it's awful. they both know it's awful, but saying it - repeatedly, because they had said last week was awful, too - won't do anything to change what has happened. it's only moving forward that they will be able to change things, but...
...this is a bad foot to start on, isn't it?
flayn flounders for words, and eventually - after a long silence - speaks.]
[ that comment gets a huff of a laugh out of him, humorless, and yin yu shakes his head. ]
You and I both. [ it is a terrible, terrible system, with a terrible, terrible outcome. there is no winning, no vindication. even catching giyuu as the 'mastermind' came with no sense of satisfaction, until they all came back to life--it is only in the hope that when they succeed, the same will happen that has made things easier.
...but today, they failed.
he scrubs his face with a hand, rough palm brushing over the scratches. tomorrow will be worse, no matter what happens, he thinks, but he doesn't say it out loud. ] There are few endings to any of these that feel anywhere close to successful. If we take even a half step forward, we take twenty steps back.
[twenty steps back? maybe. it feels more like forty.
there is nothing about this that is good. earlier in the day, things had seemed much simpler - she can hardly believe that it's taken such a turn. but at the same time, she can't claim to really be surprised, either.
especially now that death is officially a part of this... competition.]
How long can this possibly go on?
[...until only one team is remaining?
there has to be some other way out. she wants to believe there is, but believing that is hard right now.]
[ until only one remains, the cynical part of him answers, immediately. it is a phenomenon that he has become intimately familiar with in his own world, as one of the survivors of those very death games is the one who gives yin yu his purpose and orders. the ghosts of the mountain would tear each other apart limb from limb, driven mad by their ambition and desire to survive - there was a reason then, that only three ghosts had ever had the title of calamity.
yin yu doesn't say that out loud, though, tempering the stormier thoughts as always and pushing them down. his expression stays steady, still troubled, but not so dark. he shakes his head - an "i don't know", if any. ] ...As long as we let it.
[ they've been here as long as the island, already. the others said they were in their 'games' much longer. in some ways, it's worst: they have fewer bodies each week (although on friday, he had nearly thought that would be replicated, too), but it means it draws out longer, and longer, and longer. ] We just - we will have to do better.
[ that feels so stupid to say, so obvious. yin yu leans forward a bit, lacing his fingers together to rest his forehead against his hand. some of that frustration leaks out into something more defeated, instead, his voice quiet ] ...I'm sorry, Lady Flayn. I wish I had a better answer than platitudes and meaningless comforts. [ isn't there more? what else can he be doing? how else can he help? even today, he'd felt like he'd done much, and little, at the same time. not being able to put action behind what he's saying is an unusual feeling, one he hasn't had in a really, really long time. all they can say is "we'll do better next time" - meaningless, when they've just failed. ]
[flayn's voice trails off, and the words stick in her throat. she struggles for a moment to figure out what to say, but then comes to the conclusion that there's nothing, really. it's as he said - platitudes, meaningless comforts...]
You do not need to apologize to me. I do not think anyone has answers that could satisfy us. [...a pause, then - she looks down into the flames, remembering evan at the end of the previous week's trial.] Or if they do, they cannot be spoken.
[which is... well, the outlook here is bleak.
flayn is quiet for another few moments before she sighs.]
...I shall not be good company tonight, I fear.
[she won't blame him if he goes. as much as she'd like to try and help draw him away from his dark thoughts, she can't even escape her own. they're just going to go in circles.]
[ mm. cannot be spoken... their directors, too, are trapped in this same cycle that they are. in the end, it's the same thing--they have to keep working together towards a common goal and convince anyone who isn't to think the same. working together saved them before. they can only hope it will be enough, here.
at flayn's last statement, yin yu actually properly turns his head to look at her. in the best of times, yin yu doesn't know what to say, he thinks--he's awkward and bad at social interaction, tending to speak as little as possible, and that's when things are nice. right now, he doesn't have much short of his presence, and he's the most presenceless person you could even know. slowly, though, the corner of his mouth lifts--there's not a lot of light or warmth to it, but, it softens some of the brewing storm in his dark eyes, a little wan, a little sheepish. ] ...I won't be either.
[ ...but all the same, being near flayn is... he's lingering, anyway, because maybe there's not much to be said, and that's okay. maybe it's just nice, to have a presence nearby like an anchor, when your thoughts try to take you away on a dark sea. it is the closest to reaching out for comfort that he'll ever come. ]
that's significant, she knows - back on the island, even after they'd succeeded in bringing back the dead, she'd had to chase him down to spend time with him. yin yu tends to keep to himself even when things aren't completely awful.
so for him to stay now...
flayn's heart tightens. maybe he needs someone to be here as much as she does. if that's the case, then...
she scoots over on the bench to sit closer to him, her shoulder knocking against his. she nearly reaches for his hand, but that would, perhaps, be too much.
neither one of them has much to say, but she's here.
[ normally at this point, he would have vanished, as far as possible from other people to disconnect and run. having two weeks to get used to people being around had been odd enough, and when it ended - well, it was over. for yin yu, someone perpetually running away from his problems, it was a chance to cut and run. any sort of intimacy or bonds he'd built were supposed to be slashed the minute he stepped onto a ship with chengzhu, because he can't-- he can't get close to anyone, ever. yin yu puts up a shield, armors himself from the world around him, because he is not, really, a person anymore. he's a concept, a specter that walks through ghost city; "yin yu" hasn't been a person, because he's put on the mask of the xianxianyue officer and left it there. it was easier that way, to just pretend that person, that failure, that disgraced nothing was nonexistent. the world forgot that he existed, and in his shame, he'd played along.
but, the story didn't end the way yin yu thought it might have. it didn't end with him returning back to his place at chengzhu's side, silently completing every task he could ask for and then some, mask on his face, forgotten by all the faces he'd met.
the story is still going. he's here, surrounded by people who have taken the time to really look at him, even when he thought he couldn't be seen. yin yu is here. face bared, name in people's mouths. one stubborn girl who refused to let him disappear, even when he wanted to more than anything, who, when he waited for the other shoe to drop, instead sat with him until the ship came to the shore. flayn never gave him the chance to run when he didn't need it (because he didn't need it, because he was a coward) - and now, in a moment where he has the option to flee, he doesn't.
yin yu doesn't really understand it that much himself. he can't put into words how much it means to him, to be seen. he can't put into words the magnitude of such a tiny, laughable thing as wanting to be in someone else's presence for a few minutes, when his thoughts are unbearably heavy. he can't voice that out loud either. can't even begin to take off the straps of the armor that's nearly nailed to his skin.
but someone else's hand can help to loosen the buckles, and when he wasn't looking, he let someone come close enough to do so.
when their shoulders bump, yin yu inhales. it's a little sharp, at first, as if he's surprised. slowly, though, the tension in his shoulders loosens a notch or two, and he lets himself sag, grounding himself in the quiet presence beside her for a moment and wondering if there's anything he can even begin to do in return. there's no mask to hide his expression, nothing to hide behind. and in the end, as he releases the breath, he shifts back over to let their shoulders stay closer, arms brushing, and slowly, opens the fist of his hand so his fingers are open, bare palm just slightly turned outwards.
it's an invitation, maybe. yin yu is too much of a coward to say it. ]
[that quick intake of breath has flayn freezing up - she's prepared to back off, to apologize, to do something to make up for the fact that she's startled him. but a moment later he relaxes, and breathes, out, and leans back into her.
...he's still close.
she looks down, just in time to see his hand slowly opening from where he had it clenched tightly into a fist. it could be that he just needed to relax his fingers - but as one moment passes, and then another and another, she wonders if perhaps that isn't it.
her gaze flicks between their hands.
it should be easier than it is. she's taken his hand without a second thought before, but that was always to go somewhere, do something. here, in the quiet of the night with the fire crackling in front of them, it feels a little different. yin yu isn't the type of person to allow something like this lightly, though, and even if he doesn't speak, the fact that he seems to be offering at all may mean that he really needs it.
flayn slowly puts her hand over his. her touch is light and a little hesitant and unsure, but if he doesn't immediately pull his hand away, she'll lace their fingers together.
I'm here.
she thinks it, but doesn't say it aloud. her actions can speak for her, this time.]
[ this isn't the first time he's ever touched flayn's hand, but he's not wearing his gloves, and there's something to this beyond being pulled from place to place. it's funny how this has been a constant -- flayn pulling him from the shadows to join the others at the waterfall, linking her pinky with his in some kind of promise, a tentative moment of comfort last week, flayn's fingers brushing his cheek when they returned from the island illusion, to... to today, her hand in his, their fingers laced together. it seems that flayn has always been reaching out to him, since they met. (admittedly, the first time, it was with a fruit, but that's alright.)
this is the first time that, with a great amount of hesitance, yin yu has dropped a piece of his walls and reached out his hand, first.
her hand is a little more calloused than he would have expected on first go, but flayn is like that-- a constant surprise, so much depth beyond anyone's surface read. her insistent warmth and kindness reads through her gestures, in the way she has reached for him when he was ready to slink away, but the inherent strength of her character matches those callouses. it's in line with this person that yin yu has come to know, that he's spent time with of his own volition. that he enjoys spending his time with.
yin yu's own is rougher than it is soft, a hand trained in cultivation that's learned to hold a sword, a dao, anything he could use to help, but his fingers are long and elegant, the remnants of a noble birth that is so far away it feels like an entirely different lifetime. his grip is not sure; he's out of his depth here, in ways that he is not almost anywhere else. yin yu has spent his entire time since--since hua cheng found him, learning every way to be useful he possibly could, but when it comes to his own emotions, he's wildly out of his depth. the way her hand hesitates over his sends him into a tailspin of his own thoughts, a blooming warmth and then the familiar stab of anxiety and negativity seconds later.
ogata's verdict brought back the memories of what he said (when you snap), but yin yu doesn't want to be that person. he wants to be good. he wants to be kind. he wants to be the person that flayn seems to think that he is, more than anything in the world. the idea of ruining that is such an inevitability in his mind-- (what if she finds out) (when she finds out, this will be finished, you are foolish for thinking you could even come to compare) (the person who killed yu is not the only one in this camp who escaped the blade of the executioner )--that this feels selfish, that he should be running the other direction, shaking her presence, shaking everyone's presence and melting into the background. it's that rush that leads to the cord of tension that he has to force himself to ignore, pushing it down deeper, putting a lid on his own emotions as he has for his entire life.
he closes his eyes away from the bonfire, and stays quiet. for a long exhale, he grounds himself to the feeling of her callouses against his own and the points of warmth it leaves behind, and slowly, he lets his fingers fall so that he's holding on, too. more surely, his thumb crossing gently over hers.
yin yu is chronically terrible at being vulnerable. he is a skittish cat--or maybe more accurately, a tiny little mole, digging underground as far as he can with his little shovel--but he is slowly letting himself, bit by bit, be seen. ]
[flayn's heart skips a beat as his hand settles in hers.
the warmth isn't entirely unexpected, but it is different. she's accustomed to the feeling of his gloves on hers, and she wonders what it is about touching his hand directly that makes it feel different.
but perhaps she is overthinking it. it has been an emotional day, and she's grateful - very, very grateful - that despite everything, yin yu isn't hiding himself away. maybe that's all this is. she shouldn't do him the disservice of reading too much into it, not when it's taken some effort on his part to come out of the shadows and step into the light.
she looks up at his face, then down.]
I—
[her breath catches.]
...I am sorry. This must all be difficult for you, too, and... here you are, always comforting me.
[it means a lot, that he is always there when she needs him - but what must it cost him to do that?]
[ ah-- he's the one overthinking. flayn speaking next to him finally snaps him out of whatever little spiral he was trying to keep himself from going down, and yin yu hears that little catch of breath. this close, he couldn't. the anxious part of him riles itself up, and he shoves it down -- and any worry fades, after that.
he looks surprised when he turns his head to flayn, showing his face instead of the mask perched to the side of his head; instinctively, his hand squeezes gently in hers, as the expression softens. ] ...I don't mind.
[ once upon a time, yin yu carried the emotional load for someone else on his shoulders until it broke his back.
he learned his lesson, then, that bottling his own emotions can explode. (he actually hasn't learned his lesson that well, considering he still does it every day of his life.) but, even just this little gesture--this is different. the hand resting against his right now is proof enough.
this is... ] ...I-- this is. [ ...mn. the words get caught up in his throat, and he has to stop himself, ducking his head and looking away. his ears are pink, visible in the firelight, and he speaks quietly enough to just be heard. ] Forgive me for saying so, but... there's been nowhere else I would want to be.
[ you're helping me by being here. he can't say it out loud. maybe that will be enough.]
flayn looks up at him, searching his face. she knows by now that letting someone in is new territory for him, but...]
...why do you feel that is something you need forgiveness for?
[has she done something to make him feel as though relying on her would be a burden? the opposite couldn't be more true - for yin yu to rely on her, even if it's only in some small way, is what she wants more than almost anything else here. if he wants to be here, by her side, then he can stay here for as long as he likes.]
[ the flush on yin yu's face darkens a little further, spreading red across his cheeks. his shoulders hunch just a little bit, but it's not because he's ready to flee; she might recognize it as his reaction to be complimented sincerely. he's just embarrassed. ]
...I wouldn't want to be too forward, and make you uncomfortable. [ is what he eventually mumbles, reaching up with his other hand to briefly rub at his face. it's a force of habit to apologize, and he wouldn't want to bother lady flayn with a presence he suddenly has, but also, he is holding her hand, and saying something like that felt very...
nnn. he almost apologizes again, but doesn't, and doesn't let go, either. ]
[she certainly can't think of a time when he has. certainly, he'd surprised her at the trial - but even that hadn't really made her uncomfortable. it had just taken her a few moments to process.
(and then they'd been distracted by the return of an investigation group before she could dig into it too deeply.)
flayn gives yin yu's hand a very light squeeze, since he isn't pulling away, and keeps her voice gentle.]
I like being with you. Hearing that you enjoy being with me does not make me uncomfortable... it makes me happy.
[ don't worry, he surprised himself too. he hadn't really meant it in the way it absolutely came off--if flayn brings it up he might just melt into the ground out of his sheer embarrassment. (or actually run away.) he hasn't really thought about it again with all of the chaos that's gone on, which is a good thing.
the reassurance is... admittedly, it's a little nice. he feels a little silly for apologizing, and for assuming, but... his self-deprecation comes from years of experience, and it's not something that dies off so easy. a little laugh escapes him, embarrassed and sheepish, on an exhale, and he nods, free hand shifting to rub the back of his neck above his scarf. some of the nervous tension fades out of him; yin yu doesn't let go. ] ...I'm glad.
[ because he really is. that's what he was trying to convey, in his own way. awkwardly. ] You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to, either. If anything, I think I'm quite good at being quiet. [ the last part is slightly dry in its delivery, a little bit of a joke, maybe?
just being here is enough. being able to exist next to someone else, is, after all, a very new experience for yin yu. ]
[yin yu sure does know how to be quiet. it works for him, in some ways - allows him to do his job quickly and efficiently, with minimal interruptions. allows him to stealthily move from place to place without being accosted.
it probably allows him to keep himself safe, too.
but when he doesn't have to be quiet...]
I like hearing what you have to say, when you feel like talking. But just being with you is enough for me.
[with his hand in hers, she's much more at peace than she would have thought possible tonight.]
that's... probably never happened before. he's a little surprised by it, looking at flayn just a bit wide eyed. it's a simple kindness--just being with you is enough for me--but, to someone like yin yu, it means the world.
he ducks his head again, the expression gone just as quick as it came, though it's replaced with something warmer. a small, genuine smile. it's just enough to lighten his expression as it returns to neutral, the warmth staying in his dark eyes. ] ...alright. [ yin yu says, quietly, giving her hand a small squeeze. ] I promise I'll keep that in mind, Lady Flayn.
[as long as he remembers that, then... maybe he'll feel more comfortable, coming to her when he does need someone else to be there. maybe in some small way, she'll be able to support him the way he's been supporting her this whole time.
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fishingforcompliments) wrote2020-06-06 12:53 pm
no subject
it's awful. they both know it's awful, but saying it - repeatedly, because they had said last week was awful, too - won't do anything to change what has happened. it's only moving forward that they will be able to change things, but...
...this is a bad foot to start on, isn't it?
flayn flounders for words, and eventually - after a long silence - speaks.]
I truly hate these trials.
no subject
You and I both. [ it is a terrible, terrible system, with a terrible, terrible outcome. there is no winning, no vindication. even catching giyuu as the 'mastermind' came with no sense of satisfaction, until they all came back to life--it is only in the hope that when they succeed, the same will happen that has made things easier.
...but today, they failed.
he scrubs his face with a hand, rough palm brushing over the scratches. tomorrow will be worse, no matter what happens, he thinks, but he doesn't say it out loud. ] There are few endings to any of these that feel anywhere close to successful. If we take even a half step forward, we take twenty steps back.
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there is nothing about this that is good. earlier in the day, things had seemed much simpler - she can hardly believe that it's taken such a turn. but at the same time, she can't claim to really be surprised, either.
especially now that death is officially a part of this... competition.]
How long can this possibly go on?
[...until only one team is remaining?
there has to be some other way out. she wants to believe there is, but believing that is hard right now.]
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yin yu doesn't say that out loud, though, tempering the stormier thoughts as always and pushing them down. his expression stays steady, still troubled, but not so dark. he shakes his head - an "i don't know", if any. ] ...As long as we let it.
[ they've been here as long as the island, already. the others said they were in their 'games' much longer. in some ways, it's worst: they have fewer bodies each week (although on friday, he had nearly thought that would be replicated, too), but it means it draws out longer, and longer, and longer. ] We just - we will have to do better.
[ that feels so stupid to say, so obvious. yin yu leans forward a bit, lacing his fingers together to rest his forehead against his hand. some of that frustration leaks out into something more defeated, instead, his voice quiet ] ...I'm sorry, Lady Flayn. I wish I had a better answer than platitudes and meaningless comforts. [ isn't there more? what else can he be doing? how else can he help? even today, he'd felt like he'd done much, and little, at the same time. not being able to put action behind what he's saying is an unusual feeling, one he hasn't had in a really, really long time. all they can say is "we'll do better next time" - meaningless, when they've just failed. ]
no subject
[flayn's voice trails off, and the words stick in her throat. she struggles for a moment to figure out what to say, but then comes to the conclusion that there's nothing, really. it's as he said - platitudes, meaningless comforts...]
You do not need to apologize to me. I do not think anyone has answers that could satisfy us. [...a pause, then - she looks down into the flames, remembering evan at the end of the previous week's trial.] Or if they do, they cannot be spoken.
[which is... well, the outlook here is bleak.
flayn is quiet for another few moments before she sighs.]
...I shall not be good company tonight, I fear.
[she won't blame him if he goes. as much as she'd like to try and help draw him away from his dark thoughts, she can't even escape her own. they're just going to go in circles.]
no subject
at flayn's last statement, yin yu actually properly turns his head to look at her. in the best of times, yin yu doesn't know what to say, he thinks--he's awkward and bad at social interaction, tending to speak as little as possible, and that's when things are nice. right now, he doesn't have much short of his presence, and he's the most presenceless person you could even know. slowly, though, the corner of his mouth lifts--there's not a lot of light or warmth to it, but, it softens some of the brewing storm in his dark eyes, a little wan, a little sheepish. ] ...I won't be either.
[ ...but all the same, being near flayn is... he's lingering, anyway, because maybe there's not much to be said, and that's okay. maybe it's just nice, to have a presence nearby like an anchor, when your thoughts try to take you away on a dark sea. it is the closest to reaching out for comfort that he'll ever come. ]
no subject
that's significant, she knows - back on the island, even after they'd succeeded in bringing back the dead, she'd had to chase him down to spend time with him. yin yu tends to keep to himself even when things aren't completely awful.
so for him to stay now...
flayn's heart tightens. maybe he needs someone to be here as much as she does. if that's the case, then...
she scoots over on the bench to sit closer to him, her shoulder knocking against his. she nearly reaches for his hand, but that would, perhaps, be too much.
neither one of them has much to say, but she's here.
it's all she can do for him.]
MY TAG WAS SAVED... BLESS,
but, the story didn't end the way yin yu thought it might have. it didn't end with him returning back to his place at chengzhu's side, silently completing every task he could ask for and then some, mask on his face, forgotten by all the faces he'd met.
the story is still going. he's here, surrounded by people who have taken the time to really look at him, even when he thought he couldn't be seen. yin yu is here. face bared, name in people's mouths. one stubborn girl who refused to let him disappear, even when he wanted to more than anything, who, when he waited for the other shoe to drop, instead sat with him until the ship came to the shore. flayn never gave him the chance to run when he didn't need it (because he didn't need it, because he was a coward) - and now, in a moment where he has the option to flee, he doesn't.
yin yu doesn't really understand it that much himself. he can't put into words how much it means to him, to be seen. he can't put into words the magnitude of such a tiny, laughable thing as wanting to be in someone else's presence for a few minutes, when his thoughts are unbearably heavy. he can't voice that out loud either. can't even begin to take off the straps of the armor that's nearly nailed to his skin.
but someone else's hand can help to loosen the buckles, and when he wasn't looking, he let someone come close enough to do so.
when their shoulders bump, yin yu inhales. it's a little sharp, at first, as if he's surprised. slowly, though, the tension in his shoulders loosens a notch or two, and he lets himself sag, grounding himself in the quiet presence beside her for a moment and wondering if there's anything he can even begin to do in return. there's no mask to hide his expression, nothing to hide behind. and in the end, as he releases the breath, he shifts back over to let their shoulders stay closer, arms brushing, and slowly, opens the fist of his hand so his fingers are open, bare palm just slightly turned outwards.
it's an invitation, maybe. yin yu is too much of a coward to say it. ]
APPLE HAS DECIDED TO LET US LIVE JUST THIS ONCE
...he's still close.
she looks down, just in time to see his hand slowly opening from where he had it clenched tightly into a fist. it could be that he just needed to relax his fingers - but as one moment passes, and then another and another, she wonders if perhaps that isn't it.
her gaze flicks between their hands.
it should be easier than it is. she's taken his hand without a second thought before, but that was always to go somewhere, do something. here, in the quiet of the night with the fire crackling in front of them, it feels a little different. yin yu isn't the type of person to allow something like this lightly, though, and even if he doesn't speak, the fact that he seems to be offering at all may mean that he really needs it.
flayn slowly puts her hand over his. her touch is light and a little hesitant and unsure, but if he doesn't immediately pull his hand away, she'll lace their fingers together.
I'm here.
she thinks it, but doesn't say it aloud. her actions can speak for her, this time.]
only this once and never again
this is the first time that, with a great amount of hesitance, yin yu has dropped a piece of his walls and reached out his hand, first.
her hand is a little more calloused than he would have expected on first go, but flayn is like that-- a constant surprise, so much depth beyond anyone's surface read. her insistent warmth and kindness reads through her gestures, in the way she has reached for him when he was ready to slink away, but the inherent strength of her character matches those callouses. it's in line with this person that yin yu has come to know, that he's spent time with of his own volition. that he enjoys spending his time with.
yin yu's own is rougher than it is soft, a hand trained in cultivation that's learned to hold a sword, a dao, anything he could use to help, but his fingers are long and elegant, the remnants of a noble birth that is so far away it feels like an entirely different lifetime. his grip is not sure; he's out of his depth here, in ways that he is not almost anywhere else. yin yu has spent his entire time since--since hua cheng found him, learning every way to be useful he possibly could, but when it comes to his own emotions, he's wildly out of his depth. the way her hand hesitates over his sends him into a tailspin of his own thoughts, a blooming warmth and then the familiar stab of anxiety and negativity seconds later.
ogata's verdict brought back the memories of what he said (when you snap), but yin yu doesn't want to be that person. he wants to be good. he wants to be kind. he wants to be the person that flayn seems to think that he is, more than anything in the world. the idea of ruining that is such an inevitability in his mind-- (what if she finds out) (when she finds out, this will be finished, you are foolish for thinking you could even come to compare) (the person who killed yu is not the only one in this camp who escaped the blade of the executioner )--that this feels selfish, that he should be running the other direction, shaking her presence, shaking everyone's presence and melting into the background. it's that rush that leads to the cord of tension that he has to force himself to ignore, pushing it down deeper, putting a lid on his own emotions as he has for his entire life.
he closes his eyes away from the bonfire, and stays quiet. for a long exhale, he grounds himself to the feeling of her callouses against his own and the points of warmth it leaves behind, and slowly, he lets his fingers fall so that he's holding on, too. more surely, his thumb crossing gently over hers.
yin yu is chronically terrible at being vulnerable. he is a skittish cat--or maybe more accurately, a tiny little mole, digging underground as far as he can with his little shovel--but he is slowly letting himself, bit by bit, be seen. ]
our living privileges have been revoked
the warmth isn't entirely unexpected, but it is different. she's accustomed to the feeling of his gloves on hers, and she wonders what it is about touching his hand directly that makes it feel different.
but perhaps she is overthinking it. it has been an emotional day, and she's grateful - very, very grateful - that despite everything, yin yu isn't hiding himself away. maybe that's all this is. she shouldn't do him the disservice of reading too much into it, not when it's taken some effort on his part to come out of the shadows and step into the light.
she looks up at his face, then down.]
I—
[her breath catches.]
...I am sorry. This must all be difficult for you, too, and... here you are, always comforting me.
[it means a lot, that he is always there when she needs him - but what must it cost him to do that?]
my computer said we have no rights
he looks surprised when he turns his head to flayn, showing his face instead of the mask perched to the side of his head; instinctively, his hand squeezes gently in hers, as the expression softens. ] ...I don't mind.
[ once upon a time, yin yu carried the emotional load for someone else on his shoulders until it broke his back.
he learned his lesson, then, that bottling his own emotions can explode. (he actually hasn't learned his lesson that well, considering he still does it every day of his life.) but, even just this little gesture--this is different. the hand resting against his right now is proof enough.
this is... ] ...I-- this is. [ ...mn. the words get caught up in his throat, and he has to stop himself, ducking his head and looking away. his ears are pink, visible in the firelight, and he speaks quietly enough to just be heard. ] Forgive me for saying so, but... there's been nowhere else I would want to be.
[ you're helping me by being here. he can't say it out loud. maybe that will be enough.]
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flayn looks up at him, searching his face. she knows by now that letting someone in is new territory for him, but...]
...why do you feel that is something you need forgiveness for?
[has she done something to make him feel as though relying on her would be a burden? the opposite couldn't be more true - for yin yu to rely on her, even if it's only in some small way, is what she wants more than almost anything else here. if he wants to be here, by her side, then he can stay here for as long as he likes.]
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...I wouldn't want to be too forward, and make you uncomfortable. [ is what he eventually mumbles, reaching up with his other hand to briefly rub at his face. it's a force of habit to apologize, and he wouldn't want to bother lady flayn with a presence he suddenly has, but also, he is holding her hand, and saying something like that felt very...
nnn. he almost apologizes again, but doesn't, and doesn't let go, either. ]
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[she certainly can't think of a time when he has. certainly, he'd surprised her at the trial - but even that hadn't really made her uncomfortable. it had just taken her a few moments to process.
(and then they'd been distracted by the return of an investigation group before she could dig into it too deeply.)
flayn gives yin yu's hand a very light squeeze, since he isn't pulling away, and keeps her voice gentle.]
I like being with you. Hearing that you enjoy being with me does not make me uncomfortable... it makes me happy.
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the reassurance is... admittedly, it's a little nice. he feels a little silly for apologizing, and for assuming, but... his self-deprecation comes from years of experience, and it's not something that dies off so easy. a little laugh escapes him, embarrassed and sheepish, on an exhale, and he nods, free hand shifting to rub the back of his neck above his scarf. some of the nervous tension fades out of him; yin yu doesn't let go. ] ...I'm glad.
[ because he really is. that's what he was trying to convey, in his own way. awkwardly. ] You don't have to say anything, if you don't want to, either. If anything, I think I'm quite good at being quiet. [ the last part is slightly dry in its delivery, a little bit of a joke, maybe?
just being here is enough. being able to exist next to someone else, is, after all, a very new experience for yin yu. ]
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[yin yu sure does know how to be quiet. it works for him, in some ways - allows him to do his job quickly and efficiently, with minimal interruptions. allows him to stealthily move from place to place without being accosted.
it probably allows him to keep himself safe, too.
but when he doesn't have to be quiet...]
I like hearing what you have to say, when you feel like talking. But just being with you is enough for me.
[with his hand in hers, she's much more at peace than she would have thought possible tonight.]
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that's... probably never happened before. he's a little surprised by it, looking at flayn just a bit wide eyed. it's a simple kindness--just being with you is enough for me--but, to someone like yin yu, it means the world.
he ducks his head again, the expression gone just as quick as it came, though it's replaced with something warmer. a small, genuine smile. it's just enough to lighten his expression as it returns to neutral, the warmth staying in his dark eyes. ] ...alright. [ yin yu says, quietly, giving her hand a small squeeze. ] I promise I'll keep that in mind, Lady Flayn.
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[as long as he remembers that, then... maybe he'll feel more comfortable, coming to her when he does need someone else to be there. maybe in some small way, she'll be able to support him the way he's been supporting her this whole time.
she squeezes his hand back in return.]