( the truth is that even years of being ridiculed and shamed did not prepare him for how things feel in the aftermath. hua cheng's words had come through in that fiery haze, that xie lian need not feel guilty and yet he does. his familiar depends on him, and was good enough to find him despite all odds being against such a thing, and yet...
an unfortunate herb skips the mortar and pestle stage inside of xie lian's closed hand, causes a scattering of dark smudged green on his robes that yet resiliently retain so much white even in the rain. kneeling as he is, head bowed as he sorts the other not-crushed herbs into their own folds of cloth in his basket, the energy of xie lian is a manufactured quiet. his qi unconsciously likens its shape to something as shackled and muted as his magic. the warmest thing on his blood and bone body is the feeling of the ring around his neck, the meaning of which he has not asked of yet, feeling he does not have the right.
the first day after was difficult, a whiplash of back and forth as xie lian's body deeply over sensitized, would spike in heat and stimulation at the tiniest of things: the brush of his clothing against his chest, the nearness of hua cheng's fingertips to his wrist, and so on. mortified in a way he thought he had grown well beyond, xie lian had gone to bed early that day, curled against the wall to hide himself and tried as best he could to learn how to pick-and-choose what came through their link.
he's a quick learner, always has been.
to their detriment, though he doesn't understand fully yet.
what xie lian thinks is protecting hua cheng as well as effectively denying himself (as he should, in his own head), is not that at all.
so for days the distance and careful quiet xie lian has cultivated in the red string between them has been like a constantly blooming bruise across all of hua cheng, pressed on or not depending on how bad, and perhaps worst of all for the familiar, insight into his master is exactly that blurred path: familiar colors, lights, shadows, but nothing concrete. for xie lian, he doesn't realize it either, so focused on trying to not want too much or ask for too much or indeed even let himself recognize his own very new and very distracting physical ache. on the basest level, it is like an animal who has been shown warmth after not in a long time, starving for it now that it has been reminded what it is.
but the statues are and were not ever completely out of hand. once, xie lian did think so; was incensed. these days, he accepts it and carries tendrils of guilt for not being able to do more.
perhaps with hua cheng, he errs on the side of over caution because he fears falling short for him. one should not idolize someone; it will only lead to disappointment. the gentle smile that rests in his expression fractures. ruoye unfurls and slips off his wrist to whisper around his neck before returning to his arm. it causes the bandages around xie lian's neck to part, but he doesn't notice for now, not quite daring to meet hua cheng's gaze either even as his body automatically starts to turn from where he's kneeling in the earth, drawn to him. )
This is good, San Lang. Thank you.
( why does it feel like a shortcoming even to not have something more to ask of him? xie lian's heart feels uncomfortable. heavy. tight. a bond with a familiar is not like one's own magic even if it supports that. especially with xie lian, who has none to speak of, now that his body has accepted from hua cheng already, it pleads for it but xie lian stifles it. in his mind, he has already taken too much. if the day ever comes he can repay him, properly complete their bond as master and familiar, magic like a heart revived, he will. for now, xie lian is just focused on not taking.
as the rain falls a bit harder, he finally does peer up at him, blinking through the wet, gaze catching on hua cheng's hair. automatic, he reaches out to touch some of the shining strands. )
I don't want San Lang to get sick. We should go back. The field will be here after the rain too.
( then he smiles at him, but it feels, most of all, like an apology, underneath even this, all of xie lian's soul and body on the edge of physical pain the same as his familiar for what he denies them, thinking it is the right thing to do. )
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an unfortunate herb skips the mortar and pestle stage inside of xie lian's closed hand, causes a scattering of dark smudged green on his robes that yet resiliently retain so much white even in the rain. kneeling as he is, head bowed as he sorts the other not-crushed herbs into their own folds of cloth in his basket, the energy of xie lian is a manufactured quiet. his qi unconsciously likens its shape to something as shackled and muted as his magic. the warmest thing on his blood and bone body is the feeling of the ring around his neck, the meaning of which he has not asked of yet, feeling he does not have the right.
the first day after was difficult, a whiplash of back and forth as xie lian's body deeply over sensitized, would spike in heat and stimulation at the tiniest of things: the brush of his clothing against his chest, the nearness of hua cheng's fingertips to his wrist, and so on. mortified in a way he thought he had grown well beyond, xie lian had gone to bed early that day, curled against the wall to hide himself and tried as best he could to learn how to pick-and-choose what came through their link.
he's a quick learner, always has been.
to their detriment, though he doesn't understand fully yet.
what xie lian thinks is protecting hua cheng as well as effectively denying himself (as he should, in his own head), is not that at all.
so for days the distance and careful quiet xie lian has cultivated in the red string between them has been like a constantly blooming bruise across all of hua cheng, pressed on or not depending on how bad, and perhaps worst of all for the familiar, insight into his master is exactly that blurred path: familiar colors, lights, shadows, but nothing concrete. for xie lian, he doesn't realize it either, so focused on trying to not want too much or ask for too much or indeed even let himself recognize his own very new and very distracting physical ache. on the basest level, it is like an animal who has been shown warmth after not in a long time, starving for it now that it has been reminded what it is.
but the statues are and were not ever completely out of hand. once, xie lian did think so; was incensed. these days, he accepts it and carries tendrils of guilt for not being able to do more.
perhaps with hua cheng, he errs on the side of over caution because he fears falling short for him. one should not idolize someone; it will only lead to disappointment. the gentle smile that rests in his expression fractures. ruoye unfurls and slips off his wrist to whisper around his neck before returning to his arm. it causes the bandages around xie lian's neck to part, but he doesn't notice for now, not quite daring to meet hua cheng's gaze either even as his body automatically starts to turn from where he's kneeling in the earth, drawn to him. )
This is good, San Lang. Thank you.
( why does it feel like a shortcoming even to not have something more to ask of him? xie lian's heart feels uncomfortable. heavy. tight. a bond with a familiar is not like one's own magic even if it supports that. especially with xie lian, who has none to speak of, now that his body has accepted from hua cheng already, it pleads for it but xie lian stifles it. in his mind, he has already taken too much. if the day ever comes he can repay him, properly complete their bond as master and familiar, magic like a heart revived, he will. for now, xie lian is just focused on not taking.
as the rain falls a bit harder, he finally does peer up at him, blinking through the wet, gaze catching on hua cheng's hair. automatic, he reaches out to touch some of the shining strands. )
I don't want San Lang to get sick. We should go back. The field will be here after the rain too.
( then he smiles at him, but it feels, most of all, like an apology, underneath even this, all of xie lian's soul and body on the edge of physical pain the same as his familiar for what he denies them, thinking it is the right thing to do. )