[true to his insistent word from yesterday, nie huaisang meets yin yu the next day, leading him eagerly through the portal and to the boutique. they'll have their date, but first: dressing up yin yu properly!]
Ah, this way, this way-! It really is amazing, I've found so many nice things here, and they all worked perfectly... it's honestly a shame we can't bring any of it back. I'm growing tired of wearing the same thing, aren't you?
[ in what is really true yin yu fashion, he is absolutely allowing nie huaisang to just kind of drag him along. he did agree to go on this date for the tasks, and therefore is going along with him wherever he wants to go. he's offered his arm to huaisang like a gentleman, too, as they walk towards the little shop in the village. ]
...I can't say that I really ever wear much different, young master Nie. [ as he glances down at himself...it's his work uniform... ] I'm just glad to have my normal clothing back at all, still.
[huaisang is absolutely hanging off his arm, then, fan held in his free hand as he chatters on, brightly.]
Oh, you're right, that first set of clothes was awful-! It barely covered anything at all... so I suppose it really could be worse. Imagine having to wear those shorts the whole time-- and the fabric was uncomfortable on top of it all!
[TERRIBLE. but he's immediately considering his options as they enter the boutique.]
All right, then-- sect colors? Any other affiliation's colors? Or do you have a favorite? You have to at least have one you like, and don't tell me "black".
[ you can absolutely tell he's about to say "black", mouth open, and-
yin yu closes his mouth. ] ...I don't have a sect affiliation. My master's colors are crimson, black and silver... [ so that...would be fine, he guesses?? he reaches up self consciously and tugs at his scarf, a dark navy color. ] ...perhaps not something too flashy.
Crimson, black, and silver... you really might look good in red, but if you don't want anything too bright, I suppose black can be worked in.
[black with crimson and silver underlayers and accents... yes, he thinks he can work with that. he's off to start grabbing pieces, crimson layers that will peek out beneath black, a black outer layer with a silver lining that will show a bit. huaisang presses it all into yin yu's arms.]
Here! Try it, try it-- tell me if you need help dressing, won't you?
[ yin yu watches nie huaisang move around this room like a miniature well dressed tornado, vaguely overwhelmed with how quick he is to just. find clothes. it's like being with the windmaster.
dutifully, he opens his arms. did you at least give him ancientesque clothes. ] ...I will. [ and nods as he goes towards what looks like some sort of dressing area. on first glance, the clothes don't look to be too much. maybe he can just keep his mask on....
anyway, yin yu is listening so. after a moment, huaisang will see his layers starting to appear over the top of the door. as expected, he has lots of them; arm cuffs, overrobe, undershirt, scarf... so on and so on... ]
[if yin yu happens to wander by the archery range, there is one (1) sect leader here, curiously inspecting the equipment. archery was a part of the conferences and tournaments, after all, so there were efforts made to teach him once... it maybe went better than the saber lessons, but not by much.
still, this is something a little familiar, and maybe he should practice with something ranged, just in case--
but he startles when he realizes he's not alone, nearly bumping into a rack of bows.]
Yin Yu-! Ah, you scared me half to death, you really are too good at sneaking around...
[ poor nie huaisang. it's not his fault: yin yu is very sneaky, and he was... a little bit, trying to sneak, if only because he's trying to be quick. since his disastrous monday with his memories, yin yu has done his damndest to avoid looking at literally anyone for more than two seconds at a time, only coming in and out of areas when he's fairly sure no one's around, or moving like a shadow around them. he'd been practicing with the ranged weapons himself, on his way out when nie huaisang arrived: the plan was to sneak past him and put the arrows and bow he'd borrowed away, and then be gone.
....of course, it doesn't go like that. yin yu doesn't quite jump, but he straightens, a bit embarrassed at being caught, and puts his fist to his hand to apologize with a bow. ] ...my apologies, sect leader. I didn't know you were here.
It's all right, it's all right, but- well, I really should be...
[he should be going, right now, immediately. the kinds of things that live in nie huaisang's memories aren't ones he wants to share with any more people, thanks--
but of course it isn't going to spare them. it happens quickly, as if catching them before they can run away, and yin yu will experience a memory through his eyes.]
[you're awake. it's after curfew, you fell asleep alone, and you're awake. you wonder briefly if this means you're about to become a monster, but you stare at your hands and nothing happens. no, you're still human, which means-- you must be prey.
you tuck a skull into your robes before you leave the room. you know it's supposed to save you. one hit; you think you can try to work with that. if they're a good fighter you're done for, but maybe, maybe...
when you leave, cautiously wandering, you run into him. a tall, well dressed man with short, dark hair combed over an eye. he explained photography. you're pretty sure he killed the horse, last week, but you don't know why, only that his art is strange. and you're not a fool-- it must be him. you don't think he seems afraid. he isn't a monster, but you think he'll kill you. you know he has a gun.
so you do what you do best: even as you finish calculating, you throw yourself at him, wailing. i'm so afraid-- please stay, please help, let's stick together! you beg, one arm clinging firmly, the other holding your fan. he keeps trying to get you to let go. you refuse-- distance will kill you. the fan is heavier in your hand than one has ever been.
finally he loses patience, after some wandering to the chapel and a final attempt to push you away. you don't let go. he turns and sinks a knife into your side, with a sudden bloom of warmth-- blood, pain. it hurts, it hurts-- but you feel that skull crack. you gather yourself. you cling, desperate, to keep him close, and breathe.
and you turn, putting everything you have into a sudden, vicious slice to his throat with a fan he had no clue was sharp.
there's so much blood. it's not immediate; he manages to shoot your shoulder as he dies, manages to take a photo of his own dying face. you pull the knife from your side, and the wound instantly heals.
you have work to do, you tell yourself, if you don't want to be caught. you don't want to die. you have to live, you have to, you have to, but you've never killed someone with your own hands before. they tremble; your whole body does. for just a moment, alone in the chapel with your would-be killer's body, you look at the blood on your hands and you--
you feel afraid, but also a little bit of a strange sense of accomplishment. that's what he gets for believing you're useless. that's exactly why you do it in the first place. you've managed to save your own life, even if not in a real fight.
... but it doesn't last long. you have work to do. this cannot be for nothing-- you're determined you haven't survived only to die for it in trial.
you're going to need help. it's time to make a few hard decisions.]
[ ah--another one of these shared memories. for a moment, he inhabits nie huaisang, feels his emotions. his fear, his intelligence, the hidden weapon; it's a lot to happen all at once, but he can recognize one of these games for what it is. he knows, after all, what happens at curfew if you're awake, terrible intimately.
as the memory disappears, fading to nothing around them, yin yu returns to himself and stills where he stands. he's seeing nie huaisang in an entirely different light, from where they're standing. this fanciful, silly young master...
...is very, very determined to survive.
is very clever.
his mouth opens just briefly, for a moment, and then, yin yu gives a quick, polite bow, fist to hand again. ] --my apologies, sect leader. It was not my intention to pry. This servant will forget what he saw.
[ ...he's tenser, though. they are in a room full of weaponry, and it seems he's just uncovered quite the secret about sect leader nie huaisang, who he didn't even know was a sect leader at all.
[he takes a reflexive step back, but he's not going for any of the weaponry. his hands remain close to himself, clutching his fan as he always does.
that's... far more than he wanted anyone to know. having the fact that he ended a life made public thanks to the damnable theater was bad enough, but knowing how it happened, knowing too much about him... nie huaisang very much wants to just leave, but that won't help. it looks worse that way.
he forces the tense set of his shoulders to relax, especially given that yin yu's tenser as well.]
There's no need to say so, Yin Yu. I know well enough that no one would truly forget such a thing.
Nevertheless, I would not be in the position that I am were I not discreet.
[ hua cheng would have him absolutely murdered if he told a single one of his secrets. he'd probably do it himself. yin yu has survived as long as he has as the loyal right hand of hua chengzhu because he is trustworthy.
there's a pause. ] ...We do what it takes, to survive.
[ and in the end... he understands that, doesn't he.
whether nie huaisang is going to do something or not doesn't matter. it's time to get out of here. yin yu is entirely too cautious to remain--he gives a little bow of his head, in apology, and when he rights himself, is the exact moment when karma comes right around and levels their playing field. ]
[ the world through yin yu's eyes does not come in full scenes. it comes in flashes, as if great portions of the memories have been scratched through.
the first of these is a young man, with bright, bright brown eyes and a mass of curly brown hair. he looks up at you with his eyes shining, his hands clenched into fists. he's maybe twelve or thirteen--and then again, older, sixteen, seventeen, standing in front of you, staring, adoring, blood on his lip, smiling -- the memory jerks as if they're being carried along, to a temple full of people dressed like yin yu, in similar colors, voicing their complaints.
"How old is he now, he can't always be like a child?! There are people who are dads now, at his age!"
"the moment he came here he took everything! What's so good about him!? Yin Yu-shixiong, you're the eldest disciple, if you got those privileges, we'd all let it go, you deserve it! But who the hell is he?! No education, no manners, so what if he's talented! None of us will accept him!"
you look out at the crowd, your back straight, holding a brush as the other disciples complain and complain. you can sit here and listen to these complaints because the weight of your family and your sect falls firmly on your shoulders, and you have never once let it fall. someone who was frustrated could easily give in to such a lure--the chance to complain, the chance to alienate this young disciple, but you set down your brush, close your eyes for a moment, and then, start to scold your shidi.
"What you're saying isn't right. No matter what path we cultivate, talent truly is something incredible. Besides, not only is he talented, he's willing to work hard. If you really think the master is playing favorites, then let's work harder to keep up with him, overtake him. If everyone has the time to be mad, then why not use that energy to cultivate, and train more?"
your words are gentle, full of wisdom, the chiding soft but firm. the other disciples are silenced, and they grumble only to each other, ultimately accepting your wisdom as law. only one, who you know instinctively is jian yu, your closest friend, the one who you surpassed to become the head disciple warns you, loudly, "Yin Yu, you speak for him today, but be careful of him screwing you over in the future!"
--
the memory jerks again. this time, you stand in a grand palace, your feet on white marble tiles. the gesture of your arms to welcome a stream of guests shows that you are well dressed, in fine silks, bright gold hanging from your wrists, your ears, plated armor at your shoulders. every molecule of your body feels alive. this, recognizable, is godhood. it pulses through your veins, the feeling of a thousand believers fervently praying to you for their success guides your spiritual energy, your movements. you bows your head in thanks to another god, who laughs as he brings you a present and says, "Congratulations on your ascension! I've come late, give me wine as punishment, haha!"
you smile, warm with pride, and shakes his head, gesturing for the god to enter the palace. A party goes on all around, and you're happy to observe and accept congratulations and celebrations, but the soft feeling of joy is interrupted by someone yelling, sharply, "YOUR HIGHNESS YIN YU, YOU BETTER GIVE US A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR YOUR SHIDI!"
...abruptly, you look behind you. the same curly haired boy from before, now nineteen or so, stands there, hands behind his back, jian yu beside him. you know him as well as you know any other shidi, if not better: quan yizhen looks back at you, a middle official in the employ of your palace. you chose him, brought him with you when you ascended. looking at him now, all you can do is sigh. "Yizhen, did you pick a fight again?"
"Yeah." he says, simply.
you feel the urge to rub your temples, looking out to the ruckus outside. it seems whatever middle official yizhen picked a fight with is still trying to egg something on, causing a scene outside of your palace, trying to start a fight. the person's held outside, shouting and yelling, accusing you of trying to cover it up. jian yu turns purple with held back rage behind you, but you have to smother this before it starts with grace. as you open your mouth to try and deal with it, however, quan yizhen, your troublesome shidi, suddenly pushes past you, with all of the anger of a charging bull, furious at the insult to the palace. all you can do for a moment is stare, dumbfounded.
"--Yizhen, stop!" and then rush out to chase after him.
--
the memory shifts, again, this time, it's jian yu, pacing around your side chamber and practically shouting. "The domain in the west is only so big, Yin Yu! Quan Yizhen erected a palace, and now he's robbed your devotees! Even that wolf monster he killed should have been yours! Look at the state of you, your domain is shrinking smaller and smaller, how much do you have left?! How can you maintain your standing?!"
you are tired. you are unbelievably tired. everything jian yu is saying is correct, but it's blown wildly out of proportion. you fall back on your meditation practices--be as still as water--and put out a dose of truth. "How is it considered robbing? It's not like he held anyone at knifepoint to worship him. They're willing. ...what fight? Why care for such a thing? What must leave, will always leave in the end, and what should remain will naturally stay. I didn't ascend to fight over power with anyone, especially not Yizhen, nor fight over domains, so why can't you just let this go, Jian Yu?"
jian yu practically growls and rubs his hand through his hair.
you mean what you say. you don't want to fight. (but you know, that your domain is shrinking. yizhen's talent is unstoppable. he is powerful, brilliant. the kind of person who belongs in the heaven, and you... you are fading. no matter how hard you've been working, your entire life. you are a comet, and yizhen is the sun.
that is the way of the world, and you know it. you tell yourself not to be bitter.
--
there's another odd skip, and then, yizhen is standing in front of you, looking expectant. it's his birthday, and since the awkwardness of another experience, you have been avoiding him more than before, but the young man came anyway, asking for a birthday present. yizhen looks at you with his eyes shining, and-- you are weak, you are so weak. you quickly apologize and flee to the side chamber, telling him to wait a moment over your shoulder.
you haven't prepared a birthday gift for yizhen, like you had since he was a child. it's petty and stupid, and you hate yourself for it, so you hurry to the side chamber, asking jian yu to fetch you the golden armband from the treasure chamber. the other middle official 'tsks', grabs a rag cloth, throws it on the ground, and stomps on it. "Give him this, then."
"Jian Yu!" you scold, immediately, and jian yu doesn't even look cowed, trembling with fury-
--
the scene skips. jian yu returns with a box as yizhen talks to you, looking slightly apathetic as he thinks about his week, when you ask him about his worshipers. you shouldn't ask, but maybe - if he will take this thing that you've worked for your entire life, he will take it on with aplomb. maybe you have taught him correctly, maybe he will be kind and fair, a martial god that the people could love. "i don't really know anything about worshipers. they just started showing up. i fought this other wolf monster, too..."
...yizhen wasn't even trying to get his new position as an upper heavenly official, the second martial god of the west. and -- it hurts, it hurts you so badly, but you shove it down, down, and hand him the birthday present with a small, slightly frazzled smile. he thanks you, the sun standing in your parlor, and you have to force yourself to say 'you're welcome' and send him on his way. it's bitter. it's angry. it's so dark, and that is not you.
--
things become even more blurry, then. it's as if yin yu tried to take an eraser to his own memories, and failed. a few more statements float in. yizhen, laughing when someone mistook yin yu for quan yizhen, because he thought it was silly. a feeling of utter miserable embarrassment at the banquet where he'd been confused, sinking into his seat. the gossip around the heavens, about him and his shidi, "there's only one western martial god, isn't there? oh... i forgot about his highness yin yu. don't tell him." yin yu, not invited to the parade of martial gods -- something only given to the most powerful, while yizhen took a spot. these tiny little stones start stacking, and stacking, and stacking, and you're getting heavier, and heavier with each little statement, hurting more, and more, and more. you are going to be replaced. you are replaceable. it is a matter of time, before you loosen your claws from this position you fought for for your entire life and fall forgotten as a middle official, serving the person you raised and taught, instead.
--
things come into focus as you stand in your chambers at your palace, stressed, exhausted, the glimmer of godly power in your veins flickering, holding a golden armband that was supposed to be the gift for yizhen. you look to jian yu, confused, and jian yu just says, "i gave him something better."
you immediately feel a bone deep sense of alarm, the feeling of the hairs on the back of your neck rising up, the phrase, "the brocade immortal", and suddenly, you are running out of your palace, as fast as your legs can carry you--
--
when the memory clips into focus again, quan yizhen stands in front of you, wearing golden armor. his head is tilted to the side--he looks genuinely lost and confused, like a puppy.
and you are furious.
you have never been so angry in your entire life. you are the person who suppresses, who sets it to the side, cultivation and meditation the center of your practice that led you to godhood in the first place. you have always prided yourself on your ability to keep a level head.
today, your anger is so oppressive that it pours out of you, that your hands are trembling, clenched into fists, as you finally rip something free and shout, "Did I say I wanted to go?! What's the patrol of the martial gods have to do with me?! I didn't beg you, so who are you to mention me to the emperor?!"
it's blatantly obvious that the parade is important. that quan yizhen had asked a favor of the emperor to "allow" you to march was--beyond offensive, for a martial god. those who saw you there if you did accept such an offer would talk and talk about you, and your skin wasn't thick enough for such things. how could you possibly use someone's connections--the connections of your disciple, your shidi, someone who usurped you to take a place somewhere you never belonged? you don't belong there. you weren't supposed to -- you used to be able to --
quan yizhen is silent, for a moment, but the trouble is blatant on his face. "...shixiong, why are you so mad? Did I do something wrong?"
and you. patient, kind you, you who have always defended yizhen, you who have always helped quan yizhen, you who have tried to be kind to him, kept the others from bullying him even when he got on your nerves, yin yu shixiong, yin yu dianxia, you
finally snap.
"Enough," you shout, with every part of you, " I've had enough! I'm going mad--I'm going fucking mad, because of you! Quan Yizhen--!" you point at the great martial hall, where the other gods were gathered, seething, furious, the final straw broken, "Don't talk to me anymore! Take back your recommendation, stop adding to my troubles! Go back right this second!"
without another word, quan yizhen turns, and starts walking. you blink, your entire body trembling, and your eyes slowly slide down yizhen's back, to the golden armor he's wearing. the brocade immortal--that armor-- forces the wearer to follow the orders of the person who gave it to them, and you handed him that box, on his birthday. it may have been from jian yu, but it came from your hands. yizhen wasn't remorseful, or understanding why he'd offended his shixiong. he was being compelled to do it.
shaken, you see horror before it starts, and shout, "STOP!" and quan yizhen stops. he looks bewildered, and as the martial gods step out to see what the commotion is about, you panic, and yell, "Come back--leave!"
it's confusing, but quan yizhen just cocks his head, instantly turns, and starts running straight for you. and you don't know what to do, you don't know how just to make yizhen stop, you don't know what to say or why he's coming and suddenly you're running, too. and you know, you look guilty, running like a criminal from the martial hall with yizhen on your heels. you're trying to decide what to do as the martial gods--emperor included--begin to give chase, as if to apprehend them. you can't think. you panic, completely in disarray, you have to get yizhen out of that armor, you have to make that stop, and you shout, desperate, "Leave! Leave right now--take off your clothes!"
yizhen's eyes are blank, when you look back, but his hands go to the brocade immortal. there's a moment of sheer relief that slams into you, and you think, it's over, simultaneously with, how will i explain this but as the martial gods reach them and start to try and apprehend yizhen, it's short lived. yizhen's goal -- remove the item -- is being blocked, and his gaze flashes with violence. he takes in the ten martial gods closest to him as targets, lifts his fists--you gasp --
blood splatters the ground, crimson red.
"MURDER IN THE UPPER COURT!" someone screams--
--
the memory fades, again, in and out, and you are being restrained, now, another martial god holding him under the arms. you are as white as a sheet, your heartbeat in your ears like the beating of a thousand drums, as yizhen has been fighting and fighting up to this point. it's only one desperately shouted, please stop fighting! that finally stops quan yizhen, and he's restrained, a sword in his shoulder, beaten up beyond almost recognition by the martial gods.
in the process, the palace of yin yu was nearly destroyed by the chaos. all that stands is the rubble, the circle of martial gods trying to restrain the chaos, and.. quan yizhen. you turn your head slowly, to look at yizhen, who drops to his knees, finally, and he stares up at you with that same face, utterly confused. "....what's going on?"
his oblivious face is the only thing you can see. yizhen, oblivious, stupid, oblivious yizhen, sitting in the wreckage of your life, literally, not realizing that he was the one who caused everything. every dream you've ever achieved was in that palace, and quan yizhen destroyed it. unintentionally. like everything else. it's funny. it's. it's
the irony of the situation hits you like a hammer, and shatters the glass threads of your last restraint. you laugh. it's just one, sharp, humorless bark of a laugh, and then another, and then another, your shoulders starting to quake.
"shixiong? what are you doing?" quan yizhen has crawled towards you now, trying to check up on his shixiong, still so confused, still wearing the brocade, head tilted, stupid, stupid yizhen, stupid yizhen -
your order comes out in a moment of crisp clarity.
"GO DIE!"
the light of clarity in yizhen's eyes vanishes. he reaches for the closest sword on the ground, takes it in one hand, fists the other in those curls and pulls his head up to expose his throat. the blade comes up-- ]
with a crack, he dislocates quan yizhen's sword arm--then his other, then both of his legs, the sword clatters to the ground,
the memory stops
--and yin yu stands there. the color has drained from his face, his eyes wide, his shoulders trembling. he's not breathing. it's that same feeling--the glass, shattering.
he jerks, as if a puppet brought up by its strings, and starts to take a step backwards, and then another, his heart pounding in his chest. not again. this is why he'd been running, this is why he tried to avoid anyone and everyone--because twice was too many times, and now, to have his worst secret just thrown out casually for a third time, makes him want to be sick. ]
[ hello, nie huasiang!! you've probably seen yin yu around for the past couple of days. mask back on his face, he finally comes to seek out sect leader nie later on tuesday evening, greeting him wherever he's holed up with his usual, respectful bow. ]
[ maybe it's a bit surprising, but: yin yu holds that bowed position for longer than usual. ]
...I would like to apologize. [ as he finally straightens, he keeps his hands together. ] I did my best to look after Lady Beau, but I failed, in the end. [ by dying, anyway. ]
... you did what you could, from what I saw. She still has others.
[of course he was watching-- he's not done being mad at chuuya over what happened either, honestly. but he relaxes slightly; yin yu, at least, is someone he doesn't believe would offer empty words about looking after her.]
I don't doubt that it was appreciated by her, as it is by me.
I saw the argument, yes. People here are all too quick to condemn, but then it was the same way at the house. I'm not surprised that boy would receive more leniency than I did, and then turn around to say such things here.
[HE'S STILL SALTY ABOUT CHUUYA SPECIFICALLY. god.]
[ it is HOURS later when yin yu comes to find nie huaisang. there's still something bitter in the back of his mouth, but any of the angry, miserable ball of emotions in his chest have finally startled to settle, at least enough that he's feeling more of himself. he's had a few hours to meditate, and to think.
and something's been bothering him.
when yin yu finds nie huaisang, he's masked, and he gives his usual bow, in greeting, not one to forget his courtesies or his filial manners, even in times of great duress. his voice is back to its usual calm, low timber, and with his face hidden, his body language blank, there's nothing to read out of it.
in other words, he seems at least back to normal. ] I need to ask you something, Sect Leader. Please excuse this humble servant's interruption.
[nie huaisang isn't too hard to find, this time, settled in somewhere comfortable. he's certainly not expecting yin yu, though, after earlier... hm. well, he won't send him away either, bc he's admittedly curious what he wants.]
Excused, of course. You may ask.
[his head tilts, eyes lingering on the mask in place.]
[that way, she'd know which were from him. if anyone else happened to send a numbered one to her he counted on her being able to distinguish which were his words.]
But she would have been expecting letters from you, if someone else had done the same for the same reasons. It's like we spoke of before - you two are truly close, so she must know the way you write and speak very well.
[ that much is very certain. ] And... If you didn't write her, it would be strange, no matter how much we were diversifying information. Is that correct?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
W2, WEDNESDAY
Ah, this way, this way-! It really is amazing, I've found so many nice things here, and they all worked perfectly... it's honestly a shame we can't bring any of it back. I'm growing tired of wearing the same thing, aren't you?
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...I can't say that I really ever wear much different, young master Nie. [ as he glances down at himself...it's his work uniform... ] I'm just glad to have my normal clothing back at all, still.
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Oh, you're right, that first set of clothes was awful-! It barely covered anything at all... so I suppose it really could be worse. Imagine having to wear those shorts the whole time-- and the fabric was uncomfortable on top of it all!
[TERRIBLE. but he's immediately considering his options as they enter the boutique.]
All right, then-- sect colors? Any other affiliation's colors? Or do you have a favorite? You have to at least have one you like, and don't tell me "black".
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yin yu closes his mouth. ] ...I don't have a sect affiliation. My master's colors are crimson, black and silver... [ so that...would be fine, he guesses?? he reaches up self consciously and tugs at his scarf, a dark navy color. ] ...perhaps not something too flashy.
[ he's boring, huaisang. ]
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[black with crimson and silver underlayers and accents... yes, he thinks he can work with that. he's off to start grabbing pieces, crimson layers that will peek out beneath black, a black outer layer with a silver lining that will show a bit. huaisang presses it all into yin yu's arms.]
Here! Try it, try it-- tell me if you need help dressing, won't you?
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dutifully, he opens his arms. did you at least give him ancientesque clothes. ] ...I will. [ and nods as he goes towards what looks like some sort of dressing area. on first glance, the clothes don't look to be too much. maybe he can just keep his mask on....
anyway, yin yu is listening so. after a moment, huaisang will see his layers starting to appear over the top of the door. as expected, he has lots of them; arm cuffs, overrobe, undershirt, scarf... so on and so on... ]
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i swore i fuckin tagged this
dw PLEASE
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w3, wednesday
still, this is something a little familiar, and maybe he should practice with something ranged, just in case--
but he startles when he realizes he's not alone, nearly bumping into a rack of bows.]
Yin Yu-! Ah, you scared me half to death, you really are too good at sneaking around...
[huaisang, please, he wasn't sneaking.]
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....of course, it doesn't go like that. yin yu doesn't quite jump, but he straightens, a bit embarrassed at being caught, and puts his fist to his hand to apologize with a bow. ] ...my apologies, sect leader. I didn't know you were here.
[ yes he did. it's fine. ]
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[he should be going, right now, immediately. the kinds of things that live in nie huaisang's memories aren't ones he wants to share with any more people, thanks--
but of course it isn't going to spare them. it happens quickly, as if catching them before they can run away, and yin yu will experience a memory through his eyes.]
[you're awake. it's after curfew, you fell asleep alone, and you're awake. you wonder briefly if this means you're about to become a monster, but you stare at your hands and nothing happens. no, you're still human, which means-- you must be prey.
you tuck a skull into your robes before you leave the room. you know it's supposed to save you. one hit; you think you can try to work with that. if they're a good fighter you're done for, but maybe, maybe...
when you leave, cautiously wandering, you run into him. a tall, well dressed man with short, dark hair combed over an eye. he explained photography. you're pretty sure he killed the horse, last week, but you don't know why, only that his art is strange. and you're not a fool-- it must be him. you don't think he seems afraid. he isn't a monster, but you think he'll kill you. you know he has a gun.
so you do what you do best: even as you finish calculating, you throw yourself at him, wailing. i'm so afraid-- please stay, please help, let's stick together! you beg, one arm clinging firmly, the other holding your fan. he keeps trying to get you to let go. you refuse-- distance will kill you. the fan is heavier in your hand than one has ever been.
finally he loses patience, after some wandering to the chapel and a final attempt to push you away. you don't let go. he turns and sinks a knife into your side, with a sudden bloom of warmth-- blood, pain. it hurts, it hurts-- but you feel that skull crack. you gather yourself. you cling, desperate, to keep him close, and breathe.
and you turn, putting everything you have into a sudden, vicious slice to his throat with a fan he had no clue was sharp.
there's so much blood. it's not immediate; he manages to shoot your shoulder as he dies, manages to take a photo of his own dying face. you pull the knife from your side, and the wound instantly heals.
you have work to do, you tell yourself, if you don't want to be caught. you don't want to die. you have to live, you have to, you have to, but you've never killed someone with your own hands before. they tremble; your whole body does. for just a moment, alone in the chapel with your would-be killer's body, you look at the blood on your hands and you--
you feel afraid, but also a little bit of a strange sense of accomplishment. that's what he gets for believing you're useless. that's exactly why you do it in the first place. you've managed to save your own life, even if not in a real fight.
... but it doesn't last long. you have work to do. this cannot be for nothing-- you're determined you haven't survived only to die for it in trial.
you're going to need help. it's time to make a few hard decisions.]
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as the memory disappears, fading to nothing around them, yin yu returns to himself and stills where he stands. he's seeing nie huaisang in an entirely different light, from where they're standing. this fanciful, silly young master...
...is very, very determined to survive.
is very clever.
his mouth opens just briefly, for a moment, and then, yin yu gives a quick, polite bow, fist to hand again. ] --my apologies, sect leader. It was not my intention to pry. This servant will forget what he saw.
[ ...he's tenser, though. they are in a room full of weaponry, and it seems he's just uncovered quite the secret about sect leader nie huaisang, who he didn't even know was a sect leader at all.
just who is this person? ]
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[he takes a reflexive step back, but he's not going for any of the weaponry. his hands remain close to himself, clutching his fan as he always does.
that's... far more than he wanted anyone to know. having the fact that he ended a life made public thanks to the damnable theater was bad enough, but knowing how it happened, knowing too much about him... nie huaisang very much wants to just leave, but that won't help. it looks worse that way.
he forces the tense set of his shoulders to relax, especially given that yin yu's tenser as well.]
There's no need to say so, Yin Yu. I know well enough that no one would truly forget such a thing.
[he can't forget it himself, after all.]
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[ hua cheng would have him absolutely murdered if he told a single one of his secrets. he'd probably do it himself. yin yu has survived as long as he has as the loyal right hand of hua chengzhu because he is trustworthy.
there's a pause. ] ...We do what it takes, to survive.
[ and in the end... he understands that, doesn't he.
whether nie huaisang is going to do something or not doesn't matter. it's time to get out of here. yin yu is entirely too cautious to remain--he gives a little bow of his head, in apology, and when he rights himself, is the exact moment when karma comes right around and levels their playing field. ]
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the first of these is a young man, with bright, bright brown eyes and a mass of curly brown hair. he looks up at you with his eyes shining, his hands clenched into fists. he's maybe twelve or thirteen--and then again, older, sixteen, seventeen, standing in front of you, staring, adoring, blood on his lip, smiling -- the memory jerks as if they're being carried along, to a temple full of people dressed like yin yu, in similar colors, voicing their complaints.
"How old is he now, he can't always be like a child?! There are people who are dads now, at his age!"
"the moment he came here he took everything! What's so good about him!? Yin Yu-shixiong, you're the eldest disciple, if you got those privileges, we'd all let it go, you deserve it! But who the hell is he?! No education, no manners, so what if he's talented! None of us will accept him!"
you look out at the crowd, your back straight, holding a brush as the other disciples complain and complain. you can sit here and listen to these complaints because the weight of your family and your sect falls firmly on your shoulders, and you have never once let it fall. someone who was frustrated could easily give in to such a lure--the chance to complain, the chance to alienate this young disciple, but you set down your brush, close your eyes for a moment, and then, start to scold your shidi.
"What you're saying isn't right. No matter what path we cultivate, talent truly is something incredible. Besides, not only is he talented, he's willing to work hard. If you really think the master is playing favorites, then let's work harder to keep up with him, overtake him. If everyone has the time to be mad, then why not use that energy to cultivate, and train more?"
your words are gentle, full of wisdom, the chiding soft but firm. the other disciples are silenced, and they grumble only to each other, ultimately accepting your wisdom as law. only one, who you know instinctively is jian yu, your closest friend, the one who you surpassed to become the head disciple warns you, loudly, "Yin Yu, you speak for him today, but be careful of him screwing you over in the future!"
--
the memory jerks again. this time, you stand in a grand palace, your feet on white marble tiles. the gesture of your arms to welcome a stream of guests shows that you are well dressed, in fine silks, bright gold hanging from your wrists, your ears, plated armor at your shoulders. every molecule of your body feels alive. this, recognizable, is godhood. it pulses through your veins, the feeling of a thousand believers fervently praying to you for their success guides your spiritual energy, your movements. you bows your head in thanks to another god, who laughs as he brings you a present and says, "Congratulations on your ascension! I've come late, give me wine as punishment, haha!"
you smile, warm with pride, and shakes his head, gesturing for the god to enter the palace. A party goes on all around, and you're happy to observe and accept congratulations and celebrations, but the soft feeling of joy is interrupted by someone yelling, sharply, "YOUR HIGHNESS YIN YU, YOU BETTER GIVE US A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR YOUR SHIDI!"
...abruptly, you look behind you. the same curly haired boy from before, now nineteen or so, stands there, hands behind his back, jian yu beside him. you know him as well as you know any other shidi, if not better: quan yizhen looks back at you, a middle official in the employ of your palace. you chose him, brought him with you when you ascended. looking at him now, all you can do is sigh. "Yizhen, did you pick a fight again?"
"Yeah." he says, simply.
you feel the urge to rub your temples, looking out to the ruckus outside. it seems whatever middle official yizhen picked a fight with is still trying to egg something on, causing a scene outside of your palace, trying to start a fight. the person's held outside, shouting and yelling, accusing you of trying to cover it up. jian yu turns purple with held back rage behind you, but you have to smother this before it starts with grace. as you open your mouth to try and deal with it, however, quan yizhen, your troublesome shidi, suddenly pushes past you, with all of the anger of a charging bull, furious at the insult to the palace. all you can do for a moment is stare, dumbfounded.
"--Yizhen, stop!" and then rush out to chase after him.
--
the memory shifts, again, this time, it's jian yu, pacing around your side chamber and practically shouting. "The domain in the west is only so big, Yin Yu! Quan Yizhen erected a palace, and now he's robbed your devotees! Even that wolf monster he killed should have been yours! Look at the state of you, your domain is shrinking smaller and smaller, how much do you have left?! How can you maintain your standing?!"
you are tired. you are unbelievably tired. everything jian yu is saying is correct, but it's blown wildly out of proportion. you fall back on your meditation practices--be as still as water--and put out a dose of truth. "How is it considered robbing? It's not like he held anyone at knifepoint to worship him. They're willing. ...what fight? Why care for such a thing? What must leave, will always leave in the end, and what should remain will naturally stay. I didn't ascend to fight over power with anyone, especially not Yizhen, nor fight over domains, so why can't you just let this go, Jian Yu?"
jian yu practically growls and rubs his hand through his hair.
you mean what you say. you don't want to fight. (but you know, that your domain is shrinking. yizhen's talent is unstoppable. he is powerful, brilliant. the kind of person who belongs in the heaven, and you... you are fading. no matter how hard you've been working, your entire life. you are a comet, and yizhen is the sun.
that is the way of the world, and you know it. you tell yourself not to be bitter.
--
there's another odd skip, and then, yizhen is standing in front of you, looking expectant. it's his birthday, and since the awkwardness of another experience, you have been avoiding him more than before, but the young man came anyway, asking for a birthday present. yizhen looks at you with his eyes shining, and-- you are weak, you are so weak. you quickly apologize and flee to the side chamber, telling him to wait a moment over your shoulder.
you haven't prepared a birthday gift for yizhen, like you had since he was a child. it's petty and stupid, and you hate yourself for it, so you hurry to the side chamber, asking jian yu to fetch you the golden armband from the treasure chamber. the other middle official 'tsks', grabs a rag cloth, throws it on the ground, and stomps on it. "Give him this, then."
"Jian Yu!" you scold, immediately, and jian yu doesn't even look cowed, trembling with fury-
--
the scene skips. jian yu returns with a box as yizhen talks to you, looking slightly apathetic as he thinks about his week, when you ask him about his worshipers. you shouldn't ask, but maybe - if he will take this thing that you've worked for your entire life, he will take it on with aplomb. maybe you have taught him correctly, maybe he will be kind and fair, a martial god that the people could love. "i don't really know anything about worshipers. they just started showing up. i fought this other wolf monster, too..."
...yizhen wasn't even trying to get his new position as an upper heavenly official, the second martial god of the west. and -- it hurts, it hurts you so badly, but you shove it down, down, and hand him the birthday present with a small, slightly frazzled smile. he thanks you, the sun standing in your parlor, and you have to force yourself to say 'you're welcome' and send him on his way. it's bitter. it's angry. it's so dark, and that is not you.
--
things become even more blurry, then. it's as if yin yu tried to take an eraser to his own memories, and failed. a few more statements float in. yizhen, laughing when someone mistook yin yu for quan yizhen, because he thought it was silly. a feeling of utter miserable embarrassment at the banquet where he'd been confused, sinking into his seat. the gossip around the heavens, about him and his shidi, "there's only one western martial god, isn't there? oh... i forgot about his highness yin yu. don't tell him." yin yu, not invited to the parade of martial gods -- something only given to the most powerful, while yizhen took a spot. these tiny little stones start stacking, and stacking, and stacking, and you're getting heavier, and heavier with each little statement, hurting more, and more, and more. you are going to be replaced. you are replaceable. it is a matter of time, before you loosen your claws from this position you fought for for your entire life and fall forgotten as a middle official, serving the person you raised and taught, instead.
--
things come into focus as you stand in your chambers at your palace, stressed, exhausted, the glimmer of godly power in your veins flickering, holding a golden armband that was supposed to be the gift for yizhen. you look to jian yu, confused, and jian yu just says, "i gave him something better."
you immediately feel a bone deep sense of alarm, the feeling of the hairs on the back of your neck rising up, the phrase, "the brocade immortal", and suddenly, you are running out of your palace, as fast as your legs can carry you--
--
when the memory clips into focus again, quan yizhen stands in front of you, wearing golden armor. his head is tilted to the side--he looks genuinely lost and confused, like a puppy.
and you are furious.
you have never been so angry in your entire life. you are the person who suppresses, who sets it to the side, cultivation and meditation the center of your practice that led you to godhood in the first place. you have always prided yourself on your ability to keep a level head.
today, your anger is so oppressive that it pours out of you, that your hands are trembling, clenched into fists, as you finally rip something free and shout, "Did I say I wanted to go?! What's the patrol of the martial gods have to do with me?! I didn't beg you, so who are you to mention me to the emperor?!"
it's blatantly obvious that the parade is important. that quan yizhen had asked a favor of the emperor to "allow" you to march was--beyond offensive, for a martial god. those who saw you there if you did accept such an offer would talk and talk about you, and your skin wasn't thick enough for such things. how could you possibly use someone's connections--the connections of your disciple, your shidi, someone who usurped you to take a place somewhere you never belonged? you don't belong there. you weren't supposed to -- you used to be able to --
quan yizhen is silent, for a moment, but the trouble is blatant on his face. "...shixiong, why are you so mad? Did I do something wrong?"
and you. patient, kind you, you who have always defended yizhen, you who have always helped quan yizhen, you who have tried to be kind to him, kept the others from bullying him even when he got on your nerves, yin yu shixiong, yin yu dianxia, you
finally snap.
"Enough," you shout, with every part of you, " I've had enough! I'm going mad--I'm going fucking mad, because of you! Quan Yizhen--!" you point at the great martial hall, where the other gods were gathered, seething, furious, the final straw broken, "Don't talk to me anymore! Take back your recommendation, stop adding to my troubles! Go back right this second!"
without another word, quan yizhen turns, and starts walking. you blink, your entire body trembling, and your eyes slowly slide down yizhen's back, to the golden armor he's wearing. the brocade immortal--that armor-- forces the wearer to follow the orders of the person who gave it to them, and you handed him that box, on his birthday. it may have been from jian yu, but it came from your hands. yizhen wasn't remorseful, or understanding why he'd offended his shixiong. he was being compelled to do it.
shaken, you see horror before it starts, and shout, "STOP!" and quan yizhen stops. he looks bewildered, and as the martial gods step out to see what the commotion is about, you panic, and yell, "Come back--leave!"
it's confusing, but quan yizhen just cocks his head, instantly turns, and starts running straight for you. and you don't know what to do, you don't know how just to make yizhen stop, you don't know what to say or why he's coming and suddenly you're running, too. and you know, you look guilty, running like a criminal from the martial hall with yizhen on your heels. you're trying to decide what to do as the martial gods--emperor included--begin to give chase, as if to apprehend them. you can't think. you panic, completely in disarray, you have to get yizhen out of that armor, you have to make that stop, and you shout, desperate, "Leave! Leave right now--take off your clothes!"
yizhen's eyes are blank, when you look back, but his hands go to the brocade immortal. there's a moment of sheer relief that slams into you, and you think, it's over, simultaneously with, how will i explain this but as the martial gods reach them and start to try and apprehend yizhen, it's short lived. yizhen's goal -- remove the item -- is being blocked, and his gaze flashes with violence. he takes in the ten martial gods closest to him as targets, lifts his fists--you gasp --
blood splatters the ground, crimson red.
"MURDER IN THE UPPER COURT!" someone screams--
--
the memory fades, again, in and out, and you are being restrained, now, another martial god holding him under the arms. you are as white as a sheet, your heartbeat in your ears like the beating of a thousand drums, as yizhen has been fighting and fighting up to this point. it's only one desperately shouted, please stop fighting! that finally stops quan yizhen, and he's restrained, a sword in his shoulder, beaten up beyond almost recognition by the martial gods.
in the process, the palace of yin yu was nearly destroyed by the chaos. all that stands is the rubble, the circle of martial gods trying to restrain the chaos, and.. quan yizhen. you turn your head slowly, to look at yizhen, who drops to his knees, finally, and he stares up at you with that same face, utterly confused. "....what's going on?"
his oblivious face is the only thing you can see. yizhen, oblivious, stupid, oblivious yizhen, sitting in the wreckage of your life, literally, not realizing that he was the one who caused everything. every dream you've ever achieved was in that palace, and quan yizhen destroyed it. unintentionally. like everything else. it's funny. it's. it's
the irony of the situation hits you like a hammer, and shatters the glass threads of your last restraint. you laugh. it's just one, sharp, humorless bark of a laugh, and then another, and then another, your shoulders starting to quake.
"shixiong? what are you doing?" quan yizhen has crawled towards you now, trying to check up on his shixiong, still so confused, still wearing the brocade, head tilted, stupid, stupid yizhen, stupid yizhen -
your order comes out in a moment of crisp clarity.
"GO DIE!"
the light of clarity in yizhen's eyes vanishes. he reaches for the closest sword on the ground, takes it in one hand, fists the other in those curls and pulls his head up to expose his throat. the blade comes up-- ]
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with a crack, he dislocates quan yizhen's sword arm--then his other, then both of his legs, the sword clatters to the ground,
the memory stops
--and yin yu stands there. the color has drained from his face, his eyes wide, his shoulders trembling. he's not breathing. it's that same feeling--the glass, shattering.
he jerks, as if a puppet brought up by its strings, and starts to take a step backwards, and then another, his heart pounding in his chest. not again. this is why he'd been running, this is why he tried to avoid anyone and everyone--because twice was too many times, and now, to have his worst secret just thrown out casually for a third time, makes him want to be sick. ]
w5... probably tuesday evening.
...Sect Leader Nie. Do you have a moment?
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[he's dead, what else is he going to do... but he nods. yin yu is on a short list of people he'll speak with, right now.]
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...I would like to apologize. [ as he finally straightens, he keeps his hands together. ] I did my best to look after Lady Beau, but I failed, in the end. [ by dying, anyway. ]
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[of course he was watching-- he's not done being mad at chuuya over what happened either, honestly. but he relaxes slightly; yin yu, at least, is someone he doesn't believe would offer empty words about looking after her.]
I don't doubt that it was appreciated by her, as it is by me.
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[ mmn. well. he ducks his head. ] ...at any rate, I'm glad that I was able to help even a little. I hope she was able to find some peace.
I'd like to talk with you about what happened, if you are willing to talk about it.
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[HE'S STILL SALTY ABOUT CHUUYA SPECIFICALLY. god.]
It depends on what you'd like to know, I think.
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w5 probably post trial idk time is a construct
and something's been bothering him.
when yin yu finds nie huaisang, he's masked, and he gives his usual bow, in greeting, not one to forget his courtesies or his filial manners, even in times of great duress. his voice is back to its usual calm, low timber, and with his face hidden, his body language blank, there's nothing to read out of it.
in other words, he seems at least back to normal. ] I need to ask you something, Sect Leader. Please excuse this humble servant's interruption.
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Excused, of course. You may ask.
[his head tilts, eyes lingering on the mask in place.]
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Why did you number your letters?
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[that way, she'd know which were from him. if anyone else happened to send a numbered one to her he counted on her being able to distinguish which were his words.]
Why?
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[ that much is very certain. ] And... If you didn't write her, it would be strange, no matter how much we were diversifying information. Is that correct?
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