inheritedpain | IC INBOX: PRISMATICA

[ A wave of something very close to grief washes over him, and he pierces his lips tightly, face scrunching with the effort of pushing the feeling away. No. He won't cry in front of Hanguang-jun again. He's already lost what little face he had. He won't again. Never again. ]

I don't want his thanks. [ And yet, his voice is rough with the emotion he tries not to let seep into his face. He might be wearing the colours of the Jin, but his face has always born the hallmarks of the Jiang. ]

If he doesn't owe me justice, he can't owe me thanks, either. All I want--

[ But he cut himself off, clenching teeth hard. An uncle. A family. A place.

A child's wish, and he knew it.

No more losing face in front of Hanguang-jun.

Belatedly - as if he recalled his manners a century too late, he put his arms out in front of himself, clasping his hands. Bowed. Stiff. Not low enough. The duration too short. But an attempt.

He rises, and immediately ruins it.]

Just don't let it all happen again, here.

[ He says it without meaning to, and it's hardly an order. It's a plea. His parents, newly revived, alive and well, and he's as terrified of losing them as he is of getting to know them. ]

It has to be different, here. I'll make sure it's different.

[ He'll save them all from themselves, if he has to. If it means that for once in his life, he isn't shadowed solely by death and grief: child of a hundred murders. ]

[ It might take Sizhui like. Ten minutes before he realizes that there is an additional, familiar presence around the house. But not in the house, which makes him confused for a moment before he looks up.

He quietly packs up his sword and a cleaning and oiling kit in his qiankun sleeve, and leaps up to the eaves himself.

He doesn't ask, not yet, but he comes over to sit next to Jin Ling, shoulders brushing unless the other boy shifts away. ]

[ He couldn't bear to go inside, so here he is. Sitting on the roof like a thief in the night. He thinks of texting Sizhui to tell him that he's here, but there's a piece of him that's terrified the other Jin Ling is here, so he doesn't. He just sits, and tries to get his heart to stop racing in anger and grief and loneliness, gripping his sword. Fairy is down somewhere in the streets - released from her watch duty to give him a few minutes of thought to himself. She won't be far.

He's already wondering about leaving before he hears the rustle of fabric to announce Sizhui's presence, and he's not sure if he should feel ashamed or relieved. Either way, he doesn't move when the other boy sits down next to him, shoulders touching. If anything, he leans a fraction of an inch closer.

He glares down at his sword. ]

... I hate this place.

[ A muttered confession. ]

[ ... He should have also brought up chocolate. ]

Mm. It's like that, sometimes.

[ Sizhui swallows, but doesn't elaborate on the uncharacteristically morose, for him, statement.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and nods. ]

But we're stuck here, so might as well make the best of it as much as we can. Options: I go down for a moment and get us some hot chocolate and we watch the sunset and then the stars. Or we spend a little time cleaning our swords, together, and we see about things like hot chocolate or dinner later.

How about it?

[ It doesn't suit Sizhui, that moroseness. Sizhui is suited to optimism and faith and smiles. The idea that he might ever have it as bad here as Jin Ling feels like he does--

He suddenly feels a lot more vitriol to his place. Sizhui should be left alone. He gets so caught up in that sudden feeling of protectiveness that he almost skims over the rest without fully taking meaning.

Sunset, stars...

He finds his face heating up. If he didn't know better, that would sound romantic. ]

... Alright. Hot chocolate. [ He doesn't actually know what that is but it's not exactly the part that convinced him. He wants to watch the sky with Sizhui. He just can't say it out loud.

He's not sure he could face his father's sword, right now. ]

Edited 2020-02-01 22:44 (UTC)

[ It might be the leaving alone that's the problem. But that's not for here or now. He nods, with the tiniest of smiles. He can hear the uncertainty in Jin Ling's voice, and that means the whole thing will surprise him. Good. He's looking forward to that. ]

All right! I'll be back in a few minutes, don't go anywhere.

[ He reaches to squeeze Jin Ling's arm, then quickly moves to the kitchen to prepare two... Three cups of hot chocolate, leaving one for Jingyi. And he's up again with the two steaming mugs. ]

Here we go. The tea here is middling at best, but there is this. It's hot, so be careful.

[ Hot and sweet and creamy. He's spent months learning how to make this really well. ]

[ He waits, his arm still tingling in the wake of Sizhui's touch. He rubs at it, absentmindedly, with the hilt of his sword, falling into a sullen silence as he sits.

He looks up when Sizhui returns, eyes glancing between his face and the two mugs, frowning a little. He sets his sword down against his thigh so that it doesn't lie on the ground, and then he reaches up to carefully take the mug between his hands. He can feel the warmth seep in between his fingers as he lowers it, looking down. Yeah, still... still no idea what this is. But, well. He trusts Sizhui. ]

... I saw Hanguang-jun. [ He said quietly after a moment. ]

... If you're here I'm guessing not the one who I live with. [ Sizhui nods even as he settles next to Jin Ling on the roof, his free hand reaching across Jin Ling's back in a loose hug. Not that Jin Ling needs comfort. It's for Sizhui's sake, definitely. ]

He... You don't know him until later, when he had calmed down some. But he mourned senior Wei very deeply. I'm sorry for however he upset you.

[ Remember Dafan mountain and Sizhui speaking for Hanguang-jun, Jin Ling? Yeah. It's a habit. ]

[ He doesn’t pull from the touch, but he doesn’t lean into it, either. He just stares down into the cup, frowning into its depths. ]

He said I’d just gotten my first horse. I can’t have been more than five or six.

[ Even then, he’d known something was wrong with him. Even then, people spoke to him with pity, or to each other in whispers. The shadow of Wei Wuxian had never fallen far from his childhood.

He was used to Sizhui talking for Hanguang-Jun. He expected it, even. ]

... How could he upset me? [ A little crisply. As if it wasn’t obvious how upset he was. ] I wanted answers. He can’t give them, because he wasn’t there.

I know there’s his double, but... you all - it’s like you all fit from somewhere else. Things I don’t know yet or maybe things that didn’t happen to me because we come from mirrors of each other. I don’t know. Neither of them are the man I saw that night. And that’s the only man who could answer me, who wasn’t Wei Wuxian himself.

... maybe. [ Sizhui considers that for a long moment. ] Probably, even if it may have gone similarly for us.

It depends on what answers you're looking for.

[ Another long pause. Then. ]

But I'm glad that you're looking for answers, even if they might not be possible to find. I think a lot of bad things happened because a lot of people didn't think to question what 'people said' - and specifically what a couple of people kept saying, or insinuating. Not thinking to look for the facts until so much pain had been dealt that people wanted a monster and they got one.

And then everyone was hurt, and it wasn't fair. So much was lost. Irrecoverable.

So looking for answers...

That's a good thing.

[ He doesn’t know what to say to that - to the uncomfortable truth of Sizhui musing aloud things he’s been wondering.

He just flares down into his mug as if it might offer solace. ]

... Did you look for any?

I just ... I guess I assumed that whatever Hanguang-Jun did, you’d be fine with it. What could you need to know?

Did I...

[ Sizhui blinks. Then, for the first time tonight, he smiles, though it is small and almost sad. ]

I think my questions were different, but I did seek out answers. And I did find them, though they have made my life complicated, too. Or will, at home, at the very least. It...

I'll tell you when you get curious about it, all right? Now drink that. It's cold enough that it won't be hot chocolate much longer.

[ And Sizhui tips his own mug up, his enjoyment of the rich flavor not hidden at all. ]

Your life is great, what could make it more complicated?

[ Muttered a little, that thread of envy impossible to deny. ]

What do you mean, when I get curious? I’m curious now! Why wouldn’t I want to know? If it’s something important to you, Sizhui, of course I want to know.

[ He glanced over at Sizhui taking a drink, but got a little distracted by the way his lips touched the brim of the mug and quickly looked away again. Right. Drink it yourself, Jin Ling.

He took a careful sniff of the liquid, and then a careful sip - eyes widening at the taste. He took a deeper gulp despite the fact it was still a little hot, and then pulled the mug away to look at it with surprise. ]

This is really good!

[... apparently he’d had doubts going in. Sorry Sizhui. But there’s also a trace of foam running along his upper lip, now. ]

[ Considering this place, Sizhui doesn't and wouldn't hold it against Jin Ling that he questioned it. But at the reaction, Sizhui just breaks into a proper smile. ]

Isn't it? In this place, one really doesn't know what to expect. But this is one of the nicer things. Hot chocolate. I'll show you how to make it from packets they sell easily available, later.

[ He lets them both enjoy the chocolate for a bit, before he takes a deep breath, looking up at the sky. ]

I... think you have probably guessed that though Hanguang-Jun raised me, he's not... actually the man who sired me. He... when he took me in, I was ill, and didn't remember anything from before that until right before I came to this world. It...

Well, before I was Lan Yuan, I was Wen Yuan. I don't think many will take kindly to realizing there is a survivor of the clan still around.

[ He speaks slowly, quietly. He's not exactly beamingly proud of his proper clan, though he knows his immediate branch was... different. And he also knows that Jin Ling is already having a hard night.

But to be asked directly and evade it, that would be... not that great. ]

I was one of the Wens that the Yiling Patriarch took in at the Burial mound. When they came after what was left of the Yiling Patriarch, somebody hid me inside a hollow tree, and I'm only alive because Hanguang-Jun found me there.

So what he does... I sometimes will not question it, because I would not exist without him. But also... there are things that people have said about him, and about others which I know are not true, because I remember.

It's different questions.

I'm sorry.

[ Jin Ling gets very still and quiet - uncharacteristicly - and stares into his half finished cup rather than look at Sizhui. He should be mad. He should be really mad, he thinks. But maybe because of that conversation with Hanguang-Jun, he finds he just feels empty instead. His heart has already been twisted through every feeling it could feel, today. He’s so tired.

Wen.

Of course Sizhui is a Wen.

Why couldn’t his life be simple, for once? It threw all his feelings that he’d been battling with into a sharp, jagged contrast: the kiss, Wen Ning, the ghost general, Wen Qing—

She had admonished him, for not looking at people beyond their family name, and here he was, wishing desperately that Sizhui was kidding, because he didn’t want to attach all the feelings that came with that family to the other boy. He couldn’t.

When the tear rolled down his cheek it actually surprised him - he was so sure he had none left. He quickly scrubbed it away. ]

And he just never told you?

[ Rough. Low. The only question he currently trusted himself with. ]

[ ... he's sorry. He's so sorry. Not because his entire family is gone - he sincerely doubts anyone would give him sympathy for that, other than Wen Ning or Wen Qing - but because he's hurting Jin Ling, and he never wanted to hurt him. His legs fold until his knees are under his chin, but he doesn't try to reach for the comfort of hugging them to his chest. ]

I didn't remember at all. I... don't know if I'd have survived, if he'd told me and I'd blurted it out, anyway.

[ He presses his lips closed against the remainder of that thought. Perhaps that would have been easier for people.

It wouldn't have been easier for Hanguang-jun. It wouldn't have been easier for Zewu-jun, either, he knows.

And... not for Senior Wei. ]

So yeah. I was looking for answers, too.

[ He said nothing for a long minute and then angrily scrubbed at his eyes again. ]

They should have told you. At least once you were old enough to understand.

I’m sick— I’m sick of how everyone keeps lying, or- or withholding the truth. As if that ever makes anything better! I’m sick of being told that I have to, to protect the happiness of someone who never protected mine!

[ His fingers clenched sharply. ]

But you’re not a Wen. You didn’t burn lotus pier, you didn’t fight in the sun shot campaign, and you didn’t kill my parents. Whatever their name means, it doesn’t mean you.

You- I- it doesn’t matter! You’re still Lan Sizhui!

[ It cannot be different.

Wei Wuxian's actions have rippled through the universe of their entwined fates, writing out start and end points that cannot be grasped, let alone avoided. Yanli of the Jiang might not die of his creation's hand, but she will still, somehow, be lost to him. There is no hope for the Jin. Tragedy rounds its own circle.

But this is not talk for a child who is slow to negotiate the basics of diplomacy across multiple timelines. They are not even words that Wangji speaks to his own face in the mirror.

So, he rises, rights himself, sheds layers of raw honesty, only to become the statue once more, the watcher. ]

Until we meet again.

[ Until Wangji fails in his duties, and the boy-king of the Jin crosses paths with Wei Ying. He will want for a master, he supposes — a keeper of his chain. Jiang Cheng has been too long bereft of duty here. ]

[ He takes it as the dismissal that it is, and gives another short stiff bow before turning without a word, clenching one fist behind him and the other around his sword.

Fairy lingers for a moment, black eyes staring up at white-cast stone, tilting her head as she considers. She wags her tail - once, twice - and then turns to follow her lost master, bereft of a port he can safely call home.

Things have to be different here. It is a belief struck so firmly in him that it will not waver. If all the respected seniors and masters of his past have failed time and time again to avert the tragedy, it doesn't matter. He will not fail. He will stop Wei Ying from recommitting his crimes and he will stop Wen Ning from becoming the knife and he will stop his parents from ever leaving him again.

Hubris and folly and youth wrapped in one, but he is as determined as he is heart broken.

And then he is gone. ]

[ There is silence for long, long moments yet. Then Sizhui makes a small sound that's. Not quite a sob, but very odd anyway, sets his cup down, and shifts to throw his arms around Jin Ling. Loosely, in case the hug is not welcome, but ... yes, that is definitely a hug, awkward and a little shaky. ]

Yes. [ Barely more than a breath. ] I am Lan Sizhui. I choose to be Lan Sizhui. Not in the least because this way I can stand by your side. Thank you for seeing that I am that, too.

[ ... Yeah, Sizhui doesn't get embarrassed easily. And, for once, he does need the physical contact. To reassure him that Jin Ling's choice is not just his dream, but, in fact, reality. ]

[ He wasn't expecting it, and he froze up, accidentally spilling a little of the hot chocolate onto his lap, but at least it wasn't scalding anymore. His face was warm again - maybe it was just perpetually warm in this forsaken place - and he carefully put his mug down before raising his hands to rest on Sizhui's arms, letting the boy hold him and... sort of returning it. He didn't really know how to do more than that. Not without embarrassing them both. ]

Don't be stupid. [ A little shaky, trying and failing to pretend he wasn't effected by the display of emotion. ]

Of course I see that. I've known you this long, haven't I? We've been through everything together. If I couldn't see that I would have to be blind!

Who other than a Lan would look at Hanguang-jun the way you and Jingyi do?

[ He faltered, swallowing, unable to quite ignore the stand by your side part, despite how it made his insides twist in a way he couldn't tell if it felt good or terrible. ]

... Who do we have if we haven't got each other? [ The question came out a little rougher, a little more honest, than he meant it to. ] Of course I'm standing with you, Sizhui, don't be stupid. If anyone gives you grief about where you come from, you just come to me and we'll make sure they remember their manners.

I'm sorry. [ Whispered, for the spilled drink, but he doesn't move away, not quite yet. He'll bring him down for something clean to wear until a cycle of laundry runs in a bit. He's just.

For once where Jin Ling can see it, it's Sizhui who is overwhelmed by emotions.

After a moment, he makes a sound that's halfway between a laugh and a sob, and nods, still against Jin Ling. ]

I'll remember. And you know - you know I'm here, too, right? It's... it's how I want it to be. [ He takes a few breaths to try to calm himself, but they are shaking. ]

The branch of the family that I came from. They were healers. They - didn't attack anyone. Well, it got complicated because of, of Mr. Wen, but...

I don't want to hurt anyone. I won't.

You're not going to hurt anyone. [ Automatic, almost defensive - as if someone else had claimed Sizhui could possibly be a danger to anyone, and not Sizhui himself.

He raised his hand to roughly put it over Sizhui's as it was wrapped around him, threading his fingers between the other boy's. ]

You are here. This is you.

You're not going to hurt anyone! And even if something happened, I'll be right here to pull you back, okay? I'm not going to let you be someone you never wanted to be.

Jiang Cheng runs, desperate, through the streets.

His hand throbs, skin raw where Zidian was torn from his grasp, muscles aching and limbs trembling from burning through too much Chroma too fast with those brutal, merciless lashes from his mother's whip. He's never used Zidian at full power before, rarely found reason to use it at all in the months past. Sandu has found far more use, Wen blood belonging soaked into the earth⁠—

Wen Qing's calm visage fills his mind, her steady resolve the counterpoint to all that he is and ever will be. He stumbles, crashes to his knees, drags himself up still reeling.

He can still feel Zidian thrumming in his hand, sees it crack across his sister, his sister's back. Jin Ling's accusations ring through his mind, the words echo through his thoughts, they go on and on and on. He feels the truth of them now, the accusations cutting into him like blades, piercing him through, and through, and through.

How can he not kill Wei Wuxian when his own sister, his blood sister, second mother in his heart, suffers this way at his hand? Just one moment of grief, of hate, of carelessness and he⁠— He⁠—

He doesn't look where he's going, doesn't see Jin Ling in the path until he's within arm's reach. He could try to stop, but he doesn't, is too out of sorts, too wrong in his own skin, laid low, laid bare, Zidian's absence tearing open the wound of his mother's loss bloody.

It's supposed to protect him. It's supposed to protect him. Wei Wuxian promised to protect them.

He stumbles into Jin Ling, grips him like a drowning man to anything that might keep him from being dragged under. Words won't come, only his choked, ragged sobs. He falls to his knees, explaining nothing, white-knuckled grip tangled in the finery of Jin Ling's robes.

He had opened his lips to greet his uncle as soon as he saw his familiar outline, but the word died on his tongue as soon as he caught tight of his face.

Jin Ling caught him, gaping in confusion and worry and trying to get him to stand upright.

"Uncle?? Uncle, what's wrong? Who hurt you??"

IC INBOX: PRISMATICA

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