[ Runyu’s first reaction to his friend’s confession is shock, carefully schooled behind courtesy to attempt from alarming him further, but the shock fades quickly. A cynical part of Runyu could argue that he releases the shock too soon for the gravity of the sin, but a quieter side overrides that dark coldness after watching his friend shake and apologize. Seeing pieces of his own guilt in Xingchen and the wish to be forgiven. Realizing and accepting a more important aspect of the truth before him. It is not Runyu’s place to judge his friend, and perhaps, with that opening, he can offer his friend something he never could have. A chance for someone to listen and maybe understand. This is something Xingchen deserves, more than anyone else he has offered. ]
( A few beats pass before Runyu makes a response, his voice a soothing hum in hopes of bridging any gap. ) I will repeat the same words you offered me, dear friend. There is no reason to apologize to me. ) His hand reaches for his friend, bypassing the sleeve to set his hand on the back of his hand. Perhaps it is a flicker of his own guilt, but it still seems cold. He lets his hand remain there. ) If you wish to share the circumstances of that day, you may, but I will not ask you to, if you wish to rest now. As you’ve said, it’s been a trying day.
[ Runyu falls silent but doesn’t move his hand. If it’s an obtrusive move, he’ll let his friend pull away, but now, it seems a small way to assist in the grief shaking his friend.
Grief and guilt melded together into one cloak of agony that rips open each time it’s touched too deeply.
A shard of the glass reflected in his own mirror. ]
( xingchen isn't entirely sure what sort of response he expected. in truth, he didn't much think about it, merely took stock of his outward appearance (whether or not he had bloodied these bandages too, the shaking hands) and did what he could to bring the conversation back onto its proper track. and even now, after his all-too-casual deflection, he still only halfway hears what it is that runyu's saying. something about his apology.
but then, gentle fingers untuck the hem of his sleeve from around his fingers to slip underneath it, a warm hand wrapping around the back of his. and it isn't runyu's guilt or imagination - xingchen's hand really is a bit cold, something he himself is only realizing now at the blazing warmth of the touch.
as for the offer... his lips press together for a moment, then curve again into the slightest of smiles, this one somber. ) Your offer is kind, to listen if I'd like to share, but I'm unable to do so. ( a beat, and he shakes his head a little. ) Not because I can't speak of it - I stand by that which I've said, there is nothing which I'm unwilling to tell you if you should ask.
( he takes a moment here to consider, to choose his words, his 'gaze' dropping to the approximate location of the hand on his. then, quiet but entirely collected, ) I told you once that I've found I'm capable of a great deal of harm. In truth, the number of lives I've taken is too great to have kept proper count. I can't speak to you of the day I murdered Zichen because I'm not entirely sure which kill was him.
Then that is a thing we share. ( He chuckles as if at a small joke, but it lacks any spark of joy. A mirthless acknowledgement of fate at work. But he continues, tone resolute. ) I, too, have caused more harm than I can count. I opened a war, killed the only one of my flesh and blood to acknowledge me as well as his closest companion almost in the same blow, orchestrated the destruction of my father and his empress, and even drove the woman I love to the brink of her tragedy. One could even blame me for the death of my birth mother, too. ( He looks away. ) I was never acknowledged to be worth much. Maybe there is a reason for that.
[ Another pause follows, broken by a deep breath. ]
Shall we part ways now?
[ It's a small question with a haunting lilt, torn between jest and honest, broken inquiry. ]
( how deeply fitting that this, of all things, is just one more thing which they share. harms inflicted, loved ones brought to an end. xingchen may not have sparked a war, but only because those whom he murdered were helpless to try to fight back.
but then - 'shall we part ways now?' and it's caught so carefully between joke and raw sincerity that xingchen doesn't know what to make of it. he only knows that what starts as a cold trickle of dread creeping down the length of his spine blooms quickly into a dire and hollow feeling in his core. what a fool he was, saying they weren't so fragile. everything is fragile under the right manner of pressure, isn't it?
he swallows past the tightening of his throat, and - ) If you think it best. ( his tone is carefully neutral on the matter, impressively so - because the last thing that he wants is for runyu to stay out of guilt. ) But whatever your choice, please know that your worth and what you've been told of your worth are vastly different things. And know that nothing you've done nor could ever do stands to lessen that worth in the slightest.
[ Runyu’s guilt fades into a gentle smile of not quite restrained relief. Perhaps this is one thing in his life that will not change or fade away. And if it is, Runyu will be content at that. It’s a small thing, after all. ]
Then, Xingchen, I repeat those words back to you. ( He says, half musing. He boldly reaches for his other hand, choosing this time to rub it between his own, speaking at the same time to keep from breaking the spell. ) If my worth is greater than those terrible acts, then I would be a lesser human indeed if I condemned you for yours. ( He pauses. ) I am glad not to, my friend, and I will stay as long as you will allow it.
( oh. oh, all at once xingchen feels so terribly foolish in an entirely different way, foolish for having been so worried in the first place. because now both of his hands have been claimed, and even just that is so vastly opposite the notion of parting ways, let alone the words which accompany it. )
What fortune, ( he says, his words quiet and a little bit slower now, as if testing whether or not his newfound delight is sturdy enough to lean weight upon, ) since I plan to allow it as long as you'll stay.
[ Runyu laughs quietly and releases his hands after feeling assured some heat has returned to them, rising from the table as he does so. ]
Well then, I'll reheat the tea. It's gone cold and I don't serve cold tea in my home. ( He pauses, as if savoring those words (or waiting for Xingchen to refute them), before leaving the small table. The silence left behind from the confessions shared between them is a gentle comfort, greater that the unattainable hope in the presence of the stars on the horizon. ) Do you want anything besides tea, my friend?
( if he truly planned to wait for xingchen to refute such words, he might very well wait indefinitely, because that's the last thing xingchen plans to do. in fact, the words have left a warm sort of glow within him, more diffuse than the warmth which so recently covered his hands but it lingers even once that warmth has gone.
(it's almost funny, he thinks, how he started this day so fantastically certain that he would keep his struggles to himself, has failed not once but twice, and has found himself glowing with ambient warmth in the aftermath of each. xingchen is starting to wonder if he may not understand nearly as much about the way of things as he thought.)
the question about tea comes from somewhere off near the stove, but it's still perhaps close enough to catch the slight shake of his head. ) No, thank you, ( xingchen says, still warm, still quiet in the way that a cat might move with light steps up onto the place where it has decided to nest. ) Just the tea is plenty. ( in fact, he sips now from his cooled half-cup, planning to empty it by the time runyu returns with the teapot. )
[ Runyu laughs soundlessly as his friend lifts his teacup and sips the lukewarm tea, seeming to express that even if it has gone cold that the company still leaves it full of warmth. He doesn’t stop him but observes the moment from the sink as he lets the water fill the teapot once more and walks over to the stove at the same leisurely pace. He closes his eyes, hoping to cling onto serenity as long as possible.
The peaceful silence is broken by the teapot hissing and Runyu moves to finish his preparation, still not breaking the evening’s comfort with words.
Not yet.
Runyu returns to the table with the new pot of tea and serves both himself and his friend, sitting down and lifting it to his lips for a sip in fellowship with Xingchen. He sets it down before speaking finally, a murmurring request that his friend may ignore if he wishes. ]
If there is more to your story that you wish to share now that you’ve related perhaps the worst of it, I will listen.
( on the contrary, he couldn't possibly ignore it. not when the question comes from the friend who has lent him such warmth. it's hard to imagine any of that which hasn't been said doing any more damage than that which he's already confessed, regardless, as if he can call such a thing 'damage' at all. he has murdered countless innocents. upon learning this very thing, jiang wanyin had made certain to thoroughly assess how deeply such a thing weighed on xingchen's shoulders before he set it aside. but what has the confession earned him this evening? warm tea, warm hands, and an especially warm heart.
so of course he'll share.
xingchen nods a little, lips curling to a reassuring smile to make certain it's clear that runyu hasn't mis-stepped. then a brief considering hum, because where to begin? ) We left off after I'd taken Zichen back to my Grandmaster, if I recall. The procedure went well enough, and his eyes ( or rather, xingchen's eyes, ) were expected to heal to proper use within a fortnight. As it stands, I can only assume such a thing worked as promised. He expressed, upon waking, a desire to go our separate ways - and so we did. I departed that evening, and I assume he remained a bit longer until his eyes had recovered enough to properly travel.
( it doesn't seem to occur to xingchen, in telling this tale, quite how skewed it truly is - as if zichen were the only one wounded, the only one who stood to benefit from a bit of rest and recovery. )
I wandered a bit - I admit that I'm not entirely certain where, as I hadn't yet gotten my bearings, but I do recall a couple of towns... Or perhaps it was the same town and I'd gotten turned around. ( a flicker of self-deprecative humor there, as tends to be the case with his sightless mishaps. ) In truth, I don't recall much of that autumn or winter, and only pieces of spring. I hadn't much of a plan just yet. ( well - he did, if 'place himself somewhere remote where he can't do any further damage than he already has' counts as a plan, but he doubts that runyu would see it as such.
xingchen takes a moment to lift his tea, stealing a sip between bits of story. then, ) At the market, I told you about Yi City - do you recall? About A-Qing and the injured man we discovered alongside the road, and about the Coffin House? Which I realize now sounds a bit alarming, so I'd like to clarify now that the Coffin House was the old residence of some manner of coffin-maker. The coffins were all quite empty - apart from the ones which we slept in, I suppose, since there was just the one proper bed. ( but he digresses. a hum, and - ) You might also recall that I lingered there quite unintentionally for a number of years - first to assist the man in his convalescence, then to attend to the curse in the neighboring villages. This curse was... troubling. This sounds quite conceited of me, but I hadn't yet encountered a curse I could not dispel, and yet this one eluded even the most basic of comprehension. Entire villages turned to walking murderous corpses, not a single survivor, nor any sign of a culprit or artifact of origin. And we always seemed to arrive just narrowly too late, when all that was left to do was to cut down the corpses as quickly and humanely as possible, then burn the bodies so that their souls might find peace.
( another sip of his tea now, because the next part is going to be... a bit more difficult to hear. )
My friend, you figured out quite quickly that I lost my life in the snow as you lost your own in the lodge - and I'm sure you wondered at why such a thing didn't seem to hold the gravity it should. Why I didn't consider it payment enough for that which I'd failed to do. I think, perhaps, that you might understand a bit better if I tell you now that I'm already dead. Perhaps not here in this realm, but irrevocably so within the realm from which I came - so I suppose I find it a bit silly to fear or rue a far more temporary departure from life. ( it's not an opinion runyu likely shares, but it's nonetheless how he feels. )
There were understandings amongst us, there in the Coffin House. I wasn't asked how I'd lost my sight. A-Qing, in truth, probably wasn't so blind as she claimed, but we didn't speak of that either. And no one asked our companion his name. He was undoubtedly some manner of criminal - but I knew the tells of a man who had grown up with scarcity, one who had spent quite a bit of his life simply fighting to stay alive, and in my naive certainty that I understood the world I was quite sure that he was a thief. A-Qing, too, was a thief before I found her. Sometimes it's the only way that a person knows to get by.
But on my last morning there in the Coffin House, A-Qing took me aside, told me a stranger had come yesterday - one who addressed our companion by the name of 'Xue Yang'. ( that revelation is given a moment to sink in, though this time his tea remains on the tabletop where it sits. he'll finish it once the story is through. ) Things unfolded rather quickly, then. The curse, it turns out, was no curse at all - it was demonic cultivation, and in foolishly taking my ever-so-helpful companion along to each village, I had doomed each village in turn. But he hadn't killed the villagers - no, I managed that quite well enough on my own. In my realm, you see, Frostwork was far more than simply a blade. It could sense the living dead, corpses animated by corruption. It could also sense those who still lived, provided the living had been sufficiently poisoned by Xue Yang's corpse powder. Once their tongues were cut out, neither Frostwork nor I could tell the difference.
( a slight tilt of his head, his 'gaze' having long since fallen to his cup by now, though it seems more thoughtful than troubled, and his voice hasn't yet dipped from gravely pragmatic into anything genuinely distressed. )
So perhaps I couldn't tell you which day Zichen died, but I can tell you how. Poisoned, without a tongue, and stabbed cruelly through the chest. He was there that last day, lifeless and puppeted by Xue Yang.
( and that fact is left to sit for a moment - but then his 'gaze' lifts to runyu and he offers a faint reassuring smile. )
I'm sure you're beginning to understand why it is that others tend to regret asking after my past.
[ Runyu remains quiet throughout the story, though he inhales sharply and closes his eyes at the confession of death from his friend, the description irrevocably leaving a little hole in his stomach as the tale continues. His eyes lift when the name falls from his friend’s lips, that of the criminal that already stole his friend’s eyes, and he follows Xingchen’s hands when they set the tea down. At the end, his hands clench in his lap, where they’ve fallen to prevent him from breaking the mug. His eyes narrow with his friend’s attempt at humor, wondering at the strength behind his sealed ‘eyes’ and what could drive a man to destroy his soul. And perhaps it is wrong, but he can’t help it. Runyu hates this Xue Yang as much as She who wronged him.
With a great effort to keep his voice calm Runyu nudges his friend’s cup, hoping he will drink and alleviate some of the ache from the torment in his life. ]
I asked, Xingchen. ( He murmurs, voice hoarse as if holding back tears, and he lifts his own to hide the fact. The next statement comes from a stronger voice. ) There is no blame on your shoulders.
[ And that goes beyond telling a sad story — if his friend will accept such a thing. ]
( though the nudge is slight, it's duly felt against the fingertips hovering lightly on the teacup. xingchen hums a faint acknowledgment, lifting the cup now to take another sip, letting his mind track the warmth of it down his throat and to the pit of his stomach, soothing at the knots which have formed there despite his willingness to speak of these things to a friend.
runyu's first words are quiet, rougher, betraying quite how miserably displeased this has left him. the sound of it lingers in his mind even once his friend has schooled his voice into something more presentable. 'there is no blame on your shoulders.' the smile returns at that, equal parts grateful and wistful. ) It's more of a relief than it probably should be, to hear that you think so. ( he should want runyu to see the truth of it, to understand the gravity of the damage xingchen has inflicted, but the fact that his friend has heard the entirety of this tale and still finds him blameless allows something fragile and bruised in his chest to take wing. ) I hope that one day, I'll find it in myself to agree with you.
[ Runyu chuckles quietly and reaches to cover his friend's hands over his teacup again, a subconscious reaction he almost checks and then doesn't. There is no reason to hide his wish to comfort or to control his state of emotions around his friend. Especially after the words spoken between them this night. If Xingchen won't see them as intrusive, he will continue with the small gestures. ]
Perhaps, one day, we both will see our sins that way, but even if we cannot, ( here Runyu pauses, as if weighing the truth in the words for himself as well as a hope for his friend, ) maybe here we can seek to allay the burden of those days with something akin to forgiveness. If that is too difficult to accept...
[ His voice fades away, mind turning inward, unable to stop a moment of yearning for the past again, even with all the pain. ]
( Runyu chuckles a moment later, a wistful huff to dispel the discomfort of the impossible wish. ) Forgive me.
( it isn't intrusive at all. on the contrary, xingchen's smile flickers brighter and warmer for a moment, and he shifts his teacup a couple of inches further across the table so that runyu doesn't have to reach quite so far.
now they're speaking of forgiveness, of the possibility of receiving it or even being able to accept it if they do, and xingchen's teeth worry thoughtlessly at his bottom lip as he rolls the notion of such a thing around in his mind. then, ) I think that I might like that. Forgiveness. Perhaps one day again being someone who deserves such a thing. ( it's his own turn for a warm note of humor to quirk his lips, because - ) An hour ago I was fully resigned to the path I've walked, and look at me now. You're terribly compelling, did you know that? ( which may very well stem from the strength of xingchen's esteem for him as much as runyu's own innate charisma, but the fact stands. )
( Runyu scoffs at his friend's compliment, lifting his teacup to his lips and taking a long, thoughtful sip. His mind slides back to the past, to the moment when he stood in front of Xufeng with an army, vowing to destroy the hypocrisy that had already taken so much from the world, and how, for one moment, others seemed to believe his words. A fleeting moment in time, Runyu would later realize, when his brother couldn't see it then or when he came back from the dead. When all but two beings left him when his madness relented. Turning back to his friend, Runyu sets the warm drink down. ]
It's a rare moment, indeed, when others have agreed with that sentiment, and one I'm not sure is at all true. But perhaps, it is experience.... and our wishes that make the words easier to digest.
[Where it isn't his strength that created that moment but a need he reflected back down on them and drowned in. ]
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( A few beats pass before Runyu makes a response, his voice a soothing hum in hopes of bridging any gap. ) I will repeat the same words you offered me, dear friend. There is no reason to apologize to me. ) His hand reaches for his friend, bypassing the sleeve to set his hand on the back of his hand. Perhaps it is a flicker of his own guilt, but it still seems cold. He lets his hand remain there. ) If you wish to share the circumstances of that day, you may, but I will not ask you to, if you wish to rest now. As you’ve said, it’s been a trying day.
[ Runyu falls silent but doesn’t move his hand. If it’s an obtrusive move, he’ll let his friend pull away, but now, it seems a small way to assist in the grief shaking his friend.
Grief and guilt melded together into one cloak of agony that rips open each time it’s touched too deeply.
A shard of the glass reflected in his own mirror. ]
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but then, gentle fingers untuck the hem of his sleeve from around his fingers to slip underneath it, a warm hand wrapping around the back of his. and it isn't runyu's guilt or imagination - xingchen's hand really is a bit cold, something he himself is only realizing now at the blazing warmth of the touch.
as for the offer... his lips press together for a moment, then curve again into the slightest of smiles, this one somber. ) Your offer is kind, to listen if I'd like to share, but I'm unable to do so. ( a beat, and he shakes his head a little. ) Not because I can't speak of it - I stand by that which I've said, there is nothing which I'm unwilling to tell you if you should ask.
( he takes a moment here to consider, to choose his words, his 'gaze' dropping to the approximate location of the hand on his. then, quiet but entirely collected, ) I told you once that I've found I'm capable of a great deal of harm. In truth, the number of lives I've taken is too great to have kept proper count. I can't speak to you of the day I murdered Zichen because I'm not entirely sure which kill was him.
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[ Another pause follows, broken by a deep breath. ]
Shall we part ways now?
[ It's a small question with a haunting lilt, torn between jest and honest, broken inquiry. ]
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but then - 'shall we part ways now?' and it's caught so carefully between joke and raw sincerity that xingchen doesn't know what to make of it. he only knows that what starts as a cold trickle of dread creeping down the length of his spine blooms quickly into a dire and hollow feeling in his core. what a fool he was, saying they weren't so fragile. everything is fragile under the right manner of pressure, isn't it?
he swallows past the tightening of his throat, and - ) If you think it best. ( his tone is carefully neutral on the matter, impressively so - because the last thing that he wants is for runyu to stay out of guilt. ) But whatever your choice, please know that your worth and what you've been told of your worth are vastly different things. And know that nothing you've done nor could ever do stands to lessen that worth in the slightest.
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Then, Xingchen, I repeat those words back to you. ( He says, half musing. He boldly reaches for his other hand, choosing this time to rub it between his own, speaking at the same time to keep from breaking the spell. ) If my worth is greater than those terrible acts, then I would be a lesser human indeed if I condemned you for yours. ( He pauses. ) I am glad not to, my friend, and I will stay as long as you will allow it.
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What fortune, ( he says, his words quiet and a little bit slower now, as if testing whether or not his newfound delight is sturdy enough to lean weight upon, ) since I plan to allow it as long as you'll stay.
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Well then, I'll reheat the tea. It's gone cold and I don't serve cold tea in my home. ( He pauses, as if savoring those words (or waiting for Xingchen to refute them), before leaving the small table. The silence left behind from the confessions shared between them is a gentle comfort, greater that the unattainable hope in the presence of the stars on the horizon. ) Do you want anything besides tea, my friend?
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(it's almost funny, he thinks, how he started this day so fantastically certain that he would keep his struggles to himself, has failed not once but twice, and has found himself glowing with ambient warmth in the aftermath of each. xingchen is starting to wonder if he may not understand nearly as much about the way of things as he thought.)
the question about tea comes from somewhere off near the stove, but it's still perhaps close enough to catch the slight shake of his head. ) No, thank you, ( xingchen says, still warm, still quiet in the way that a cat might move with light steps up onto the place where it has decided to nest. ) Just the tea is plenty. ( in fact, he sips now from his cooled half-cup, planning to empty it by the time runyu returns with the teapot. )
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The peaceful silence is broken by the teapot hissing and Runyu moves to finish his preparation, still not breaking the evening’s comfort with words.
Not yet.
Runyu returns to the table with the new pot of tea and serves both himself and his friend, sitting down and lifting it to his lips for a sip in fellowship with Xingchen. He sets it down before speaking finally, a murmurring request that his friend may ignore if he wishes. ]
If there is more to your story that you wish to share now that you’ve related perhaps the worst of it, I will listen.
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so of course he'll share.
xingchen nods a little, lips curling to a reassuring smile to make certain it's clear that runyu hasn't mis-stepped. then a brief considering hum, because where to begin? ) We left off after I'd taken Zichen back to my Grandmaster, if I recall. The procedure went well enough, and his eyes ( or rather, xingchen's eyes, ) were expected to heal to proper use within a fortnight. As it stands, I can only assume such a thing worked as promised. He expressed, upon waking, a desire to go our separate ways - and so we did. I departed that evening, and I assume he remained a bit longer until his eyes had recovered enough to properly travel.
( it doesn't seem to occur to xingchen, in telling this tale, quite how skewed it truly is - as if zichen were the only one wounded, the only one who stood to benefit from a bit of rest and recovery. )
I wandered a bit - I admit that I'm not entirely certain where, as I hadn't yet gotten my bearings, but I do recall a couple of towns... Or perhaps it was the same town and I'd gotten turned around. ( a flicker of self-deprecative humor there, as tends to be the case with his sightless mishaps. ) In truth, I don't recall much of that autumn or winter, and only pieces of spring. I hadn't much of a plan just yet. ( well - he did, if 'place himself somewhere remote where he can't do any further damage than he already has' counts as a plan, but he doubts that runyu would see it as such.
xingchen takes a moment to lift his tea, stealing a sip between bits of story. then, ) At the market, I told you about Yi City - do you recall? About A-Qing and the injured man we discovered alongside the road, and about the Coffin House? Which I realize now sounds a bit alarming, so I'd like to clarify now that the Coffin House was the old residence of some manner of coffin-maker. The coffins were all quite empty - apart from the ones which we slept in, I suppose, since there was just the one proper bed. ( but he digresses. a hum, and - ) You might also recall that I lingered there quite unintentionally for a number of years - first to assist the man in his convalescence, then to attend to the curse in the neighboring villages. This curse was... troubling. This sounds quite conceited of me, but I hadn't yet encountered a curse I could not dispel, and yet this one eluded even the most basic of comprehension. Entire villages turned to walking murderous corpses, not a single survivor, nor any sign of a culprit or artifact of origin. And we always seemed to arrive just narrowly too late, when all that was left to do was to cut down the corpses as quickly and humanely as possible, then burn the bodies so that their souls might find peace.
( another sip of his tea now, because the next part is going to be... a bit more difficult to hear. )
My friend, you figured out quite quickly that I lost my life in the snow as you lost your own in the lodge - and I'm sure you wondered at why such a thing didn't seem to hold the gravity it should. Why I didn't consider it payment enough for that which I'd failed to do. I think, perhaps, that you might understand a bit better if I tell you now that I'm already dead. Perhaps not here in this realm, but irrevocably so within the realm from which I came - so I suppose I find it a bit silly to fear or rue a far more temporary departure from life. ( it's not an opinion runyu likely shares, but it's nonetheless how he feels. )
There were understandings amongst us, there in the Coffin House. I wasn't asked how I'd lost my sight. A-Qing, in truth, probably wasn't so blind as she claimed, but we didn't speak of that either. And no one asked our companion his name. He was undoubtedly some manner of criminal - but I knew the tells of a man who had grown up with scarcity, one who had spent quite a bit of his life simply fighting to stay alive, and in my naive certainty that I understood the world I was quite sure that he was a thief. A-Qing, too, was a thief before I found her. Sometimes it's the only way that a person knows to get by.
But on my last morning there in the Coffin House, A-Qing took me aside, told me a stranger had come yesterday - one who addressed our companion by the name of 'Xue Yang'. ( that revelation is given a moment to sink in, though this time his tea remains on the tabletop where it sits. he'll finish it once the story is through. ) Things unfolded rather quickly, then. The curse, it turns out, was no curse at all - it was demonic cultivation, and in foolishly taking my ever-so-helpful companion along to each village, I had doomed each village in turn. But he hadn't killed the villagers - no, I managed that quite well enough on my own. In my realm, you see, Frostwork was far more than simply a blade. It could sense the living dead, corpses animated by corruption. It could also sense those who still lived, provided the living had been sufficiently poisoned by Xue Yang's corpse powder. Once their tongues were cut out, neither Frostwork nor I could tell the difference.
( a slight tilt of his head, his 'gaze' having long since fallen to his cup by now, though it seems more thoughtful than troubled, and his voice hasn't yet dipped from gravely pragmatic into anything genuinely distressed. )
So perhaps I couldn't tell you which day Zichen died, but I can tell you how. Poisoned, without a tongue, and stabbed cruelly through the chest. He was there that last day, lifeless and puppeted by Xue Yang.
( and that fact is left to sit for a moment - but then his 'gaze' lifts to runyu and he offers a faint reassuring smile. )
I'm sure you're beginning to understand why it is that others tend to regret asking after my past.
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With a great effort to keep his voice calm Runyu nudges his friend’s cup, hoping he will drink and alleviate some of the ache from the torment in his life. ]
I asked, Xingchen. ( He murmurs, voice hoarse as if holding back tears, and he lifts his own to hide the fact. The next statement comes from a stronger voice. ) There is no blame on your shoulders.
[ And that goes beyond telling a sad story — if his friend will accept such a thing. ]
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runyu's first words are quiet, rougher, betraying quite how miserably displeased this has left him. the sound of it lingers in his mind even once his friend has schooled his voice into something more presentable. 'there is no blame on your shoulders.' the smile returns at that, equal parts grateful and wistful. ) It's more of a relief than it probably should be, to hear that you think so. ( he should want runyu to see the truth of it, to understand the gravity of the damage xingchen has inflicted, but the fact that his friend has heard the entirety of this tale and still finds him blameless allows something fragile and bruised in his chest to take wing. ) I hope that one day, I'll find it in myself to agree with you.
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Perhaps, one day, we both will see our sins that way, but even if we cannot, ( here Runyu pauses, as if weighing the truth in the words for himself as well as a hope for his friend, ) maybe here we can seek to allay the burden of those days with something akin to forgiveness. If that is too difficult to accept...
[ His voice fades away, mind turning inward, unable to stop a moment of yearning for the past again, even with all the pain. ]
( Runyu chuckles a moment later, a wistful huff to dispel the discomfort of the impossible wish. ) Forgive me.
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now they're speaking of forgiveness, of the possibility of receiving it or even being able to accept it if they do, and xingchen's teeth worry thoughtlessly at his bottom lip as he rolls the notion of such a thing around in his mind. then, ) I think that I might like that. Forgiveness. Perhaps one day again being someone who deserves such a thing. ( it's his own turn for a warm note of humor to quirk his lips, because - ) An hour ago I was fully resigned to the path I've walked, and look at me now. You're terribly compelling, did you know that? ( which may very well stem from the strength of xingchen's esteem for him as much as runyu's own innate charisma, but the fact stands. )
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It's a rare moment, indeed, when others have agreed with that sentiment, and one I'm not sure is at all true. But perhaps, it is experience.... and our wishes that make the words easier to digest.
[Where it isn't his strength that created that moment but a need he reflected back down on them and drowned in. ]