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legendwrote · 6 months
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//Hello lovelies!
I’m just checking in to let people know I am still very much here, just going through a rough patch at the moment with losing my job. I’ll be taking the month of October off to recoup and attempt to find a new job. Activity might pick up here but it is very dependent — I hate to over promise and under deliver.
Love you all and miss our interactions.
Discord: HeavyMetalRobot#7240
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legendwrote · 8 months
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“— Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.”  
|| multimuse; adored by Ni
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legendwrote · 9 months
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devilgcd​:
Misery & Company
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@legendwroteenwrote said-❛  no matter how hard i try, i can’t forget about love.  ❜ (from Liu Qianqiao)
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It was festival it was supposed to be something fun loving, and light. Her mood seemed to reflect his own. Albeit for different reasons.
She could not forget about love, and he wondered often what it was truly about. He moved slowly his actions not threatening as he took seat and produced a pair of earthenware pots of brown, golden and red presenting her with one of them and a sake cup.
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“As much as I would like to say I understand.” he said to her as he caught his flowing sleeve in hand and poured the fine lotus liquor into his cup. “I can’t, I have long wondered at love, I have seen it reflected around me. I have seen those who would die for one another, and yet” he breathed softly bringing the small delicate cup to his lips the look on his face thoughtful. “I confess to not understanding it.” A sip followed politely as he inquired “Tell me about it, about your love ?” he asked “Was it the kind to kindle a heart to light a fire within the soul lanterns or was it an inferno to burn all things that touched it, as I do not understand it well on a personal level, I have watched those that love around me weather the storm of passion and desire”. He watched the lights of the lanterns reflect off the liquid in the cup. “Of course there is always, the betrayal of one who claims to love you , I could not hold a grudge but I felt anger…I think you of all people understand that part…but can you tell me what it is to feel love back for someone ?”
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  ⚍☯⚎  It was a little dishonest of her to insinuate she had tried very hard to forget the love that clung to her like the scent of smoke when one sat too close to that fire he spoke of. She had touched love once and been burned, scars hidden like those beneath the carefully crafted veneer of her painted face. She would not be quick to burn again.
  She glanced up from where she sat at the small table, cheek in hand, watching the lovers walk through the lantern-draped streets, murmuring in hushed tones to one another and stealing kisses beneath the stooping boughs of trees along the river. She did not resent their love. It was a sweet thing, like the blooms of peach blossoms in early spring, shaking off the cold of the world with the promise of warmer months and vibrant celebration. She had felt that way once, and in spite of the pain that ensued after, would not trade the experience for much of anything.
  It was in part because of this that she had not partaken of the Meng Po soup on her arrival at Ghost Valley what seemed like a lifetime ago. She had been offered a blissful oblivion but could not bring herself to forget even a moment of her life up until then — both the love and the things she would never allow to be done to her again on its behalf.
  She returned her gaze to him as he passed her a jar and a cup, lifting her cheek off her hand and accepting it with a gracious dip of her head. She poured herself a portion, wafting it beneath her nose to enjoy the subtle notes of its sweetness before, with a modest cover of her lower face beneath a sleeve, drank deeply from it. Such was the tax for asking such questions, he’d learn.
  “Mm,” she hummed to herself, setting the cup down with a small smile and a wistful expression. “It’s not a happy tale, I’m afraid,” she folded her hands on the table, regarding him with a glimmer in her eye. “Would you have me ruin your evening with talk of my hardships? I’m afraid you’ll think me quite pitiful by the end,” she raised the bottle and jiggled it a little to signify that such subjects lead to swift inebriation.
  But from what little she knew of her companion he did not seem the type to be able to commiserate — going as far as to explain as much to her. Perhaps he’d find it all the more interesting.
  “If you really wish to know, I will tell you. But if you are only being polite for my sake you needn’t bother. The atmosphere is merely a little melancholic” she smiled a little wider, offering him a gracious escape.⚍☯⚎
Misery & Company
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@legendwroteenwrote said-❛  no matter how hard i try, i can't forget about love.  ❜ (from Liu Qianqiao)
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It was festival it was supposed to be something fun loving, and light. Her mood seemed to reflect his own. Albeit for different reasons.
She could not forget about love, and he wondered often what it was truly about. He moved slowly his actions not threatening as he took seat and produced a pair of earthenware pots of brown, golden and red presenting her with one of them and a sake cup.
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"As much as I would like to say I understand." he said to her as he caught his flowing sleeve in hand and poured the fine lotus liquor into his cup. "I can't, I have long wondered at love, I have seen it reflected around me. I have seen those who would die for one another, and yet" he breathed softly bringing the small delicate cup to his lips the look on his face thoughtful. "I confess to not understanding it." A sip followed politely as he inquired "Tell me about it, about your love ?" he asked "Was it the kind to kindle a heart to light a fire within the soul lanterns or was it an inferno to burn all things that touched it, as I do not understand it well on a personal level, I have watched those that love around me weather the storm of passion and desire". He watched the lights of the lanterns reflect off the liquid in the cup. "Of course there is always, the betrayal of one who claims to love you , I could not hold a grudge but I felt anger...I think you of all people understand that part...but can you tell me what it is to feel love back for someone ?"
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legendwrote · 9 months
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coffinseas​:
Xue Yang wasn’t sure why the old woman insisted on him putting up a market stall when no one came around, and most likely never would come around, these parts. As if putting it near the entrance of the town would make any difference! The fog was thick and bothersome, fog that had only reappeared when he had, and the land was marked as cursed as a result; nobody would come here willingly.
And besides, who would want to buy talismans from a place like this? They would surely only bring bad luck— yet the old bat had said it would give him something to do, and had insisted he leave her alone for a while and busy himself with this instead.
Said it would drive more commerce if he advertised her shop, too.
What was wrong with how they’d been doing it before? Why did people have to come here, instead of him delivering the goods to any nearby towns? Surely she was just having him do this to laugh at him later. Get back at him for… Well, everything, really.
And yet, despite all these thoughts, he saw someone move within the fog. Taken utterly by surprise, he would’ve laughed if he hadn’t thought it was most likely because they were lost, and he was about to call out to them…
When the fog dispersed enough to give him a glimpse of who they were.
Breath caught in his throat as his heartbeat spiked, he stepped away from the comically placed stall and let the swirling gray engulf him.
@legendwrote
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  ⚍☯⚎ In his solitary travels through the martial world he’d caught rumors of an old soul he’d thought long dead. A phantom that took more from him than even the plague that ate through his homeland and orphaned him at a young age. Even after such a tragedy he’d had the privilege of becoming an integral member of Baixue Temple, and in his later life meeting a man he’d come to know deep down as his soul mate. It was this man and this temple that had been taken from him, but the fiend hadn’t even the courtesy to take his own life as well, leaving him instead an empty husk doomed to wander the world without tongue or purpose. 
  But contrary to his intentions, Song Zichen had found himself a purpose — the little qiankun pouch tucked safely in the chest of his robes containing the pieces of shattered soul he’d managed to collect before they dissipated. He would find a way to reunite them if it was the last thing he did on this mortal coil.
  It was because of this that he chased the rumors toward the one who saw to their destruction. He never would have thought it would lead him back to this place — the place, it seemed, that his enemy had never left since last they met. 
  He located the small cart from the description but found it void of proprietor, tucking his lacquered fly whisk beneath his arm and reaching his free hand out to sweep across the surface, checking for dust. It had been used recently. He sneered a little to himself, casting his gaze around the hazy place, finding he could not see well at all in the rolling mist. Still, his grip on his sword never faltered, ready to strike out at a moment’s notice as step by step he continued down the path in search of the one he sought. 
  That this man may not be Xue Yang at all was a voice that tickled at the back of his mind, but these days shreds of hope drove him like an incurable madness — he would have his answers. ⚍☯⚎
Xue Yang wasn't sure why the old woman insisted on him putting up a market stall when no one came around, and most likely never would come around, these parts. As if putting it near the entrance of the town would make any difference! The fog was thick and bothersome, fog that had only reappeared when he had, and the land was marked as cursed as a result; nobody would come here willingly.
And besides, who would want to buy talismans from a place like this? They would surely only bring bad luck— yet the old bat had said it would give him something to do, and had insisted he leave her alone for a while and busy himself with this instead.
Said it would drive more commerce if he advertised her shop, too.
What was wrong with how they'd been doing it before? Why did people have to come here, instead of him delivering the goods to any nearby towns? Surely she was just having him do this to laugh at him later. Get back at him for... Well, everything, really.
And yet, despite all these thoughts, he saw someone move within the fog. Taken utterly by surprise, he would've laughed if he hadn't thought it was most likely because they were lost, and he was about to call out to them...
When the fog dispersed enough to give him a glimpse of who they were.
Breath caught in his throat as his heartbeat spiked, he stepped away from the comically placed stall and let the swirling gray engulf him.
@legendwrote
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legendwrote · 9 months
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( @sizhuibattleguqin​ continued from x )
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  ⚍☯⚎ They sat by the fireside as they spoke in hushed voices so they wouldn’t wake the toddler that they’d just managed to lull back to sleep in their bed, curled up with his stuffed rabbit among the sky blue embroidered blankets. 
  He poured his husband some tea he’d steeped seeing as they both seemed to be up, an occurrence that had grown more frequent with their worries regarding Liwu’s nightmares. Any good parent would worry over the safety of their child, he reminded himself, but not many had cause to fret over a few night terrors. The need for fretting, however, could be a legitimate one where they were concerned.  It troubled him to think that their manner of cultivating the child into existence might be the cause of his suffering, knowing at the onset that there had been risks to the process but hoping that the sheer amount of meticulous care they’d taken would prevent such tragedies. Then again, there was always the possibility that the matter at hand was not at all connected. They would not know until they investigated further.
  He sat down at the hearth across from him, close enough that knees brushed, casting a breath over his own cup of tea. “We’ll leave in the morning, after breakfast then. He’s happiest with a full belly,” just like me, he thought. With any luck a little breakfast would ward off his own woes, but it seemed like wishful thinking. 
  He looked back over his shoulder to their bed and their son within it, watching him sleep, vigilant for any signs of unease on that little face, but it remained peaceful for now. 
  “You don’t think we were hasty, do you?” He let the worry slip his lips for the first time, always having been careful to keep his misgivings to himself if there were any, not wishing his partner nor his son to worry as well, but now he could not help it. “Bringing him into this world. It’s still such a turbulent place, and this life of ours will be hard on him…” he frowned a little. ⚍☯⚎
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legendwrote · 9 months
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//Hey everyone!
I’ve had a few new followers lately so it seems a good time to give a small update:
I’m currently working through my drafts before moving on to my inbox since most of the inbox interactions I have are memes and not starters someone has written for me. I WILL get to those of course, but they’re just on more of a back burner.
I am currently at 27 things between my drafts and inbox, so it may take some time, but you should see things trickling out of my queue.
Regarding my activity:
The next 6-9 months are going to be a bit intense for me — I am going to New Zealand at the end of the month for a couple weeks, I am looking at losing my job of 19 years at the end of October (it’s closing), I am planning and doing non-profit work for a convention I run every year in January, and I am planning my wedding for next spring.
Things are fine at the moment, but I hit patches of intense stress that last variable amounts of time and make it hard to get things done — even things I enjoy.
As always everyone is more than welcome to touch base with me here or on Discord with any questions, concerns, or just to chat! I will do my best to get tumblr replies out as quickly as I can, but I do ask for your patience in this stressful and busy time.
So much love to you all — it’s been lovely writing again!
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legendwrote · 9 months
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-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-          𝙖𝙢 𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙮𝙖𝙡, 𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚 & 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚         ━━         highly private,    selective    &.    extremely headcanon - based portrayal of        𝐇𝐔𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐍         roleplay blog. with influences based on the    legend,    novels    &   lore.     slight influences from the live action film with extremely minor influences from the animated movie.                           🌸 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 🌸  ©         ━━         written by  gabby ( 31 she | her EST timezone. using the 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐀 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑 )
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legendwrote · 9 months
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“There are not more than five musical notes, yet the combinations of these five give rise to more melodies than can ever be heard.”-Sun Tzu Semi selective-multiverse-multiship Lan Sizhui heavily head-canoned and loved by Nyx. Please read rules before interaction thank you.
template crafted by @caelestcs
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legendwrote · 9 months
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melodysian​:
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“What is it that you wanted to show me? And why do we have to do this at night?”
@legendwrote​ liked for a one-liner 
 ⚍☯⚎ He’d shush the other’s questioning with a quiet hiss as it was against the rules for them to be out of bed so late. But as it turned out the resident rule expert was also the resident rule breaker, knowing the best paths to take to avoid detection. He’d lead the other out the back of the Cloud Recesses walls and into the forest that clung to the backside of the mountain, down along the paths that lead to the cold springs. He wouldn’t go so far down that path before he’d stop in front of a tree, sizing it up and finally nodding to himself with a mutter “this will work.”
 He ushered the other over, closing his eyes and focusing his qi into the soles of his feet, lifting one foot to plant it on the tree trunk, then the other, walking step by step up the vertical surface until the branches grew too thick for him to navigate in this fashion; he’d climb the rest of the way.
 He waited for his companion to follow suit, helping where needed, and at last he would poke his head out above the leafy canopy to view the emerald forest swaying in the evening breeze. He squinted at the sky, quiet, his attention rapt on the cloudless expanse of deep velvet as if waiting for something. Suddenly he clutched the other’s arm, his face lighting up as he pointed at a spot “there! Did you see it?” he waited a little longer before pointing to another spot “and there!”
  Sure enough, if one watched closely they would see stars falling from the sky, streaking silver streamers behind them.
  “I heard one of the seniors mention it in passing — it only happens once a year. Hundreds of them!” ⚍☯⚎
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legendwrote · 9 months
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soveraign​:
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HELIAN YI CURLED HIS FINGERS slowly over the lacquered armrest; then unfurled them again, the rounded end cupped in his palm. He focused on the sensation: how perfect it felt in his hand, how his skin stretched when he squeezed just a little tighter, how the cold wood warmed beneath his touch. He used it to ground himself like a rock in the midst of a torrid river, every drop of which was supplied by his own anarchic thoughts. Too easy to get swept away in them.
With anyone else, he would already be affecting the perfect response. His expression would be artfully sculpted and his words masterfully chosen. There would be a part to play and lyrics to sing. But, it was Zhou Zishu and only Zhou Zishu. His expression remained empty like an unpainted puppet. Even his eyes, glossy black, were polished but faraway. The puppeteer hadn’t picked up the strings; he wasn’t yet alive.
He was only sitting there, lax, thinking. Disrespect was nothing new to him. Crown Prince was a pretty pair of words but meaningless without power. He had precious little of that — a fact his brothers found increasingly inventive ways to flaunt. Was it worth it to bite back just this once?
His head picked up and turned in Zishu’s direction. A bitter sort of resignation flooded the hollow of his eyes and dripped down over his smile. ❝Doesn’t this prince allow courtesy, too? Why don’t I ever receive that, I wonder.❞
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  ⚍☯⚎ He was no stranger to the other’s subtle shifts in face; the difference between the Helian Yi that stood before others and the Helian Yi that brooded behind closed doors. The young prince either thought him worthy of his private, disquieted moods, or so insignificant as to not worry what Zhou Zishu thought. Either way, he was aware that the visage he laid eyes on now was one without facade, like a gilded statue stripped of its luster to expose the rough materials beneath. 
  He would clear his throat, not having meant anything rude by his comment, but getting the feeling that Helian Yi would have voiced the same misgivings whatever way he’d intended it. It was not an altogether new frustration. 
  “People have grown used to your mild manners, it seems. You rarely sting when stung, and for those too uncultured to recognize the magnanimity it has permitted a discourteous atmosphere where your Highness is involved,” he stated with a small bow of his head. His gaze remained lowered for a time before, with some small hesitation, he added. 
  “Perhaps if your Highness reminded them what a courtesy they are shirking, they might behave a bit more graciously in the future,” he suggested with a quick upward glance in the other’s direction. And was it not his very job as leader of Tian Chuang to enact such reminders? A slip of a vial's contents into an aptly placed cup, or a blade against the neck of an influential party did wonders to motivate one's rivals into all-too-willing compliance.  ⚍☯⚎
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( whiskey words & a shovel // accepting ) ZHOU ZISHU [ @legendwrote ] WROTE: “ you get what you allow. ”
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HELIAN YI CURLED HIS FINGERS slowly over the lacquered armrest; then unfurled them again, the rounded end cupped in his palm. He focused on the sensation: how perfect it felt in his hand, how his skin stretched when he squeezed just a little tighter, how the cold wood warmed beneath his touch. He used it to ground himself like a rock in the midst of a torrid river, every drop of which was supplied by his own anarchic thoughts. Too easy to get swept away in them.
With anyone else, he would already be affecting the perfect response. His expression would be artfully sculpted and his words masterfully chosen. There would be a part to play and lyrics to sing. But, it was Zhou Zishu and only Zhou Zishu. His expression remained empty like an unpainted puppet. Even his eyes, glossy black, were polished but faraway. The puppeteer hadn't picked up the strings; he wasn't yet alive.
He was only sitting there, lax, thinking. Disrespect was nothing new to him. Crown Prince was a pretty pair of words but meaningless without power. He had precious little of that — a fact his brothers found increasingly inventive ways to flaunt. Was it worth it to bite back just this once?
His head picked up and turned in Zishu’s direction. A bitter sort of resignation flooded the hollow of his eyes and dripped down over his smile. ❝Doesn’t this prince allow courtesy, too? Why don’t I ever receive that, I wonder.❞
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legendwrote · 9 months
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taiixuan​:
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“ i promise this time it’s not my fault. the balance of those scrolls looked precarious long before i had walked in ! ” and they almost waited for him to enter great civil god’s abode before collapsing oh so tragically right in front of he who once held the title of his majesty who pleased the gods —apologetic upcurl of soft lips as hand instinctively reached for back of bandaged neck, giving it a little scratch before he’d so easily be on his knees to collect scrolls and papers tattered on his immediate vicinities as if to give himself an excuse to avoid former retainer’s judgmental glare. “ and i wanted to apologize for the abuse of her communication array, too. but she doesn’t see to be around, so maybe we could visit another time ? ”
( @legendwrote ft. feng xin / sc. )
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  ⚍☯⚎ Feng Xin crossed the threshold to quite the scene — a pile of scrolls and slips scattered like so much refuse across the floor, and in the middle of it one very uneasy looking heavenly official with a face he was not soon to forget: Xie Lian. 
  He drew in a slow, steady breath that caused his chest to swell, a bubbling of obscenities brewing just beneath his tongue, but he managed, with much trained discipline, to keep them under wraps for now. 
  His hands clenched and unclenched. Despite the vast span of time that separated their close connection with one another, it was still reflexive for Feng Xin to kneel beside the man in white, shooing away hands with gentleness that he rarely showed anyone, taking the scrolls and slips himself into his arms on the other’s behalf. Naturally he’d never admit it was for any altruistic reasons beside sparing the resident civil god more tragedy. “Don’t bother – just send an envoy next time,” he muttered, rising to carry the armful of documents back to their resting place. There was no way for him to ascertain any order out of this chaos, but he would quietly loan Ling Wen as many retainers as it took to fix the matter. 
 “If you don’t wish to be of trouble, don’t make trouble – it’s the best you can do for her,” he stated matter-of-factly, the hard line of his jaw remaining steadfast, but there was a nearly imperceptible softening behind his eyes as he extended a hand to help Xie Lian off the ground. ⚍☯⚎
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" i promise this time it's not my fault. the balance of those scrolls looked precarious long before i had walked in ! " and they almost waited for him to enter great civil god's abode before collapsing oh so tragically right in front of he who once held the title of his majesty who pleased the gods —apologetic upcurl of soft lips as hand instinctively reached for back of bandaged neck, giving it a little scratch before he'd so easily be on his knees to collect scrolls and papers tattered on his immediate vicinities as if to give himself an excuse to avoid former retainer's judgmental glare. " and i wanted to apologize for the abuse of her communication array, too. but she doesn't see to be around, so maybe we could visit another time ? "
( @legendwrote ft. feng xin / sc. )
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legendwrote · 9 months
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wcvensouls​:
        chu wanning was not only the strongest cultivator of their time, as acknowledged by all the sects, no matter where they were from, but he was also a genius in ways that not many people could understand  —  and, truth be told, more often than not, xue meng also did not understand what his shizun was doing. nevertheless, he still admired him greatly, knowing that if it was something the beidou immortal was willing to spend time on, then it was most definitely something important. truly, xue meng’s blind devotion and trust in the one he had chosen to be his teacher was almost unmatched in the entire cultivation world, and with good reason.
         not being directly told that he could walk in, xue meng didn’t dare open the doors to the red lotus pavilion, instead standing just outside of it with his ears almost glued to the wood as he waited for any sound of approval. the sound he did hear, however, was not at all what he expected, but it was enough to make him spring into action  —  albeit a little delayed, no doubt due to the surprise he felt at that moment.
         opening the door, the heir of sisheng peak immediately began searching for what exactly chu wanning was asking him to hand over, but it was by no means an easy task considering the mess around his work table. still, the moment xue meng laid eyes on the vice, he was quick to pick it up and offer it to the yuheng elder, bowing his head almost a little too dramatically as he did so.  “ shizun, here you go. my apologies for barging in… ”
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  ⚍☯⚎ He snatched the vice from his disciple with unintended briskness, wasting no time in clamping the pieces together to keep them from further unraveling beneath him and leaving him with a heap of useless cogs and plates. Slowly his hands retracted, relaxing only when they were completely removed without incident. The ensuing sag of his shoulders betrayed his exhaustion, lifting his arm to dab the sweat from his brow on the length of his sleeve before reaching for the grubby kerchief he kept for work purposes.
  He turned toward Xue Meng as he wiped the crude oil from his hands, a mask of chilly propriety descending over his features to once again hide any hint of weakness or weariness beneath. 
  “What is it, Xue Ziming?” he prompted with that tone that lacked in niceties much to the dismay of his peers. He wasn’t angry with the young man – he was rarely truly angry with others – but he had the most regrettably severe face when he was not trying his hardest to soften it. 
  He set about cleaning up his work space while he waited for the other to explain himself, tucking a tool here and a gear there, casting a disparaging glance at the Night Guardian that had been giving him an unduly difficult time throughout the day. ⚍☯⚎
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legendwrote · 9 months
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baijingshen​:
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@legendwrote​ sent: ❛ why don’t we just stay here? live out the rest of our lives? ❜ (ZZS for WKX - probably at Four Seasons manor? :3)
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Zhou Zishu rarely speaks his mind so freely, even now that all secrets between them have been lifted (well, almost all of them). It leaves Wen Kexing uncharacteristically speechless, his features betraying honest surprise that quickly melts into an expression of unadulterated affection. The return to Four Seasons Manor has brought back a will to life in Zhou Zishu that he lacked before, making him appear both younger and healthier than he has since the day they met. His eyes were lovely before but now they shine with hope and Wen Kexing can’t remember ever having seen anything more beautiful.
It’s a good question - it’s the perfect question - and for a few blissful moments, it does nothing but flood his mind and heart with the kind of joy only true and genuine love can create. After his childhood had been taken from him so cruelly he only ever saw death in his future - that of others and eventually his own. He may have craved the closeness and love of a soulmate but he didn’t believe himself lucky enough to actually find it in this life. Being here with Zhou Zishu now, being allowed to hold his hand and hear his voice, knowing his sweet words are meant for him and no one else.. it feels like a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from ever again.
And maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe this can be their shared dream; within the safety and comfort of Four Seasons Manor, amidst all-knowing flowers and memories of better times. Maybe they can keep the gates closed and lock out the world outside that has taken far too much from both their happiness already. What do they really need in this life besides each other (and perhaps the little lost boy they’ve both welcomed into their hearts long ago)?
Wen Kexing smiles a warm smile that lights up his eyes and before Zishu can protest, he wraps his arms around his middle and pulls him closer. With his cheek pressed against the warmth of Zishu’s chest he closes his eyes and drinks in the feeling of having him so close. Tomorrow he will remember that a revenge unfinished is a revenge better never started; tomorrow he will remember his filial duty. But tonight.. tonight he wants to dream.
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“Just you and me,” Wen Kexing says quietly, his fingers curling into Zhou Zishu’s robes as he loses himself in the vision. “Until our hair turns white like the snow on Mount Changming.” It feels real, within reach if he just dares to hold out his hand. “I want that, A-Xu. More than I ever wanted anything.”
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  ⚍☯⚎ It was a nostalgic sensation being here again. An experience filled with complex emotions, most of which he hadn’t taken time to untangle. Instead he opted to bask in the familiarity alone, skirting past ghosts and lingering memories that clung to every doorway, every path, every bit of furniture that inhabited the manor. They would all catch up with him eventually — likely when he slept. 
  Everything haunted him when he slept.
  He was leaning in one of these doorways, one that led from the main meeting quarters to the inner courtyard, gazing out over the quiet, empty space that was once filled with the laughter and chatter of family, friends, and disciples alike. Naught but the rustling of trees and the chirp of birds filled it now. It seemed a strange thing, a lonely thing in need of life and activity. He would have to take Chengling out here later and run some drills. 
  It was in this that they perhaps differed – where Wen Kexing would close the doors and shut out the world, leaving this place to just the two of them, Zhou Zishu would have them thrown open, would see the halls filled anew with chatter and disciples, the books dusted and read, the kitchen warm and fragrant, and the name of Four Seasons manor restored to its once illustrious reputation. 
  But those were thoughts for later, once old ghosts had been assuaged, one of whom sat at the edge of the threshold at his feet. He would turn his gaze down to Wen Kexing as the man’s long arms wound around his middle, blinking curiously at the affection shown to him — not unusual exactly, but unexpected in the moment. A hand would come to rest atop the other’s head, tilting it back so he could gaze down along the bridge of his nose into Wen Kexing’s face. 
  “And what would you have us do with our little tagalong, hm? Put him outside the walls and let him run around with the feral cats? Throw some scraps to him every now and then?” He teased in wake of the other’s comment about things being just the two of them.  ⚍☯⚎
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legendwrote · 9 months
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aeipathic​:
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@legendwrote​ says: ‘put the knife down. you can’t possibly believe a fight would go your way.’ (From Shangque to Jieli)
     meme || accepting!
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     she jumps, the fingers around the small, curved knife she carries clenching harder, but she’s already relaxing a little as she recognizes the voice coming from behind her. on the one hand, damn — she’d really thought she’d gotten the timing right, what business does he have skulking around where she’s trying to sneak! — but on the other hand, thank the heavens it’s him. if it were some nameless pair of thickly-armored goons of the moon supreme’s, she’d probably end up trussed up between them no matter what she tried to say.
     him, though — him she can talk to.
    “hei long-dage,” jieli pouts, turning to face him, the sack flung over her shoulder jingling a little as she does. “a helpless woman like me has to have something to protect herself with, doesn’t she? just think about how i’ve already been treated here! don’t you think it’s reasonable? people try to take advantage of a merchant woman who only has her own reputation to protect her, what else should i do? but i’d never try to use it on you, it’s just for show, really.” actually, it’s much more use as a key than a knife, with a tidy little enchantment on it that helps her reach, ah, difficult places, but she’s not going to tell him that.
     “look, i’ll put it away, since it makes you uncomfortable. and you can put away that big sword of yours, and we’ll both be on our way, how about that? i’m sure you’ve got important business with the moon supreme, and i’ve got”—shit, what does she got—”a delivery to make to xiao lanhua!” well, it worked last time, why not? “so, if you’ll just excuse me…” don’t stop me, don’t stop me—
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  ⚍☯⚎ He would not admit that the pout on her face caused a small tightening in his chest — he did not enjoy making women sad. It felt like an egregious use of his intimidating nature as a black dragon, but such was the requirement of his job from time to time, especially when in service of his master.
  He stood, statue-like in black with his arms crossed over a broad, proud chest, watching her with a quiet patience that came from a long life of listening to people he could easily swallow in one gulp. Her excuses were both curious and amusing to him, though to her discredit not at all believable, and when she tried to sidle past him he would extend an arm and stop her by the shoulder with a firm grip. 
  “Not so fast,” he’d warn, glancing down at her with a sharp side-eye set in an even sharper face. His free hand extended expectantly, crooking his fingers in request for that sharp little implement she carried with brazen disregard for palace rules. “I’ll do the putting away. You’ll do the giving. If you don’t make this difficult for me I might consider giving it back when you depart,’ he informed her with a tone very matter-of-fact in nature. That tone would soften a little, however, as would his gaze, recalling that tight feeling in his chest.
  “If you’re so worried about how you’re treated, I’ll accompany you. How about that?” he’d call her bluff and subsequently assuage his own discomfort. “No one would dare cross arms with me here.” ⚍☯⚎
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legendwrote · 9 months
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aeipathic​:
     those faded, dusty sketchbooks of zhou zishu’s, shoved to the back of a closet like so much refuse, have haunted wen kexing’s mind for weeks. a-xu would have thrown away if wen kexing hadn’t been there, wen kexing is almost certain, which would have been a tragedy worthy of the poets—so of course it had been up to wen kexing himself to save the box, and to pour over the paintings when the urge arose, tracing the brushstrokes as if just by touch he could unlock this secret facet of a-xu’s past, this hidden gem he’d left shoved into the dirt.
     wen kexing is not oblivious. he knows the hurt that lies in old memories, the grief that can sink into canvas and never come out. he looks at zhou zishu as often as he can manage it; how could he not recognize the furrow of his brow, the dry-mouthed thinning of lips, that came with the unearthing of the artwork? he had averted his gaze; he had made an excuse; he had not wanted to speak of it again. wen kexing isn’t oblivious, but he is meddlesome—endlessly and proudly so—and he is in the business of polishing zhou zishu like a piece of fine jewelry, brushing off the dirt he likes to sprinkle himself with and uncovering the fine jade beneath. 
     also, he is vain, and thinks he would like to see what he looks like rendered by a-xu’s precise hand.
     he grins in the face of zhou zishu’s retort, which definitely had at least one compliment hidden in it, and does him the mercy of not calling him out for the look on his face. “so you’ll paint me without them, then?” he quips, pressing the offending frames up his nose a tad. “you can dress me however you like, a-xu. i’ll be the perfect model. unless you want to start with chengling—i’ll understand if you want a simpler subject to warm up with.”
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  ⚍☯⚎ The quip was predictable, worthy of an eye-roll, not at all surprised by the vanity of his partner, and yet he couldn’t very well say anything when his own warning held no weight what-so-ever. He most certainly would paint Wen Kexing in those glasses. And without. But whether or not he’d ever let the man lay eyes on his sketches was another thing entirely.
  The comment about Chengling, however, had Zhou Zishu turning in his chair, gripping the back with a look of consternation on his face. “Are you calling my son simple?” He knew what the man meant, but could never pass up a chance to rib on him a little. This instance was no different. “You’re not all that complex yourself, you know. I could draw a stick with two long legs and no one would question it.”
  Regardless of the answer he’d turn his gaze back to the gift, letting eyes pour over the contents in several quiet passes before dark brows knit on his forehead, the level of his voice lowering. “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time, Lao Wen. I doubt I even remember how,” he trailed off, a touch of defeatism in his tone, gently folding the wrapping paper back around the bundle. “These must have been expensive — you should return them. Buy Gu Xiang something nice for her birthday,” he reasoned, and yet his hand lingered there, unwilling to part completely from the gift like an old friendship rekindled after many years. ⚍☯⚎
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legendwrote · 9 months
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baijingshen​:
winter’s end
@legendwrote​ || Zhou Zishu
A single insignificant snowflake drifts through the air, falling one moment and soaring high the next, helplessly carried by the raging storm that moves the world around it. The winds are fierce and merciless but not fearsome. It doesn’t matter how often the little snowflake falls or rises, how quickly it moves or where it will land once its journey is done. Time is not of any essence and with nowhere to be or go, no place is the wrong one. The moment is short-lived and infinite at the same time, a heartbeat frozen in endless quiet peace.
Waking up is like daybreak after the longest night, like the first sunray of summer melting the ice that was frozen for centuries; and with every drop of meltwater Wen Kexing’s mind awakens a little more. His body remembers how to live first, his fingers moving against the blanket that covers him and his chest rising with a deeper breath than he’s taken since he closed his eyes on Zhou Zishu and the world.
Zhou Zishu. The first words he remembers to call out, but no sound comes from his lips, like his tongue has forgotten how to shape words. He’s floating, then falling, faster and faster, through the white endless snow– until it all just stops.
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He’s still and silent, like before, but with every breath that goes in and out of his lungs more feeling comes back to his body. He’s lying on a smooth surface, the comforting weight of a blanket covering most of his body. The air in the room is cool and filled with scents he recalls from what feels like several lifetimes ago. That’s right - he can breathe, hear, smell, taste. Remnants of the endless peaceful snow falling in his mind are still clinging to him but fading quickly now as he remembers what it’s like to be conscious.
Wen Kexing’s eyelids twitch, and then they open, blinking a few times as his vision clears. He looks at the high ceiling of a room made of windowless stone walls, far away from the bed he is lying on. With the ample space and the absence of decorations it lacks the comfort and intimacy of a bedroom and rather resembles a shrine. Kexing finds no memory of this room in his mind but something about it feels familiar. Something about everything here feels familiar.
And just like that, he remembers.
“A-xu..!” he calls out as he sits up, but his voice is so hoarse it barely comes out audible. His hair falls over his shoulders from the sudden movement - ashen white and far longer than it should be. Marveled, Wen Kexing catches a strand of it between his fingers to inspect it more closely. For a moment the thought of reincarnation crosses his mind. Perhaps he’s been reborn and this is his new life– but no. These long ashen strands are his, as are the fingers holding them and the eyes seeing them. These thoughts are his, too, and these memories of a love so deep he chose to gave up everything to save it. Save him.
“A-xu..” he says again, his vocal chords moving a little smoother this time.
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  ⚍☯⚎  Streaks of silver shone in his mind’s eye, waking or sleeping. Chestnut turned white, fluttering like blankets of snow. A whispered profession of love. Warm gaze hooded and then closed behind heavy lids. Figure fallen prone like a toppled statue — Buddha in slumber, peaceful. Deep.
  Zhou Zishu had panicked when the other’s grip grew lax in his hands; when Wen Kexing collapsed to the slab of cold stone beneath them, the warmth of that vibrant qi still coursing through Zhou Zishu’s body as if he’d sapped him of his very lifeforce and left him a motionless doll. He’d called his name, shook him until he himself shook, feeling so much like the crisp husk of a leaf clinging to a dying tree, but there was no response — no literary regurgitation, no quip, not so much as a feeble mewl of his moniker. 
  He had, upon realizing that Wen Kexing would not rise again any time soon, but was not altogether gone yet, fled down the mountain as far as he needed until he could send word for the fabled shaman from Nanjiang: Wu Xi. The man had been in these parts recently with an old mutual friend, and he held out hope that he still lingered. Sure enough, in several days time they both arrived in their warm cloaks; help had arrived.
  It was a long time before Wen Kexing would wake, and they dared not move him from his spot lest they leave bits of his wayward spirit behind — scattered but not dissipated. Wu Xi worked tirelessly day and night to repair it, and once stabilized, instructed Zhou Zishu to remain nearby in case he woke, and to feed him only the crisp snow water from the mountain on which they resided until he recovered fully. The cold would sustain him in a sort of stasis for now while his spirit reintegrated. He had sacrificed much for Zhou Zishu. It would take time, but he would wake.
  It was weeks still beyond this time, and Zhou Zishu had been down the mountain a ways trading silver taels for food. He had just been returning with his haul when he heard the strangled cry from inside the World’s Armory. His heart leapt into his chest and he dropped the bundles of reserves just inside the doorway, sweet potatoes tumbling through dusting of snow that stretched icy fingers into the vault. 
  He hurried to the room where Wen Kexing rested, preparing himself along the way for the disappointment of finding that the sound had merely been the buffeting wind moaning through the halls as it so often had been in the past. He stopped only when he saw the man sitting upright clutching those long silvered strands in wonder. 
  “Lao Wen,” he breathed, his own words barely above a whisper for the back of his throat burned and his eyes stung, relief threatening to choke and overwhelm him. He made his way to the slab, quick at first, then slow, realizing he did not know the nature of the other’s awakening — would his memory be intact? Had anything changed in the weeks upon weeks that had passed?
  “You’re awake,” he would say at last, stopping when he was near, gazing down at the other upon the stone slab, fingers curling and uncurling into his fists, uncertain of what to do with themselves. “And you call me lazy,” he added with a small half-smile. ⚍☯⚎
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legendwrote · 9 months
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nobilitylost​:
@legendwrote​ said:  ❛  There’s a sting in the way you kiss me ❜ (ZZS for Xie Wang) from this
“Perhaps I poisoned you.” Cold metal rings enveloped fingers that traced lightly along the other man’s jawline. There was no malice in his words, no attempt at anything other than coy – if a little sinister – flirtation. Or perhaps it was simply the knowledge that they should not, under any circumstances, be doing what they were currently doing. Pressed against the back wall of an inn, out of the prying eyes of others, dagger softly held in his hidden hand – no threat, at least not yet, he let his lips drag lazily along Zhou Zishu’s once more. “Are you complaining? Again? If so, then perhaps these little clandestine meetings should cease…”
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Even as Xie Wang said the words, he knew there was no intent to follow through, and it was that knowledge that made the threat so easily able to pass his lips. For as long as fate stood to the side, kept their destinies from crashing violently against one another, it was safe to play cat and mouse – safe to chase his lips once more. “Or, you could tell me what you’re doing here. What drug you from the Window of Heaven to this…” Eyes shifted, taking in the rather bleak surroundings. “Pit.”
Likely, Xie Wang already knew; they were there for the same thing.
Again.
“Is the most esteemed Prince Jin out of tea again? Have you been relegated to errand boy?” His quiet, soft voice was tinged with a bit of humor, fingers dropping from Zishu’s jawline to trace along the line of this throat. “I’m here to kill someone, but then…you probably already knew that, yes?”
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  ⚍☯⚎  He was not complaining, no. Despite what the other claimed he was not often given to complaint unless the other gave him ample reason, but in truth it felt unnatural for things to be too intimate and soft between them; whether there was actually anything hard there, sometimes the professed or falsely perceived notion of sharpness was necessary to stave off the discomfort that came with anything akin to romance. 
  However, the Tian Chuang leader was a fickle man, no desire to expose his own weaknesses, and yet, as if to ensure Xie Wang didn’t go through with it, Zhou Zishu’s grip on the other tightened. His short nails dug into hips just below the belt line, frustrated with lack of purchase on flesh. 
  “We’ll stop when I say stop,” he’d speak against the other’s lips lowly, perhaps a little gruffly. Zhou Zishu knew the comment was intended to heckle him, but he did not take the bait this time, focused instead on the words that followed – Xie Wang was also here to kill someone. Coincidentally, as his sources told him, the same someone he’d been sent here to kill. When he thought more on the matter he decided it was just as well to let someone else do his dirty work. But duty dictated he make sure the deed was done properly. 
  “Perceptive. You could say I’m here to make sure you get the job done,” he’d admit with a hint of vagueness behind the tongue that curled against the other’s bottom lip, warm like flames licking kindling. ⚍☯⚎
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