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The Hamartia

Jing Yuan x gn Cloudknight Reader pt 3, The Saddening!

Sfw, implied PTSD, mentions of other High Cloud Quintet members/early HCQ era, pre-canon. Everyone is having a good day until they suddenly aren't. Light descriptions of death and gore but I have restrained myself. MC POV and they're kinda fucked up, both mentally and physically. Reader gets hurt but it isn't described much. Don't worry about it. Jing Yuan taking care of people has always been real. Implied bad parenting from other characters. 11.8k words.

<<<<Part 2 here! Also on AO3 here!

Taglist: @verridaiya , @noctifer-cynoct

Summary:

Hamartia: noun; a character's flaw that brings about their downfall.

You and Jing Yuan are no strangers to death. You have seen it, evaded it, caused it, learned it. Escape enough times and you might even mistakenly believe you cannot be caught by death. This is Jing Yuan's folly. Everyone makes their own bargains for survival, and it seems that you and he are not paying the same price for one extra day of life.

Or, Jing Yuan learns that you are missing in action.

When Arbiter General of the Luofu Teng Xiao summons you, you come quietly.

This is not a statement as much as it is a rule. The Luofu has been boasting title-bearing Cloud Knight divisions since the rise of Sword Champion Jingliu and her guidance, and if one is wise they can– and will– graciously respond to a summons by the master of these forces. It’s just a touch unfortunate that the message for you came in moments after you had shuffled back within the high stone walls of your current station: a fortified complex after a bloodbath engagement against a local Borisin den. The messenger stood within the compound doors awaiting your return. He wore the kind of armour you rarely saw unless you traveled back to the Luofu, a lighter class meant for more local, agile units, but his helmet was in his hand that impatiently bounced off his hip while he searched for something. You don’t think he’d even flinch if you were to come up on his right side with your knife. The metal would have slid through the sinewy side of his neck to expose his blood to you before he even knew you were there. If you were to kill this man, you would go for the neck.

He seemed rather bored until his eyes caught your approaching figure, widening behind his spectacles in poorly masked fear as your armour dripped Borisin blood and stank of residual Lupitoxin. The metallic smell nearly overpowers the bitterness of the pheromones alongside all other possible scents, but both of them are strong enough to give you a headache. Each drop of blood drying on you carries a slight glow indicating the foul interference of The Abundance that coursed in their veins, and it pools in the dirt when you stand in place for more than a moment. You can hear construction and engineering divisions’ carrier vehicles blaring alarms to caution pedestrians out of their paths as they prepare to survey the immediate surroundings of the fort to determine if expansion was possible. The image of one of the architects you favoured the least based on her haughty attitude and inability to consult scouts for information on safe building locations comes to mind. You hope she steps in a puddle of Abomination blood and rages about the stains it leaves on her IPC ‘designer’ footwear, which will surely be confiscated upon her attempt to leave for security purposes.

Ah– the messenger is taking a hesitant step forward to intercept your path. He must be here for you. Without his helmet on you can observe as his skin goes shiny with sweat and his pupils dilate, all common symptoms of Lupitoxin reactions. Or, you suppose most of it is the toxin, you wouldn’t be surprised if the viscera draped across your body was activating his fight or flight reflex too. He looks frozen now, even less likely to raise a hand if you were to charge him with your glaive. Disappointing, but understandable. Usually you would try and scrub some of the mess off before you returned, but your empty stomach ached for food and it was a thrillingly compelling argument.

You fish out one of your handkerchiefs in the least bloody condition and hold it up to his face, “cover your nose and mouth, take a slow breath,” you order.

This particular rag is old, thankfully cheap, and off-white from constant bleaching to get the stains out. It still smells like laundry detergent, and you hope your fellow Cloud Knight finds it just as comforting as you do. You picked this one up on a whim when you visited Jing Yuan for his 30th birthday, adamant that you two stay shoulder to shoulder even through his chores and upkeep tasks for that house of his that he is so proud of. The soldier takes your offering with a shaking hand, pressing the cloth over his face and taking a wheezing inhale. After a couple minutes of this, his complexion evens out and he gets himself back under control. You’re irritated at this delay, but not surprised. Home guard units wouldn’t have the exposure that intergalactic stationed personnel like you have, where your body gets used to the pheromones and reacts less with each battle. Your heart still beats like mad when the pheromones hit you of course. But it's not from fear. Not anymore. Almost fondly, you recall that Jing Yuan had struggled with Lupitoxin too when the two of you had first encountered Borisin forces.

That does make you wonder why this soldier is so far from home. A message from Jing Yuan perhaps? Your heart rate picks up at the thought, organs feeling lighter, but you force the notion away. He’d been particular about regularly texting you, always checking in. You often thought that Jingliu might have given up on him if he had this much free time, but you knew he wouldn’t let anyone disregard him if he was set on proving his worth. Not likely a message from him then.

“The General requests your presence at central command. Please make haste to make yourself presentable and return to the Xianzhou Luofu. The General would also like you to keep this meeting confidential, if possible.” The messenger states, coughing as the last of the toxin circulates out of his system.

If anything, he’s the one who needs to fix his composure, you think. You don’t have a particular interest in conversing with him though, and offer a sufficient nod to indicate your acknowledgement before you turn back to the entrance to the inner compound. You really want a shower, the stench of blood is making you feel almost drunk. A nap too. That might have to wait until after the return trip to the ship though. Do you still have any meds to put you to sleep…?

“Uh, hey, do you want this back?”

You shake your head and give a flippant wave of your hand. He can do as he pleases with your rag. You’re more preoccupied with why the General doesn’t want you talking. You hope you’ll at least be able to drop by Jing Yuan’s while you’re back on ship, if just for an hour to see him again. You hate to waste an opportunity to talk with him.

Your nails dig into your palm. You need to calm yourself. You shouldn’t get so worked up while you’re running on so little fuel, else you’ll use up the last of your energy for nothing. You doubt anyone can see your face through your heavy helmet, but you grimace. You really need to get this blood off of you before you forget your manners, the way you salivated during battle wasn’t the kind of face that was appropriate to bring to a summons like this.

Luckily you have always packed light, and after the most thorough shower you think you have ever commenced, you dress yourself in your best uniform (the new one that you meant to replace a less sturdy set with earlier) and march back outside with your bag. Pay no mind to the amount of protein bar rations you’ve hidden inside your armour and bag to snack on. By now, the messenger is more relaxed, even wearing his helmet correctly as he escorts you to the skiff meant to sail you across the stars.

His armour is donned with carelessness. You could strike him through the middle at this very moment and his term would be immediately closed with the Cloud Knights.

The late afternoon sun entices you with the kind of sunlight meant for dozing in under the shade of a tree. Alas, most of the trees in and around the compound were felled when it was built for security purposes. Lan, you miss trees. Instead of dwelling on what a lack of plants might be doing to your psyche, you withhold an impressed whistle at the model of the skiff the messenger brings you to. Nothing special by design, but you can tell it's meant for seamless warps from cosmos to cosmos, and you think you might recognize it from pictures of a seasonal skiff catalogue that Jing Yuan likes to send. Damn. You’d have to snack as quickly as you could, since you’d been expecting at least an hour of journeying, but you might get less than a quarter of that to eat enough material to stop your blood sugar levels from crashing on you.

As one of the side doors opens automatically upon your approach, the smell of refined fuel burns your nose and you can’t help but catch sight of yourself in the brief flicker of your reflection in the windows before the surface is beyond your sight. Seating yourself, you drag your luggage in front of your spot and kick your legs up to rest atop it. The figure in the reflection… gaunt. The eyes that looked back at you were ringed with puffy, bruised skin to attest to your lack of sleep, only deepening the squint you hadn’t quite realized you were wearing. That will need to be fixed before you meet up with Jing Yuan again, or else he’ll be worried. He gets clingy when he worries, not that you’re complaining, but you have a feeling it's not good for him to be distracted by his feelings like that. You miss the way your armour shields all from your scathing expressions and mannerisms already, but it’s all packed up already, but it’s impolite to wear armour to a personal summons from the General himself. Although it would be more impolite to regard him as a child would a meal they didn’t find appealing. The conundrums of hierarchy indeed, you silently muse as the doors to the skiff seal tight and the engine thrums in preparation for the return launch.

But rather than dwell on your career institution of choice, you start unloading some of your smuggled rations, determined to eat as many as you can before the bay doors of the skiff opened again. The repressively concentrated scent of fuel pulls at the edges of your gag reflex as the first bite of your rations hits your tongue, challenging your brain’s ability to process both tastes and swallow at the same time. The messenger watches you with confusion as you start scarfing down food, and you give him an unblinking returned gaze until he gets uncomfortable and you can see his helmet face the windows instead. At least that logical process was still active inside his brain. You have developed a sixth sense of sorts for people watching you, even when you can’t see their face, or any part of them actually. Your paranoia has saved you an uncountable number of times in the field.

As the stars that decorate the cosmos zip by beyond the skiff’s windows to remind you of your frail little rocket capsule to protect you from the vacuum of space, you still wonder why the General is so set on recalling you quietly. Or, you try to. The taste of cereals and preservatives in your protein bar sticks to your tongue, and your memories conjoin to form a picture of Jing Yuan’s proud face as he sets a plate of homemade skewers before you. His cooking improves each time you try it, unlike these rations. He spoils you too much when you visit, and it makes returning to work beyond the Luofu unexpectedly unpleasant each time. You get too comfortable and it makes you lax when you start working again.

When the view outside your window slows to a crawl and the lights surrounding the docking platforms of the Xianzhou Luofu flash into existence, you blink heavily to clear the sudden blind spots from your vision. Already? Damn. You shove the empty wrappers of your snacks into the side pockets of your luggage, hastily brushing your hands over your uniform to sweep away the potential crumbs. With a dramatic kick, you lift your legs from where they were resting atop your bags and stretch your arms above your head. With a muted groan, you lean forwards and backwards, sighing as the segments of your spine pop exactly as you need them to. Your escort clears his throat in discomfort and you bite back the urge to crack your neck too out of spite, resigning to simply roll your neck to limber your muscles before circling your shoulders up and down.

The skiff’s PA system announces the docking initiation, but you’re already on your feet, the handle of your luggage in your hand and firmly planted at attention before the doors in anticipation of your release. You don’t mind passenger skiff sized voyages, but your skin begins to itch when they drag on for hours. Regardless of how long you end up staying on travel ships, you always relish the hissing of the pressure release on the door locks as the rush of outside air as the familiar atmosphere of the Luofu greets your lungs. Thankfully the breeze alleviates the smell of fuel, and even the aged scent of packaging and replacement Aurumaton parts is preferable. It’s reassuringly sterile and dry, unlike the heady blood and pollen-muddled humidity you’ve been entrenched in for the last five years. For the moment, you’re saner than you have been for the last couple days, and that’s all you could ask for.

Before you can step out, the messenger speaks again, “this meeting may take some time. Is there an accommodation that you would prefer for us to send your bags to while you’re in session?”

Your bags contain your weapons care and armour treatments. There’s nothing you will miss if it's stolen, and you have digital receipts you can file with the Realm Keeping Commission for replacements of necessary supplies. Everything else is covered by the Cloud Knight provisions. Although filing for them is annoying.

“Yes, you can deliver them to this estate,” you decide, typing Jing Yuan’s address into the maps app on the offered phone of the soldier who escorted you, “if anyone is home they’ll handle it if you mention my name.”

It takes purposeful schooling of your expression to hide your illogical possessiveness over your state provided, impersonal belongings. Having grown far too used to the privacy provided by your helmet, you have allowed yourself to fall into the habit of letting your face freely display your thoughts. You blandly hand your luggage over to him and he gestures towards the guide waiting at the end of the doc. You recognize the uniform of a secretary belonging to the General, and he wordlessly guides you to the next delve and then to the primary entrance guards vigilant at the ancient Cloud Knights Headquarters. All that really mattered to you was your phone in the end, which weighed heavy in an inner pocket of your uniform. After the secretary offers you a salute that you return, you introduce yourself at the doors and are waved inside without hesitation. It seems odd that the secretary makes no move to accompany you into the office, but you aren’t entirely surprised. Not even the secretaries were allowed to hear of this either? Now you can’t help but wonder if you’re in trouble for something.

Beyond the smell of dust and polish, you can hardly sense the amount of human activity you know should exist at a hub like this. No sounds of falling footsteps or shuffled paperwork. It feels dead inside, unlike the sea of activity you had to make your way through from the dock to the office itself. Although if you can’t sense any life here, you would consider that a comparatively better thing than sensing too much life, wherein you would assume the worst, that Denizens of Abundance had made their home here.

Following the trail of lit wall sconces– you had to wonder if this was a film set rather than the site of official military affairs– finds you where you expected you would be: in a great hall overseen by the Arbiter General himself, Teng Xiao. Pillars shaped like Cloud Knights balance the weight of the arched ceiling above their heads, glaives raised in eternally perfect form. The moment you passed through the entrance to the hall, static electricity danced up the hairs of your arms beneath your suit. It feels as if you are standing on the edge of a great cliff, staring down the rocks below. Not quite fear, something more primal than that. Yes, this must be the magnitude of the power bestowed upon those who spread the word of the Reignbow Arbiter. Once the initial prickling shock fades all you feel is itchy, but you resist the urge to roll up the sleeves of your uniform, instead offering the appropriate bow from someone of your station to one far higher.

“General,” you greet him cordially. You’ve had the drills for deference beaten into you plenty of times before, you wouldn’t forget them now.

His hearty laugh startles you, but you catch your flinch before it shows. You have not had the… pleasure… of personally reporting to the General before but you’ve heard of his forthright nature and blunt approach, courtesy of Jing Yuan’s own reports from interacting with him. Although Jing Yuan often has a pleasant way of describing people, no matter their traits. You have no doubt that Jing Yuan read the man correctly, but there are a billion ways to know a man. Yours is different. You peak up at him from your bow, carefully hiding your scrutiny through your eyelashes. He’s certainly a towering individual, even from the seat of his desk. His musculature suggests many decades of honed strength, perhaps even centuries. For what Jing Yuan has told you of the General’s skills with a broadsword, this assessment is accurate thus far.

“No need to be so formal this time,” he assures you, “it's just the two of us, Captain.”

“Yes sir.”

He has a big smile, broad shoulders slumped in contentment, an elbow holding his weight above his desk as his chin rests in his palm. His chair is not so close to the desk laden with jade abaci and paper stacks as to pin him if he had to move urgently. Who is to say what he might be hiding behind the miscellania. Even resting, his feet are solidly planted on the ground. He wears a scabbard on his hip for what appears to be a short sword. He’s relaxed but not off his guard, if the constant tapping of his free hand’s fingers against the metallic surface of the desk. If you were to charge him right now, there would be a million ways he could counter and kill you. He’s been a Cloud Knight longer than you and Jing Yuan have been alive. Your experiences contrasted together would reveal a canyon of distance between the two of you in skill, and your assessment turns frustratingly lacking in your favour.

“Lieutenant Jing Yuan speaks of you often.”

Jing Yuan? At his mention you steel your nerves to keep a solemn expression, but inside you’re squirming. You want to know what Jing Yuan has to do with any of this, if he’s safe. You have been careful to avoid grabbing the attention of any who sit in a seat too high for you to converse with.

You’ve never been much for small talk, never had the social grace that Jing Yuan did to build bridges with anyone who came within range to hear his voice. While you might not have your friend’s skill, that doesn’t mean you can’t mimic it, and you borrow a quip you heard him use once during your early days before the two of you went your separate ways: “all good things I hope.”

To this, he chortles, “most certainly! Discounting his assignments, he always has a new story of your exploits to tell. Given that you’re on foreign deployment, most of his subordinates aren’t quite convinced that you’re real. He takes the doubts in good spirit, fret not.”

Unsure of what to make of Jing Yuan’s apparent social quest to prove your existence, all you manage to say is, “I see.”

“It has been a pleasant topic to have risen in a sea of war reports. Speaking of, I presume that you have some questions about why I have summoned you today.”

In your mind’s eye, your brain is still executing trial charges, simulating what steps and what swings of your glaive would draw his blood or lead to your own splattered across the hallowed walls of the war room. Your mind runs through an archive of sword play techniques refined in practice by Jingliu and taught second hand to you by Jing Yuan.

“Yes sir.”

“This is not so much a mission I have for you, but rather an offer. The choice is yours, and should you reject it, neither of us will act as if this discussion has ever occurred. You may return to work as you were.”

Swordsmen are trained to guard their upper bodies. Hits to the torso and arms are disabling, but exactly what they expect. If you were to consider killing General Teng Xiao, you would not do so like that.

You ask, “what did you have in mind, sir?” At this, his jovial facade fades away, smile turning from welcoming to measured and the hand that braced his face falling to lay on the table in a calculated resting position.

“Captain, you would know perhaps more than anyone else the toll that war takes on people. In an ideal world, war can be played by fair rules with no damages or deaths beyond allocated losses. But that is not our world. But if I had a way to make war appear more just, would you take it?”

A moral war? This at least you can express your full feelings for as you allow the confusion to show on your face.

“Hmm, yes I suppose that is a rather outlandish proposal. I would like you to consider this instead: Jing Yuan seems rather fond of you. Are you also fond of him?”

An experienced hunter can identify a trap without needing to activate it. Just how much leverage do you trust him with? What answer is he looking for? And what would he do to Jing Yuan if you answered incorrectly?

You begin your charade with a noncommittal hum, “Jing Yuan and I come from the same training facility and have fought many battles side by side. We keep in touch when possible. I suppose we are still somewhat close. Is that satisfactory, sir?”

“What would you do if I could promise Jing Yuan would only ever be sent to battles he could win? If he would always have a reliable team to fight alongside?”

Your eyebrows draw together, and you can tell immediately that you have lost this engagement from that alone. Every battle leads to injuries. In the best cases, that’s where the damages end. But most encounters end with blood soaking the earth and a cold corpse. You are no stranger to nightmares of Jing Yuan’s demise, and you can recall every detail of every scene that your mind torments you with. He’s considerably lucky to have risen as far as he has, but as he grows stronger, so do the risks he faces. You live in endless fear that you’ll never again receive a whining text message or picture of his new sword purchases. You would lose the will to even hold your weapons. Not like now, as your hands itch to grasp the shaft of your glaive. Broadswords are large and unwieldy in close quarters combat. If a combatant can close the gap in sufficiently quick enough speed…

“Why are you telling me about this chance? Does Jing Yuan know?”

“Because I can’t make it possible without your efforts,” he says, pulling one of the many paper stacks to the center of his desk, “I must say, your track record is immaculate. If you were more sociable you could have been a hero just like him.”

“Sir, I am a soldier, not a celebrity.”

“Of course, of course. Might I add that Jing Yuan can only take those perfect jobs with sufficient preparation. Captain, the people of the Alliance need a sign for hope. They need something to believe in. And for the necessary ugliness of war that they wish to not know, I need you. I must specify: you alone.”

To kill a swordsman, one must close the distance if they can’t outperform with experience and skill. The phantom scent of carnage haunts your nose, tormenting you with the potential for a euphoric rush of bloodlust. Taking a low breath, you try to pull away from the memories of your racing heart and uncontrollable baring of teeth that seized you when you were brought to war time and time again. You can’t tell which discomfort you’d rather take: the existential smell of dust and abandoned incense lining the war halls, or the thick aroma of blood that could turn you into something else, something worse.

“Does this sound agreeable to you, Captain? I am aware that I am asking a great price from you to ensure this outcome.”

What choice do you really have? This is ensuring his future, his survival. Where else could you possibly find an offer like that without a sacrilegious foray into the world of Sanctus Medicus.

“Yes sir. I can pay any price for his life.”

“I had a feeling you would.”

Yes, if you were to kill General Teng Xiao, you would begin by driving the blade of your glaive into his shoulder, and twisting. You try to not let the starvation for gore show on your face. You really are getting into bad habits.

…

The call comes through while he’s watering his still-sprouting Bristlecone, not even at knee height yet. It is a gorgeous day wherein a new family of birds have graced his yard, and he does his best to whistle back to them in the same tunes that they sing. He can only imagine what your own bird imitating performance would sound like, how your lips would press and flex to change the pitch of the sound. You’ve probably heard all kinds of bird calls, and he wonders if you’ve ever whistled them while staring at the sky, wondering if the Luofu was out there staring right back at you. Baiheng has told him stories like this, but with the moon as she searched for Jingliu when returning from her travels. Jing Yuan likes to imagine what he would look like entangled in a plot containing star-crossed lovers across space that many of the story tellers devote their centuries of life to describing.

The lighthearted chime of his phone indicates an unfamiliar number, so he bides his time answering it, “Lieutenant Jing Yuan speaking~, how may I help you?” He says cheerfully, phone precariously balanced between his head and his shoulder.

*O-oh, Lieutenant Jing Yuan? I’m a big fan-*

“I’m delighted, friend, but may I ask how you obtained my number? I’m quite shy you see,” he interrupts.

*Um right, sorry, I am Xie Yue of the Realm-Keeping Commission, your number is listed as the emergency contact and recipient for significant assets named in the living will of… uh…* he can hear faint rustling before the caller picks up again, *... a Captain [Name], from the Keres-V campaign?*

Jing Yuan’s entire body goes cold, he nearly drops his watering can as his fingers go numb, “yes, that’s a close friend of mine. Has something happened to them?” With every cell in his body he prays to Lan that this is not the call he receives saying that you’ve fallen. This cannot be it. Not yet. Not on a sunny day when he’s alone at home, wishing you were here. Not like this.

The Keres-V campaign was something you had been gradually filling him in on via text, another branch of the Luofu’s military exploits across the cosmos. You had said that the atmosphere was humid and heavy, with ancient jungle trees reaching into the distant skies, far beyond what the Luofu’s dome offered on their ship. Those trees were crowned with foliage apparently so robust that ships could only land above them, not through them, leaving very limited and vulnerable pickup points across the planet for ships to enter. This particular conflict that you were sent to oversee stemmed from a subcategory of the Annihilation Gang attacking some Alchemy Commission delegates on a humanitarian aid mission on Keres-V last year. The locals, having supported the Alliance in one of their wars against factions of the Abundance in previous years, now faced a medicine shortage as the geopolitical conflict subsided. You tried to keep your messages to him light and optimistic, often preferring to send pictures of the wildlife and landscape rather than communicating your health or your thoughts on the actions of the Annihilation Gang. The amount of pictures you have sent showing little gifts and crafts you’ve made with the local children is impressive for someone as socially withdrawn as yourself.

Now Jing Yuan can only wish that you had said more. He considers hanging up on the Realm-Keeping Commission worker at that very moment, better to know nothing than to hear the worst possible news.

*I regret to inform you that there was a recent assault on one of the bases close to disputed territory. The Cloud Knights are still collecting information, but wave one concluded that Captain [Name] is missing currently. Naturally we hope that they will return alive and well, but we’re required to reach out to their primary contacts should their fate be unfortunate. Um, I don’t see any relatives listed here, would you know-*

“Their relatives are out of the picture. Is there any other information available on [Name]’s status right now?”

*No, I apologize. Reinforcements only secured the compound earlier this morning, and we’re still compiling reports on the state of the structure and our people.*

“I see, thank you. Please keep me updated.” He hangs up before they have an opportunity to say anything else.

No amount of wind chime symphonies and birdsong will be able to repair Jing Yuan’s nerves from this call. No gentle ambiance under the sunlight would bring you here, safe and sharp tongued. For a moment he wonders if this is how his master feels when she receives notice of another wreckage of Baiheng’s vehicles, that same bottomless emptiness that makes the world feel like a film rather than a life one is living. How many times has the Sword Champion considered that those calls might be the last she ever gets, detailing a destroyed skiff and an equally broken body to be found within? He tidies up the garden hose and heads back inside, his back door swinging shut with the same level of finality as a decapitation strike. He hardly registers his lock sliding shut through muscle memory.

In his room, he throws a couple sets of his uniform into his luggage, then some essentials. His only companion is the creaking of his old closet door as he has to push it wide again with each return. Each heel turn mimics his mind’s unstoppable churning, every plan twists back upon itself to circle around you. His spare room’s closet is filled with the clothes you used to store at the barracks. During your first true return home he managed to convince you to move the few things you owned into his house– for safekeeping, he had said. You now turn over your bags to his care whenever you come calling, and he delights in doing laundry and completing weapon and armour upkeep together. What he had neglected to mention was that it was for his convenience, to pick from the items that you leave behind when he has a rough night keeping his mind silent. He doesn’t want to think about what he would do with your things if you never came back to claim them.

While you have savings by now, you don’t bother with looking through the property market since you spend more time in a uniform somewhere else in the galaxy. In your eyes, why spend so much money on what was essentially storage space? After that, he began convincing you to come home more often. Although using the term ‘convincing’ implied a level of resistance and effort that he didn’t end up encountering. Typically it started with his after-training texts again, he’d complain about how hard Jingliu was working him, or about the new members of his team being mean to him since he was the youngest, even with the short-lived man. You seemed to take a keen interest in them, and of course needled him in return about how he chose this life, how you thought the High Elder’s jokes that he paraphrased to you were better than his own, or questions that you wanted him to pass onto Baiheng about interstellar traveling. Following that, he would emphasize how lonely he was– please ignore how he was just talking about his expanding circle of friends and sword-sworn allies just a moment before– and how long he worked, alone might he add, to cultivate his personal garden and care for the sprouting sapling.

That always seemed to get your attention. One way or another, after seasons of continued deployment, you would finally request to go on leave. He had a feeling that the few times a superior officer intended to deny you, you employed persuasive techniques to allow them to see your side of the conversation, you’ve never quite explained why you have a yet unbroken record of validated leave requests when most Cloud Knights do not. Jing Yuan would meet you at the drop-off point in Cloudford in his best fitting casual wear. He only puts so much effort into his ensemble because you come back in your armour most days, covered in bandage wrappings and stains of strange origins that he desperately wants to ask you about.

It’s an easy thing to tease you for, and you were a good sport about his endless jabs, offering your chillingly wolfish grin to him as part of the standard exchange. Jing Yuan remembers chastising you for coming back injured more and more often (he thanked Lan whenever you turned your back, that regardless of your condition you always returned whole), and your explanation that the Abundance beasts were growing in numbers on the frontlines. A little bit extra of your flesh blood was the fare you paid to take on those burdens with a limited number of warriors under your command. It wasn’t very long ago that he began pestering you again too, this time he wanted you to come and meet the whole of his little group, the High Cloud Quintet, as the media dubbed them after their debut in a vicious aerial combat engagement with Wingweaver forces, spearheaded by Baiheng of course. Jing Yuan has unfortunately already learned that you enjoy the dry words of Dan Feng, the two of you have already established a deep respect for Jingliu too, but you haven’t met the charismatic if unlucky Foxian. Your texts show an obvious interest in her, probably a growing kindred spirit from your own assignments sending you to a great many corners of the universe. If anything, Jing Yuan was dying of curiosity to see if you and Yingxing would find any common ground together and get the both of you out of your shells. That was why he was so set on you returning again.

[Alright then, I’ll finish up as soon as I can, then I’ll come home.]

That is the last text you sent him. He stares at his phone, replaying it with the memory of your voice to give it life. He had no notice from you before your disappearance. Why wouldn’t you send for help, or say anything at all?

You had sworn up and down that as much as you desired to, your current task was far too important to leave in another person’s hands– much less someone with less hunting experience than yourself– and so you placated his dismay with promises to work as fast as you could. The trade off had since been less texting and check-ins as you threw yourself into quickening your endeavours through sparing not one moment apart from your duties. It left him moody, sending his anecdotes into the void of non-response, awaiting your text to inform him that you had read them, that you were excited to meet his friends, that hopefully you were boarding a return skiff soon.

At least, that had been his primary concern until a couple minutes ago, he thinks as he sets down his phone on his nightstand. It’s been years since he worried about the realistic chance of your demise while on deployment, you weren’t the kind of person who danced so close to that line, more willing to strike from a distance and strike first to cut off a chance of them getting close enough to you to deal lethal damage. And yet he still received this ill-faring call about your unknown fate. Jing Yuan plants his face in his hands, breathes in, then out.

First– first– he must get to Keres-V, both physically and legally preferably- if those paths fail, he’ll need another plan. Jing Yuan clicks his tongue, no, he should exhaust his simplest options first, radical action could come later. The Alliance wasn’t currently engaged in any major war efforts for the time being, so for the foreseeable future, Jing Yuan was unlikely to be mobilised by their General’s personal orders, and he’d done well enough to push through all the paperwork that came with being a Lieutenant.

He needs a reason- an excuse- that the General will consider enough to let him go. Jing Yuan probably shouldn’t arrive with his luggage already packed then, the General only tolerates so much confidence after all, the certainty would be too dubious of a display. His current period of time off ends tomorrow, but he might as well be productive, yes, he’ll say that. Jing Yuan’s mental voice begins crafting a script detailing his suggestions of his well-intentioned visit to Keres-V to invigorate the troops and assist in the training efforts following the attack. One of their Captains was missing, of course there would be a place for him to fill. Yes, this makes sense, this is good from a logistical and morale standpoint. Jing Yuan pulls an extra uniform out of his closet and starts working to strip off his loungewear. None of the rest of the Quintet was available at the moment, so he wasn’t likely to be assigned to a task with them. All the more reason he should go, right General?

He needs to be pitching his sell as soon as he physically can, needs to be on-route to your last known location ASAP. What if the General denies his request? Jing Yuan’s next level of leadership is his master, so he’ll go to Jingliu and- how should he convince Jingliu? More and more ideas file into his brain as he keys-up his starskiff. His most extreme option will be flying himself over and he’s got three possible exit points in mind already, courtesy of a similar scheme once executed by Baiheng. He doubts it will escalate to that point, but better a full suite of backup plans than not enough. Jing Yuan takes a breath.

Diplomacy and luck lies faithfully with Jing Yuan today, and thus he is grateful. He is also relieved of his present anxieties somewhat through the proactiveness of his past self: when he had first gifted you the technology that greatly expanded the range of communications that your phone provided, he had included a hardy tracking device. While he had never explicitly told you, he let the application announce itself upon your homescreen, and you had never mentioned it. Sometimes your acceptances were just as silent as your steps, and he had long stopped waiting for your verbal affirmations to answer his queries.

His phone currently sits heavy in his pocket as the transport ship hums, its aerodynamic hull slicing through the atmosphere of Keres-V. Just a little longer, he reminds himself, just until past settlement, then he can slip away. Until then, his spine stays straight and poised, hands locking themselves behind his back in assurance. The small regiments of support-on-arrival Cloud Knights with whom he traveled murmured and shuffled into positions to exit the carrier in the halls beyond him. He’s heard their whispers about him, the presently youngest Lieutenant of the Luofu Cloud Knights, Sword Champion Jingliu’s most prolific student, strategist of the High Cloud Quintet.

They say that a person only truly misses something when they’re stripped of it. Jing Yuan thinks that’s bullshit, he misses you even when you’re in the same room as him if your hand isn’t pressing against him, if your hair isn’t tickling his nose. He just misses you in an unsoothable and aching way now that you’re even further beyond his reach. What he wouldn’t do to have you here by his side to poke fun at him for his growing roster of epithets at this very moment, or tug on his hair that has grown down his back in length since the last time you saw him in person.

Gazing beyond the window, Jing Yuan observes the green earth come into sharper detail as the ship descends, revealing lush canopy instead of verdant shrubbery. His heart twists at the sight, it’s exactly like you’d described it, and he’s sure once they’re down below the foliage he’ll begin to see similarities down to the details from the pictures you’ve sent. Water sources and stone plateaus mark the rare clearings of the massive treelines, which you have described as so thick and old-grown that firepower was brought in to break through when the first transport ships initially landed, followed by construction and military skiffs to begin establishing a base of operations. In fact, he believes he can see the results of those same efforts now, as the aircraft begins its descent into a paved clearing. The fields surrounding it are missing the staple trees that should have defined the biome, but he observes the grassy plains dotted with tellingly wide stumps the size of banquet tables. Jing Yuan can only fantasize about what this place would have looked like undisturbed.

His roving eyes devour the details of the halls he walks down, the people he passes, the general state of the base on the way to your assigned room. Given that you’re missing, nobody questions why he would ask for it. It is empty after all, and he sorrowfully verifies that fact when he closes the door of your assigned room behind him. The closed door muffles the endless stream of footsteps more efficiently than he had anticipated, and Jing Yuan imagines how relieved you must have been to have some insulation from the sounds of the other soldiers with how sensitive your ears have become over the years. Usually Cloud Knights tended to have dulled hearing after long campaigns but yours seemed to only grow keener. He can fondly recall your irritated face when artificial night falls on the Luofu and you begin to hear the acute buzzing of the electrical currents flowing through the streetlights as they flicker on in the growing darkness. In this room the lights are dim, the carefully covered light fixtures being one of the only indicators of a personal preference brought to the room.

There are two empty beds with sheets folded into perfect hospital corners, and Jing Yuan has no idea which one you have been using. He aches at the sight of this room, knowing what your living spaces look like in his home, where you leave small trinkets in lockboxes on the shelves, or the desk chair that you drape your future mending projects over. You usually leave your bed undone, uncaring of its state once night falls as long as there are sheets on it. Jing Yuan hadn’t minded either, since you fix the bedding yourself and your natural body temperature keeps him sufficiently warm and cozy when he inevitably joins you. The memory of his house seems almost unreal compared to the room before him, which is sparsely decorated if not for the basic provisions allotted for each soldier’s room in the base. Someone who didn’t know you as well as he did might have assumed that the room had never been lived in at all, despite the blackout curtains he recalls you requesting that cover the three barred windows.

He had been hoping to make a quieter leave through the windows, but that was clearly not in the cards anymore. Setting down his bags, Jing Yuan runs his hand over your dresser, frowning as his touch leaves a darkened trail behind in the thin layer of dust. Your closet is in a similar state, extra uniforms pressed and hanging as if you were prepared to see the rest of the week through without change. His heart hurts at the thought of it. However it does provide him with a new idea. Sifting through your spare armour he’s pleased to find an extra helmet. After typing up his hair to hide it from sight under the headwear he’s borrowing, he opens the tracker on his phone.

Wherever you are, Jing Yuan swears he’ll find you. His will is only bolstered as dozens upon dozens of Cloud Knights stride past him, ignorant to his identity under your spare gear. His mapping app automatically tracks his path once he leaves the compound, although he tries to pick out clusters of more distinct plants along his path to look for on his way back, preferably with you strapped to his back.

The first sign that he’s on the right track to finding you is obvious about a kilometre away from where his phone says your phone is, is the smell of burning wood amongst other things… like burning flesh. The next sign is less indicative of a sign of your passage and instead a sign of why you roved so far beyond the scope of the base. Blood-spattered feathers dried to the towering armbours and scattered in the dust. Not just a few either, but dozens are left abandoned in the vicinity, covered in blood that hides the colours of the plumes.

It looks like evidence of a particularly disastrous hunt, but Jing Yuan doubts that your disappearance has anything to do with you deciding to take a bird back for dinner. He knows you enjoy hunting, but not ever to the extent of neglecting your duties, not without telling him how it turned out. He wonders if you’re hunting for food because you can’t return to the base? Its a theory, but he has far from enough evidence to draw a conclusion on what it means for your safety. Blood and carcasses might attract territorial animals however, and Jing Yuan summons his glaive as a precaution.

The next unusual detail he encounters is the corpse. For a terrible moment, he fears that the scent of blood and rot is yours, but your tracking blip suggests otherwise. The body itself is seated at the base of a tree trunk, but the blood stains above it indicate that the corpse collided higher up and slid down to rest on the ground. His fears are assuaged the longer he observes the remains: the body proportions aren’t quite right, the build unnaturally long and thin, but the most telling feature that this could not be you was the splayed, broken wings.

Wingweaver.

Jing Yuan is thankful that this isn’t you, please trust that he is. Overjoyed, even. But the next phase of his thought processes is panic: the intelligence about the threats on this planet specified the Annihilation Gang, not Wingweavers and others of the Denizens of Abundance. Worse, that arboreal locations were the optimal environments to give them combat advantage against even those experienced few who could leverage their momentum and close combat prowess to turn the tides of the conflict. This wouldn’t be your first encounter with them, but alone…? Jing Yuan starts to piece together why you haven’t returned to base.

He brushes more undergrowth out of the way with his glaive, striding further into the gore laden forest. WIth each step he can see more feathers, more blood. Soon enough he finds lost limbs and torn off wings amidst the bushes. The remnants of violence, despite the horror, actually bring him some reassurance. You certainly seem to be alive, since nothing else around here is. The smell of fire grows stronger, and he activates the air scrubber function within your helmet.

Glancing at his phone screen, Jing Yuan deduces that you’re nearby, perhaps even close enough to see. He slows to a stop to take in his surroundings. The source of the fire is numerous wooden huts between the tree trunks, all mostly flattened. He frowns, holding his breath. Distantly, a groaning sounds, and he looks around again. Nothing. But if there was nothing at ground level– Jing Yuan looks skyward and jumps backwards. The groaning turns to whistling and he cries out as a hut crashes down from above, falling to pieces close enough for him to still need to dodge debris that ricochets from the wreck. Jing Yuan forces himself to take a calming breath or two, to be a calm and collected soldier as he takes in the smouldering remains of the recent projectile.

His phone says you’re close. So close. There’s a felled, massive tree, surrounded by piles of broken bodies. But on top of its log are two figures. One is flat on its back, impaled and pinned in place by a Cloud Knight’s glaive. The glaive itself is missing the lower half of the pole, leaving its bladed end clutched tight in the hold of the last bloodsoaked person who kneels over the other body. Squinting, Jing Yuan’s heart rate skyrockets as he realizes that the figure holding the glaive is still breathing. Under all the blood and viscera he identifies the silhouette of Cloud Knight armour, and his body breaks out into a cold sweat, hairs standing up to form goosebumps on his skin.

“[Name]!” He shouts, hastily stepping over debris and fallen enemies to race to your side.

You turn your head, covered by the red-stained helmet to regard him, “Jing Yuan…?”

His hands find their purpose resting on your shoulders as he searches you for injuries. There is so much blood that he can’t tell which is yours and which is the enemy’s, even with the eerie glow of The Abundance that underlies each stain. Can he even move you in this state? He’s too far from the base to take you back efficiently with injuries like this, how would he get you to a healer at all?

“Right leg, outer thigh,” you utter, “stopped the bleeding, but it’ll start again if I walk.”

“Arms up, hold tight, grit your teeth,” he orders as you hiss at him from your wounds, hooking his own arms under yours to haul you up and relocate you to a seated position with your back to the fallen tree, “did you happen to take up a lumberjack’s work while you were here?”

“They kept coming from this one, figured it was a nest.”

He digs into his uniform pockets for his emergency kit, taking off a glove and bracer to shake some painkillers and health supplements into his clean hand. With his other hand he gently slides your helmet off, only to freeze. Your face is… he feels queasy. How did they do that to you? How were you still conscious?

“How are you even able to speak– no, I do not need to know right now, just swallow these– I’m taking you back to base and we’ll get you a doctor, understand?” Jing Yuan protests, “Lan, why didn’t you call for help?”

“Screen broke,” your face is stained nearly the same colour as the rest of your armour, your bloodied lips are all he can focus on as he tries to wrap up the worst of your facial wounds.

“How did this even happen–” he curses, “–no, I should stop asking you questions, just stop talking before you get worse.”

You elect to make a noise from your throat, and Jing Yuan appreciates that you stop moving your face this time. He dials the base for an emergency pickup, eyeing the many bodies that proved your survival laying around the both of you. Just how many legions had been hiding out amongst the towering trees here? Were there still more with hidden encampments across the rest of the ancient forest? How many had you fought alone, for days? He’s absolutely certain neither of you were trained for such circumstances, even trying to simulate his own possible response alongside his team. The only good matches he can imagine is Baiheng and Dan Feng, given their own aerial combat abilities, compared to himself, Jingliu, and Yingxing who would be limited to earthbound combat and strategy. Jing Yuan wonders where the operation will go from here now that this planet was infected with forces of the Plagues Author.

…

The medic who attended to you tells him that most of the damage is just flesh wounds, although they are far more numerous than what you had notified him of. The most severe is your facial wounds, for which you have formally been instructed not to speak until the stitches heal. Given your history of injury recovery and health, the process is expected to go smoothly as long as there are no surprises along the way, but they are all going to scar. Most prominently on your face, and for that the attending nurse had scoffed muttering that you should be grateful you hadn’t lost an eye or something else in the attack. Jing Yuan had persuaded her to leave as soon as he could, then for you to be placed on bedrest orders in your own room. He justified it as keeping the medical wing open for emergencies given the recent attacks, although the lack of that sneering nurse was another delightful bonus.

Just when he had thought life would settle down for a bit when he was browsing the online catalogue for a new phone for you, his own begins to ring.

“Lieutenant Jing Yuan speaking,” he answers.

*Lieutenant Jing Yuan! Hi, it's Xie Yue of the Realm-Keeping Commission again and I have great news: Captain [Name] was recovered and they’re being treated on-site.*

He turns in the borrowed chair from the window to where you’re propped up in your bed surrounded by a nest of pillows sourced from his own bed and the store room stocks, “this is fantastic news, how are they faring? What happened?” You are currently too absorbed in some sort of reading material on a loaned jade abacus to give him and the call much thought.

*Unfortunately I do not have those files, but they are expected to make a full recovery. Even better, I managed to contact their family!*

“Excuse me, Xie Yue, I do believe I said that they were not in the picture. If there are any comments I can take a message for them, of course. Their contact seems to be offline these days.”

*Well I have them on the line right now! Let me patch them through–*

The pleasant pre-recorded tunes of the call being placed on hold emit from the speakers of his phone, still on a quiet enough volume for him to have to keep his device pressed between his shoulder and his ear. With a click, Jing Yuan realizes that the other end must have connected. He wonders what your family is like. You do not speak of them often, even your statement of no-contact was brief.

“Good afterno—”

*DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY INCIDENTS THIS HAS CAUSED?!*

Jing Yuan blanches, wincing as he holds the phone away from his ear.

*LAN, YOU NEVER GROW UP! YOU HAVE BEEN SPITEFUL SINCE YOUR BIRTH AND NOW YOU REFUSE TO PUT YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD IN YOUR WILL? I HAVE NEVER SEEN A MORE UNGRATEFUL, SPOILED BRAT IN MY 450 YEARS, DO YOU HEAR ME—*

Disturbingly, he can still hear the shrill voice berating him– or rather, you– as he holds the device away from his head.

*WE BATHED YOU AND CLOTHED YOU AND PUT A ROOF OVER YOUR USELESS HEAD, AND THIS IS THE THANKS WE GET FOR OUR DECADES OF BLOOD, SWEAT, AND TEARS?! WE THOUGHT THAT YOU RUNNING OFF TO JOIN THE CLOUD KNIGHTS WOULD FINALLY TURN YOU AROUND AND MAKE YOU A DECENT MEMBER OF SOCIETY BUT HERE YOU ARE THROWING YOUR LIFE AWAY AGAIN!*

Jing Yuan thinks he’s heard enough of this.

“This is Lieutenant Jing Yuan of the Luofu Cloud Knights,” he says, employing the voice he learned to mimic his Master using when she ordered fellow soldiers to clear the way for her, lest she cut them down alongside their foes, “Captain [Name] is in recovery for injuries sustained while in pursuit of the values of the Reignbow Arbiter and the greater Xianzhou Alliance. If you cannot find it within yourselves to behave respectfully towards a soldier who has sacrificed time and time again to keep the Luofu safe, I will be compelled to instate an order of restraint for the health and well being of all parties involved. Furthermore, living wills are matters of great importance given the curse of The Abundance. If anything, you should be grateful that your child has survived another day. As Captain [Name]’s commanding officer, if you should have any further comments for them, you will communicate with me. Do I make myself understood?”

There is a pause on the other end of the line that Jing Yuan scrutinizes now that the shrieking has stopped and he can hold his phone a reasonable distance from his head again. Not quite silence, given the frantic whispering on the other end, but he is also unable to interpret the focus of their urgency.

“Shall I repeat myself, or has one warning sufficed to resolve this issue?”

*... yes Lieutenant. That will be all. Farewell.*

Jing Yuan does not feel the obligation to dignify them with a response and ends the call there. He will however reach out to his own family that has centuries of connections within the Realm-Keeping Commission to see how well-standing that Xie Yue figure is. A proper agent should know better than to dig up matters that have been buried on purpose. With a groan, he plants his phone face down on his nightstand. He breathes slowly in, holds, and allows the air to escape. He repeats this process until the itching urge to scream and throw his glaive through the wall subsides. His Master says his age is far too evident in his reactions, even still.

Another stolen glance at you reveals a tiredness he has not seen in many years. You appear wilted, shoulders drawn in as if trying to hide from something, but your eyes are hardened and set upon your reading. Determined as you always have been to endure a situation that carves you up relentlessly. He cannot bear the sight of you looking like a cornered animal. Not like this, so he stands and turns away from you.

“I have a patrol scheduled. When I come back, I will have food for us to share. But if you have any requests, please send me a message.”

His response is your throaty sound of acknowledgement, after which Jing Yuan sets off (this time in his own armour which is thankfully rather clean of blood). He keeps this same routine for three months, until the threat of Abundance Abominations begins to stagnate. With the area secured again, Jing Yuan could be assured that his schedule was regular, and he happily volunteered to finally do more than just help you change your bandages each day. That at least was a familiar practice for the two of you.

An early memory springs to his mind, a simpler time during simple-seeming wars, before the two of you went your separate ways. His bank of experiences offer him the smell of medicinal cream and freshly washed linens. A younger version of him squints at the screen of a jade abacus with the first search page of results up for treating animal attack wounds. Animal would be a bit of an understatement, given that your injuries were provided free of charge by a pack of riotous abominations. You are seated on a spare towel on a hotel bed, waiting for him to finish his amateur care attempts, since the actual medics are preoccupied with the townspeople who were caught in the crossfire of the battle.

“Relax your shoulders, please?” He asks.

You acutely turn back towards him to raise a doubtful eyebrow, careful to only move your neck so as to not agitate your bloodied back that is illuminated by the early morning sunlight and dim lamps spread across the room, “I’m not sure if you’ve realized, but the windows are open and my shirt is on the bed rather than on me.”

Of course he’s noticed! How could he not!? Jing Yuan is doing everything in his power to keep the flush only at his neck level rather than break through his defense to reach his cheeks. Not that he’s distracted, no, he is committed to treating you to the best of his abilities. He has high personal standards after all. But Jing Yuan is a firm believer that he is not at fault for reacting when an objectively attractive, well-built soldier sits shirtless and pantless before him. You do not seem to have realized the gravity of your appearance on those around you, too busy grinning and pointing at him when other Cloud Knights whisper about their feelings on his own… assets… to listen to your own fans.

At the very least, Jing Yuan is validated through the rumour mill, his ears have not deceived him as his own fascination with your fangs is apparently widely appreciated by those who stand close enough to notice them. The fangs equally attract and terrify your peers, and to that Jing Yuan wants to crack a smile for that is a fear he has not only never been daunted by, and therefore never been stymied by either.

“I would offer to warm you myself, alas my hands are filled with another matter. I care deeply for your wellbeing, despite your personality.”

“Are you suggesting that you are only here for my striking good looks? Scoundrel! So much for good will, you just wanted to see me shirtless. Your poor parents raised a worse animal than mine did,” you admonish, and Jing Yuan can see the back of your head move in a slightly circular motion to illustrate your rolling eyes.

Jing Yuan allows a chuckle to pass his lips at your complaints, dabbing the last of your wounds with the medicinal cream before tenderly pressing a bandage into your skin, and his thumb running over the perimeter to ensure the adhesive sticks, “my dishonourable habits aside, your adoring nurse is done his work.”

He tosses the handfuls of bloody cotton balls into the garbage as you scoot forward and stand from your chair. The twitch of your shoulder indicates that you’re about to turn back to him, and a strangled cough lodges in his throat. Years of battle training are his saviour once again as he scrambles for your shirt and throws it with the force of a million cannons directly into your face before pivoting on his heels to avoid a direct view of your mostly unclothed body. Not that he hasn’t seen it before in more dire circumstances where showers were not a luxury available to those of you on the front line. But he was younger then and now that he’s older he has a feeling that this is different, even if one of you is wounded and the other is online searching healthcare and he senses that is not part of the usual seductive scene setting.

Your surprised yelp echoes off the walls of the hotel room, “hah- what was that for?”

“I have simply decided to change for the gentlemanly, since you were so disheartened by my leering at your vulnerable flesh. Now put your clothes back on, harlot.”

“A harlot that you were so entranced by, apparently. Shame on you!”

“If you do not have your pants back on when I turn around, my ancestors will possess me and I will start slutshaming you.”

“Let those without a glass home cast the first stone~” you sing.

Hearing the jingling of your belt buckle, his face flushes at the imagined view of you redressing, “what did you just suggest about my character?”

“I’m calling your spirit weak and your flesh hard, or did that fly over your head like that wingweaver from earlier, sir Master Strategist?”

“You animal—!”

Now Jing Yuan’s mind returns to the present where your guffaws are dreadfully absent, where he sits at the foot of your bed holding up two different smoothie options for you, “since when have you been finicky? I understand that a liquid diet is not your… ideal lunch option, but you must eat and your mouth hasn’t healed yet.”

The only part of your face that you can move freely is the upper half, and you employ its full use to death-glare him down for his goodwill. There is an aggressive scratching sound as you write down your response, occasionally flicking your eyes up to him to ensure he suffers your ire while you make your written desires known.

‘The apple one is always bitter, the wolf hook is getting old, when is the mandarin coming back?’

“The resource supervisor said there was a route closure so the IPC deliveries have been delayed, dear.”

‘Existence is hellish and tasting is a curse.’

At that, he breaks out into a bellowing laugh, “that seems a tad dramatic, does it not?”

‘I can make the IPC understand hellish, cursed existence instead.’

“Please do not do that.” Though he really misses hearing your drawl as you poke at him and tease him for the rumours he still flusters about occasionally.

A frustrated sigh falls from your nostrils and you turn back to your notepad.

‘Give me the wolf hook one.’

He smiles at your acceptance, poking a straw into the indigo packet and pressing it into your hands, “we can go for a walk around later since the rest of your wounds are healing quickly, maybe give the little ones a demonstration if we have an hour or two to spare?”

You shrug in muted interest at his offer. Jing Yuan knows you aren’t taking your mandated recovery as easily as most would, you have never enjoyed inactivity or a lack of direction and he can already tell that it's making you depressed. His enticing offers of exploration and training were less and less effective each time.

He tries a different angle instead, “I understand that the circumstances are less than ideal for our reunion, but I am pleased to see you again so soon.”

At that, your glare softens somewhat, and Jing Yuan knows he has his first foot in the door, now to get the next one through.

‘I truly intended to come home as soon as I could. I am sorry it became like this.’

“I suppose both of us achieved our goals in the grand scheme of things, I simply took the initiative to meet you this time, did I not?” Jing Yuan shares the moment to drink with you, taking a sip from his bottle to wet his throat, “though I was… quite shaken. I received a call from a Realm-Keeping Commission representative, they were contacting me preemptively should I have to collect on your assets in your will.”

A painful silence is born between the two of you, and Jing Yuan lets it mature into awkwardness and guilt.

‘I am sorry. It will not happen again. I have sent my report to the intelligence analysts, and my orders for redeployment are reassignment to recon. It will be different, I will be more cautious.’

“Thank you, that does reassure me. Master has had less time to train me now that the team is assembled. I hoped that you might provide me an opportunity to expand my insights into swordplay once you were healed?”

‘I will have to borrow a training weapon, I broke my glaive over a wingweaver’s spine.’

Your lip twitches and he would suppose that you were holding back a frown. You took pride in the maintenance of your weapons despite the wear of war that you were subjected to. You were not a fan of throwing out items that were simply aged, taking comfort in holding onto all that you could that passed through your hands. At that, inspiration strikes like a bolt of lighting to a tree in a storm. Jing Yuan thinks he may have the perfect offer to raise your spirits for the rest of your recovery.

“Yingxing is the most skilled craftsman you could request, how about you take a leave of absence and I will introduce you? Then you can obtain a new weapon and meet the rest of the team.”

With eyes now keen in interest, Jing Yuan knows he has hooked and reeled in your whole interest. He has successfully negotiated for more of your time and turned this horrific event towards a brighter conclusion. It's all he can do to pacify himself with the assurance that a crisis like this would never happen again.

You scribble on your notepad again, and this time you turn it around with crinkled eyes to project your satisfaction.

‘I would like that. Everyone keeps talking about the infamous High Cloud Quintet, I am curious.’

He can picture it now, he is sure Jingliu would be pleased to see you again, and Baiheng would welcome you with open arms. Yes, you and the High Cloud Quintet (as embarrassing as that name was to him each time he heard it) would get along perfectly.

#I'm back to reread with a less sleep deprived mind lol #I think my favorite part is although mc is wild and untamed #jing yuan is also so feral over them #plotting his way to get on keres (to get to you)#pulling strings to get you a private room (away from insulting nurses)#planning to go above and beyond to find out more about xie yue #because of the inconvenience she almost did to mc #they are so fiercely protective of each other #I love them so much

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verridaiya · 1 day

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I don’t know which author needs to hear this right now but even if you never update your wip i would never regret reading it a time of joy is never wasted

#I know writing takes an insane amount of dedication and effort #so I always enjoy what people want to share #and never expect more than that #to anyone reading: thanks for making this writing and being a part of this fandom <3

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verridaiya · 1 day

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Trivia - Jeux de Vagues

I suppose this is the somewhat ‘lore’ of the aforementioned fic. I recommend reading the fic first before diving into this as this contains spoilers :> I normally wouldn't do this but per the vote of @verridaiya I was encouraged to regardless. Something to note would be that even though this is what I had in mind while writing, readers' personal interpretations are equally valid!

“Jeux de Vagues”

I mentioned this in a reblog already but the title comes from the second movement of the symphony “La Mer” by Claude Debussy, a French composer. It literally translates to ‘Play of the waves', quite fitting for a leisurely tea-party with Neuvillette, no? I also highly recommend listening to the piece in general, it might take some patience but if you love daydreaming about watching the sea waves away from your struggles as well, this is the music for you!

“6 to 12 O'clock”

Before I tell you why I'm showing this particular line, I want you guys to take a guess on what I meant by the 'noon to evening and midnight to dawn' part :>

One of the rules of afternoon tea etiquette is that when you stir the tea, the appropriate motion to do is a 6 to 12 O'clock (so towards yourself and away from yourself) instead of going in circles. I thought just outright saying it wouldn't be fun so I instead used the four time indicators of 6 and 12 ! But of course, this could also symbolize the duration of Reader “scheming” since the beginning of the marriage.

“Fin de siècle”

Fin de siècle is a French term meaning “end of century,” a phrase which typically encompasses both the meaning of the similar English idiom “turn of the century” and also makes reference to the closing of one era and onset of another. [Taken from Wikipedia]

I kept on thinking about how to incorporate the ‘Isolation’ theme for Yandere!Neuvillette while also respecting his ideal of fairness. In one of his voice lines, he encourages to speak-up against grave injustice. With that in mind, this idea of “Keeping Reader isolated but giving them a chance to gain freedom by debating against Neuvillette once every century” was born. If Reader can successfully prove that Neuvillette is a terrible husband or their marriage is unjust, they can leave. But obviously, that's just false hope.

“Mon trésor”

Mon trésor is a gender-neutral French term of endearment which means “My treasure” in English. Huge thank you to @cerulean-castle and @iceunhie (please excuse me if I wasn't supposed to tag you two ;—;) for responding to my cry of help for this one as I was puzzled about French terms of endearment for a while. @/iceunhie gave me the link to a post of gender-neutral French terms of endearment which I found really helpful <3

As for why I chose Mon trésor as what Neuvillette calls Reader, it was due to the specific connotations between dragons and their treasures. Or in Neuvillette's case, Reader is his treasure. Hence, after sufficiently provoked, he doesn't flinch from referring to them as ‘abandoned property’.

“The words unspoken are the flower.”

Directly quoted from Neuvillette's [About : Wriothesley] voice line. According to him, it's an Inazuman proverb which means “Some words are better left unsaid.” which is Neuvillette's answer to his subconscious question of why he goes to such lengths for Reader.

Now, you can interpret this in a variety of ways and I'll say some of the “possible” ones. Perhaps he refuses to verbalize the causes because doing so would force him to face the hypocrisy and irrationality behind his actions. Perhaps he truly doesn't know, as there are many things he's on the path to understanding. Etcetera.

I might add onto this post if anyone has more questions from the fic itself. Writing Jeux de Vagues was quite difficult because I had a deadline of sorts but I was determined to finish it. Although there might be room for further improvement, I'm still happy that I pulled it of :') I hope that at least, my love for Neuvillette's character can be felt through the fic <3

#genshin impact #gah i love reading about the thought process and lore behind fics #you can tell when so much thought and effort went into a fic #I had no clue there was a proper way to stir tea #and the noon to midnight part is so clever I love it #the way it describes stirring tea but also how MC is plotting #such a good detail I missed #going to reread the fic now lol #also thanks for the tag <3 #and for writing this fun trivia tidbit :>

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