( xie lian still doesn't actually realize what he's done, that rather than taking in an ordinary stray (one others would have shunned religiously due to basic superstitions), the black cat — xiao hua — is in fact his familiar. to say nothing of xie lian's lineage of magic users and what he "should" have done or had. in fact, he tries to adamantly not to think about it sometimes that he has a hard time remembering the details, even if it wasn't all that long ago.
this is a small town. a general store. a flower shop. a grocer. xie lian had wandered here...when? a little after he first saw xiao hua, but before he took him in. it's a much smaller place than the massive city he was born in, but somehow over the moons, he's become more at home here than he's felt in quite a while. xiao hua helped with that. and though he's "just a cat", there's nothing "just" or "only" about another living being, about a part of your life that makes you smile or feel strangely comforted even if you do not particularly feel you deserve it.
what a simple and bone deep kindness it has been in xie lian's life these days and nights, to curl up with xiao hua who lets him do such silly things as tie a red string around his paw and tell him nonsense secrets that are almost, almost wishes: "xiao hua. look. now, no matter what, i can find you." then xie lian had blushed under that odd blue light of the moon before eclipse, laughed at himself and murmured, "well, as long as you want to..." and like that he'd fallen asleep, one pale hand curled against xiao hua's soft belly.
the magic in xie lian's family has had strong witches before, but xie lian had left even those in the dust. welcomed into another coven known as "immortals", xie lian had left his own blood at 17, only to return when he had word of things falling apart. he hadn't been able to help them and indeed is the reason for the deaths of many. even in modern times, a villain is a villain and a poison is a poison. one drinks water. one burns witches — those who aren't useful anyway, those damned by fortune. so on. so forth.
around xie lian's wrist and ankle: a shackle. if one catches a glimpse, it is easy to write them off as poor decisions of youth, tattoos after one too many drinks (not true, as xie lian's magic cultivation roots in abstinence from such things). his magic is, these days, quite limited and his luck hysterically bad. but the story no one knows other than xie lian himself is that he asked for these. but would it ever be enough to make up for...?
such is the contortion of xie lian's nightmares, moments of painful enclosure or fire and smoke, or a white strip of fabric innocuous to anyone else, the self-same one that lives in waking life wrapped around xie lian's wrist (usually.) since inviting xiao hua in, he has noticed the nightmares are less, but perhaps the eclipse strengthens more than one thing. those nightmares recede though in tandem with "xiao hua" becoming himself, becoming hua cheng even as xie lian still remains entangled in sleep — sleep that does not appear troubled at all, because xie lian taught himself years ago to not make a fuss, awake or not. still, it might be more obvious in his spirit, how it settles in alignment with hua cheng settling into his proper form, like a deep breath taken after too long of being deprived.
it also wakes xie lian up.
he blinks, eyes heavy, woken in the midst of things, and instinctively spreads his fingers, pushes his palm forward to search blearily for xiao hua...
...???
....??!!?!?
what he touches is not the soft silky black fur of xiao hua but something firm, and warm and...and...? as xie lian's vision finally focuses he decides must not be awake after all, follows the too handsome man's face down his bare chest ???? to his stomach where ---
xie lian snatches his hand back buries his face in his hands, then remembers how that hand was touching a second ago and unburies his face, scrambling backwards and utterly forgetting how perfect sized though this bed has been for him and a small black cat...well...
he feels his balance go off kilter and both arms flail wildly even as he shoots another confused, but very very awake look at...
no subject
this is a small town. a general store. a flower shop. a grocer. xie lian had wandered here...when? a little after he first saw xiao hua, but before he took him in. it's a much smaller place than the massive city he was born in, but somehow over the moons, he's become more at home here than he's felt in quite a while. xiao hua helped with that. and though he's "just a cat", there's nothing "just" or "only" about another living being, about a part of your life that makes you smile or feel strangely comforted even if you do not particularly feel you deserve it.
what a simple and bone deep kindness it has been in xie lian's life these days and nights, to curl up with xiao hua who lets him do such silly things as tie a red string around his paw and tell him nonsense secrets that are almost, almost wishes: "xiao hua. look. now, no matter what, i can find you." then xie lian had blushed under that odd blue light of the moon before eclipse, laughed at himself and murmured, "well, as long as you want to..." and like that he'd fallen asleep, one pale hand curled against xiao hua's soft belly.
the magic in xie lian's family has had strong witches before, but xie lian had left even those in the dust. welcomed into another coven known as "immortals", xie lian had left his own blood at 17, only to return when he had word of things falling apart. he hadn't been able to help them and indeed is the reason for the deaths of many. even in modern times, a villain is a villain and a poison is a poison. one drinks water. one burns witches — those who aren't useful anyway, those damned by fortune. so on. so forth.
around xie lian's wrist and ankle: a shackle. if one catches a glimpse, it is easy to write them off as poor decisions of youth, tattoos after one too many drinks (not true, as xie lian's magic cultivation roots in abstinence from such things). his magic is, these days, quite limited and his luck hysterically bad. but the story no one knows other than xie lian himself is that he asked for these. but would it ever be enough to make up for...?
such is the contortion of xie lian's nightmares, moments of painful enclosure or fire and smoke, or a white strip of fabric innocuous to anyone else, the self-same one that lives in waking life wrapped around xie lian's wrist (usually.) since inviting xiao hua in, he has noticed the nightmares are less, but perhaps the eclipse strengthens more than one thing. those nightmares recede though in tandem with "xiao hua" becoming himself, becoming hua cheng even as xie lian still remains entangled in sleep — sleep that does not appear troubled at all, because xie lian taught himself years ago to not make a fuss, awake or not. still, it might be more obvious in his spirit, how it settles in alignment with hua cheng settling into his proper form, like a deep breath taken after too long of being deprived.
it also wakes xie lian up.
he blinks, eyes heavy, woken in the midst of things, and instinctively spreads his fingers, pushes his palm forward to search blearily for xiao hua...
...???
....??!!?!?
what he touches is not the soft silky black fur of xiao hua but something firm, and warm and...and...? as xie lian's vision finally focuses he decides must not be awake after all, follows the too handsome man's face down his bare chest ???? to his stomach where ---
xie lian snatches his hand back buries his face in his hands, then remembers how that hand was touching a second ago and unburies his face, scrambling backwards and utterly forgetting how perfect sized though this bed has been for him and a small black cat...well...
he feels his balance go off kilter and both arms flail wildly even as he shoots another confused, but very very awake look at...
who on earth is this? )