dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

[He doesn't bother to answer; instead, he takes the brush, settling in with a haughty air. How had Huaisang done it? Not just the memory, but the picture in front of him . . . his smile fades as he starts.

It's . . . an attempt. Better than his failure of a lotus, but not anywhere near what Huaisang was. It's a stick with a few petals, stiff against the fluidity of Huaisang's drawing. But it's recognizable, so there, he did it, he is amazing, thank you.]

There.

[Ah, well, Huaisang watches him work, admittedly more interested in the way his hands move than the drawing. It's an interesting contrast, he thinks - Jiang Cheng holding a paintbrush so clumsily, the complete opposite of the way he holds a sword. There's... absolutely no grace to this, but it doesn't change the fact that Jiang Cheng has nice hands.

He blinks and darts his gaze to the picture, a crooked smile spreading across his face when he really takes it in. Aw, it's still kind of bad... He loves it.]

Ah, better, better... You didn't smudge it at all!

[Sooo impressive.]

You don't have to patronize me, you know, I know it's not . . .

[It's not good at all, and something in the pit of his stomach drops. Did he really think making a fool of himself was the way to go? Showing off his incompetence, that's really impressive, boy . . . with a little huff he offers the brush.]

Just-- here. Show me again, or-- or draw something.

Jiang-xiong, it's a compliment! It's better than the first one!

[Also a compliment? Kind of? Listen, he's a snob. He can't exactly put into words why Jiang Cheng being kind of bad at art is actually so, so endearing for a whole host of reasons, so he waves his hands a little placatingly and reaches to take the brush back. And if their fingers brush, that's an accident, and he definitely does not linger.

(He only lingers a little.)]

Ah- what should I draw?

Er--

[Honestly, he's still a little worked up over the brush, the ink, touching Huaisang, and now their fingers brushing together-- he can't think, is the point.]

Me? Or-- I don't know, a plant, or something.

[I just made fun of "can you draw me" and yet that's what's going to happen here... Huaisang draws plants all the time, plants and birds, and he could probably use some practice drawing actual people.

That and hey, it's an excuse to look at Jiang Cheng for however long it takes without it being weird, so. So! He raises an eyebrow, then turns back to the table to move the stick collection out of the way and get a fresh new paper. Here we go.]

I'm going to make you hold still, so get comfortable.

This is fine.

[Sitting not too far from him, legs crossed more casually beneath him. This way, he can watch Huaisang paint without being creepy, so, fantastic, everyone's doing great. He focuses down on Huaisang's hands, his mouth tight in self-consciousness.]

Right?

Ah, well, you could relax... All you have to do is sit there!

[Easy! Stop making that face before he immortalizes it in ink! Huaisang reaches up absentmindedly, like he might touch Jiang Cheng's face and adjust this pose he's chosen, but ah- ah, no, he loses his nerve and just flicks some of his hair out of the way, instead. Haha...

Time to get to it! Casually! It takes him longer than the stick did, of course, and he winds up focusing on Jiang Cheng's head and shoulders. He's no professional at drawing people, so there's definitely some stylistic liberties taken here, but the face that he puts to paper is recognizably Jiang Cheng, at least. Huaisang has put enough time into looking at him on his own time to know the slope of his jaw and the shape of his mouth, and the rest follows easily enough. No one needs to point out that he starts mouth-first, no one needs to even notice that, shut up.

He takes only one liberty and that is in the expression, softening the line of his mouth so he looks, well, less insecure. It's fine, this is totally accurate. Please rate and review?]

What do you think? You can move now.

[Okay, see: it was worth it. It was worth getting to sit here for a time and have every excuse in the world to watch Huaisang, his eyes going from his face to his hands and back again. He really does look good when he's doing something he enjoys; it's a far cry from the pinched-face look he gets during class.

He's a little sorry when it's done with, but the result is . . .

Oh, and thank god he doesn't blush. It's the first bit of luck he's had all day.]

Oh.

[Oh, that sounds stupid.]

You're-- wow.

[Total speechlessness is unexpected, but not entirely unappreciated. There's this much: it makes Huaisang laugh, and he's the one who blushes, despite himself. Like, yeah, he sure is wow at this art thing, he knows that— it's sweet of Jiang Cheng to have no idea what to say, though.]

You're a pretty good model, Jiang-xiong.

[All the stern staring he does usually finally came in handy, who knew.]

You're good at it.

[Oh! A straightforward compliment! That happens about once a year, savor it. He glances away a moment later, exhaling sharply, his ears reddened.]

You should throw it out before we leave. Just--

[It'd be weird for him to keep a fan with his face on it, right?]

[It would be weird for Huaisang to keep it, yes, but—]

You can have it!

[—actually that's kind of weird too, on second thought. But he blurts it out without thinking, so now it's out there in the world. Keep it... Jiang Cheng... ahem.]

[Is he gonna obsess over this and keep it for the next twenty years until they finally hook up? Yep! He sure is! He kept that comb, he's keeping this fan.]

Oh. I--

[What's the normal response here? What does someone who doesn't have a massive crush on Huaisang say? Briefly he tries to think of what Wei Wuxian would say, then promptly realizes how stupid of a thought that is. So--]

Okay.

[He does want to keep it, after all. He reaches for it, moving carefully just in case the ink hasn't dried--

--and then there's footsteps outside, and Jiang Cheng hisses sharply, snapping it shut and shoving it in his robes. Does he make it back to his table before the door opens? He does not, and that's another day in detention, so fantastic.

Maybe stories would have it that he confessed his feelings soon, but Jiang Cheng doesn't. Of course he doesn't; he'd rather die before revealing such a weakness. Spring turns into summer; by fall's end, Lotus Pier has burned to the ground and nothing is as it once was.

There's no time for grief; rage propels him through those first few months, though for the life of him, he can barely remember one day from the next. His life becomes framed around an exhausting pattern of small attacks and frequent retreats, but at least that's better than fleeing was.

That rage is why he doesn't really think about what's going to happen when he rides into the Unclean Realm. He's not stupid, he knows Huaisang must be around, but he's really mostly just thinking about what's left to do, what he's forgotten, on and on and on, and he's not watching where he's going, which is why he nearly runs right into the man before stopping short just in time.]

Hey--!

[He grips the man's shoulders, focusing down on--

Oh.

Hm.]

[The peaceful days at Cloud Recesses can't last forever; Huaisang knows, but he would have liked them to end because of something normal like the passage of time and not because the Wen clan has seen to it to kill anyone who opposes them. He's swept home to Qinghe with alarming speed, credit to Mingjue that he will keep his little brother safe come hell or high water. It's where Huaisang spends most of the war, in the end; he hears about the sacking of Cloud Recesses and the burning of Lotus Pier secondhand, and it breaks his heart the same way it drives his brother into a frenzy of militaristic might. Things are not terrible in Qinghe, despite their proximity to Wen land. Things... things could be worse.

And so it passes like that; Huaisang stays home, too incompetent with cultivation or a sword to be of use in his brother's army, and it's all he can do to wander around the grounds and wonder when his brother will come home, each time he leaves. Mingjue is home right now, waiting for other cultivators to gather, to discuss their resistance and what it means for all the sects. Huaisang doesn't get in the way; he minds his own business, which here means some new arrival to the Unclean Realm nearly crashes into him and then grabs at him like that was his fault, unreal—

Oh.

Huaisang blinks, brow furrowed. Jiang Cheng looks, ah, let's say... rough? Huaisang knows he's been looking more tired these days himself, but he's fresh as the morning dew compared to the circles under Jiang Cheng's eyes and the careless severity of his grip. Ow, bud—]

Ah— welcome to Qinghe.

[He'd be the polite second young master he's expected to be for these many guests and bow, but well, here they are. How do you tell a boy that the news was incredibly mixed on whether or not he was dead, and it's good to see him alive... He's got nothing.]

My brother is in the main hall, if... [if he would like. An escort? Ah.]

[No one looks good right now, but on the other hand, Huaisang had been unfairly pretty when they were teenagers, and he's certainly grown into his looks, so. That's his first thought, but to be fair, he's never once worried about whether or not Huaisang was alive. He's been safe in Qinghe, and honestly, in whatever small scrap of his mind he can devote to anything but revenge, he's been glad. Good, that at least one person is safe. At least he knows one person he lo-- likes is still alive.]

I'm early, I think . . .

[He's ridiculously early, he shouldn't be here until tomorrow, but wounds were high last fight, and the thought of rest was too tempting to ignore. Besides: he's not even twenty. He can't be blamed for the occasional softness.

(Or, well. He could, once upon a time, but now his mother is dead and--

Whatever).]

Sorry.

[Slightly belatedly, he releases him. Sorry, bruh.]

[Ah, and it's been ages, and they're at war, but Jiang Cheng is still so earnestly... himself. Huaisang doesn't smile, but his mouth twitches up at the corners like he might have, in some other time and place. Some world far outside of this one, where most of their old classmates are missing or dead—]

Oh- it's alright.

[He's fine... this is awkward, maybe, but it's so good to see Jiang Cheng alive that Huaisang can't even pull his gaze away. Ah-]

Since you're early, you should rest... I can have someone get some tea and food and bring it to you.

Thank you.

[It's been long enough he honestly almost bows. It's only polite, after all. But on the other hand, it's Huaisang. They might not have been in contact the past year, but it's a bit difficult to look at a man with whom you've caught fish and served detention and think about bowing.]

If I'm keeping you from something--

[That's not what he means. For god's sake.]

. . . come join me, once I've changed. If you want.

[Well, it's not like Huaisang has bowed either, to be fair. He offers tea and refreshments from a servant because this is his house, he's Second Young Master Nie here, and he probably should only be caught rifling through the kitchen for himself and not his brother's guests.

Odd, suddenly, to think of Jiang Cheng as his brother's guest, but the invitation to join him distracts him from that sadly distant thought immediately.]

Oh— I'll come find you!

[Ah, but after he reins it in, a little. It doesn't take long to point Jiang Cheng in the right direction of the guest rooms and then go make his request for tea and food; the refreshments arrive before Huaisang does, but he figures it's at least polite to duck in and inform Mingjue as hastily as possible that yes, the Yunmeng boy is here, and yes, he's handling it. Give him an extra couple minutes. But hmm, what does one say... perhaps he could just look at Jiang Cheng some more...]

[It's such a relief to leap into a bath.

It doesn't matter that it's cold water; at this point, he'll take literally anything if it means he can scrub the dust of the road off his skin. He's not quite as pampered as some people, but he still has standards. That and a set of fresh robes-- in Nie colors, of course, they're guest robes, because all his things are, again, dusty-- plus some time to reorient himself, means he's a lot more comfortable when a knock sounds at the door and he slides it open.

The tea is sweet and warm, and he takes pleasure in it for a few seconds. But what to say indeed, hm.]

There hasn't been any battles near you, right?

[Ah, yes, the war. That's a fun topic.]

Edited 2020-03-30 06:33 (UTC)

[Cool, the war... Huaisang loiters in the doorway for a moment, just- just looking, before he actually enters the room to sit down. If not for the war he could feel less foolish about the heart flips a little, seeing Jiang Cheng dressed in Nie colors... ah, never mind.

The war. Okay.]

Not yet. My brother leaves disciples behind when he goes out to fight, just in case...

[But uh, hmm. It's still taking a risk, leaving the epicenter of the sect up to Huaisang and a handful of disciples.]

We're in the way here, but my brother is pretty formidable.

[THE WAR . . . and it's funny, huh, because he's done nothing but think about the war for weeks now. His entire life has been strategizing and planning and lying awake in the dead of night, wondering how badly he's doing, how much better his parents would be at this. How he knows, he knows, that he is no general; that every single further death that the Jiang Sect has to endure is his fault.

It wasn't just exhaustion that propelled him to the Unclean Realms. Nie Mingjue is fearsome, oh, yes, but more than that: he's clever. There's a reason he was elected leader of this campaign; he has a natural eye for battle. Of course Jiang Cheng wants to see him; he's desperate for anything that might stave off the inevitable wave that feels eternally poised to crash over his head.

And here, now, when he's every excuse to stop thinking about it, he brings it up again. But he can't help it, not when it feels as though stopping will somehow be calamitous.]

Good.

[Good he stays behind; good that nothing dangerous has reached him. Good that his brother sees sense, because the thought of Huaisang on the front lines is . . . nauseating, honestly.]

. . . what was it?

[Before. Just now. It's such a stupid topic, but he'll try anything. Part of his mind may be eternally replaying the blood and the screams and the smell of burnt flesh, the feeling of having his core melted (but it's fine now, it's nothing)-- but at least he can try.]

Before. You stared at me. Do I look so different?

[Huaisang settles, picking up a cup just holding it for a moment, enjoying the warmth i his hands and the aroma of the tea. It would be nice, he thinks, to just have tea with Jiang Cheng like they could back in Gusu, without... everything else.

And ah, here's everything else to rear its unpleasant head again, because it's everything else that left him staring at Jiang Cheng. He glances up, eyebrows raised, almost like he's surprised by the question.]

I— um, no. [He looks exactly how Huaisang remembers him, if not, well--] You look tired.

[He raises the cup to drink, sedately. A year ago he could have teased Jiang Cheng about the Nie robes, or done anything but sedately sip tea, which feels unnatural even to him. But, times being what they are... Hmm.]

It's good to see you. I didn't know— My brother didn't tell me everyone who's supposed to be coming.

[He looks tired, he feels tired. Even sitting here, now, is tiring, because this is so peaceful that he doesn't know how to trust it. How does he savor this? He can't. He can't savor anything, because he knows sooner or later it will shatter, everything shatters, his home his family his sense of peace his heart--

The only thing that's been steady is Huaisang.

Not necessarily to Jiang Cheng, mind you. He hasn't seen him in ages. But at least this, here, now, is the same: Huaisang sitting with a cup of tea, perpetually safe in Qinghe, somehow untouched by the war.

So . . . so look at Huaisang, then, he tells himself. Look at him, and don't look away, because everything else in his life is a bloody wreck, everything else in his life is confusing and terrifying and awful, but at least there's this. At least he knows Huaisang still, even if he doesn't know himself anymore.]

Mm.

[It's good to see you, and the words stick in his throat. It is good to see him. It's better than Huaisang can imagine. But instead of saying that-- instead of saying anything-- he ducks his head and sips at his tea and tries not to fall apart.]

They burned Lotus Pier down. Did you know?

[Was that what he meant to say? No. Is it what popped out anyway? Yes. And it's funny, because it happened ages ago, of course Huaisang knows, everyone knows, but--

Everyone knows, and so there's never been any need to say it out loud. He stares at him, slightly lost, eyes darting about his face.]

[Ah, so they're going to talk about it, huh. Huaisang opens his mouth to speak and shuts it again, frowning. It's not that he doesn't know what to say - like, he doesn't, but it's not that; it's the phrasing, it's the dozen unasked questions he equally doesn't have answers for, it's everything. Once again, it's everything.

It would be easy to sit in Qinghe and block out the world for the rest of this war, but Huaisang can't as long as his brother is involved, and Jiang Cheng— he knows what role he serves. It's not hard to realize that he is the steadying presence, somehow, when he's been so often scolded for being flighty and unreliable before. He is that for Mingjue, and now if he can be that for Jiang Cheng, well...

Mm. Take two.]

I heard. And while Xichen was still missing, too—

[Things were, hm, unhappy in the Nie household for a while there. Skipping that for now...]

I'm sorry, [he says, though he's sure Jiang Cheng doesn't need any more sympathy. Huaisang doesn't think "my parents also died young!" is, like, great material here... err.] You should get some rest, so...

I can't.

[Is this better or worse than that awful, awkward stiffness of before? He really doesn't know, but it really doesn't matter: it's coming anyway, words slipping past his lips faster and faster, because Huaisang is steady and safe and easy, so, so easy, unlike anything else. Wei Wuxian is a catastrophe of unanswered questions and Yanli is safe within the Jin clan and there's no one else, there's no one else who could possibly understand right now.]

I don't sleep anymore. I just . . . I lay my head down when I can't stay up any longer, and then I pass out. I can't rest, Huaisang, I can't . . . not until they're all dead.

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