[ mm. the more serious change in topic is clear, and it flickers across his expression, just briefly.
shinobu had said the same thing to him, that he was there for flayn when she needed him the most. he hadn't even begun to realize the depths of that, until everything came to light, but even then... he left her when she needed him, too. though he doesn't regret the circumstances of his death all that much, yin yu regretted how much he must have hurt her, leaving her behind. it was a small mercy he didn't awaken until after the trial was completed (and after the execution, too) but watching her suffer the week after was brutal, too. he wasn't there.
for a moment, he searches her face, hands still gently cupping her jaw, before he pulls away, and glances back. he had always slept on the bottom bunk, and it seems it had gone untouched since his death, so. ] ...Let's sit down.
[ a quiet suggestion, as he waits for her to agree, and stays close by if they move. he's tall enough that he'll probably have to sit on the floor instead of the bed so he doesn't smack his head into something, but he doesn't want to be far from her for this conversation, either, so. (or at all, really, but that's a whole other story.)
he does end up folding down to sit on the floor instead of on the bed, leaning back against it. the wings make it a little awkward, and he has to stretch them out so they don't smash up against the frame of the bunk bed, but flayn is welcome to sit wherever she likes.
it's only when they're both sitting and comfortable, wherever that might be, that he speaks to her thanks properly. ] ...I wish that I had been able to do more for you, but I'm glad I was able to help at least a little. You were unable to speak about it all, weren't you...?
[predictably, perhaps, she doesn't take the bed. instead, she settles herself on the ground, as close to yin yu's side as their wings will allow. for the first time, she finds herself wishing the wings were gone - she doesn't particularly dislike them, but she's not pleased with them getting in the way of getting close to him.]
No matter how I tried, I was unable to say a word. [...] And I did try.
[there are, perhaps, some who will think that she did not try hard enough - but the fact is, coming outright and saying anything about it was simply impossible. even trying to hint, if it was obvious enough, was impossible.]
I never realized how important it was to be able to speak freely, before this. Certainly, there were things that I have chosen not to say, in the past... [her, uh, her whole "i'm an immortal dragon" thing being one of them] ...but there was never anything preventing me from speaking them, should I have chosen to.
[ maybe predictable to her, but for him, it's a surprise. it shouldn't be--but as always flayn's simple gestures of affection are still novel and probably will be until the end of time. as ever, he tries to adjust for her comfort, carefully lifting one of those brightly feathered wings up so it spills onto the bed and away from flayn, so she can tuck closer to him, if she wants to.
it resonates with him, and yin yu sets his hand down between them, spreading his fingers if she'd like to take it. the natural easiness of such a gesture makes it all the more comforting, maybe for both of them. he's come to rely on this gesture, too.
take a deep breath. in, out, a heart as still as water. he'd slowly stopped hiding what he did on the island, starting to admit to it more often after his death, but there was one person who he needlessly kept it secret from. he had been terrified, that flayn would hate him if he knew, that she'd think differently of him, because he knows that he's not a good person, that he's a liar and a coward, but in the end, it had turned out that they just had something else in common. (only flayn's -- hers was so much worse, so much crueler.) the only block that keeps him from talking is the one he'd put there himself, now. ]
...It was the same for me. [ his hand squeezes, gently, in hers. empathy, sorrow. guilt. ] I did not doubt that you would have told, were you able to. Not for a moment.
[as ever, she doesn't hesitate to take his hand, or to intertwine their fingers. holding onto yin yu is as natural to her as breathing.]
...it must have been terrifying.
[on the island, she means. she squeezes his hand back.]
To become aware of it, and to have not been able to stop it...
[not being able to speak of what she'd been doing. but at least she had been in full control of her own actions the whole time. to not be able to resist the compulsion to kill, and then to not even be able to say i didn't want to do it, but i did afterwards... that's worse, she thinks.]
I am so sorry that you had to go through something like that.
...It's alright. [ he wishes, for her sake, that he had been chosen again.
if there had been a way to change their fates - to make it that he could convince veronica to choose him - he would have done it in a heartbeat. every moment of pain and guilt he's felt since killing wen ning was nothing in the face of what flayn had to suffer. the choices she was forced to make, the choices that were stolen from her.
his thumb strokes slowly over the top of her hand, as he talks, letting it be grounding. they're here. after everything that happened, the two of them are here. alive. healed. together.
here. ]
...I am sorry that I couldn't tell you before. Once we left, I was able to talk about it, but I didn't want you to think - [ ...mn.
he gives her hand another squeeze, small. flayn means the world to him, more than he can properly say in words. the thought of losing this warmth and affection was terrifying, and he'd been too afraid to say anything.
...but flayn had already seen his worst, and accepted it. why wouldn't she have accepted this, too? he's realizing it now, and his conversation with yasusada floats unbidden into his head. we're both idiots. they really, really were, but he was by far the worse offender.
his expression twists, just a little bitter. the self loathing slips in, quiet, dark, wrapping around him like a vice, and he speaks quietly, looking down at the ground. ] More than anything, I am sorry that you had to, and I am sorry that I couldn't see the hints you were leaving sooner. I wrote my card to you on Saturday; that was when I knew. It... was obvious that you had participated on Saturday. [ a pause. quietly. ] ...at least it was, to me.
[ it shifts, from self deprecation to a sorrow. his other hand comes over too, to gently cover theirs. an anchor to reality, maybe, a want to apologize. to protect. ]
...But it is shameful, that I didn't, and that I wasn't paying attention enough to see how much pain you were in. I am so sorry, Flayn.
[is it alright? can it ever be alright, really? flayn knows firsthand that yin yu carries a lot of guilt with him, by default - but she doesn't think he should have to carry the guilt of what happened on the island with him.
that hadn't been something he'd chosen.
(it's so easy, to think that when it comes to him, but it's impossible for her to think it about herself.)
her hold on his hand tightens as he cuts himself off, and impulsively, she pulls his hand up so that she can press a very soft kiss to his knuckles. it's easier for her to understand this, at least. i didn't want you to think--
well, she had been terrified of what he would think of her, when he figured out what she was doing here. when, because there had never been any doubt in her mind that he would have, eventually. she was so sure that it was only ever going to be a matter of time, until he figured out that she wasn't the person he thought she was at all.
they're both idiots.]
I would never hold that against you.
[she couldn't hold it against him. not what he did on the island against his will, and not his choice to keep the truth from her, either.
...she shakes her head as he continues.]
I... no. You do not need to apologize to me for that. I think...
[she looks down at the ground.]
Whatever it is that forced me to hold my tongue... if anything I was saying or doing was obvious enough for someone to figure me out easily, I would not have been able to say or do any of it. That is not anyone's failing but mine for not figuring out some way around it.
[her hold on his hand tightens, just a little.]
And besides, I... when we were together, when I was with you, it hurt less. You made everything feel... better.
I would never hold this against you, either--any of it. I would never have thought any less of you. [ a pause. ] But, I know from experience that even if I can tell you that, it is not always so reassuring.
[ doubt and insecurity are a plague. the kind words of others can only do so much; it is up to the person experiencing them to find that light and find the way forward. yin yu has never found it. it is only recently that it's started to appear at the end of his self-created tunnel.
he strokes his thumb against her hand, and looks away, seeming to tense for a moment. it's always like this, trying to talk about it - trying to talk about something yin yu never responded to, even when she tried to talk to him. ] ...You have seen the worst of me. [ he says, finally, his tone laced with emotion. something heavy, something vulnerable, something that still hurts. talking about his banishment feels impossible.
but that day, when his memories were ripped out of his head and displayed to anyone else, meant more to him than anything. more than he could ever possibly say. it lodges in his throat, even now, for a moment thick with held back emotion, with the overwhelming vastness of what that day had meant. ] And you stayed. I ran from you that day because the idea of you seeing me, instead of the person that you seemed to think I was, terrified me more than any demon I have ever faced. I couldn't bear to see the expression on your face when it was over, because I didn't want to lose you. [ a brief, heavy pause. ] But you stayed.
...If I were to think cruelly of you, when you have seen the things that I have done, I would be a hypocrite at the best, and a monster, at the worst.
[ the kiss to his knuckles is soft and makes a part of him ache with the familiarity of flayn's kindness. he'd told beau earlier in the evening that it was hard to walk the path of forgiving yourself from experience; it is only extremely, extremely recently that he has even begun to stumble that way. for wen ning, maybe, but quan yizhen will be impossible, will maybe take him centuries longer to even stand in the same room as him without wanting to run in the opposite direction.
he's empathetic to how she must be feeling right now. and the fact that flayn shows him so much kindness, even still, when she must suffer so much - it's just a reminder of how much yin yu loves her, and the heart of hers. doesn't she deserve forgiveness? doesn't she deserve kindness? if flayn won't give it to herself, maybe he can try and give it to her, too?
he looks down when she looks up, brows knitted together, concern and sorrow all over his face. but i left you, he thinks, as she finishes, feeling his stomach lurch unhappily with the same darkness that's followed him his whole life. the depths of his self hatred are deeper than black water's seas, wider than the seas of lava in mt. tonglu. yin yu is always like that. capable to be effective for a little while, but temporary. always to fade away when the moment really counts. dianxia would have stopped death itself. yizhen would have destroyed it with his bare fists.
all he could do was die, and try to send letters from the other side in hopes flayn could make it another day. ]
...I'm glad I could help you, at least a little. [ yin yu says quietly. but he couldn't help enough. after all, he left. at the worst possible time, he left. i could have kept you safer. i could have done more. yin yu returns the way her grip tightens a little further, quietly trying to be reassuring in the only ways he knows how. ] You have always done the same, for me.
It was not "a little". It was a lot. If not for you, I...
[Well.
It would have been bad. Flayn has made many bonds that she cherishes, here, but so many of them have been... perhaps not broken, but damaged, by the things she had no choice but to do. She'd withdrawn from people when she would otherwise have leaned on them, because it felt wrong to make them comfort her.
But from the start, Yin Yu had told her that it helped, having her near. Being able to do something for him, however little, had allowed her to stay long enough for him to do something for her, too.
She isn't sure how to put that into words.]
Being able to see you, that time... the flowers you sent, and the letters you wrote me. It - they gave me strength.
[...]
You gave me the strength I needed, to keep going. Even when we were apart, even when you must have been suffering, you were still looking out for me. I do not know how to tell you how much that meant to me.
[ "how much that meant to me." it's hard to believe that anything he's done has ever been enough, but, hearing it from flayn floods him with warmth. there are so few people he's ever allowed himself to be vulnerable around, but she is an exception, to so many things. she is an exception to the emotional walls he's built up around himself for the past few centuries. with patient, gentle hands, flayn pulled them down, and stepped in somewhere where yin yu really needed it the most.
he looks down at her properly, takes the moment for what it is. the fact that they're even sitting like this feels like a miracle. no more glitches, no separation of a screen or a veil between the dead and the living. no charades, or written letters: they're together, both living. who knows what that thing will do tomorrow - it may sooner decide to kill them all. but for right now, "keep going" meant "we made it".
he won't argue the point. if flayn says it helped her, then (even if it wasn't enough) it helped. ] I tried to reach out to you how I could.
[ there's a brief pause, and he huffs, a quiet, not quite laugh. ironic, more than anything. ] ...Truthfully, I thought I would be the reason you were caught, last week. I had sent those along with young master Junpei before anything began, and I had no idea what had been done. Between the letter, and the flowers...
[ he'd noticed her covering the flower meanings in the feed of the trial. at that time, he thought because they are private - and, really, the part of him that is a baby was grateful - but as things began to unfold, it really may have done her in. ]
[to receive a bundle of flowers, and tea? when there was a murder that had involved flowers and tea, that they were trying to solve? junpei had said they'd been chosen for them the day before, but -
it could have been a clue. she'd understood that they were from yin yu, and that he had likely been trying to send a message to her with the meaning of the flowers, but if it had led to people suspecting her...
she'd said it, when she'd received it.
thank you.]
I was hoping that they would. Dimitri had... he agreed to help us, but he did not seem to like the idea of someone else dying for what we did, either. I wanted to be caught.
[...]
...and I wanted to see you again. I wanted to see the both of you again so badly.
[ he's had time to deal with the aftermath of the final trial that they had, but it's still a pretty fresh, vulnerable memory. watching flayn suffer -- knowing what she had done, and knowing no one would grant her the kindness of catching her...
the last thing she says confirms exactly what he'd thought. he hadn't figured out the 'role' until afterwards, but yin yu had said it to guy. she will be devastated. his initial thought was that flayn had gone to the same dark place that he had, so many years ago. even if things were different, even if they were not in all technicalities 'dead', it still - it aches to hear her confirm what he knew to be true. that she would rather have been dead.
his hand squeezes hers, and yin yu shifts, leaning against her a little more solidly. the benefit of the bizarre effect this week is maybe that there is an extra limb, because he can drape the wing that's half sprawled on the bed around her, instead, as if he could possibly do anything to comfort it, even a week later. yin yu knows what it's like, better than anyone, to want to be dead. ]
I'm so sorry. [ he says again, because words fail him for a moment, to say anything else. sorry is the only thing that seems to encompass it all: sorry that she had to do this. sorry that she had to feel that way. sorry that he left her behind, that they left her behind. that they failed her, as a whole. someone who had been so kind to him, so good to him, someone who has more or less changed yin yu's life, suffering the same kind of agony he had when chengzhu found him and asked, do you want to live? ]
...I didn't want to be right. [ about any of this. ] Sometimes continuing to live is the worst punishment you can ask for.
[ and doesn't he know it? doesn't he understand how hard it is to survive with guilt and suffering on your shoulders? it's been his entire life. he exhales. ] It's over, now, but... [ but it's not. he knows that, too. every waking and living moment will be guilt, recovery, steps forward, steps back.
yin yu squeezes her hand again, the empathy and sorrow a blanket, heart too big, hurting for flayn. ] ...I'm not going anywhere. [ not again. he will not leave her until this is over, and even then -- even then, he's thinking of ways to help. his dice, that will have to do. tomorrow. ]
...it would be one thing, to live as punishment, if innocent people were not dying, but...
[to be made to live, at the expense of someone else's life? it's senseless, she thinks. she won't begrudge anyone who wants her to live with the weight of what she's done, who thinks that's fitting, now that it's all over, and if all goes well tomorrow, no one else will need to lose their life.
but she can't fathom why anyone would have wanted her to live while someone else still needed to die, during the course of the game. she will never understand why anyone would have thought it was better not to vote for her, who so clearly had a hand in the death of someone beloved, and to vote for someone else instead.
in that case, it isn't just her being punished. it's also the other person who's losing their life, for no real reason. ookurikara should never have received the majority vote, and dick should never have been killed in the ring. not when there had been people who had been willing to die so that neither of them would have had to.
she leans into him, holding tightly to his hand as his wing settles around her. it's a difficult subject to talk about. she's had time to think about it - perhaps too much. she's thought about it so much that it feels as though she's simply thought in circles.]
I am glad you are here.
[her voice sounds a little raw, and if there are tears forming at the corners of her eyes, well -
hopefully, he won't see them. she doesn't particularly want him to see her cry. not now, when she just wants to be happy that he's back, that they have a chance for things to turn out well.
[ the first time that yin yu saw flayn cry, it made him panic. he's seen ghosts cry, little children and soldiers and wives alike, all crying over anything and everything, but it wasn't the same. maybe it was because even from the island, he had come to see flayn as someone so good, and so kind, that it was hard to watch her be upset. even then, without really understanding why, he'd reacted, reaching up to wipe her tears.
now, six weeks later, it makes a little more sense. he'd come to care for her even then, because she always, always cared for him. flayn always saw him, always sought him out, and then she was gone.
hearing her voice waver solidifies that same feeling, replaces the panic with care. he still doesn't know how to make it stop, but he's been trying, since day one, to make these awful games a little easier. to protect that kindness that meant so much to him, to keep that little, warm light that he'd needed so badly flickering onwards for herself, for everyone in the camp. there were so few things he could do, there was nothing she could say, but right now i'm glad you are here means the world.
me too, he can't say. the words get caught in his throat. he's never been the best at expressing himself when it was necessary or otherwise, but as flayn leans in, he pulls her just that little bit closer, and covers their joined hands gently with his own. yin yu has hands suiting of his height, long, delicate fingers, and he encloses hers between his, like maybe he can hold her enough to try and take some of that suffering away.
i will not let you slip away again. he won't. not even death could keep him from flayn's side, for that long. the true duty of a retainer is to return to the side of their lord or lady, but more than that, yin yu had a promise to keep.
it's a long moment where he doesn't talk, just squeezes her hand, holds her close. flayn has been his anchor to reality more than once, too, and he wants to make sure he returns the favor. eventually, yin yu tips to rest his cheek against the top of her head, and says, quietly: ] We're here.
[ you and i both. we're here. it's over, for the most part. it's over.
despite everything, they survived.
he can tell flayn doesn't want to cry. she is that way; when she was upset, how few people actually saw her? who could actually tell the reasons why she was hurting so badly? how few people did flayn show herself to, really? yin yu had wondered it in the graveyard; was he one of the only ones who really knew her, at all?
so, he will do his best to keep her from going to far down that rabbit hole of pain, just as she's done to him, so many times. ] I'm not sure how much longer I could have stood it over there. [ a pause, and then. ] I have to confess something to you that may surprise you.
the fact that it's the two of them, that it's possible for there to be a we, is a miracle. he's alive. despite everything, he's alive. depending on how tomorrow works out, there is a very real possibility that tomorrow's sunrise might be the last they see, but if they do face death -
they'll be facing it together.
she relaxes as his hand comes to rest over hers, as his cheek rests against the top of her head. her eyes are still a little wet, but she actually manages to smile. we're here, but also, he's here. and this is finally, finally over.
it's easier to accept his comfort, now. she breathes out.]
I am glad you did not have to stay there for long any longer than you did. The length of time you were there... that was already too much. [she doesn't like the idea of him suffering, either. she knows how maddening it can be, to only watch, and to not feel like there's anything you can do to help ease someone's pain. she knows that intimately, and she'd never wanted that for him.] ...you have something to... confess? What is it?
[ -- too, she says, which surprises him. yin yu looks down at her, pulling back a bit, surprised.
and then he just - ] --Pfft!
[ ridiculous. yin yu doesn't laugh loudly, as ever, but the noise was startled out of him, and he finally removes one of his hands to cover his mouth to be polite. oops. ]
[hm. that's not quite the same type of laughter she drew out of him when she confessed her power, but - it's pretty close. he's probably trying not to laugh too loudly at it.]
[ it dies down after a second, successfully muffled. ahh.... ]
I think it's the irony of at all. He hasn't changed so much. [ well. mostly. yin yu knows that's not entirely true. ] I wish I hadn't done it: it certainly didn't make me feel any better.
[ he sighs, thumb absently stroking over the side of her hand. ] He's been trying to provoke me since before he was executed, and did the same for much of our time on the other side. Unfortunately, I gave into it.
[ he does not say that he was really ready to lay him out again, today, at the trial, because yin yu doesn't see any sense in dwelling on it, but he definitely was ready to, if push came to shove.
yin yu huffs, a quiet noise. ] I don't particularly enjoy fighting with others. I never have.
[ it's a bit ironic, for a former martial god, but. there are very few things that will get him that angry.]
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fishingforcompliments) wrote2020-06-06 12:53 pm
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shinobu had said the same thing to him, that he was there for flayn when she needed him the most. he hadn't even begun to realize the depths of that, until everything came to light, but even then... he left her when she needed him, too. though he doesn't regret the circumstances of his death all that much, yin yu regretted how much he must have hurt her, leaving her behind. it was a small mercy he didn't awaken until after the trial was completed (and after the execution, too) but watching her suffer the week after was brutal, too. he wasn't there.
for a moment, he searches her face, hands still gently cupping her jaw, before he pulls away, and glances back. he had always slept on the bottom bunk, and it seems it had gone untouched since his death, so. ] ...Let's sit down.
[ a quiet suggestion, as he waits for her to agree, and stays close by if they move. he's tall enough that he'll probably have to sit on the floor instead of the bed so he doesn't smack his head into something, but he doesn't want to be far from her for this conversation, either, so. (or at all, really, but that's a whole other story.)
he does end up folding down to sit on the floor instead of on the bed, leaning back against it. the wings make it a little awkward, and he has to stretch them out so they don't smash up against the frame of the bunk bed, but flayn is welcome to sit wherever she likes.
it's only when they're both sitting and comfortable, wherever that might be, that he speaks to her thanks properly. ] ...I wish that I had been able to do more for you, but I'm glad I was able to help at least a little. You were unable to speak about it all, weren't you...?
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No matter how I tried, I was unable to say a word. [...] And I did try.
[there are, perhaps, some who will think that she did not try hard enough - but the fact is, coming outright and saying anything about it was simply impossible. even trying to hint, if it was obvious enough, was impossible.]
I never realized how important it was to be able to speak freely, before this. Certainly, there were things that I have chosen not to say, in the past... [her, uh, her whole "i'm an immortal dragon" thing being one of them] ...but there was never anything preventing me from speaking them, should I have chosen to.
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it resonates with him, and yin yu sets his hand down between them, spreading his fingers if she'd like to take it. the natural easiness of such a gesture makes it all the more comforting, maybe for both of them. he's come to rely on this gesture, too.
take a deep breath. in, out, a heart as still as water. he'd slowly stopped hiding what he did on the island, starting to admit to it more often after his death, but there was one person who he needlessly kept it secret from. he had been terrified, that flayn would hate him if he knew, that she'd think differently of him, because he knows that he's not a good person, that he's a liar and a coward, but in the end, it had turned out that they just had something else in common. (only flayn's -- hers was so much worse, so much crueler.) the only block that keeps him from talking is the one he'd put there himself, now. ]
...It was the same for me. [ his hand squeezes, gently, in hers. empathy, sorrow. guilt. ] I did not doubt that you would have told, were you able to. Not for a moment.
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...it must have been terrifying.
[on the island, she means. she squeezes his hand back.]
To become aware of it, and to have not been able to stop it...
[not being able to speak of what she'd been doing. but at least she had been in full control of her own actions the whole time. to not be able to resist the compulsion to kill, and then to not even be able to say i didn't want to do it, but i did afterwards... that's worse, she thinks.]
I am so sorry that you had to go through something like that.
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if there had been a way to change their fates - to make it that he could convince veronica to choose him - he would have done it in a heartbeat. every moment of pain and guilt he's felt since killing wen ning was nothing in the face of what flayn had to suffer. the choices she was forced to make, the choices that were stolen from her.
his thumb strokes slowly over the top of her hand, as he talks, letting it be grounding. they're here. after everything that happened, the two of them are here. alive. healed. together.
here. ]
...I am sorry that I couldn't tell you before. Once we left, I was able to talk about it, but I didn't want you to think - [ ...mn.
he gives her hand another squeeze, small. flayn means the world to him, more than he can properly say in words. the thought of losing this warmth and affection was terrifying, and he'd been too afraid to say anything.
...but flayn had already seen his worst, and accepted it. why wouldn't she have accepted this, too? he's realizing it now, and his conversation with yasusada floats unbidden into his head. we're both idiots. they really, really were, but he was by far the worse offender.
his expression twists, just a little bitter. the self loathing slips in, quiet, dark, wrapping around him like a vice, and he speaks quietly, looking down at the ground. ] More than anything, I am sorry that you had to, and I am sorry that I couldn't see the hints you were leaving sooner. I wrote my card to you on Saturday; that was when I knew. It... was obvious that you had participated on Saturday. [ a pause. quietly. ] ...at least it was, to me.
[ it shifts, from self deprecation to a sorrow. his other hand comes over too, to gently cover theirs. an anchor to reality, maybe, a want to apologize. to protect. ]
...But it is shameful, that I didn't, and that I wasn't paying attention enough to see how much pain you were in. I am so sorry, Flayn.
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that hadn't been something he'd chosen.
(it's so easy, to think that when it comes to him, but it's impossible for her to think it about herself.)
her hold on his hand tightens as he cuts himself off, and impulsively, she pulls his hand up so that she can press a very soft kiss to his knuckles. it's easier for her to understand this, at least. i didn't want you to think--
well, she had been terrified of what he would think of her, when he figured out what she was doing here. when, because there had never been any doubt in her mind that he would have, eventually. she was so sure that it was only ever going to be a matter of time, until he figured out that she wasn't the person he thought she was at all.
they're both idiots.]
I would never hold that against you.
[she couldn't hold it against him. not what he did on the island against his will, and not his choice to keep the truth from her, either.
...she shakes her head as he continues.]
I... no. You do not need to apologize to me for that. I think...
[she looks down at the ground.]
Whatever it is that forced me to hold my tongue... if anything I was saying or doing was obvious enough for someone to figure me out easily, I would not have been able to say or do any of it. That is not anyone's failing but mine for not figuring out some way around it.
[her hold on his hand tightens, just a little.]
And besides, I... when we were together, when I was with you, it hurt less. You made everything feel... better.
[she looks up at his face.]
You made me feel safe.
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[ doubt and insecurity are a plague. the kind words of others can only do so much; it is up to the person experiencing them to find that light and find the way forward. yin yu has never found it. it is only recently that it's started to appear at the end of his self-created tunnel.
he strokes his thumb against her hand, and looks away, seeming to tense for a moment. it's always like this, trying to talk about it - trying to talk about something yin yu never responded to, even when she tried to talk to him. ] ...You have seen the worst of me. [ he says, finally, his tone laced with emotion. something heavy, something vulnerable, something that still hurts. talking about his banishment feels impossible.
but that day, when his memories were ripped out of his head and displayed to anyone else, meant more to him than anything. more than he could ever possibly say. it lodges in his throat, even now, for a moment thick with held back emotion, with the overwhelming vastness of what that day had meant. ] And you stayed. I ran from you that day because the idea of you seeing me, instead of the person that you seemed to think I was, terrified me more than any demon I have ever faced. I couldn't bear to see the expression on your face when it was over, because I didn't want to lose you. [ a brief, heavy pause. ] But you stayed.
...If I were to think cruelly of you, when you have seen the things that I have done, I would be a hypocrite at the best, and a monster, at the worst.
[ the kiss to his knuckles is soft and makes a part of him ache with the familiarity of flayn's kindness. he'd told beau earlier in the evening that it was hard to walk the path of forgiving yourself from experience; it is only extremely, extremely recently that he has even begun to stumble that way. for wen ning, maybe, but quan yizhen will be impossible, will maybe take him centuries longer to even stand in the same room as him without wanting to run in the opposite direction.
he's empathetic to how she must be feeling right now. and the fact that flayn shows him so much kindness, even still, when she must suffer so much - it's just a reminder of how much yin yu loves her, and the heart of hers. doesn't she deserve forgiveness? doesn't she deserve kindness? if flayn won't give it to herself, maybe he can try and give it to her, too?
he looks down when she looks up, brows knitted together, concern and sorrow all over his face. but i left you, he thinks, as she finishes, feeling his stomach lurch unhappily with the same darkness that's followed him his whole life. the depths of his self hatred are deeper than black water's seas, wider than the seas of lava in mt. tonglu. yin yu is always like that. capable to be effective for a little while, but temporary. always to fade away when the moment really counts. dianxia would have stopped death itself. yizhen would have destroyed it with his bare fists.
all he could do was die, and try to send letters from the other side in hopes flayn could make it another day. ]
...I'm glad I could help you, at least a little. [ yin yu says quietly. but he couldn't help enough. after all, he left. at the worst possible time, he left. i could have kept you safer. i could have done more. yin yu returns the way her grip tightens a little further, quietly trying to be reassuring in the only ways he knows how. ] You have always done the same, for me.
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[Well.
It would have been bad. Flayn has made many bonds that she cherishes, here, but so many of them have been... perhaps not broken, but damaged, by the things she had no choice but to do. She'd withdrawn from people when she would otherwise have leaned on them, because it felt wrong to make them comfort her.
But from the start, Yin Yu had told her that it helped, having her near. Being able to do something for him, however little, had allowed her to stay long enough for him to do something for her, too.
She isn't sure how to put that into words.]
Being able to see you, that time... the flowers you sent, and the letters you wrote me. It - they gave me strength.
[...]
You gave me the strength I needed, to keep going. Even when we were apart, even when you must have been suffering, you were still looking out for me. I do not know how to tell you how much that meant to me.
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he looks down at her properly, takes the moment for what it is. the fact that they're even sitting like this feels like a miracle. no more glitches, no separation of a screen or a veil between the dead and the living. no charades, or written letters: they're together, both living. who knows what that thing will do tomorrow - it may sooner decide to kill them all. but for right now, "keep going" meant "we made it".
he won't argue the point. if flayn says it helped her, then (even if it wasn't enough) it helped. ] I tried to reach out to you how I could.
[ there's a brief pause, and he huffs, a quiet, not quite laugh. ironic, more than anything. ] ...Truthfully, I thought I would be the reason you were caught, last week. I had sent those along with young master Junpei before anything began, and I had no idea what had been done. Between the letter, and the flowers...
[ he'd noticed her covering the flower meanings in the feed of the trial. at that time, he thought because they are private - and, really, the part of him that is a baby was grateful - but as things began to unfold, it really may have done her in. ]
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[to receive a bundle of flowers, and tea? when there was a murder that had involved flowers and tea, that they were trying to solve? junpei had said they'd been chosen for them the day before, but -
it could have been a clue. she'd understood that they were from yin yu, and that he had likely been trying to send a message to her with the meaning of the flowers, but if it had led to people suspecting her...
she'd said it, when she'd received it.
thank you.]
I was hoping that they would. Dimitri had... he agreed to help us, but he did not seem to like the idea of someone else dying for what we did, either. I wanted to be caught.
[...]
...and I wanted to see you again. I wanted to see the both of you again so badly.
DW? MY NOTIFS?
the last thing she says confirms exactly what he'd thought. he hadn't figured out the 'role' until afterwards, but yin yu had said it to guy. she will be devastated. his initial thought was that flayn had gone to the same dark place that he had, so many years ago. even if things were different, even if they were not in all technicalities 'dead', it still - it aches to hear her confirm what he knew to be true. that she would rather have been dead.
his hand squeezes hers, and yin yu shifts, leaning against her a little more solidly. the benefit of the bizarre effect this week is maybe that there is an extra limb, because he can drape the wing that's half sprawled on the bed around her, instead, as if he could possibly do anything to comfort it, even a week later. yin yu knows what it's like, better than anyone, to want to be dead. ]
I'm so sorry. [ he says again, because words fail him for a moment, to say anything else. sorry is the only thing that seems to encompass it all: sorry that she had to do this. sorry that she had to feel that way. sorry that he left her behind, that they left her behind. that they failed her, as a whole. someone who had been so kind to him, so good to him, someone who has more or less changed yin yu's life, suffering the same kind of agony he had when chengzhu found him and asked, do you want to live? ]
...I didn't want to be right. [ about any of this. ] Sometimes continuing to live is the worst punishment you can ask for.
[ and doesn't he know it? doesn't he understand how hard it is to survive with guilt and suffering on your shoulders? it's been his entire life. he exhales. ] It's over, now, but... [ but it's not. he knows that, too. every waking and living moment will be guilt, recovery, steps forward, steps back.
yin yu squeezes her hand again, the empathy and sorrow a blanket, heart too big, hurting for flayn. ] ...I'm not going anywhere. [ not again. he will not leave her until this is over, and even then -- even then, he's thinking of ways to help. his dice, that will have to do. tomorrow. ]
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[to be made to live, at the expense of someone else's life? it's senseless, she thinks. she won't begrudge anyone who wants her to live with the weight of what she's done, who thinks that's fitting, now that it's all over, and if all goes well tomorrow, no one else will need to lose their life.
but she can't fathom why anyone would have wanted her to live while someone else still needed to die, during the course of the game. she will never understand why anyone would have thought it was better not to vote for her, who so clearly had a hand in the death of someone beloved, and to vote for someone else instead.
in that case, it isn't just her being punished. it's also the other person who's losing their life, for no real reason. ookurikara should never have received the majority vote, and dick should never have been killed in the ring. not when there had been people who had been willing to die so that neither of them would have had to.
she leans into him, holding tightly to his hand as his wing settles around her. it's a difficult subject to talk about. she's had time to think about it - perhaps too much. she's thought about it so much that it feels as though she's simply thought in circles.]
I am glad you are here.
[her voice sounds a little raw, and if there are tears forming at the corners of her eyes, well -
hopefully, he won't see them. she doesn't particularly want him to see her cry. not now, when she just wants to be happy that he's back, that they have a chance for things to turn out well.
(it's so much easier said than done.)]
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now, six weeks later, it makes a little more sense. he'd come to care for her even then, because she always, always cared for him. flayn always saw him, always sought him out, and then she was gone.
hearing her voice waver solidifies that same feeling, replaces the panic with care. he still doesn't know how to make it stop, but he's been trying, since day one, to make these awful games a little easier. to protect that kindness that meant so much to him, to keep that little, warm light that he'd needed so badly flickering onwards for herself, for everyone in the camp. there were so few things he could do, there was nothing she could say, but right now i'm glad you are here means the world.
me too, he can't say. the words get caught in his throat. he's never been the best at expressing himself when it was necessary or otherwise, but as flayn leans in, he pulls her just that little bit closer, and covers their joined hands gently with his own. yin yu has hands suiting of his height, long, delicate fingers, and he encloses hers between his, like maybe he can hold her enough to try and take some of that suffering away.
i will not let you slip away again. he won't. not even death could keep him from flayn's side, for that long. the true duty of a retainer is to return to the side of their lord or lady, but more than that, yin yu had a promise to keep.
it's a long moment where he doesn't talk, just squeezes her hand, holds her close. flayn has been his anchor to reality more than once, too, and he wants to make sure he returns the favor. eventually, yin yu tips to rest his cheek against the top of her head, and says, quietly: ] We're here.
[ you and i both. we're here. it's over, for the most part. it's over.
despite everything, they survived.
he can tell flayn doesn't want to cry. she is that way; when she was upset, how few people actually saw her? who could actually tell the reasons why she was hurting so badly? how few people did flayn show herself to, really? yin yu had wondered it in the graveyard; was he one of the only ones who really knew her, at all?
so, he will do his best to keep her from going to far down that rabbit hole of pain, just as she's done to him, so many times. ] I'm not sure how much longer I could have stood it over there. [ a pause, and then. ] I have to confess something to you that may surprise you.
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the fact that it's the two of them, that it's possible for there to be a we, is a miracle. he's alive. despite everything, he's alive. depending on how tomorrow works out, there is a very real possibility that tomorrow's sunrise might be the last they see, but if they do face death -
they'll be facing it together.
she relaxes as his hand comes to rest over hers, as his cheek rests against the top of her head. her eyes are still a little wet, but she actually manages to smile. we're here, but also, he's here. and this is finally, finally over.
it's easier to accept his comfort, now. she breathes out.]
I am glad you did not have to stay there for long any longer than you did. The length of time you were there... that was already too much. [she doesn't like the idea of him suffering, either. she knows how maddening it can be, to only watch, and to not feel like there's anything you can do to help ease someone's pain. she knows that intimately, and she'd never wanted that for him.] ...you have something to... confess? What is it?
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...I punched Ogata.
[ and his mouth twitches up, a little, into a wryly amused half smile.
how's that for a subject change. ]
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["too," she says.]
Well - I suppose I did not exactly punch him... but he and I fought on the island, more than once. [...] And I slapped him when we were ghosts.
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and then he just - ] --Pfft!
[ ridiculous. yin yu doesn't laugh loudly, as ever, but the noise was startled out of him, and he finally removes one of his hands to cover his mouth to be polite. oops. ]
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[hm. that's not quite the same type of laughter she drew out of him when she confessed her power, but - it's pretty close. he's probably trying not to laugh too loudly at it.]
...is it really that funny?
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I think it's the irony of at all. He hasn't changed so much. [ well. mostly. yin yu knows that's not entirely true. ] I wish I hadn't done it: it certainly didn't make me feel any better.
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[she sighs.]
...but I do not know that I could have approached it any differently, in the moment.
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[ because ogata is like that. ]
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Yes. And he was successful.
[clearly.]
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[ he sighs, thumb absently stroking over the side of her hand. ] He's been trying to provoke me since before he was executed, and did the same for much of our time on the other side. Unfortunately, I gave into it.
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It can be... very difficult, to resist in the face of such provocation. You lasted for longer than I did.
[...if that. helps. at all.]
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yin yu huffs, a quiet noise. ] I don't particularly enjoy fighting with others. I never have.
[ it's a bit ironic, for a former martial god, but. there are very few things that will get him that angry.]
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