( for a moment it nearly brings xie lian to his knees, the deluge of something furious and cold and fathomless. his vision dots. even so, the hand that curled in hua cheng's sleeve only lets go in order to instead reach up to rest a gentle open palm over his chest. though hua cheng has no heartbeat of his own, he resonates with xie lian's own, and this the once adored "god" among magic users taps into now, breathing slow and even, his voice as calm and kind and quiet as can be, )
San Lang. San Lang.
It isn't a big deal. San Lang —
( despite the very caves shaking, xie lian remains even keeled, only a tinge of desperation in him because he worries for hua cheng's own safety. taking a step closer, so they are nearly flush, he raises both hands to either side of hua cheng's face, stroking his thumbs outward across his cheeks in soothing back and forth lines while also exerting a touch of force, just enough to angle hua cheng's head so that he is at least adjusted to look at xie lian even if he doesn't actually do so. )
— I don't mind it. I'm just sorry that you had to see...
( the smile does not completely fall away but the draw of xie lian's eyebrows is self punishing at best. one of his hands smooths back from hua cheng's face to curl behind one ear, not scratching but cradling. as though he is the size of his xiao hua form and not considerably bigger. )
I have not had followers or believers, in a long time. The same can be said for my...
( what does one call them? he isn't sure and trails off, sheepish..., clearing his throat as he continues a bit hurriedly as the caves shake more violently. the smell of the blood is dizzying not because xie lian isn't used to it — he is perhaps too used to it rather — but because of the feeling coming from hua cheng happening at the same time, twofold inside and out. )
San Lang...look.
( the way he touches his hand a little more firmly to hua cheng's cheek is almost the same as a kiss before he steps further into the cave, pieces of it falling now. but xie lian is not afraid. he can be harmed but not killed, and there is a purpose to his movements. he pauses only at the statue looking at it with a strange expression he himself could not even identify before reaching out one pale hand. it trembles still but is impossible to see with how the caverns quake, and when his fingertips touch the crown of his own statue, the fissures are immediate, lines of white light before it shatters.
dust to dust.
his chest hurts. he doesn't know why. how unusual. he wonders why. ah.
this is hua cheng, he realizes, and half blindly steps forward through the falling rubble, sending what he hopes is another wave of calm, of reassurance: it's alright. it really is. don't worry.
the past is the past, and the truth is much of what people blamed him for was not wrong. he knows without saying so though, that hua cheng will neither agree nor want to hear that, so he keeps it to himself as much as he can. it isn't perfect. part of hua cheng will always know part of xie lian, and the reverse is also true, no matter if they try to protect each other from themselves at any given point. but he can make it cloudy, a nebulous sense of something almost too fogged over to be identified for what it is: i failed them, and i accept the consequences of that. a thing he would not have said many, many years ago, a thing he rose against at great cost, hurt and childish and desperate.
it feels like a lifetime ago.
around them, the blood in the walls seeping through the floor is thick, stains their shoes and the edges of xie lian's plain white robe, but seems only like an added shadow on the red that dons hua cheng's form. )
no subject
San Lang. San Lang.
It isn't a big deal. San Lang —
( despite the very caves shaking, xie lian remains even keeled, only a tinge of desperation in him because he worries for hua cheng's own safety. taking a step closer, so they are nearly flush, he raises both hands to either side of hua cheng's face, stroking his thumbs outward across his cheeks in soothing back and forth lines while also exerting a touch of force, just enough to angle hua cheng's head so that he is at least adjusted to look at xie lian even if he doesn't actually do so. )
— I don't mind it. I'm just sorry that you had to see...
( the smile does not completely fall away but the draw of xie lian's eyebrows is self punishing at best. one of his hands smooths back from hua cheng's face to curl behind one ear, not scratching but cradling. as though he is the size of his xiao hua form and not considerably bigger. )
I have not had followers or believers, in a long time. The same can be said for my...
( what does one call them? he isn't sure and trails off, sheepish..., clearing his throat as he continues a bit hurriedly as the caves shake more violently. the smell of the blood is dizzying not because xie lian isn't used to it — he is perhaps too used to it rather — but because of the feeling coming from hua cheng happening at the same time, twofold inside and out. )
San Lang...look.
( the way he touches his hand a little more firmly to hua cheng's cheek is almost the same as a kiss before he steps further into the cave, pieces of it falling now. but xie lian is not afraid. he can be harmed but not killed, and there is a purpose to his movements. he pauses only at the statue looking at it with a strange expression he himself could not even identify before reaching out one pale hand. it trembles still but is impossible to see with how the caverns quake, and when his fingertips touch the crown of his own statue, the fissures are immediate, lines of white light before it shatters.
dust to dust.
his chest hurts. he doesn't know why. how unusual. he wonders why. ah.
this is hua cheng, he realizes, and half blindly steps forward through the falling rubble, sending what he hopes is another wave of calm, of reassurance: it's alright. it really is. don't worry.
the past is the past, and the truth is much of what people blamed him for was not wrong. he knows without saying so though, that hua cheng will neither agree nor want to hear that, so he keeps it to himself as much as he can. it isn't perfect. part of hua cheng will always know part of xie lian, and the reverse is also true, no matter if they try to protect each other from themselves at any given point. but he can make it cloudy, a nebulous sense of something almost too fogged over to be identified for what it is: i failed them, and i accept the consequences of that. a thing he would not have said many, many years ago, a thing he rose against at great cost, hurt and childish and desperate.
it feels like a lifetime ago.
around them, the blood in the walls seeping through the floor is thick, stains their shoes and the edges of xie lian's plain white robe, but seems only like an added shadow on the red that dons hua cheng's form. )