Jin “I’m not tsundere, you're tsundere!!” Ling (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inheritedpain) wrote2020-01-18 01:48 am
inheritedpain) wrote2020-01-18 01:48 am
IC INBOX: PRISMATICA
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Jin Ling ⬤ The Untamed
residential district ⬤ couch surfing hobo
moonblessing ⬤ iris
residential district ⬤ couch surfing hobo
moonblessing ⬤ iris
no subject
He keeps the bow longer than a child deserves, less than a future scion has inherited with his name claim. Tension rides his shoulders, eats at his ribs. A small eternity later, when the back of his mouth tastes of iron and sea salt, of blood from where he's hooked the tender inside of his own cheek — he rises.
Among them two, it is not Lin Jing who is found wanting. Wangji will not presume to forget that much. ]
Gratitude.
[ For Jin Ling's patience, if not his kindness or his foresight. Each one of of Wei Wuxian's borrowed days is made more precious by the confusion and misunderstandings that broker them. Lan Wangji will not question the mercy that bides them more of that frail time. ]
He will not know to thank you. I do it on his behalf.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]