[By now, she knows that some of the memories getting dredged up this week are unpleasant - so Flayn is attempting to keep to herself. But her path crosses with Yin Yu's, as it normally does, and out of long habit she looks to him to call out with a greeting -
And the next thing they know, he is viewing a battle through her eyes.
...not just viewing, either. She was - and he is, in this moment - in the thick of things. The sound of metal striking against metal, of anguished screams as weapons cut past armor and into skin, rages around from all directions. At the center of the plains, a grizzled, armored man wielding a sword that stretches and expands despite being made of bone advances toward a green-haired, furious woman.
"Lady Seiros," one of the members of their army breathes as he falls. Flayn - Yin Yu - steps toward him, and stretches out a hand that is gripping a staff that may look familiar, but there is a pressure on her shoulder, and firm hands draw her back from the conflict at the middle of the battle. She glances back into the stern face of a man that Yin Yu may not recognize, although he does look a little like Flayn herself in terms of his hair and eye color. He shakes his head; that other man is already dead.
What the army lacks in numbers - and it does, despite how large it looks; Nemesis's forces outnumber them by far - Seiros to make up for in strength. She meets the vicious foe blow for blow, and Flayn shakes off the hand on her shoulder at the sound of screaming from elsewhere on the battle field and runs to where soldiers are facing off against soldiers.
It's these wounded that she tends to, as Seiros battles Nemesis. And there are almost too many of them to count. Some lives she manages to save. Others, she cannot.
She tended to her allies on the field of battle, until she exhausted all her strength—
It's almost too simplistic a retelling. It isn't just her own strength she exhausts. A healer makes an easy target, and Nemesis's forces don't hold back. She had meant it, during the very first trial here, when she said that the stab wound wasn't the worst she'd had - she defends herself from what blows she can, grits her teeth and bears the blows she cannot, and saps the strength from her enemies to knit her own wounds back together as she tries desperately to save even just one more person.
But there are only so many times that Nosferatu can rescue her, and only so many wounds she can possibly heal. There's only so far she can run to try and escape the soldiers who are faster and stronger than her. An arrow has pierced her back; a sword has struck clean through her stomach, and the soldier wielding it wrenches it away. Her blood splatters the ground, and she tries to take a breath.
Gods, but she can feel her life slipping away from her.
"Cethleann!" She is vaguely aware of a lance piercing straight through the swordsman, of him being knocked aside into one of his allies. There's an indistinct form above her, but she can't make out who it is. "No. No!"
Her vision blurs, and then turns to black. She feels something wet on her face - tears? Blood? - but she can't tell what it is.
"Cethleann, open your eyes! Please!"
...when she does next open her eyes, it's over. Yin Yu is there, and she...
wars tear through the land that he lives in constantly. even his master is rumored to have been killed through the yong'an war in the east when he was still human, but he had avoided it. in his pathway to ascension, his own cultivation was the only 'battling' he really had to do.
so, when the world suddenly shifts into a battlefield, and he realizes he's not of himself--that this has to be a memory. it takes over not a second later, and suddenly, yin yu moving into action, a magic in his fingertips he's never felt, humming in his veins as he moves from person to person, injured to injured, powerful, helpful, an angel on the battlefield, and then -
the arrow strikes between the shoulderblades. the sword, the blood (familiar now, green in color), the name -- 'cethleann', the blur to the vision and then --
and then, he's himself again, blinking once, twice, three times as he breathes in, a gasp of air he didn't realize that he needed. the memory is still so vivid that he has to force himself to properly look at flayn (at--cethleann?) and
instinct kicks in first, and he steps forward before she can bolt, because that's what he would do, too. if it was anyone else, he might have let it happen, but it's flayn and yin yu's still processing everything he saw, can still feel the phantom ache of the arrow as if it had hit him in the back. ]
Lady Flayn - [ he says, staggering out of his mouth before he can really think about it properly, because he doesn't know how to react in these situations, but the first thing yin yu does is reach forward and catch her hand.
it's not a hard grip. she can flee if she wants. he's just--stunned, and the emotions all balled up from her battle, surprise into worry into empathy haven't unwound yet in a way that's anything less than a mess, and after watching that, the last thing he wants is for her to be alone. ]
[she isn't expecting for him to reach for her hand.
that, more than anything, is what keeps her from bolting. if he had stayed still, she would be gone by now. if he had drawn back, she might have found it difficult to face him ever again. but instead he surges forward and takes her by the hand, and though it's not firm and confining -
it's there. he's there.]
Yin—
[her voice comes out in a gasp. it's not the first time she's had to think about this memory - in fact, this isn't something that has ever been easy for her to forget. it's why she's been kept so sheltered, why she so desperately wants to get stronger, and why she abhors bloodshed with everything in her.
but that doesn't make it any easier, revisiting it.]
[ that gasp is worrying, but, at the same time, a firm reminder that it wasn't--well, that it was real, but that they're still standing in camp. that that memory happened to flayn, but it's in the past. (and oh, did it happen. he knew that flayn was capable, and the talk of missions and helping knights made sense) but to see her--to feel her dying like that, to know all of the things that she saw, was --
it was a lot. and not to mention, the utter invasion of privacy of these memory shares is brutal. to have your deepest secrets shown so casually to others as if it didn't matter was callous and off-putting, and he can only imagine how flayn must be feeling after something so personal was just aired out to dry. so, yin yu wants to reassure, wants to help, but he's bad at it. i'm not going anywhere? what if she wants him to leave? i can forget about it? it was so important, isn't that cruel? and so, this was the best he could do, is try to provide flayn the same tether she's been providing him.
when she says his name, yin yu ends up picking up her hand with his other one, too, squeezing it between his, the concern taking over immediately. ] It's--it's alright, it's alright.
[ he sounds a little bit shaky, and she can't see it, but maybe she can hear it in his voice, worry and empathy all at once. he's not sure who or what he's comforting; the fact that flayn saw that memory again, the fact that he's okay with it, that he could never judge her, the fact that she's in front of him and alright right now? it's hard to say. ]
[he takes her other hand, and flayn's grip on his tightens. she still wants to run, but she wants to stay, too. having this memory out there is terrifying.
it's proof that she isn't who she's said she is - and that, despite all his trust in her, she couldn't even trust him enough to tell him her true name. even though he's proven time and time again that he'll keep her secrets--
the worst part is, she wanted to tell him herself. on her own time.
now they'll never know if she would have managed to.]
I...
[she flounders, lost for words. she doesn't know what to say, or how to thank him, or anything. gods, she wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
(that is, perhaps, a foolish wish when they could so easily be swallowed up by a memory of his own.)]
[ for a long moment, he's unsure what to do, still holding her hand between his own--eventually, he glances backwards for a decent patch of grass, squeezing again. ] ...let's sit down.
[ not too far. just a couple of steps, guiding backwards to sit. yin yu lets go with his other hand, reaching up to unwind his scarf from around his neck--it's decent enough size unfolded that he can shake it out with one hand and set it down for enough space for flayn so she doesn't have to sit on the ground.
he's spent all of today avoiding other people to keep away from this same effect, but right now, it's not on his mind. yin yu's more worried about flayn, how shaken she clearly was by that memory, and his own reaction to it can come later. the more time they spend together, the more likely it is that his own memories will come to life, but. this first. ]
[it isn't too far at all. flayn nods, and she's about to just sit directly on the ground when he reaches up to undo his scarf - but that's so much like him, isn't it? for as long as she's known him, he's been thoughtful when it comes to the comfort of others.
she sits, scooting over a bit on the scarf so that, hopefully, there will be enough room for them both - but she doesn't let go of his hand.]
[ once he settles down beside her, flayn speaks up. and.... that surprises him, actually, and he blinks at her a little owlishly--then pauses, reaches up and pushes his mask off to the side of his face proper. it feels more like a hindrance than a help to have his face covered, for once, and moving it gives him a minute to actually decide what to say.
...that's better. just like before, if flayn needs him, then he'll give the contact back, letting her keep his hand for as long as she wants it, his fingers threading naturally through hers. (naturally. when did this become so natural?)
...I'm sorry, for prying. Even though it wasn't intentional, your memories are your own. [ ... ] ...That was a memory, wasn't it?
You were not prying— it is not as though you asked to see it...
[the thought of yin yu, prying, is honestly foreign to her. it's not that she thinks he doesn't care, because she knows he does; it's simply that she knows he respects the privacy of others.
...which is part of why she wanted to share it with him herself, eventually.]
It was. ...it was from a very, very long time ago.
[ yin yu nods. the memory of her profile flashes absently across his head. over a thousand... a very long time indeed. he has questions, of course--who wouldn't--but he's also a master of being discreet, when necessary. he can shut up and be silent with the best of them.
even still...a little worriedly, his thumb tracks over the side of her hand, trying to be soothing. ] You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, my lady.
[ she should still have that agency of her own. it's not fair, that this place has taken it from her.
little does he know, the longer that they're in contact, the more likely it seems to be that one of his own memories is going to come up. the scenery before them is starting to get a little blurry, and by the time he realizes in horror what's happening, his hand tightens on flayn's then starts to loosen as if he's going to flee-- but it's too late. ]
[ the memory flayn gets is chopped up into pieces.
the first is a young man, with bright, bright brown eyes and a mass of curly brown hair. he looks up at, ostensibly, yin yu, with his eyes shining, his hands clenched into fists. he's maybe twelve or thirteen--and then again, older, sixteen, seventeen, standing in front of yin yu and looking at him, blood on his lip, smiling -- the memory jerks as if they're being carried along, to a temple full of people dressed like yin yu, in similar colors, voicing their complaints.
"How old is he now, he can't always be like a child?! There are people who are dads now, at his age!"
"the moment he came here he took everything! What's so good about him!? Yin Yu-shixiong, you're the eldest disciple, if you got those privileges, we'd all let it go, you deserve it! But who the hell is he?! No education, no manners, so what if he's talented! None of us will accept him!"
yin yu looks out at the crowd, his back straight, holding a brush as the other disciples complain and complain. someone who was frustrated could easily give in to such a lure--the chance to complain, the chance to alienate this young disciple, but yin yu sets down his brush, and starts to scold his shidi.
"What you're saying isn't right. No matter what path we cultivate, talent truly is something incredible. Besides, not only is he talented, he's willing to work hard. If you really think the master is playing favorites, then let's work harder to keep up with him, overtake him. If everyone has the time to be mad, then why not use that energy to cultivate, and train more?"
the other disciples complaining is silenced, mostly, and they grumble to each other. only one, who flayn as yin yu will recognize as one of his closest friends, warns, loudly, "Yin Yu, you speak for him today, but be careful of him screwing you over in the future!"
--
the memory jerks again. this time, yin yu stands in a palace, his feet on white marble tiles. the gesture of his arms to a stream of guests shows that he's well dressed, in fine silks, bright gold hanging from his wrists, and everything about him is brighter, warmer. the aura of a martial god thrums through his veins, the feeling of a thousand believers ferverently praying to him for their success guides his spiritual energy, his movements. he bows his head in thanks to another god, who laughs as he brings him a present and says, "Congratulations on your ascension! I've come late, give me wine as punishment, haha!"
Yin Yu smiles, warm with pride, and shakes his head, gesturing for the god to enter the palace. A party goes on around them, congratulations and celebrations, but it's interrupted by someone yelling, sharply, "YOUR HIGHNESS YIN YU, YOU BETTER GIVE US A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR YOUR SHIDI!"
...abruptly, he looks behind him. the same curly haired boy from before, now nineteen or so, stands there, hands behind his back. yin yu sighs. "Yizhen, did you pick a fight again?"
"Yeah." he says, simply. yin yu feels the urge to rub his temples, looking out to the ruckus outside. it seems whatever middle official he picked a fight with is still trying to egg something on, causing a scene outside of yin yu's palace, trying to start a fight. the person's held outside, shouting and yelling, accusing yin yu of trying to cover it up. as he opens his mouth to try and deal with it, the young man suddenly pushes past him, with all of the anger of a charging bull, furious at the insult to the palace, and yin yu stares, dumbfounded for a moment.
"--Yizhen, stop!" and then rushes out to chase after him.
the memory shifts, again, this time, it's yin yu's scolding friend, pacing around yin yu's side chamber and yelling. "The domain in the west is only so big, Yin Yu! Quan Yizhen erected a palace, and now he's robbed your devotees! Even that wolf monster he killed should have been yours! Look at the state of you, your domain is shrinking smaller and smaller, how much do you have left?! How can you maintain your standing?!"
"How is it considered robbing? It's not like he held anyone at knifepoint to worship him. They're willing. ...what fight? Why care for such a thing? What must leave, will always leave in the end, and what should remain will naturally stay. I didn't ascend to fight over power with anyone, especially not Yizhen, nor fight over domains, so why can't you just let this go, Jian Yu?"
jian yu practically growls and rubs his hand through his hair. there's another odd skip, and yizhen is standing there, too, suddenly. it's his birthday, and since the awkwardness of another experience, yin yu had been avoiding him more than before, but the young man came anyway, asking for a birthday present. yizhen looks at him with eyes shining, and yin yu quickly apologizes and turns to his side chamber, telling him to wait a moment.
he hadn't prepared a birthday gift fo yizhen, as he had every year. asking jian yu, the other middle official 'tsks', grabs a rag cloth, throws it on the ground, and stomps on it. "Give him this, then."
"Jian Yu!"
the scene skips. jian yu returns with a box-- a side conversation of yizhen floats in, talking to yin yu, "i don't really know anything about worshipers. they just started showing up. i fought this other wolf monster, too..."
he wasn't even trying to get his new position as an upper heavenly official, the second martial god of the west, and -- it hurts, it hurts yin yu so badly, but he shoves it down, down, and hands him the birthday present with a small, slightly frazzled smile.
it becomes even more blurry, then. a few more statements float in. yizhen, laughing when someone mistook yin yu for quan yizhen, because he thought it was silly. yin yu, embarrassed at the banquet where he'd been confused, sinking into his seat. yin yu, not invited to the parade of martial gods -- something only given to the most powerful, while yizhen took a spot. these tiny little stones start stacking, and stacking, and stacking, and yin yu gets heavier, and heavier with each little statement, hurting more, and more, and more as his star starts to wane.
yin yu, standing in his chambers, holding a golden armband that was supposed to be the gift for yizhen. he looks to jian yu, confused, and jian yu just says, "i gave him something better."
flayn is treated to yin yu's alarm, the feeling of the hairs on the back of his neck rising up, the phrase, "the brocade immortal", and suddenly, he's running out of his palace, as fast as his legs can carry him--
when the memory clips into focus again, quan yizhen stands in front of yin yu, wearing golden armor. his head is tilted to the side--he looks genuinely lost and confused, like a puppy.
and yin yu is furious. his anger is so oppressive that it pours out of him, that his hands are trembling, clenched into fists, as he finally shouts, "Did I say I wanted to go?! What's the patrol of the martial gods have to do with me?! I didn't beg you, so who are you to mention me to the emperor?!"
in the memory, it's blatantly obvious that the parade is important. that quan yizhen had asked a favor of the emperor to "allow" yin yu to march was--beyond offensive. those who saw him there if he did go after such a thing would talk and talk about him, and his skin wasn't thick enough for such things. how could he possibly use someone's connections--the connections of his disciple, his shidi, someone who usurped him to take a place somewhere he never belonged? he didn't belong there. he wasn't supposed to -- he used to be able to --
quan yizhen is silent, for a moment, but the trouble is blatant on his face. "...shixiong, why are you so mad? Did I do something wrong?"
and yin yu, patient, kind yin yu, who has always defended yizhen, who has always helped quan yizhen, who has tried to be kind to him, who has tried to help and be calm
finally snaps.
"Enough, I've had enough! I'm going mad--I'm going fucking mad, because of you! Quan Yizhen--!" he points at the great martial hall, where the other gods were gathered, "Don't talk to me anymore! Take back your recommendation, stop adding to my troubles! Go back right this second!"
without another word, quan yizhen turns, and starts walking. yin yu blinks, trembling, and his eyes slowly slide down yizhen's back, to the golden armor he's wearing. the brocade immortal forces the wearer to follow the orders of the person who gave it to them - who was yin yu. yizhen wasn't remorseful, or understanding why he'd offended his shixiong. he was being compelled to do it.
shaken, his hands trembling, he shouts, "STOP!" and quan yizhen stops. he looks bewildered, as the martial gods step out to see what the commotion is about, yin yu panics, and yells, "Come back--leave!"
it's confusing, but quan yizhen just cocks his head, instantly turns, and starts running straight for yin yu. in his panic, all he can do is run, too, looking suddenly like a guilty criminal, trying to decide what to do as the martial gods--emperor included--begin to give chase, as if to apprehend them. yin yu panics further, completely in disarray, he has to get yizhen out of that armor, he has to make that stop, and shouts, "Leave! Leave right now--take off your clothes!"
yizhen's eyes are blank, when yin yu looks back, but his hands go to the brocade immortal. there's a moment of sheer relief in yin yu's eyes, but as the martial gods reach them and start to try and apprehend yizhen, it's short lived. yizhen's goal -- remove the item -- is being blocked, and his gaze flashes with violence. he takes in the ten martial gods closest to him as targets, lifts his fists--
blood splatters the ground, crimson red.
"MURDER IN THE UPPER COURT!" someone screams--
--
the memory fades, again. yin yu is being restrained, now, another martial god holding him under the arms. he's as white as a sheet, as yizhen has been fighting and fighting up to this point, it's only one desperately shouted, please stop fighting! that finally stops quan yizhen, and he's restrained, a sword in his shoulder, beaten up beyond almost recognition by the martial gods.
in the process, the palace of yin yu was nearly destroyed by the chaos. all that stands is the rubble, the circle of martial gods trying to restrain the chaos, and.. quan yizhen. he turns his head to look at yizhen, who drops to his knees, finally, and stares up at yin yu, utterly confused. "....what's going on?"
his oblivious face is the only thing yin yu can see. yizhen, oblivious, stupid, oblivious yizhen, sitting in the wreckage of yin yu's life, not realizing that he was the one who caused everything. it's funny. it's. it's
the irony of the situation hits him like a hammer, and shatters the glass of yin yu's last restraint. he laughs. it's just one, sharp, humorless bark of a laugh, and then another, and then another, his shoulders starting to quake.
"shixiong? what are you doing? " quan yizhen has crawled towards him, now, trying to check up on his shixiong, still so confused, still wearing the brocade, head tilted, stupid, stupid yizhen, stupid yizhen,
yin yu's order comes out in a moment of crisp clarity.
"GO DIE!
the light of clarity in yizhen's eyes vanishes. he reaches for the closest sword on the ground, takes it in one hand, fists the other in those curls and pulls his head up to expose his throat. the blade comes up -
[ the heavenly emperor appears. with a crack, he dislocates quan yizhen's sword arm--then his other, then both of his legs, the sword clatters to the ground,
the memory stops
and yin yu sits there. the color has drained from his face, his eyes wide, his shoulders trembling. it's that same feeling--the glass, shattering, as he realizes with the same clarity that it's over that flayn has seen him for who he is: a monster.
he jerks, his hand pulling out of hers, and he's up, in a second--- yin yu has to run he has to leave he has to get away-- ]
[he processes what they've seen much more quickly than she does.
but of course - that's only natural. he's already lived it once, and he's lived with the guilt and pain of it for-- she doesn't know how long now. years? centuries? how long has it been?
how long has he been suffering?
her grip tightens - but he's always been faster than her, and his hand is wrenched away. she's left holding onto nothing but empty air. she reaches out in a bid to grip his clothing, but her fingertips brush against the fabric for the briefest instant before he's up and away.]
No—
[she leaps to her feet - is it going to be enough? will it ever be enough? and reaches out for him again, surging forward, trying to take his hand before he's gone. but if they're being realistic, he is more than fast enough to run from her whenever he wants to. to vanish from her sight before she can so much as protest.
[ yin yu's heart is pounding so hard in his ears it's drowning out everything. even the camp feels like it's faded into white static, and his feet are moving automatically. it's over.
one of the things that has always been the most baffling about yin yu, maybe, is that he seems to defer any sort of thought that he might be kind. even when other people tell him so, he demurs, deflects. sure, he hasn't done anything particularly unkind... at least not since they've come to the camp, but this is why.
because yin yu isn't a kind person. he isn't a good person, either.
yizhen didn't know any better -- and yin yu was no better than the shidi that he scolded for being so cruel. it didn't matter that his life fell apart, and it didn't matter that it was, inevitably, yizhen that caused it, accidentally, even; he nearly got him killed, because he finally tore the lid off of his emotions and let loose on him. it was a series of misfortunes that destroyed him, took the once bright eyed god he had been and brought him down to no one, a masked man with no presence who blended into the crowd. his entire life fell apart in the span of a few months, because jian yu's prediction had been true.
and quan yizhen... yizhen didn't deserve any of that. even if -- yin yu still resents him (doesn't he?) -- cares for him (does he?) -- it doesn't matter, he didn't deserve what happened to him that day. he was just better than yin yu, by the sheer manner of existing, and he overtook him. and yin yu was jealous, and when it counted, he was cruel.
some people were meant to fail, and yin yu was one of them.
that day in the heavenly realm haunts him. it's been centuries, and he can recall every detail in crisp picture, as if it was recorded, and replayed, and it's all yin yu can do to ignore it. it's why he's always running, why he's always working, because the minute yin yu stops, his past catches up to him and reminds him of every way he failed. he had tried so hard, his entire life, and trying hard was nothing in the face of someone like yizhen, who took his position so effortlessly and didn't even know he'd done wrong. yin yu doesn't have it in him to be angry at him, because it was never his fault. while jian yu seethed until his resentment boiled, yin yu kept his face to the ground and the weight on his shoulders, because his thoughts devolved into acceptance, a bitterness that he didn't deserve any of the things he had once won. if yin yu was a quarter moon, then yizhen was the sun, effortlessly eclipsing the sliver of light he'd put out.
over the years, he's barely let himself think about why that phrase came out of his mouth. was it an accident? a slip of the tongue, because he'd finally cracked after years of enduring, years of telling jian yu to drop it?
(or worse: did he really, really, want yizhen to die? in his heart, did he want him to suffer, to vanish, to disappear from his life? it would have solved his problems.... wouldn't it?)
the last thing yin yu saw before he came to the island was his shidi. a game of murder had almost been a relief compared to the joyous way quan yizhen yelled his name when he realized he'd found his shixiong.
and now, here it was again. he can't run forever. no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape quan yizhen. even when hua cheng saved him when he was kicked out of the heavens, it was inevitable. he was living on borrowed time, spending snatched moments with people who thought he was something he wasn't. it was bound to come out, eventually.
it's been hundreds of years and yin yu isn't much better at handling overwhelming tides of emotions. his chest feels heavy, sticky, like he can't breathe when he runs, like he's going to choke from the lack of oxygen, and flayn's please cuts through the air like a knife. i'm sorry, he thinks, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, but he says nothing, throat so tight he couldn't even if he tried, vision tunneling with panic. he's not as fast as he usually is, careless, ducking around a corner with a flutter of his dark hair, to the side wall of a (thankfully empty) cabin. it's a spot easily found. he doesn't notice.
yin yu stops, back hitting the wall, and slowly sinks down to the ground, knitting his hands in his hair and dropping his head down to his knees as he tries to force himself to shove it all back down. it's useless; yin yu squeezes his eyes shut and breathes, breathe, breathe, breathe ]
she knows he's vanished around the cabin's corner - but from there, where might he go? ...is it kinder to leave him be, when he is so clearly desperate to get away, or is it crueler to leave him to suffer on his own?
because there's no way he isn't suffering. none.
flayn's eyes burn with tears. yin yu deserves better than his own fear and self-loathing and guilt. he deserves better than his self-imposed isolation. he deserves better than to be constantly overlooked, to be unseen. he deserves so much better--
her feet are moving before she's aware of it. there's no decision to make here - her only option is to find him, so that he isn't alone. somehow, she has to prove to him that he doesn't have to run. not from here.
never from her.
she rounds the corner of the cabin -
and to her shock, there he is.
...
if she speaks, will he leave? if she sits beside him, will he let her stay? her steps are light and careful, near-silent, but she hasn't mastered the art of not making a sound when she walks, and there's the soft crunch of dirt underfoot as she approaches him.
she sinks down into a crouch, just in front of him, and reaches out a hand.]
...please, do not go.
[her voice is as gentle as she can make it - she's terrified, if she speaks too firmly or too harshly, that he'll flee from her again.
she doesn't know if she can bear to watch him leave her twice.]
[ no matter where he runs in this godforsaken camp, it's not going to be enough. at first, being away from the disaster at home had been such a small mercy, but now, yin yu finds himself almost desperately wishing chengzhu would appear. he would do anything for a silver butterfly to fly across his vision with an order or a job to do. to go back to being no one, because that's who yin yu really is. a banished god with blood on his hands, in the service of a ghostly king, a mask instead of a person. it was what he deserved, and years from the incident with yizhen, he had finally found a purpose again because of it. things like loneliness didn't bother him, not really, because he didn't deserve the company of other people. being unnoticeable when once he'd been something now just meant he was able to come and go as he pleased for chengzhu's sake.
why would he want to be 'yin yu', anyway? his highness yin yu, former failed god of the west, disgraced, practicer of something dark and evil, petty and jealous of his shidi who was better than him instead of gracious? what kind of a person was that? someone who should be as lost to the sands of time as he has been.
what was there to see, about him? any kindness people had perceived wasn't -- that wasn't who he really was. up until now, he'd been able to keep that secret. with chengzhu, he hadn't had to worry, because chengzhu already knew, but here at camp...
here at camp, people like flayn believe in him, and they shouldn't.
the crunch of dirt catches his attention. with his head swimming full of static and dark, dark thoughts, fingers knotted tight in his hair, yin yu barely hears it. the minute someone is close, he tenses even more, frozen to the spot, breathing in harsh, shallow pants - for a brief, hysterical moment, he wonders if it's someone coming to murder him, too, that might be nice, some god damned penance for a crime he's never stopped repenting for -
but it's flayn. her voice is soft and gentle, familiar. he's heard it in a million conversations now, and his stomach lurches when she speaks, the negative emotions piling heavier and heavier onto his shoulders. yin yu doesn't know why she followed him, he doesn't know how she keeps finding him even when he doesn't want to be found, and all he's done is prove himself as the opposite of what she said. maybe she's come to say so. maybe she'll forget.
to be caught between wanting that more than anything, and being utterly terrified at the thought, is just another emotional whirlwind to be stuck in.
yin yu takes in a shaky breath. he wants to say something--what would he even say, and he can't, looking down at his knees, unable to look up to meet her gaze. he'd taken his mask off to try and comfort flayn, before, and right now, he wants it, wants to pull it over his face and hide and melt into the background, but he can't.
he shakes his head. that's all he's got, his fingers still knotted tight in his hair. yin yu can't look at her. he shouldn't. if he keeps looking down, maybe she'll forget he's even there.
...but flayn can't say that this is an improvement, either. he won't raise his head, he can't seem to look at her, and it's so obvious that he's trembling that her heart aches to see it. what can she do for him?
is there anything she can do for him?
seeing him like this hurts. knowing that he's carried this pain all this time, without anyone the wiser, cuts like a knife. but to shoulder such a burden alone must be even more painful, and she's sure that her brief foray into his memories has only given a glimpse of the agony that he's been living with all this time.]
...will it hurt you, if I stay?
[she doesn't want to go.
more than anything, she doesn't want to leave him - but she doesn't want to hurt him, either.
[ of all the things he's expecting to hear out of flayn's mouth, "will it hurt you if i stay" is not even close. i thought you were different, maybe. or you lied to me. or even, stay away from me.
his head snaps up, just to look at her properly. yin yu's not a particularly emotional person (or, maybe he is, at least underneath everything), but right now, every emotion he's feeling is displayed on his face. anguish, pain, self-deprecation, the edge of it so sharp it could cut, but in that moment, there's surprise.
that vulnerable, startled look turns into a wet, humorless laugh, startled out of him. it's so, so bitter, weighed down with centuries of this heavy guilt, and his grip only loosens just a little when he asks it. ] ...Why would you?
[ it's an actual, genuine question, because he cannot even fathom why flayn would want to be near him right now. or ever again. actually, ever again makes more sense. the memories shared between them made the distance stark enough -- flayn giving her all in the battlefield only to fall saving others, and yin yu's failings, and the cruel order that almost cost his shidi his life. ]
...he feels the need to ask why. flayn starts to answer, because to her, it's so obvious - they're friends. friends listen when the other is suffering, and try to help shoulder their burdens-- they don't just cut them out because of a mistake that they clearly regret, have carried so much guilt over--
but if he has to ask, then...
tears form in the corners of her eyes, but she doesn't blink. she doesn't let them spill over. he doesn't need to deal with her tears on top of his own pain, so she looks down, her hands clenching into fists.]
I care about you.
[her voice comes out a little raw.]
Why would I not stay—?
[does he think that little of her...?
...
no. more likely, he thinks that little of himself.]
That-- that, what you just saw, that's who I really am. I was banished from the Heavens. Jian Yu became a resentful spirit and had to be put down.
[ he says it with a little more dullness, that time, looking down at his knees, that bitter thread tangled in every word out of his mouth. there's a part of him that wants to take what flayn said and hold it close to his chest, but he doesn't deserve that. all this time, flayn has thought he was someone else, and so, the defeated hopelessness that has hung over his head since jun wu laid down his punishment returns.
(flayn thought he was someone, a traitor of a voice in the back of his head likes to remind him.)
slowly, his hands drop out of his dark hair, finally loosing, only to curl in his lap, instead, tight enough that his nails leave white crescents in his skin. from this angle, it's easier to see the black mark around his wrist, and yin yu can't look at that, either. it's a reminder, every time he looks at his bare skin, that he was never enough, and never was going to be enough, in the first place.
he didn't care. yin yu told himself he didn't care. but how can you not, when the world you've worked your whole life for starts to crumble in your fingers--and the person who causes it doesn't even notice the pain they've caused you? yin yu didn't make it easy for yizhen; it felt so obvious and world ending to him that he never said a thing, let it simmer until it exploded in his face.
i'm sorry wants to come out. i lied to you.
he can't say it, though, just exhaling shakily, instead. ]
[banished from the Heavens. yes, he was. she can't deny that.
but—]
Your Taizi Dianxia was banished from the Heavens as well, was he not? More than once, as I recall. [and it did not seem as though yin yu had harbored anything short of admiration for him. granted, the circumstances were different. but still.] And I believe your Hua Chengzhu spent some time as a resentful spirit.
[this is probably not why he told her that story. and maybe she doesn't know enough of them to be able to compare it, but - she doesn't want to let yin yu just blame himself for all of this. it may not be possible to stop him from doing so. maybe he feels like he needs to be punished for the part he played in what happened.
but he's much more effective at punishing himself than he needs to be.]
I saw what you saw. I felt what you felt. And that is how I know... you were frustrated and you were upset, but you never meant for that to happen.
You regret it. Deeply. You have never stopped punishing yourself for it.
[her voice breaks.]
But you should not have to suffer like this. Not... not like this.
[ that little voice of doubt always has something to say. yin yu has been telling himself that for years, too--that he never meant for it to happen.
but what if he did? that had to come from somewhere. he'd been so relieved when he finally got yizhen to stop, and then, seeing him and the destroyed palace all at once...
"go die." he knew exactly what that order was going to do, and he said it anyway. he cracked under the force of the pressure and gave in. that's the question of the affair that keeps him up at night. what if i meant it?
adding the whims of the island onto it had been brutal. at least there, he'd had the excuse that he was compelled, but there was no excuse for the things he'd done in the heavenly capital that day. yin yu had just seen yizhen for the first time since not minutes before he woke up in the ocean there, and he'd felt panicked for the same reason, wanting to run from a resentment he felt like he still had deep buried in his bones. because if yizhen was out of sight, then maybe, he could finally be out of mind. because the idiot was still so excited to see him, because he hadn't changed a bit, and he'd wanted to lash out then, too.
(but he didn't. he had his chance to take quan yizhen's head off, and yin yu had rescued him, instead.)
but flayn isn't wrong. he knows he's never stopped punishing himself; he probably never will. every mistake he'd made led to that point, and adding watching his entire life fall apart to it too had left him with a furious, guilty tangle of emotions that he's never once tried to pull apart.
i felt what you felt sticks with him, too, and involuntarily, he flinches. ] ...I'm sorry. [ he says, quietly, genuinely, for that, because it feels like all he can do.
he's not just sorry for that. he's sorry for the way her voice cracks, for how upset she sounds. he's sorry that she had to see his sad existence as a person. that she had to find out this way. that she wasted her time with him.
unlike flayn, yin yu never would have told her about this, if he had the choice. he would have taken this to his grave, whenever it came to him, and now it's out in the open. whatever self inflicted suffering he had was only the kind that he deserved. taizia dianxia's banishment came from helping humans; hua chengzhu's spirit used that resentment to save someone's existence. he and jian yu are like paper copies, and jian yu is so long dead, the comparison is a non-starter.
yin yu has never felt so vulnerable in his entire life, so unbelievably exposed, laid bare for the worst parts of him without his permission. he wants to shrink into himself, dig a hole in the ground with the earth master's shovel and never come back out.
he shakes his head again, though it's less panicked now, and more just...resigned. yin yu looks so tired. the sparkle of that bright eyed god feels like a scattered dream, compared to the person who sits here before her. ] ...it was a long time ago. [ he adds, finally. soft, far away, and full of sorrow. ]
...you do not have to tell me if you do not wish to.
[it's an echo of what he'd said to her at the beginning of this. after her own memory, before his secrets were laid bare. he's always been so respectful of her boundaries, but has continued to be there for her, even when she's sure there are questions he must want to ask. ...there are questions she wants to ask him too, but--
mostly, she just wants him to be okay. as long as that happens, as long as he doesn't have to go around with this horrible look on his face, then she can deal with the not knowing.
she holds her hands out to him, though part of her doesn't expect him to take them. still - even so - she'll always continue to reach out to him, in the chance that someday he might reach back.]
...but if you ever do wish to... I will listen.
[nothing he could tell her would scare her away.]
We are friends. [...her voice sounds almost like she's pleading with him - friends, so don't push me away. is that selfish? wouldn't it be better to let him get comfortable again, before she pushes it? but she doesn't want him to be alone with these memories so close at hand, either.] What I saw does not change that.
...I want to be here for you, Yin Yu, if you will allow me to be.
...there's nothing else to tell. [ it takes him a little while to respond, staring down at his shaking hands and trying to will it to stop. even if he tries to ignore what just happened - and gods, will he try - it's still there, now. the memories of yin yu's past have always been his shadow, chomping at his ankles in moments of silence, there to remind him the minute he stops, the minute something happens that's close to good.
yin yu's telling the truth, though. there are other parts of that story that that horrible memory didn't share, but none of them really matter. it's just a long pile of embarrassment and failure, event after event of yizhen's ascension and yin yu's downfall. whatever in the camp was making this happen found the most painful parts like an assassin and dragged them out into the light.
slowly, his own coping mechanisms kick back into place. he's calmer again, breath settled, but knowing has to bring into focus so many things about him. the way he runs, the way he hides. the way he seems to exist like a shade of gray in a world full of bright colors. the ever present sadness in his eyes, like the light in him had just been snuffed out.
no kindness, no goodness: no optimism, no hope. all of those things died when he commanded quan yizhen to end his life, too.
as he starts to raise his head properly, he sees flayn's hands enter his line of vision, and right as he's starting to get control of it, flayn knocks him for a loop again. we are friends, i want to be here for you. he stares at her palms for a minute, now familiar, and exhales softly, giving a small duck of his head, the gesture more familiar. ]
...that's very kind of you, Lady Flayn.
[ he knows that flayn is a good person--a good, bright, wonderful person--and saying things like this are just a part of her.
but it's an inevitability: he knows she's going to forget, too. it might not be today. it might not be tomorrow, but he's already shown his cards, and a person like him doesn't deserve to be remembered. eventually, he will fade away, as he always does, replaced by something better and brighter. there are layers to "you are a kind person", unsaid words. i'm not.i wish i was.i want what you said to be true. it's okay, that it's not.
is it selfish to want to hold onto it a little longer?
it's easier to pretend that it's fine. he pushes the feelings that came from that down, down, away from himself, shoves them into a dark corner to be left, so only he's the one who has to deal with them. he will not be selfish. not now. not again. he will be no one. a helpful presence, a quiet worker, someone who keeps his head down. a not quite human working in the ghost city, just as much of a ghost as the spirits who inhabit it. yin yu will not be someone, because the 'someone' that he was was a house of cards blown over in the breeze.
yin yu does not know peace, but he will pretend that he does. he will pretend that it doesn't matter, that his secrets are invisible. with a last breath, in and out, yin yu closes the door on those emotions with finality. what he thinks, what happened to him - in the grand scheme of things, it's not worth considering. he is not worth considering.
he only opens his hands because he doesn't want flayn to worry, and lets his fingers touch hers, briefly, eyes still cast downwards. he doesn't deserve her kindness, but she shouldn't have to make that face because of him. ]
what good is being kind, if she can't help - really help - someone she cares about when he so clearly needs it? bottling up how he's feeling isn't a solution, either. taking each of his hurts and keeping them so close to himself can only hurt him more.
but if he doesn't want to talk about it...
his fingers touch hers, and without thinking, she shifts her hands to catch his, to lace their fingers together. it doesn't comfort her much, and perhaps it doesn't comfort him, either; perhaps he's simply given up on trying to outrun her, and is going to allow her to do as she pleases, regardless of whether it does him any good at all.
she ducks his head, as he does, so that he cannot see the look on her face, either. he's the one suffering, here. he's the one convinced of his own guilt and shame and worthlessness, so why is she the one crying? these tears ought to be his. he ought to be able to let them out and set the guilt free.
but he won't.
so she cries, and maybe it's a foolish thought to think that these are the tears he won't allow himself to shed.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fishingforcompliments) wrote2020-06-06 12:53 pm
w3, monday
And the next thing they know, he is viewing a battle through her eyes.
...not just viewing, either. She was - and he is, in this moment - in the thick of things. The sound of metal striking against metal, of anguished screams as weapons cut past armor and into skin, rages around from all directions. At the center of the plains, a grizzled, armored man wielding a sword that stretches and expands despite being made of bone advances toward a green-haired, furious woman.
"Lady Seiros," one of the members of their army breathes as he falls. Flayn - Yin Yu - steps toward him, and stretches out a hand that is gripping a staff that may look familiar, but there is a pressure on her shoulder, and firm hands draw her back from the conflict at the middle of the battle. She glances back into the stern face of a man that Yin Yu may not recognize, although he does look a little like Flayn herself in terms of his hair and eye color. He shakes his head; that other man is already dead.
What the army lacks in numbers - and it does, despite how large it looks; Nemesis's forces outnumber them by far - Seiros to make up for in strength. She meets the vicious foe blow for blow, and Flayn shakes off the hand on her shoulder at the sound of screaming from elsewhere on the battle field and runs to where soldiers are facing off against soldiers.
It's these wounded that she tends to, as Seiros battles Nemesis. And there are almost too many of them to count. Some lives she manages to save. Others, she cannot.
She tended to her allies on the field of battle, until she exhausted all her strength—
It's almost too simplistic a retelling. It isn't just her own strength she exhausts. A healer makes an easy target, and Nemesis's forces don't hold back. She had meant it, during the very first trial here, when she said that the stab wound wasn't the worst she'd had - she defends herself from what blows she can, grits her teeth and bears the blows she cannot, and saps the strength from her enemies to knit her own wounds back together as she tries desperately to save even just one more person.
But there are only so many times that Nosferatu can rescue her, and only so many wounds she can possibly heal. There's only so far she can run to try and escape the soldiers who are faster and stronger than her. An arrow has pierced her back; a sword has struck clean through her stomach, and the soldier wielding it wrenches it away. Her blood splatters the ground, and she tries to take a breath.
Gods, but she can feel her life slipping away from her.
"Cethleann!" She is vaguely aware of a lance piercing straight through the swordsman, of him being knocked aside into one of his allies. There's an indistinct form above her, but she can't make out who it is. "No. No!"
Her vision blurs, and then turns to black. She feels something wet on her face - tears? Blood? - but she can't tell what it is.
"Cethleann, open your eyes! Please!"
...when she does next open her eyes, it's over. Yin Yu is there, and she...
...
Well, she kind of looks like she wants to run.]
no subject
wars tear through the land that he lives in constantly. even his master is rumored to have been killed through the yong'an war in the east when he was still human, but he had avoided it. in his pathway to ascension, his own cultivation was the only 'battling' he really had to do.
so, when the world suddenly shifts into a battlefield, and he realizes he's not of himself--that this has to be a memory. it takes over not a second later, and suddenly, yin yu moving into action, a magic in his fingertips he's never felt, humming in his veins as he moves from person to person, injured to injured, powerful, helpful, an angel on the battlefield, and then -
the arrow strikes between the shoulderblades. the sword, the blood (familiar now, green in color), the name -- 'cethleann', the blur to the vision and then --
and then, he's himself again, blinking once, twice, three times as he breathes in, a gasp of air he didn't realize that he needed. the memory is still so vivid that he has to force himself to properly look at flayn (at--cethleann?) and
instinct kicks in first, and he steps forward before she can bolt, because that's what he would do, too. if it was anyone else, he might have let it happen, but it's flayn and yin yu's still processing everything he saw, can still feel the phantom ache of the arrow as if it had hit him in the back. ]
Lady Flayn - [ he says, staggering out of his mouth before he can really think about it properly, because he doesn't know how to react in these situations, but the first thing yin yu does is reach forward and catch her hand.
it's not a hard grip. she can flee if she wants. he's just--stunned, and the emotions all balled up from her battle, surprise into worry into empathy haven't unwound yet in a way that's anything less than a mess, and after watching that, the last thing he wants is for her to be alone. ]
no subject
that, more than anything, is what keeps her from bolting. if he had stayed still, she would be gone by now. if he had drawn back, she might have found it difficult to face him ever again. but instead he surges forward and takes her by the hand, and though it's not firm and confining -
it's there. he's there.]
Yin—
[her voice comes out in a gasp. it's not the first time she's had to think about this memory - in fact, this isn't something that has ever been easy for her to forget. it's why she's been kept so sheltered, why she so desperately wants to get stronger, and why she abhors bloodshed with everything in her.
but that doesn't make it any easier, revisiting it.]
Yin Yu..?
no subject
it was a lot. and not to mention, the utter invasion of privacy of these memory shares is brutal. to have your deepest secrets shown so casually to others as if it didn't matter was callous and off-putting, and he can only imagine how flayn must be feeling after something so personal was just aired out to dry. so, yin yu wants to reassure, wants to help, but he's bad at it. i'm not going anywhere? what if she wants him to leave? i can forget about it? it was so important, isn't that cruel? and so, this was the best he could do, is try to provide flayn the same tether she's been providing him.
when she says his name, yin yu ends up picking up her hand with his other one, too, squeezing it between his, the concern taking over immediately. ] It's--it's alright, it's alright.
[ he sounds a little bit shaky, and she can't see it, but maybe she can hear it in his voice, worry and empathy all at once. he's not sure who or what he's comforting; the fact that flayn saw that memory again, the fact that he's okay with it, that he could never judge her, the fact that she's in front of him and alright right now? it's hard to say. ]
no subject
it's proof that she isn't who she's said she is - and that, despite all his trust in her, she couldn't even trust him enough to tell him her true name. even though he's proven time and time again that he'll keep her secrets--
the worst part is, she wanted to tell him herself. on her own time.
now they'll never know if she would have managed to.]
I...
[she flounders, lost for words. she doesn't know what to say, or how to thank him, or anything. gods, she wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
(that is, perhaps, a foolish wish when they could so easily be swallowed up by a memory of his own.)]
no subject
[ not too far. just a couple of steps, guiding backwards to sit. yin yu lets go with his other hand, reaching up to unwind his scarf from around his neck--it's decent enough size unfolded that he can shake it out with one hand and set it down for enough space for flayn so she doesn't have to sit on the ground.
he's spent all of today avoiding other people to keep away from this same effect, but right now, it's not on his mind. yin yu's more worried about flayn, how shaken she clearly was by that memory, and his own reaction to it can come later. the more time they spend together, the more likely it is that his own memories will come to life, but. this first. ]
no subject
she sits, scooting over a bit on the scarf so that, hopefully, there will be enough room for them both - but she doesn't let go of his hand.]
I... [mmm. what should she even say?] I am sorry.
no subject
...that's better. just like before, if flayn needs him, then he'll give the contact back, letting her keep his hand for as long as she wants it, his fingers threading naturally through hers. (naturally. when did this become so natural?)
...I'm sorry, for prying. Even though it wasn't intentional, your memories are your own. [ ... ] ...That was a memory, wasn't it?
no subject
[the thought of yin yu, prying, is honestly foreign to her. it's not that she thinks he doesn't care, because she knows he does; it's simply that she knows he respects the privacy of others.
...which is part of why she wanted to share it with him herself, eventually.]
It was. ...it was from a very, very long time ago.
1/2.
even still...a little worriedly, his thumb tracks over the side of her hand, trying to be soothing. ] You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, my lady.
[ she should still have that agency of her own. it's not fair, that this place has taken it from her.
little does he know, the longer that they're in contact, the more likely it seems to be that one of his own memories is going to come up. the scenery before them is starting to get a little blurry, and by the time he realizes in horror what's happening, his hand tightens on flayn's then starts to loosen as if he's going to flee-- but it's too late. ]
2/3, jk, enjoy this monster :)
the first is a young man, with bright, bright brown eyes and a mass of curly brown hair. he looks up at, ostensibly, yin yu, with his eyes shining, his hands clenched into fists. he's maybe twelve or thirteen--and then again, older, sixteen, seventeen, standing in front of yin yu and looking at him, blood on his lip, smiling -- the memory jerks as if they're being carried along, to a temple full of people dressed like yin yu, in similar colors, voicing their complaints.
"How old is he now, he can't always be like a child?! There are people who are dads now, at his age!"
"the moment he came here he took everything! What's so good about him!? Yin Yu-shixiong, you're the eldest disciple, if you got those privileges, we'd all let it go, you deserve it! But who the hell is he?! No education, no manners, so what if he's talented! None of us will accept him!"
yin yu looks out at the crowd, his back straight, holding a brush as the other disciples complain and complain. someone who was frustrated could easily give in to such a lure--the chance to complain, the chance to alienate this young disciple, but yin yu sets down his brush, and starts to scold his shidi.
"What you're saying isn't right. No matter what path we cultivate, talent truly is something incredible. Besides, not only is he talented, he's willing to work hard. If you really think the master is playing favorites, then let's work harder to keep up with him, overtake him. If everyone has the time to be mad, then why not use that energy to cultivate, and train more?"
the other disciples complaining is silenced, mostly, and they grumble to each other. only one, who flayn as yin yu will recognize as one of his closest friends, warns, loudly, "Yin Yu, you speak for him today, but be careful of him screwing you over in the future!"
--
the memory jerks again. this time, yin yu stands in a palace, his feet on white marble tiles. the gesture of his arms to a stream of guests shows that he's well dressed, in fine silks, bright gold hanging from his wrists, and everything about him is brighter, warmer. the aura of a martial god thrums through his veins, the feeling of a thousand believers ferverently praying to him for their success guides his spiritual energy, his movements. he bows his head in thanks to another god, who laughs as he brings him a present and says, "Congratulations on your ascension! I've come late, give me wine as punishment, haha!"
Yin Yu smiles, warm with pride, and shakes his head, gesturing for the god to enter the palace. A party goes on around them, congratulations and celebrations, but it's interrupted by someone yelling, sharply, "YOUR HIGHNESS YIN YU, YOU BETTER GIVE US A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR YOUR SHIDI!"
...abruptly, he looks behind him. the same curly haired boy from before, now nineteen or so, stands there, hands behind his back. yin yu sighs. "Yizhen, did you pick a fight again?"
"Yeah." he says, simply. yin yu feels the urge to rub his temples, looking out to the ruckus outside. it seems whatever middle official he picked a fight with is still trying to egg something on, causing a scene outside of yin yu's palace, trying to start a fight. the person's held outside, shouting and yelling, accusing yin yu of trying to cover it up. as he opens his mouth to try and deal with it, the young man suddenly pushes past him, with all of the anger of a charging bull, furious at the insult to the palace, and yin yu stares, dumbfounded for a moment.
"--Yizhen, stop!" and then rushes out to chase after him.
the memory shifts, again, this time, it's yin yu's scolding friend, pacing around yin yu's side chamber and yelling. "The domain in the west is only so big, Yin Yu! Quan Yizhen erected a palace, and now he's robbed your devotees! Even that wolf monster he killed should have been yours! Look at the state of you, your domain is shrinking smaller and smaller, how much do you have left?! How can you maintain your standing?!"
"How is it considered robbing? It's not like he held anyone at knifepoint to worship him. They're willing. ...what fight? Why care for such a thing? What must leave, will always leave in the end, and what should remain will naturally stay. I didn't ascend to fight over power with anyone, especially not Yizhen, nor fight over domains, so why can't you just let this go, Jian Yu?"
jian yu practically growls and rubs his hand through his hair. there's another odd skip, and yizhen is standing there, too, suddenly. it's his birthday, and since the awkwardness of another experience, yin yu had been avoiding him more than before, but the young man came anyway, asking for a birthday present. yizhen looks at him with eyes shining, and yin yu quickly apologizes and turns to his side chamber, telling him to wait a moment.
he hadn't prepared a birthday gift fo yizhen, as he had every year. asking jian yu, the other middle official 'tsks', grabs a rag cloth, throws it on the ground, and stomps on it. "Give him this, then."
"Jian Yu!"
the scene skips. jian yu returns with a box-- a side conversation of yizhen floats in, talking to yin yu, "i don't really know anything about worshipers. they just started showing up. i fought this other wolf monster, too..."
he wasn't even trying to get his new position as an upper heavenly official, the second martial god of the west, and -- it hurts, it hurts yin yu so badly, but he shoves it down, down, and hands him the birthday present with a small, slightly frazzled smile.
it becomes even more blurry, then. a few more statements float in. yizhen, laughing when someone mistook yin yu for quan yizhen, because he thought it was silly. yin yu, embarrassed at the banquet where he'd been confused, sinking into his seat. yin yu, not invited to the parade of martial gods -- something only given to the most powerful, while yizhen took a spot. these tiny little stones start stacking, and stacking, and stacking, and yin yu gets heavier, and heavier with each little statement, hurting more, and more, and more as his star starts to wane.
yin yu, standing in his chambers, holding a golden armband that was supposed to be the gift for yizhen. he looks to jian yu, confused, and jian yu just says, "i gave him something better."
flayn is treated to yin yu's alarm, the feeling of the hairs on the back of his neck rising up, the phrase, "the brocade immortal", and suddenly, he's running out of his palace, as fast as his legs can carry him--
when the memory clips into focus again, quan yizhen stands in front of yin yu, wearing golden armor. his head is tilted to the side--he looks genuinely lost and confused, like a puppy.
and yin yu is furious. his anger is so oppressive that it pours out of him, that his hands are trembling, clenched into fists, as he finally shouts, "Did I say I wanted to go?! What's the patrol of the martial gods have to do with me?! I didn't beg you, so who are you to mention me to the emperor?!"
in the memory, it's blatantly obvious that the parade is important. that quan yizhen had asked a favor of the emperor to "allow" yin yu to march was--beyond offensive. those who saw him there if he did go after such a thing would talk and talk about him, and his skin wasn't thick enough for such things. how could he possibly use someone's connections--the connections of his disciple, his shidi, someone who usurped him to take a place somewhere he never belonged? he didn't belong there. he wasn't supposed to -- he used to be able to --
quan yizhen is silent, for a moment, but the trouble is blatant on his face. "...shixiong, why are you so mad? Did I do something wrong?"
and yin yu, patient, kind yin yu, who has always defended yizhen, who has always helped quan yizhen, who has tried to be kind to him, who has tried to help and be calm
finally snaps.
"Enough, I've had enough! I'm going mad--I'm going fucking mad, because of you! Quan Yizhen--!" he points at the great martial hall, where the other gods were gathered, "Don't talk to me anymore! Take back your recommendation, stop adding to my troubles! Go back right this second!"
without another word, quan yizhen turns, and starts walking. yin yu blinks, trembling, and his eyes slowly slide down yizhen's back, to the golden armor he's wearing. the brocade immortal forces the wearer to follow the orders of the person who gave it to them - who was yin yu. yizhen wasn't remorseful, or understanding why he'd offended his shixiong. he was being compelled to do it.
shaken, his hands trembling, he shouts, "STOP!" and quan yizhen stops. he looks bewildered, as the martial gods step out to see what the commotion is about, yin yu panics, and yells, "Come back--leave!"
it's confusing, but quan yizhen just cocks his head, instantly turns, and starts running straight for yin yu. in his panic, all he can do is run, too, looking suddenly like a guilty criminal, trying to decide what to do as the martial gods--emperor included--begin to give chase, as if to apprehend them. yin yu panics further, completely in disarray, he has to get yizhen out of that armor, he has to make that stop, and shouts, "Leave! Leave right now--take off your clothes!"
yizhen's eyes are blank, when yin yu looks back, but his hands go to the brocade immortal. there's a moment of sheer relief in yin yu's eyes, but as the martial gods reach them and start to try and apprehend yizhen, it's short lived. yizhen's goal -- remove the item -- is being blocked, and his gaze flashes with violence. he takes in the ten martial gods closest to him as targets, lifts his fists--
blood splatters the ground, crimson red.
"MURDER IN THE UPPER COURT!" someone screams--
--
the memory fades, again. yin yu is being restrained, now, another martial god holding him under the arms. he's as white as a sheet, as yizhen has been fighting and fighting up to this point, it's only one desperately shouted, please stop fighting! that finally stops quan yizhen, and he's restrained, a sword in his shoulder, beaten up beyond almost recognition by the martial gods.
in the process, the palace of yin yu was nearly destroyed by the chaos. all that stands is the rubble, the circle of martial gods trying to restrain the chaos, and.. quan yizhen. he turns his head to look at yizhen, who drops to his knees, finally, and stares up at yin yu, utterly confused. "....what's going on?"
his oblivious face is the only thing yin yu can see. yizhen, oblivious, stupid, oblivious yizhen, sitting in the wreckage of yin yu's life, not realizing that he was the one who caused everything. it's funny. it's. it's
the irony of the situation hits him like a hammer, and shatters the glass of yin yu's last restraint. he laughs. it's just one, sharp, humorless bark of a laugh, and then another, and then another, his shoulders starting to quake.
"shixiong? what are you doing? " quan yizhen has crawled towards him, now, trying to check up on his shixiong, still so confused, still wearing the brocade, head tilted, stupid, stupid yizhen, stupid yizhen,
yin yu's order comes out in a moment of crisp clarity.
"GO DIE!
the light of clarity in yizhen's eyes vanishes. he reaches for the closest sword on the ground, takes it in one hand, fists the other in those curls and pulls his head up to expose his throat. the blade comes up -
no subject
the memory stops
and yin yu sits there. the color has drained from his face, his eyes wide, his shoulders trembling. it's that same feeling--the glass, shattering, as he realizes with the same clarity that it's over that flayn has seen him for who he is: a monster.
he jerks, his hand pulling out of hers, and he's up, in a second--- yin yu has to run he has to leave he has to get away-- ]
no subject
but of course - that's only natural. he's already lived it once, and he's lived with the guilt and pain of it for-- she doesn't know how long now. years? centuries? how long has it been?
how long has he been suffering?
her grip tightens - but he's always been faster than her, and his hand is wrenched away. she's left holding onto nothing but empty air. she reaches out in a bid to grip his clothing, but her fingertips brush against the fabric for the briefest instant before he's up and away.]
No—
[she leaps to her feet - is it going to be enough? will it ever be enough? and reaches out for him again, surging forward, trying to take his hand before he's gone. but if they're being realistic, he is more than fast enough to run from her whenever he wants to. to vanish from her sight before she can so much as protest.
she doesn't want that.]
Yin Yu, please— do not go...!
[...is it too late?
is he already gone?]
no subject
one of the things that has always been the most baffling about yin yu, maybe, is that he seems to defer any sort of thought that he might be kind. even when other people tell him so, he demurs, deflects. sure, he hasn't done anything particularly unkind... at least not since they've come to the camp, but this is why.
because yin yu isn't a kind person. he isn't a good person, either.
yizhen didn't know any better -- and yin yu was no better than the shidi that he scolded for being so cruel. it didn't matter that his life fell apart, and it didn't matter that it was, inevitably, yizhen that caused it, accidentally, even; he nearly got him killed, because he finally tore the lid off of his emotions and let loose on him. it was a series of misfortunes that destroyed him, took the once bright eyed god he had been and brought him down to no one, a masked man with no presence who blended into the crowd. his entire life fell apart in the span of a few months, because jian yu's prediction had been true.
and quan yizhen... yizhen didn't deserve any of that. even if -- yin yu still resents him (doesn't he?) -- cares for him (does he?) -- it doesn't matter, he didn't deserve what happened to him that day. he was just better than yin yu, by the sheer manner of existing, and he overtook him. and yin yu was jealous, and when it counted, he was cruel.
some people were meant to fail, and yin yu was one of them.
that day in the heavenly realm haunts him. it's been centuries, and he can recall every detail in crisp picture, as if it was recorded, and replayed, and it's all yin yu can do to ignore it. it's why he's always running, why he's always working, because the minute yin yu stops, his past catches up to him and reminds him of every way he failed. he had tried so hard, his entire life, and trying hard was nothing in the face of someone like yizhen, who took his position so effortlessly and didn't even know he'd done wrong. yin yu doesn't have it in him to be angry at him, because it was never his fault. while jian yu seethed until his resentment boiled, yin yu kept his face to the ground and the weight on his shoulders, because his thoughts devolved into acceptance, a bitterness that he didn't deserve any of the things he had once won. if yin yu was a quarter moon, then yizhen was the sun, effortlessly eclipsing the sliver of light he'd put out.
over the years, he's barely let himself think about why that phrase came out of his mouth. was it an accident? a slip of the tongue, because he'd finally cracked after years of enduring, years of telling jian yu to drop it?
(or worse: did he really, really, want yizhen to die? in his heart, did he want him to suffer, to vanish, to disappear from his life? it would have solved his problems.... wouldn't it?)
the last thing yin yu saw before he came to the island was his shidi. a game of murder had almost been a relief compared to the joyous way quan yizhen yelled his name when he realized he'd found his shixiong.
and now, here it was again. he can't run forever. no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape quan yizhen. even when hua cheng saved him when he was kicked out of the heavens, it was inevitable. he was living on borrowed time, spending snatched moments with people who thought he was something he wasn't. it was bound to come out, eventually.
it's been hundreds of years and yin yu isn't much better at handling overwhelming tides of emotions. his chest feels heavy, sticky, like he can't breathe when he runs, like he's going to choke from the lack of oxygen, and flayn's please cuts through the air like a knife. i'm sorry, he thinks, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, but he says nothing, throat so tight he couldn't even if he tried, vision tunneling with panic. he's not as fast as he usually is, careless, ducking around a corner with a flutter of his dark hair, to the side wall of a (thankfully empty) cabin. it's a spot easily found. he doesn't notice.
yin yu stops, back hitting the wall, and slowly sinks down to the ground, knitting his hands in his hair and dropping his head down to his knees as he tries to force himself to shove it all back down. it's useless; yin yu squeezes his eyes shut and breathes, breathe, breathe, breathe ]
no subject
she knows he's vanished around the cabin's corner - but from there, where might he go? ...is it kinder to leave him be, when he is so clearly desperate to get away, or is it crueler to leave him to suffer on his own?
because there's no way he isn't suffering. none.
flayn's eyes burn with tears. yin yu deserves better than his own fear and self-loathing and guilt. he deserves better than his self-imposed isolation. he deserves better than to be constantly overlooked, to be unseen. he deserves so much better--
her feet are moving before she's aware of it. there's no decision to make here - her only option is to find him, so that he isn't alone. somehow, she has to prove to him that he doesn't have to run. not from here.
never from her.
she rounds the corner of the cabin -
and to her shock, there he is.
...
if she speaks, will he leave? if she sits beside him, will he let her stay? her steps are light and careful, near-silent, but she hasn't mastered the art of not making a sound when she walks, and there's the soft crunch of dirt underfoot as she approaches him.
she sinks down into a crouch, just in front of him, and reaches out a hand.]
...please, do not go.
[her voice is as gentle as she can make it - she's terrified, if she speaks too firmly or too harshly, that he'll flee from her again.
she doesn't know if she can bear to watch him leave her twice.]
no subject
why would he want to be 'yin yu', anyway? his highness yin yu, former failed god of the west, disgraced, practicer of something dark and evil, petty and jealous of his shidi who was better than him instead of gracious? what kind of a person was that? someone who should be as lost to the sands of time as he has been.
what was there to see, about him? any kindness people had perceived wasn't -- that wasn't who he really was. up until now, he'd been able to keep that secret. with chengzhu, he hadn't had to worry, because chengzhu already knew, but here at camp...
here at camp, people like flayn believe in him, and they shouldn't.
the crunch of dirt catches his attention. with his head swimming full of static and dark, dark thoughts, fingers knotted tight in his hair, yin yu barely hears it. the minute someone is close, he tenses even more, frozen to the spot, breathing in harsh, shallow pants - for a brief, hysterical moment, he wonders if it's someone coming to murder him, too, that might be nice, some god damned penance for a crime he's never stopped repenting for -
but it's flayn. her voice is soft and gentle, familiar. he's heard it in a million conversations now, and his stomach lurches when she speaks, the negative emotions piling heavier and heavier onto his shoulders. yin yu doesn't know why she followed him, he doesn't know how she keeps finding him even when he doesn't want to be found, and all he's done is prove himself as the opposite of what she said. maybe she's come to say so. maybe she'll forget.
to be caught between wanting that more than anything, and being utterly terrified at the thought, is just another emotional whirlwind to be stuck in.
yin yu takes in a shaky breath. he wants to say something--what would he even say, and he can't, looking down at his knees, unable to look up to meet her gaze. he'd taken his mask off to try and comfort flayn, before, and right now, he wants it, wants to pull it over his face and hide and melt into the background, but he can't.
he shakes his head. that's all he's got, his fingers still knotted tight in his hair. yin yu can't look at her. he shouldn't. if he keeps looking down, maybe she'll forget he's even there.
from this distance, it's clear: he's trembling. ]
no subject
...but flayn can't say that this is an improvement, either. he won't raise his head, he can't seem to look at her, and it's so obvious that he's trembling that her heart aches to see it. what can she do for him?
is there anything she can do for him?
seeing him like this hurts. knowing that he's carried this pain all this time, without anyone the wiser, cuts like a knife. but to shoulder such a burden alone must be even more painful, and she's sure that her brief foray into his memories has only given a glimpse of the agony that he's been living with all this time.]
...will it hurt you, if I stay?
[she doesn't want to go.
more than anything, she doesn't want to leave him - but she doesn't want to hurt him, either.
isn't he hurting enough?]
no subject
his head snaps up, just to look at her properly. yin yu's not a particularly emotional person (or, maybe he is, at least underneath everything), but right now, every emotion he's feeling is displayed on his face. anguish, pain, self-deprecation, the edge of it so sharp it could cut, but in that moment, there's surprise.
that vulnerable, startled look turns into a wet, humorless laugh, startled out of him. it's so, so bitter, weighed down with centuries of this heavy guilt, and his grip only loosens just a little when he asks it. ] ...Why would you?
[ it's an actual, genuine question, because he cannot even fathom why flayn would want to be near him right now. or ever again. actually, ever again makes more sense. the memories shared between them made the distance stark enough -- flayn giving her all in the battlefield only to fall saving others, and yin yu's failings, and the cruel order that almost cost his shidi his life. ]
no subject
...he feels the need to ask why. flayn starts to answer, because to her, it's so obvious - they're friends. friends listen when the other is suffering, and try to help shoulder their burdens-- they don't just cut them out because of a mistake that they clearly regret, have carried so much guilt over--
but if he has to ask, then...
tears form in the corners of her eyes, but she doesn't blink. she doesn't let them spill over. he doesn't need to deal with her tears on top of his own pain, so she looks down, her hands clenching into fists.]
I care about you.
[her voice comes out a little raw.]
Why would I not stay—?
[does he think that little of her...?
...
no. more likely, he thinks that little of himself.]
no subject
[ he says it with a little more dullness, that time, looking down at his knees, that bitter thread tangled in every word out of his mouth. there's a part of him that wants to take what flayn said and hold it close to his chest, but he doesn't deserve that. all this time, flayn has thought he was someone else, and so, the defeated hopelessness that has hung over his head since jun wu laid down his punishment returns.
(flayn thought he was someone, a traitor of a voice in the back of his head likes to remind him.)
slowly, his hands drop out of his dark hair, finally loosing, only to curl in his lap, instead, tight enough that his nails leave white crescents in his skin. from this angle, it's easier to see the black mark around his wrist, and yin yu can't look at that, either. it's a reminder, every time he looks at his bare skin, that he was never enough, and never was going to be enough, in the first place.
he didn't care. yin yu told himself he didn't care. but how can you not, when the world you've worked your whole life for starts to crumble in your fingers--and the person who causes it doesn't even notice the pain they've caused you? yin yu didn't make it easy for yizhen; it felt so obvious and world ending to him that he never said a thing, let it simmer until it exploded in his face.
i'm sorry wants to come out. i lied to you.
he can't say it, though, just exhaling shakily, instead. ]
no subject
[banished from the Heavens. yes, he was. she can't deny that.
but—]
Your Taizi Dianxia was banished from the Heavens as well, was he not? More than once, as I recall. [and it did not seem as though yin yu had harbored anything short of admiration for him. granted, the circumstances were different. but still.] And I believe your Hua Chengzhu spent some time as a resentful spirit.
[this is probably not why he told her that story. and maybe she doesn't know enough of them to be able to compare it, but - she doesn't want to let yin yu just blame himself for all of this. it may not be possible to stop him from doing so. maybe he feels like he needs to be punished for the part he played in what happened.
but he's much more effective at punishing himself than he needs to be.]
I saw what you saw. I felt what you felt. And that is how I know... you were frustrated and you were upset, but you never meant for that to happen.
You regret it. Deeply. You have never stopped punishing yourself for it.
[her voice breaks.]
But you should not have to suffer like this. Not... not like this.
no subject
but what if he did? that had to come from somewhere. he'd been so relieved when he finally got yizhen to stop, and then, seeing him and the destroyed palace all at once...
"go die." he knew exactly what that order was going to do, and he said it anyway. he cracked under the force of the pressure and gave in. that's the question of the affair that keeps him up at night. what if i meant it?
adding the whims of the island onto it had been brutal. at least there, he'd had the excuse that he was compelled, but there was no excuse for the things he'd done in the heavenly capital that day. yin yu had just seen yizhen for the first time since not minutes before he woke up in the ocean there, and he'd felt panicked for the same reason, wanting to run from a resentment he felt like he still had deep buried in his bones. because if yizhen was out of sight, then maybe, he could finally be out of mind. because the idiot was still so excited to see him, because he hadn't changed a bit, and he'd wanted to lash out then, too.
(but he didn't. he had his chance to take quan yizhen's head off, and yin yu had rescued him, instead.)
but flayn isn't wrong. he knows he's never stopped punishing himself; he probably never will. every mistake he'd made led to that point, and adding watching his entire life fall apart to it too had left him with a furious, guilty tangle of emotions that he's never once tried to pull apart.
i felt what you felt sticks with him, too, and involuntarily, he flinches. ] ...I'm sorry. [ he says, quietly, genuinely, for that, because it feels like all he can do.
he's not just sorry for that. he's sorry for the way her voice cracks, for how upset she sounds. he's sorry that she had to see his sad existence as a person. that she had to find out this way. that she wasted her time with him.
unlike flayn, yin yu never would have told her about this, if he had the choice. he would have taken this to his grave, whenever it came to him, and now it's out in the open. whatever self inflicted suffering he had was only the kind that he deserved. taizia dianxia's banishment came from helping humans; hua chengzhu's spirit used that resentment to save someone's existence. he and jian yu are like paper copies, and jian yu is so long dead, the comparison is a non-starter.
yin yu has never felt so vulnerable in his entire life, so unbelievably exposed, laid bare for the worst parts of him without his permission. he wants to shrink into himself, dig a hole in the ground with the earth master's shovel and never come back out.
he shakes his head again, though it's less panicked now, and more just...resigned. yin yu looks so tired. the sparkle of that bright eyed god feels like a scattered dream, compared to the person who sits here before her. ] ...it was a long time ago. [ he adds, finally. soft, far away, and full of sorrow. ]
no subject
[it's an echo of what he'd said to her at the beginning of this. after her own memory, before his secrets were laid bare. he's always been so respectful of her boundaries, but has continued to be there for her, even when she's sure there are questions he must want to ask. ...there are questions she wants to ask him too, but--
mostly, she just wants him to be okay. as long as that happens, as long as he doesn't have to go around with this horrible look on his face, then she can deal with the not knowing.
she holds her hands out to him, though part of her doesn't expect him to take them. still - even so - she'll always continue to reach out to him, in the chance that someday he might reach back.]
...but if you ever do wish to... I will listen.
[nothing he could tell her would scare her away.]
We are friends. [...her voice sounds almost like she's pleading with him - friends, so don't push me away. is that selfish? wouldn't it be better to let him get comfortable again, before she pushes it? but she doesn't want him to be alone with these memories so close at hand, either.] What I saw does not change that.
...I want to be here for you, Yin Yu, if you will allow me to be.
no subject
yin yu's telling the truth, though. there are other parts of that story that that horrible memory didn't share, but none of them really matter. it's just a long pile of embarrassment and failure, event after event of yizhen's ascension and yin yu's downfall. whatever in the camp was making this happen found the most painful parts like an assassin and dragged them out into the light.
slowly, his own coping mechanisms kick back into place. he's calmer again, breath settled, but knowing has to bring into focus so many things about him. the way he runs, the way he hides. the way he seems to exist like a shade of gray in a world full of bright colors. the ever present sadness in his eyes, like the light in him had just been snuffed out.
no kindness, no goodness: no optimism, no hope. all of those things died when he commanded quan yizhen to end his life, too.
as he starts to raise his head properly, he sees flayn's hands enter his line of vision, and right as he's starting to get control of it, flayn knocks him for a loop again. we are friends, i want to be here for you. he stares at her palms for a minute, now familiar, and exhales softly, giving a small duck of his head, the gesture more familiar. ]
...that's very kind of you, Lady Flayn.
[ he knows that flayn is a good person--a good, bright, wonderful person--and saying things like this are just a part of her.
but it's an inevitability: he knows she's going to forget, too. it might not be today. it might not be tomorrow, but he's already shown his cards, and a person like him doesn't deserve to be remembered. eventually, he will fade away, as he always does, replaced by something better and brighter. there are layers to "you are a kind person", unsaid words. i'm not. i wish i was. i want what you said to be true. it's okay, that it's not.
is it selfish to want to hold onto it a little longer?
it's easier to pretend that it's fine. he pushes the feelings that came from that down, down, away from himself, shoves them into a dark corner to be left, so only he's the one who has to deal with them. he will not be selfish. not now. not again. he will be no one. a helpful presence, a quiet worker, someone who keeps his head down. a not quite human working in the ghost city, just as much of a ghost as the spirits who inhabit it. yin yu will not be someone, because the 'someone' that he was was a house of cards blown over in the breeze.
yin yu does not know peace, but he will pretend that he does. he will pretend that it doesn't matter, that his secrets are invisible. with a last breath, in and out, yin yu closes the door on those emotions with finality. what he thinks, what happened to him - in the grand scheme of things, it's not worth considering. he is not worth considering.
he only opens his hands because he doesn't want flayn to worry, and lets his fingers touch hers, briefly, eyes still cast downwards. he doesn't deserve her kindness, but she shouldn't have to make that face because of him. ]
no subject
what good is being kind, if she can't help - really help - someone she cares about when he so clearly needs it? bottling up how he's feeling isn't a solution, either. taking each of his hurts and keeping them so close to himself can only hurt him more.
but if he doesn't want to talk about it...
his fingers touch hers, and without thinking, she shifts her hands to catch his, to lace their fingers together. it doesn't comfort her much, and perhaps it doesn't comfort him, either; perhaps he's simply given up on trying to outrun her, and is going to allow her to do as she pleases, regardless of whether it does him any good at all.
she ducks his head, as he does, so that he cannot see the look on her face, either. he's the one suffering, here. he's the one convinced of his own guilt and shame and worthlessness, so why is she the one crying? these tears ought to be his. he ought to be able to let them out and set the guilt free.
but he won't.
so she cries, and maybe it's a foolish thought to think that these are the tears he won't allow himself to shed.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)