other, wei yukai’s attraction was evident to him and to anyone with eyes and ears.  it was the way he commanded attention with his crass compliments, beckoning xiayi to look his way, to listen.  and now that a particular presence is gone, it has become harder for him to divert his focus from the unabashed flattery.  but resistance still remains easy;  he has a mind of his own and his heart with another.

        “no.”

        this is not your game to win, nor is it a dream you should chase.

        “i will not go out of my way to teach you a lesson.”  ( the exception:  that one time he had stepped up to punish wei yukai himself.  two hundred lashes for breaking the rules, three hundred more for reckless behavior that endangered and harmed a lan disciple. )  “you are not my responsibility.”

        he turns to walk away, but something stops him in his steps.  words, promises.  my lady-to-be.  his fingers curl against his palms, digging crescents into soft skin.  he does not care to be owned, nor does he care for the feminine title -- but when it comes from wei yukai, the term of endearment becomes foul.  it’s a declaration that he has already won, and it’s this confidence he exudes that xiayi dislikes the most.

        a breath filters through his lungs, escaping from parted lips.

        “those who are more impressionable may find your persistence and charismatic tongue admirable, but your use of flattery is shallow, if not frivolous.”

        he turns ever so slightly so he can lift his eyes to catch wei yukai’s own.

        “no chance.”

[xxxiaojian-deactivated20210908]

* old wounds.

[xiayixx]

xxxiaojian‌:

[ . . . ]  “I’ll copy this one down again for you if you like? ’Do not make assumptions about others’. Or perhaps ’do not speak ill of others’? Tell me, which is lacking in penmanship, Xiayi, and I’ll rewrite them all you please.” Oh, the lengths at which he could talk in the presence of this man. They surely knew each other’s voices well, albeit both changed into one befitting men of their age.

( Immaturity, however, was not lost on either of them. Jian would never forgive the other for his attitude toward him when he needed support the most, and Xiayi for reasons the former had yet to figure out. Someday, however, everything would become clear. )

He pressed the brush tip into the jet black liquid, relinquishing his need to move before he did something he would come to regret.

        in a strange lapse of self-control, he finds himself mirroring xiao jian -- the narrowed eyes, the somewhat haughty demeanor  ( as if a sharp tongue would quell resentment more successfully than further igniting it ).  

        he lifts the neck of the fan from xiao jian’s wrist and tucks it behind his back, fearing that the other may try to swipe at it, which would, most evidently, lead to a physical altercation that xiayi is very much not accustomed to.  instead, he uses his words.  cold and crass, he quotes one of the later regulations out of spite:  “‘speak sparsely, for too many words may only bring harm.’”  a pause.  “five hundred times.”

        he stands there then, peering over xiao jian’s shoulder, eyes skimming parchment as if there’s nothing else of interest  ( truly, there’s not, other than xiao jian’s walking stick, which xiayi had the audacity to scoff at upon first sight ).  it’s only after a few quiet minutes that he has yet another strange lapse of self-control -- this time, in patience.

        “does this amuse you?”  

        he steps in front of the desk, shielding the source of daylight streaming from the singular window.  “you are a rogue cultivator, nameless, if not for your swordsmanship.  you were invited to our home, fed until your heart’s content, given the opportunity to attend our lectures -- only to disrespect the regulations we’ve upheld for generations, thereby humiliating the man who personally signed your invitation himself.”  

        “so allow me to ask you again,”  he places both palms on the desk and leans in, his voice dipping low,  “does this amuse you?”

[xxxiaojian-deactivated20210908]

* old wounds.

[xiayixx]

xxxiaojian‌:

Xiao Jian did not know obedience.

It was notably one aspect of his personality that was not subject to change over the years. If anything, it increased in its intensity. With no one to answer to, the inevitable erosion of respect for authority was inevitable. He refused to comb over the thousands of rules the Lan sect meticulously set in place, nor did he attend the lectures. He might as well have quite literally spat on the invitation he received. He was certain Lan Qiruan, in particular, would be disappointed in his behavior.

“What do you look so smug for, Lan Xiayi?” He placed emphasis on the name, venom seeping from his lips. The man’s birth name was on the tip of his tongue. He knew he was ready to drop it at any minute just to get a rise out of him. ( Oh, the resentment he still held for him since that day. It was if their childhood meant nothing. )

“I’m going to assume this punishment is adequate enough for your taste.” His eyes darted from scroll to parchment, meticulously copying down the rules. Then back up again to gaze upon the other’s face. It was unusual to see Xiayi with anything other than a sour face. Dare Jian say that it was a welcome change?

Though Xiayi was not Lan by birth he certainly was quick to adopt the demeanor of one. They could all use to smile a bit more. Even if it’s as simple as a smug smirk.

         the taunting quirk at the corner of his mouth sinks the moment xiao jian acknowledges its presence.  it transforms into something a little less amusing and a little more abrasive:  a distinct purse of thin lips, he scoffs.  “the more you talk, the longer you’ll be here.”  short and snippy and to the point---it’s my time you’re wasting.

        some would call it selfless.  

        he had passed the exam with little to no effort -- years of seeing and reciting the same five thousand principles had given him an edge during the lecture, allowing him to be among the first to finish.  he was gifted red bean soup with a hint of sugar that’s evidently not to his liking, as he had turned the treat away in lieu of an open conversation on who had failed.  there were a handful, xiao jian being one of them.  he pitied the disciple who was instructed to oversee the punishment -- only to later pity himself as he stepped up to look after xiao jian specifically.  as a senior, he had responsibilities and could forgo his afternoon off.

        some would call it slightly sadistic.

        his resentment toward xiao jian is far from mere talk.  what had started as deplorable pettiness  ( yes, even at the young, ripe age of thirteen )  had spiraled and mutated into this need to blister what good he had seen in him.

        ( it shouldn’t matter now.  it shouldn’t have mattered three years ago, or even ten years ago.  but he holds grudges close and rivals closer. )

        “stop.”

        he smacks the fan against xiao jian’s wrist and lets it linger there as his eyes skim the parchment.  

        “xiao jian.”  the name tastes bitter on his tongue.  “did your handwriting deteriorate along with your mentality?”

[xiayixx]

— caged bird

[xiayixx]

xxdaiyu‌:

it had been a long journey. the mountain they lived in was a fair distance away from cloud recesses, and the path was not easily defined. still, there was a sense of excitement from the other disciples, who were all eager to receive lessons from the legendary institution. being from a small clan, the invitation itself had been met with a huge amount of pride for her clan members. she would be lying if she hadn’t felt a fraction of that excitement herself. even if the thought of all the…regulations left an uncomfortable feeling in her core. 

….that previous excitement quickly turned into annoyance when the lan disciple failed to act appropriately. daiyu could tell by the fidgeting and badly hidden veiled smirks of the others, that they were taking way to much amusement out of the disregard of the other, and it took every ounce of her upbringing not to roll her eyes in disgust. 

instead she watched the lan disciple dig himself a hole, holding up a finger infused with spiritual energy, instantly silencing the others, “I do believe there has been a misconception.”daiyu began, voice soft but firm, “my apologies for not introducing myself sooner, my name is huang daiyu, senior disciple and first daughter of the huang clan.”

        upon hearing her late introduction, he stills in his step.  the first daughter?  that explains all the snickering he had thought to disregard as mere ignorance.

        “my sincere apologies, lady huang.”  though he addresses her by title, his chin remains lifted in the opposite direction.  “allow me to escort you to the ladies’ quarters.”  then, without sparing a glance in her direction, he continues walking.  

        it’s only when he’s out of earshot of her fellow clan members that he speaks once more:  “it’s not my place to tell you how to lead your men,”  he begins, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side -- almost as if to finally regard her, though his eyes remain downcast.  “but it is your responsibility, as senior disciple, to instill proper etiquette.  had i been someone of higher standing, their disrespectful behavior would not have gone without punishment.”

[xiayixx]

— crow song

[xiayixx]

xxjingxuan‌:

[ ✂ - - - ]  For him, it’s out of nowhere, a sound suddenly begins, and for a few seconds at first it bothers him, he wants quietness, but soon enough it’s like the music is around him, hugging him in a way. The words still repeat in his head, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, but now they’re suddenly slower, and he suddenly doesn’t feel like he’s at the edge of dying anymore. 

     It stops, and he hears the question, he stares out into nothing, confused as to what happened. 

     “No”

     He lets his body fall back, covers his face with his arm, “I’m sleeping”

        it’s a gradual shift:  he retracts the erhu to a horizontal position in his open palms and rises to his feet.  he then turns, slow, and rests the instrument against the pale cushion, noting the forty-five degree angle at which it should sit.  its paired bow follows shortly thereafter.  the movement, though incredibly unnecessary, comes with practiced grace---grace that does not extend into his subsequent action.

        he turns back to jingxuan, and without warning, without regard, he yanks the covers off and flings it to the tail-end of the mattress.  “sit up.”  there’s no grace in his demand, and no grace in his words that beckon the maids back in the room.

        “drink.”

        one of the maid sinks to her knees next to jingxuan’s bed and offers up a bowl of herbal soup;  the other starts dabbing away at jingxuan’s forehead.  he’s quick to chase the latter one away with a nudge of his foot so he can take her place.

        “what did you see?”

        there have been rumors of a certain clairvoyant wandering between the sects, telling tall tales of each clan’s inevitable future.  he holds his doubts for this sort of ability, but one of the elders had insisted, so he has no choice but to ask.

[xiayixx]

— caged bird

        he offers to welcome the visiting disciples, mostly because he has little trust in the juniors to do it well.  the leaders did not agree with this sentiment;  in an odd twist, they decided to send a number of the juniors -- all main bloodline -- to greet the major sects.  to familiarize them,  he reasons,  since they’re next in line.  despite this line of thought, he is, admittedly, a bit peeved with his assignment to greet the minor clans  ( an outer disciple task, from his speculation ).  but in the end, it’s diplomacy and courtesy over frugal matters.

        the huangshan clan comes from the mountains -- this is all he knows as he bows and welcomes them to cloud recesses.  “we’ve lowered the temperature in your living corridors to accommodate the change in climate.”  he tells this to the tallest man standing in front of the group.  “if it’s not to your liking, ask one of the servants to have it adjusted.  per policy, women will have to stay in separate rooms.”  his gaze does not waver from the man as he speaks of @xxdaiyu.  “make yourself at home.  i will show her to the maid corridors.”

        at long last, his eyes skim over to the young woman, brushing over her youthful face for less than second before dropping to her hand.  strange that they’d gift a sword to a maid, but it’s not his place to question another clan’s practice.  he turns away, his back now to her.  “come,”  he says, and nothing else.

[weiyukaixx]

Full bloom,◞

[xiayixx]

weiyukaixx‌:

[ ✂ - - - ]  “Xiayi, its me!!” Yukai called excitedly. “Did you miss me? God, its been too long. I certainly missed you! Really, its not the same, living life without seeing your beautiful face everyday…” Yukai’s heart was bursting with affection and he couldn’t stop himself from waxing on dramatically: “Every day I spent without your company was akin to a hundred years of cursed loneliness; every night spent without the comfort of your gentle smile felt like a thousand years in the desert without water– really, I don’t know how I survived for this long–When I received your invitation, I jumped on my sword and flew over right away.” Well, the invitation wasn’t from Xiayi personally per se, but Yukai was a pro at skimming details.

Suddenly Yukai stopped, brows creasing into a deep frown, lips pursed as if in serious contemplation. “Xiayi-ah… is it possible…” he raised his fingers to his lips, letting the words sink in,

“Could it be possible… you grew even prettier since the last time I saw you??” 

        “they lack sincerity in their studies and have proven, time and time again, that they are more trouble than they are worth.”

        xiayi,  the middle-aged man to his right began, his tone clearly exasperated.  we have already extended an invitation to the wei sect.

        “and have they accepted?”

        we have not heard back, but it’s likely that they will accept.  these lectures intend to foster relationships between major and minor clans.  purposely excluding a sect would only reflect badly on us and our inclusive values.

        though he had a few choice words about the wei sect’s impish behavior  ( bearing in mind the leader of pack -- a certain disciple whose bright face and brighter smile irked him to the core ),  he shut his mouth.  it was not his place to argue, nor was it really his place to give his opinion on this matter, but he had done so out of selfish regard.  he saw the wei sect as improper, impudent, and impatient in their pursuit of play and pleasure.  they were not good role models for the impressionable juniors here.  all of that and, quite simply, he did not want to see wei yukai.

        his blatant hostility towards this particular wei was hard to overlook---and it’s perhaps for this reason that the elders had disregarded his insistence all together.

        which brings them here:  day one, arrival.

        he had volunteered to welcome the minor clans in hopes that it would prolong his inevitable reunion with wei yukai.  unfortunately, he had severely underestimated how excitable and bold yukai is  ( age has not shimmered the other’s reaction toward him -- if anything, he's acting increasingly familiar ).  his eyes narrow, his lips twitch.  he considers himself a patient person, having dealt with enough annoyances on a daily basis, but with just a few words, wei yukai is already testing him.

        “save your words for a lady who’s more susceptible to flattery.”  through the years, his tongue has only gotten sharper, his words cutting.  when it comes to yukai, he has lost his sense of civility.  “do you harbor no shame---or are you using flattery to evoke mercy?”  he knows he should not make assumptions that yukai has already broken one of their policies, but in his defense, it’s not a baseless assumption.

        his gaze drops to yukai’s chest to see if there’s any strange bump in the inner pockets that may indicate smuggling.  what he sees instead is one of the three layers tucked behind the other two.  he moves without thought, almost on instinct:  like he’s done with numerous juniors, he reaches up and tugs the third layer out.  and it’s only when he’s straightening the fold, his finger brushing against yukai’s bare skin, that he jolts back in realization.  his hands fall back to his side, and his eyes flicker upward.

        “all three layers must be shown a finger’s width apart.”

        don’t read into it.