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taotrooper · 5 years

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In fine feather: chapter 1

On AO3

Title: In Fine Feather Characters: Mainly Wei Wuxian. In this chapter, Jiang Fengmian, Jiang Yanli, and Jiang Cheng Pairings: eventual wangxian down the road Genres: Wingfic, Fantasy AU, Youkai AU (sorta), Modern AU with Magic, Fish out of Water, Family Dynamics, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Adopted Siblings, Changelings, Misunderstandings, Coming of Age, Slice of Life Summary: Wei Ying thought he was a normal orphan boy until one night, while still a child, a pair of black wings burst out from his back. After he discovers he's a member of a race of spirits and is taken by a family of winged beings, he has to adapt to a new culture and species which isn't easy. Always charming and clever, he gets to heal his traumas and be loved by his new relatives, he learns how to fly and cast magic spells, he makes friends with other kids his age, he confuses everyone with his references from the human world. Most importantly, he learns his own worth. And much later as he grows, he finds love in a friend, and eccentric ways to bridge the mystical mountains with the good things he left behind Notes: CW references of children being violent and abusive towards another kid. It's not that graphic, and beyond the first couple of chapters I doubt this will come up again, but still merits a warning

When little Wei Ying came to his senses, he wasn't on the ground anymore.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a clear night sky and stars that flickered like freckles of light in infinity. It was daytime when he had fallen asleep in a forgotten corner, in a lonely alley, yet this wasn't the strangest part. How was he even seeing so much sky, not blocked by a single building or part of a ceiling? Yet no, it was all wide and endless.

The cold wind hit his face immediately; it made his back pain worse, but it refreshed his burning skin. He was moving somehow and his body was slowly swaying up and down like a boat. He then realized there were arms that held him tight, on the crook under his knees and carefully around his shoulders.

He couldn't see the face of the person well. By the size, it had to be an adult. Alarmed, the boy tried to get away —which hurt plenty, in his state—, but when he looked below he changed his mind and froze his brusque movements.

He saw shiny city lights below. Not only that, they looked distant: he was meters and meters above the land. Neither ground to stand on or feet were visible.

Scared and too sore to jerk again, he raised his head to take a look at what he imagined was a kidnapper. The face was obscured by the darkness, but he could perceive two things. First, long hair and broad shoulders. That wasn't much to work with, but the next observation made him forget these features.

Something flapped behind the figure. Wings! Wings like a bird's on his back!

"Relax," a soothing masculine voice came from the face's direction. "Don't stir or you'll fall. You're safe now."

Was this real or a dream? Was this a delirium from his fever? Was this a personification of death coming for him?

Or was this man... someone like him?

The arms still retained his back, still made indirect contact with the fuzzy origin of his pain.

Wei Ying was too weak to ask, too sleepy to worry, too sick to think. He closed his eyes again without noticing, and dozed off for the rest of the flight.

*****

The next time the boy opened his eyes, he was on a soft bed and lying on his stomach. Sunshine filled an unknown room and birds could be heard singing outside. His head, propped upwards by a tall pillow underneath, felt lighter and refreshed. His back still pulsed in a deaf pain, but not remotely as severe as before. There was a pressure that restricted his movements: he felt the bandages across his torso and backside that someone had dressed him with. He also wasn't wearing his dirty ragged clothes or blanket anymore, but some sort of flowing robes with big sleeves.

He tried to turn on his side to get up, but it was uncomfortable. They had bandaged those things too, completely immobilized.

Still partially asleep, and not knowing exactly what had happened to him and what had been a dream, he felt goosebumps across his arms and panic swirling in his stomach. Was he in danger? Should he run away? Could he run away?

He didn't need to make a choice, since the door opened slowly and a girl came inside with a tray in her hands and a smile on her face.

She was probably a couple of years older than Wei Ying. She had long hair braided in two elaborate buns and wore a pretty hanfu dress. But what really drew Wei Ying's attention was the two feathered wings folded behind her back. They were of a beautiful shade of purple, iridescent feathers like a hummingbird's.

"Oh, you're awake!" she beamed, as though Wei Ying was someone precious and him being there was a blessing. That confused him, but his defenses immediately went down against his will with her aura. "Hi, how are you feeling?"

"...Better?" The boy rested his chin on the pillow to see her with more clarity. Then he waited until she grabbed a chair and sat down, resting the tray on her thighs. She put a hand on his forehead, like Miss Shu used to do to measure temperature when someone had a cold. "Uh, who are you? Are you an angel?"

The girl tilted her head. "Oh, sorry, you must be so confused. My name is Jiang Yanli and it's very nice to meet you! What's an angel?" She put down the lid on top of a ceramic bowl. A good, comforting smell reached his nose. "You must be starving, the poor thing. Please don't get up or move from there, I'll feed you."

Jiang Yanli grabbed a spoon and took a spoonful of soup towards Wei Ying's mouth. He lifted his torso as much as he could and opened his jaw wide. It was the most delicious broth he had ever had. She giggled after seeing his satisfied expression.

"Let me explain. My father found you and took you home three days ago."

"So that winged man was real!" he gasped.

"Of course he was." She kept refilling the spoon and giving Wei Ying more food. He licked his lips after each time. "You had a fever and an infection and one of your wings was broken. Well, still is. The doctor said you have to stay in bed until it heals."

"But I'm..." He swallowed his original argument along with the lotus root he was offered since it was moot: they had those things on their back, just like he did. They wouldn't think of him as a monster if they were just the same as him, right? But was he even worth staying in such a pretty house? They even called a doctor. They were spending money on him. Assuming they used money at all.

"No buts. Please be a good kid and rest. Here, drink this medicine."

Softly but firmly she gave him an elixir that was also on the tray. It was bitter and ruined the taste of pork and lotus roots in his mouth.

"Um," he finally said. "I don't have any money or gold or bird seed or whatever you use. I can't repay you. Is it really okay that I stay?"

Without saying a word, Jiang Yanli placed her hand on Wei Ying's head and caressed him, tousling his short dark hair with her fingers. He felt a pang in the chest that was unrelated to the tight bandages, and before he knew it he felt tears running through his cheeks. How embarrassing.

"Don't worry about that. Just focus on getting better, okay? If you need to cry, go ahead. I won't tell anyone!"

She kept comforting him for a while until he let go of all the sadness and loss he had felt in the last week or so.

"Thank you, big sis. You're so kind," he said between sobs, moved. "Are you sure I didn't die and this isn't Heaven?"

"Not at all, you're in Yushan, the Feather Mountains," she said with a serious tone but still with a smile.

These bird people aren't really that good at names, Wei Ying thought. Then again, the same could be said of him, as he remembered how he called his old toys. Maybe that's where he got it from.

"Dad should be back in the evening." She raised the tray and got up. "He knows the whole story and he'll be better at explaining everything. So just rest and sleep until he returns."

"Okay, okay. Got it. I'll be a good boy for big sis. And the soup was the best I've ever had!" He also smiled.

"You're already a good boy, A-Xian. See you later, okay?"

After a pat on the head, Jiang Yanli left him alone in the big room with more questions than answers.

"Wait, why did you call me A-Xian?" he asked out loud.

He felt like the room, so illuminated and warm while the girl barged in, suddenly turned darker with her absence.

*****

Wei Ying didn't notice when he had fallen asleep again. The then almost familiar pain kicked in at full force again and he bit his lip. He realized he was probably given a painkiller and the effect must have passed already. He felt sharpness like knives where the wings met his back's open skin, and even the most infinitesimal move in his body made him wince. It made sense, though. Those were deep cuts after all. Even if these bird people had patched it in, it was still a wound.

The broken wing also throbbed underneath the bandages, but it wasn't as bad as his back.

The boy was bored out of his mind. All he could do was examining the room from his fancy bed. The furniture, the window, the door, it all looked old-fashioned and traditional. There were no electric lamps or appliances, much less a TV set or a radio to entertain himself with. Even hospitals had those sort of things. This patient was going to die from a different condition if he couldn't find a distraction.

All he could do was reliving that night in his head, over and over. The agony and impotence at the pain. The blood he couldn't see but felt dripping down his back. The terrible sensation of those things bursting out of his flesh, his skin and muscles feeling like torn part by the new limbs all of a sudden. The deafening screams got louder as bones he shouldn't have grew and formed, covered in bloodied feathers.

The faces of horror and nausea of his roommates and friends echoing and amplifying the emotions in his chest. Yells, tears, hands dragging him out of the bunk bed. Poor Miss Shu, staring with wide eyes and covering her mouth with her hand before running to call for help, not knowing what was going to happen when she left them alone. Then... the insults, the punches, the kicks coming from the older boys. The pain getting worse, not only on his back but in his heart. Escaping as fast as he could.

Even inside that room, even after he met others like him, he couldn't shake that fear and hatred away yet. Every pang since that night was a reminder he was not human anymore. Had he even been a human being at any point, he wondered?

Oh well, he couldn't do anything about it if he was a monster. At least he wasn't the only one!

Later in the afternoon, the door opened again.

A child around his age charged in, his posture upright as if he owed the place. Or at least Wei Ying though he was a boy because of his outfit and scowl, since his hairstyle —long and tied in a bun— was not something he had seen yet in children of his gender outside of TV. While he also wore hanfu clothing, they looked masculine and he was wearing trousers unlike Yanli and her flowing dress. Everything and everyone in that house seemed like they came out of a period drama.

But that wasn't the most shocking part about the kid: He had no wings.

"Huh? There's a human here?" Wei Ying blurted out and blinked.

The boy in hanfu reacted as though he had been slapped in the face.

"What did you say? Who are you calling a human?!" the boy cried.

"Well, aren't you? I mean, you don't have wings like that guy and that girl."

The boy rushed to stand in front of Wei Ying's face and crossed his arms.

"I see, so you're not only rude and dirty but stupid as well."

"What? Why? Who are you calling stupid?"

It was Wei Ying's turn to pout and get annoyed. Why was he the rude one when the other boy was the one insulting his intelligence? In fact, he had been one of the cleverest kids in the House and prided himself from not having to study much or at all for most tests. He had the multiplication table memorized up to 12 perfectly.

"Don't call me a filthy human or I'll break your other wing!! I'm as much as a dianshen as you are. Even more!"

Wei Ying blinked again. "I'm sorry, a what now?"

"That's the name of our people." The boy rolled his eyes. "You really don't know anything, do you?"

"Ah, I thought we were just bird monsters or demons or something." He hadn't heard the words well, but the first part sounded like heaven, tian, and the second as god or spirit, shen. "Are we... gods?"

"Hmph, do I have to explain even that to you? No, we're not gods, but we're so much more than humans. We're high-leveled spiritual beings."

"Oh, spirits? Like fairies and crap?"

"Yes, but we're much cooler than the other fairy species." The boy grinned and raised his chin.

Wei Ying hummed. Well, it was nice to be told exactly what kind of creature he was. "Okay. But if you're one of those tianshen things..."

"DIANshen!" The kid stomped his foot. "Spirit of the mountain summon!"

"Yeah, whatever. Show me the characters later. If you're one of those, then why don't you have wings?"

The boy hit his forehead with his palm.

"No one is born with them, idiot. You didn't have wings until now, remember? We grow them when we're between 9 and 11."

Suddenly everything made sense. He was nine years old. "...Ah! That's why!" Instinctively, Wei Ying tried to rise up, and he felt a terrible cramp in the wound at the root of his wings.

The boy suppressed a snicker and sat on the chair by the bed. "I should wing any time soon, in any case. And mine will be stronger than yours."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say." After that boast, even though he didn't like his wings at all and one had been broken, Wei Ying wanted to accept that challenge just to show him. In any case, the guy being all proud at tiny things was cute, and insults aside he was amusing when he was angry. Wei Ying wouldn't mind becoming his friend, considering he had lost all of his previous ones. So he smiled at him as warmly as he could with his backache killing him. "Hey, let's start this again. I'm Wei Ying. What's your name?

"Jiang Cheng, courtesy name Jiang Wanyin."

"Ah, Jiang like Jiang Yanli, the cute sweet sister with the delicious soup."

"Yanli's my big sister." Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by the fact Wei Ying liked her.

"Ah, you're the young lord of the house? Ahahaha! Nice to meet you, Jiang Cheng."

"Can't say the same, you're kind of rude and dumb."

"Pffft. Don't be such a sour bird."

It took Wei Ying a big effort, but still lying down he reached out with one arm, hoping to shake hands with the other boy. Jiang Cheng just stared at the offered hand and didn't take it.

"See, to me that's rude," Wei Ying retorted without losing his good humor.

"What do you want me to do? Stretch my arm too?"

Wei Ying suddenly understood the problem. That was a modern human custom imported from the West. Of course these vintage Chinese fairy bird spirits would not know how to deal with it.

"Ah, right. Grab it and squeeze it," he explained. Jiang Cheng sighed and did as told, and let Wei Ying move his hand up and down a couple of times.

"That's a bit silly," Jiang Cheng said. "Besides, you're the one who should learn how to greet our way."

"Of course, I'll do that. But for that you gotta teach me how, dude," Wei Ying beamed wider.

The boy closed one hand in a fist and touched his other hand's open palm with it. Then he made a bow. It looked incredibly old-fashioned from Wei Ying's point of view, just like the decoration and the clothes.

"Pardon my manners. I want to do it, but I'm in pain and I don't think the bandages would let me bow," Wei Ying said with honesty.

Jiang Cheng glanced at Wei Ying's back even though it was covered by the bedsheets. It looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end he sighed and never did.

"I should get going," he muttered instead. "I have a lesson coming up now and I'll be late."

"Aww, too bad. Can't you skip class? I'm so bored here... And I need help to pee..."

Jiang Cheng shook his head. "I'm not getting in trouble with my mother for someone this dumb. And I doubt I can get you up! I'll send someone to help, pain killers, and a book because you certainly need more culture."

"Thanks, dude. Do you dianshen have comic books?"

"I have never heard of those," Jiang Cheng got up.

"Fine, a normal book will do. I actually like those too, believe it or not. Thank you for everything, young master." Wei Ying tapped his palm with his fist without folding his arms or bowing, the best he could.

"You're learning fast." Jiang Cheng's grin as he opened the door felt less cynical than before.

*****

It wasn't until the sun was setting down that he met the enigmatic winged man again. He arrived with a bright lamp which he set on a table. Wei Ying wondered how it worked, since a candle would be dimmer and he doubted they had any electric batteries.

"Good evening, young master Wei" he said as he sat at the border of the bed to check on the bandages. "I heard you finally woke up."

If his children looked like extras in a wuxia movie, that guy could be one of the main characters. His hair was long with parts tied up in a topknot and two perfect side braids. If the bird men had shampoo commercials, that length would be perfect for one. His outfit was quite fancy, too. His face was good-looking, but most importantly it irradiated serenity. Also, now Wei Ying could see his wings were violet. Not as shiny as Yanli's but the hue was still a cool color.

"Um, hello," Wei Ying stammered.

"Hello to you too, I'm happy to meet you at last." He gave him a tender smile. "My name is Jiang Fengmian and it's a pleasure."

"Same here." Wei Ying did his best to do as much of the greeting as he could.

"Ah, don't overdue it. I'm afraid you'll have to rest and move very little for days to come." Just as he had feared. Since the boy looked sad, Jiang Fengmian continued. "So I heard you already met my children. You seem to have caused an opposite impression on A-Li and A-Cheng."

With that comment, Wei Ying knew that Jiang Cheng had described him to his father as stupid and rude. He was not surprised. He wondered if he should say something to disprove it, like reciting the hardest multiplication tables, but he felt unusually shy around this person. And he had so many questions as well.

"A-Xian, you must be confused. Please tell me what's on your mind, and ask me anything you don't understand, no matter how small."

In that case... "Yeah, well. How did you find me in the middle of a city? Why did you save me? Where is this place? Why are you guys calling me A-Xian? How come the cameras on satellites have not caught dianshen flying on video?"

The man laughed, but not in a mocking manner.

"I cannot answer to the last one unless you give me a translation, but let's start with the others. Do you... Do you remember your parents?"

Wei Ying stirred inside the bedclothes. "Not really. When I was little, they found me with a wound in my head in the middle of nowhere. It was pretty weird. All I could remember was my own name. I was told they notified the cops but there was no report of a missing boy with my name or description, so I was sent to the closest orphanage." As he went through the earliest memories he held, he started to tie things together with the knowledge he was not human. "Did I, um... fall from the sky or something?"

"That was indeed the case," Jiang Fengmian sighed. "I can enlighten you but unfortunately it's not going to be a happy story."

It already wasn't, so Wei Ying shrugged.

"I knew you and your parents. Your father was Wei Changze and he was my best friend since childhood. Your mother was Cangse Sanren. They were good people and they loved you, their only child, very much. Your family liked to travel and meet new places. You were even born during one of those trips. I think your family was likely happy and free."

Wei Changze. Cangse Sanren. Wei Ying repeated the names in his head a few times, hoping he wouldn't forget again.

"But something happened," he said.

"As much as we can predict and sometimes even control the weather, sometimes it's too much even for us." Jiang Fengmian's face showed distress. "A hurricane knocked your traveling carriage over. We managed to track Changze-xiong's whereabouts but it was too late. Madam Cangse was found miles away and passed away before we could move her. But you, Wei Wuxian, were not near either of your parents' bodies. The whirlwind must have tossed you away from them and quite far, considering you ended up in a human city."

He felt chills down his spine. He wasn't expecting it to sound so tragic.

"Oh, there it is again. A-Xian, Wuxian. Why?"

"Our kind uses two names, my boy. Wei Ying was your birth name. Wei Wuxian was the courtesy name that your parents had chosen for you once you had your wings."

Jiang Fengmian took an object from his pocket and gave it to him. It was a silver bell with a red tassle, the three characters of his courtesy name engraved on its round surface. He twirled it between his fingers. Wei Ying's heart started to ache as an echo of his wings', for those parents he couldn't remember anymore.

"We couldn't find you until now. A dianshen's spiritual energy is not strong enough until we are truly complete. The tracking spell started to react as soon as you winged, as soon as you had magic in your body we could locate. I must apologize, though. I wasn't fast enough and had to wait until nighttime to search in town. You were hurt and sick."

Wei Ying opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

"Why do you apologize, sir? Just the fact you arrived is... I don't deserve this kindness."

"You do. And I owe it to my friends as well."

Jiang Fengmian ruffled Wei Ying's hair. Then he examined his broken wing more closely, with a serious expression.

"May I ask how it happened?" he inquired.

Wei Ying stiffened.

"Um, I don't remember well," he lied, "these days were a blur. It was totally my fault, though! I think I fell down on my wing and it twisted with the weight."

He just couldn't tell him the truth. What if this massive fairy bird man went to the House and tried to kick the boys' asses? Or even worse? He just couldn't allow it, no matter how cruel their treatment had been or if they deserved it.

Jiang Fengmian didn't look convinced, but he didn't push it. He just seemed lost in thought for a minute before he shook his head.

"You should be more careful, as newly formed wings are delicate." After covering Wei Ying's body with the bedsheets again, he got up. "Don't worry about anything, A-Xian. Your only concern should be staying put and resting so you can heal faster. Just say so if there's anything you want."

"Um, quick question. Is that lotus root and pork rib soup too expensive? Because that was really good."

"A-Li will be glad to hear!" Jiang Fengmian smiled. "There should still be more so I'll tell her to bring it to you for dinner."

"Okay... Ah! Can Jiang Cheng skip his stupid classes to come and hang out longer?"

"Ah, A-Xian, my wife won't allow it." That mysterious lady of the house was starting to scare him a bit. Every guy seemed determined not to upset her and that couldn't be a good sign. "I'll tell him to come by daily, but not at the expense of his lessons. Is that okay by you?"

"Probably not by him, but alright," Wei Ying laughed. Jiang Fengmian stared at him, stunned. It was probably the first time he had smiled at him. He returned it with a soft chuckle.

"Just be patient, boy. You'll get out of that bed soon."

Before he left the room, Wei Ying called him back: "Uncle Jiang?"

"...Yes?" There was a light in his eyes when he heard the way the boy had called him.

"I... Thank you very much for... dunno, everything. And sorry." His cheeks blushed.

"Don't mention it." The man smiled and closed the door.

Wei Ying stared at the silver bell and then collapsed his face against the pillow, letting out a groan of pain and annoyance. He felt burdened with wings he never asked for, a past he couldn't remember, and parents who hadn't abandoned him. Things were much simpler before he woke up.

Orphans usually have this dream. A dream that someday, a person who was a relative or connected to their parents would swoop in, assure them they had been loved, and take them to a big house with lovely people to live happy forever. So Wei Ying was a monster fairy spirit thing, sure, but that fantasy came true or so it seemed for the time being.

Then why didn't he feel happier? Why was he hollow inside?

And he had more questions than before! What kind of miracle had happened so he had survived a hurricane, and one that killed two adults, with only a head injury? Did he understand Mr. Jiang correctly and these birds had flying carriages? Tracking spells? Were his wings something that showed up in a fairy radar? Where did they get lotus roots and pork for that soup? How did that rectangular, traditional-looking lamp in the corner of the room even work?!

Was the Jiang family going to kick him out after his wings healed?

Putting the bell under his pillow, he just closed his eyes and took a nap until dinner time. His body and his heart were fragile and weaker than his mind. Unable to keep up with his confusing thoughts, he dreamed about old times when he could run and laugh with friends.

*****

Extra

A young man was sitting in front of a mirror and humming a song. Gray stormy eyes looked at his own hair while a comb danced through inky black that continued down to the middle of his back. He grabbed two tresses from each side of his head and joined them together, to then tie the hair between them all up in a half ponytail with a striking red ribbon. He looked at the result but, not satisfied, he undid it and started again. It took him three tries for the hairdo to look symmetrical.

He turned his head to each profile to make sure. Finally pleased, he stared at himself and practiced a wink and a seductive smile. Yet he couldn't stand it for long and ended up laughing at his own silliness.

"Good, now that's a handsome wuxia hero in a shampoo commercial," he teased himself for his vanity. He was wearing his favorite black and red flowing robes, the ones he affectionately called his 'cool leather jacket for bird fairies' —to most people's confusion.

Wei Wuxian went on a gait through the hallway. By then he had lived half of his life in that cozy big mansion in the mountains. Soul and wing had healed long ago even if there was still a tiny crack in both he did his best to ignore. He could still fly better and smile brighter than most people despite the crooked wing tip and sad memory that remained. All he could do was to embrace the past and forgive.

He reached the living room area where his two siblings sat in peace.

"Wei Wuxian, are you finally ready?" Jiang Cheng got up with a sneer. "Why do you either take like an hour to groom or just go outside the same way you got up in the morning, never in between?"

"The duality of man," he chirped. Then he turned around to the young lady. "Sis, do you want to come? We're having dinner with the gang in town. It'll be fun!"

"I'd love to, A-Xian, but I have a date tonight."

"Bring your peacock fiancé, then! The more, the merrier!"

"You always say that, but you end up almost punching Jin Zixuan every time," Jiang Cheng covered his forehead with his palm.

"Hey, there was one time when you almost did, too! Wen Ning is my witness that he had to stop us both from ruffling serious golden feathers."

"It was one time and he wasn't in love with her yet." He grabbed Wei Wuxian's shoulder. "Honestly, let them spend time alone. The less boyfriends my siblings bring, the less it ruins these relaxing nights."

"Bad news then: Lan Zhan is coming."

"The problem isn't him coming, it's you both acting annoying!"

Wei Wuxian wasn't planning to stop saying shameless things or displaying his affection just because his brother was embarrassed or possibly jealous. Besides, Lan Wangji was part of his social circle (or The Flock, as he liked to call his boys) regardless of their current relationship.

He pushed Jiang Cheng towards the front yard, hands on bright purple wings, ignoring protests.

"Let's not dawdle with your protests. Let's go, let's go!! Bye, sis!"

"Have fun, A-Cheng, A-Xian!" the girl smiled and waved goodbye.

"Hey sour bird, do we go downtown or do we go to the Nies' place first?"

"Screw Nie Huaisang, I say. He takes even longer to get ready than you."

"Fine, then let's leave..." A cheeky smile was on his face. "Last one who gets there is a winged monkey!"

Quickly, he spread his black wings and took off to the dusk sky. Behind him he heard Jiang Cheng's loud curse and the sounds of feathery flaps approaching fast. He chuckled and flew faster, not minding that the wind was tousling his hairdo.

Notes:

The dianshen (巔神, forgive me if it makes no sense in actual Chinese) are made up for this fic and don't really exist in Chinese mythology but take inspiration on several legends like mainly the Japanese tengu (which is why I tagged it as youkai even though it's not quite), with some of the Chinese shen, the fae, and even an air to Buddhist immortals. Yushan, obvious name and all, is an actual place in legends, though!

#mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #jiang fengmian #$fanfic #wing au

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cardassiansstolebutton · 7 years

Text

Troublesome Heart

Requested Anonymously

You didn't cry when he died.

You weren't an idiot. You knew that your crush on Weyoun was just that- a crush. A passing infatuation brought on by hormones and the romantic inclinations of youth. Nothing more than that. Not to mention that he was hardly what you would call a nice guy. He was on the opposing side of a rather nasty conflict, after all. And your interactions and been few and rather brief, probably a necessity from his point of view. You were friendly with some important people, including Odo, so Weyoun flattered you. Oh, did he flatter you, so prettily and with sincerity on every syllable of his lying tongue, and when he touched you, it was gentle, not like Dukat's forceful grip trying to rein you to his will. You had blushed and loathed it.

So. You didn't cry when he died.

But if you were a bit less chipper for a few days (or maybe a week) after hearing the news, no one noticed, and if they did, they did not realize the true reason.

You didn't rejoice when you found out he lived.

Apparently, Vorta were clones, copies of copies, each one containing the memories of its previous counterpart, and the Weyoun you met had been the fourth of himself.

At least, that was the latest tidbit buzzing around the station. Once upon a time, you had heard that Cardassians laid eggs, but that was obviously tark-pucky. But the clone thing sounded about right to you. Very Dominion. Break the toy, replace the toy, no muss, no fuss. No need to train a new assistant, just grow one, pre-programmed and all.

Had you ever really known Weyoun, though? No, of course you hadn't. You had hardly spoken to him and it had all been false pleasantries. But the man named Weyoun whom you had been acquainted with, what of him? Had he really been Weyoun? Was he just alike to his previous clone, and was that clone alike to the one before it? Was he, or they, true to the original? And the original, what had he been like? A sleazy politician, or something completely different? How much of Weyoun's personality was genetic engineering? Was he of the Founders' design, or was he still mostly him?

It didn't matter, you decided. You might never see his new replacement, after all, and that was probably for the best.

He was on the station. The new Weyoun. You watched from a corner, unnoticed, and saw that he looked and acted exactly as he always had. Like he had never died at all. His smile was bitingly pleasant, his bright eyes falsely soft, his posture somehow both arrogant and demure at once. Beautiful, and you knew it, even though he was completely unaware. You hated yourself for being pleased to see him.

When he saw you, he didn't hesitate. He took both your hands in his, just as his previous self had, gentle and soft, and he smiled eagerly, as if he was reuniting with a dear friend instead of a passing acquaintance.

"My dear!" he called you, just as he always had. "My dear, I'm delighted to see you again. I thought I might not, but here you are, and you look well."

Flattery.

"It's nice to see you too, Weyoun," you said, not really lying. "I didn't think I'd see you again either." Then you tilted your head just so, speaking the silent language of opposing diplomats. "You're here to see Kai Winn, aren't you?"

Weyoun's smile tightened almost imperceptibly. "... Yes."

You had already known. You had just wanted to see if he would admit it. Not that he had any reason to deny it, as it was no secret (Bajorans tended to be terrible gossips), but he could have lied through his teeth if it so pleased him. It didn't, apparently. Interesting. What that meant, you weren't sure, but you hoped it might mean that he didn't think you were a fool.

"I'm so sorry," you said with mock solemnity. "Have you met her before? She's unbearable. I can't be around her for more than five minutes."

A light and airy laugh, either genetically engineered or dutifully practiced, rang free from Weyoun. He grinned at you as if you had offered him the juiciest gossip or the most marvelous joke. Again, flattery. Trying to make you feel special.

"That bad, hmm?" he said, leaning closer to you. Ah, you knew that trick. Close and friendly proximity meant to instill a sense of intimacy and trust.

You can't play me, Weyoun.

"I've never met a more condescending woman," you confided. "She's a nightmare. I can't imagine having to negotiate with her."

At that moment, you would have made some sort of counter-move. You would have rested your hand on his arm or squeezed his shoulder, something to imitate familiarity as his leaning did, but you suddenly realized that your hands weren't free.

He was still holding them.

You looked down and saw your hands clasped in his, as intimate of a gesture as there ever was. You had noticed him take your hands, of course. He did this to quite a few people, not just yourself. But you hadn't noticed that he had kept his gentle grip.

"My apologies," he said, releasing you. You spotted a light dusting of lavender rise across his face and realized he was blushing. So he hadn't meant to do it after all. How strange. You had thought him too calculated and detached for something like that.

"It's alright," you said, patting his arm. "I don't mind."

And maybe you didn't.

He was gone in almost no time at all. There and back again, you supposed. Such was the life of an interstellar diplomat. You didn't really have time to miss him, but, every once and a while, you would think of those brief encounters and wonder, if he could hold your hands and blush about it, had any of those other moments been real?

No. That wasn't a fair thought. You put it out of mind.

You were left behind.

Well, not really. The Dominion occupation of Deep Space Nine was swift and sudden. Some people got out, some people didn't. You weren't really left behind as much as you were separated from the crowd and caught, sort of like a fish in a net. The other fish hadn't left you. You just happened to be too close to the fishing boat.

Kira was still on the station, but it did no good to go to her. She was in what you liked to think of as her Resistance Mode. She was nothing but biting fire in the face of yet another reign of terror. You didn't want to touch that flame. The burn wasn't meant for you.

Odo was still on the station, but it felt like he was gone. He had fallen so far, and you watched in disgust as the Female Changeling twisted him, pulling him down to her level and tainting him. You could hardly stand to look at him anymore. It wasn't completely his fault, you supposed. Odo was not only an orphan but one imbued with a homing instinct, and his need to find how he fit in the universe was something beyond human comprehension. But it was still on him, that he did this. It was still on him to resist, and he was hardly even trying.

Weyoun was on the station. That didn't make you feel any better.

You saw him from a distance but never approached him. There were always Cardassians and Jem'Hadar or, worst of all, the Female Changeling. Her, you didn't want to go anywhere near. You wouldn't be able to hide your absolute distaste if you did. She was like poison. Avoiding Dukat was just a plus in this situation.

But, one day, Weyoun spotted you, and the joy on his face made your chest hurt.

"My dear!"

Always. Always, my dear. Never your name.

"My dear, I was afraid you had vacated the station!" he exclaimed happily. He made a point of not taking your hands this time, but he was closer than was probably considered a polite distance in respect of personal space. "But you're here! What a pleasant surprise."

"Yes," you agreed, at a loss for words. You know he would play at being pleased to see you, but he seemed absolutely ecstatic. There must be something he wants from me now.

"No, really, I'm delighted to see you," he told you, sincerity dripping off his lying tongue. "I was hoping I would. I'm so glad you're here, you know. It will make staying on the station so much more pleasurable."

He purred the last word like a dirty secret, but it hit you like a final blow.

"I'm glad to see you too, Weyoun," you said, and he beamed at you.

Oh, that smile.

He leaned in as if to share a secret, and then whispered, "Do you mind doing me a favor? Nothing strenuous, I promise. Just something to help me avoid Dukat's incessant yammering."

You couldn't help but laugh. "He does like the sound of his own voice, doesn't he?"

"Yes. How he managed to father such pleasant offspring as Ziyal, I don't know," Weyoun lamented. "But that's the thing- he's given me a painting of hers and I just don't know what to make of it."

Ah, yes. Vorta lacked any sense of aesthetics. How horrid that must have been.

"And Dukat will probably want a whole report singing Ziyal's praises, right?" you asked, because you knew that Dukat would take nothing less.

"Exactly," said Weyoun. "So you'll help?"

"I'll do what I can."

"Marvelous!" And then he actually tapped your nose playfully.

Who are you and what have you done with Weyoun?

The wardroom was dimly lit. This, you imagined, was probably because the Cardassians that came in and out at almost all hours would probably have complained if the room was kept in lighter conditions. Also, as you had discovered before, Vorta had extremely poor eyesight and relied heavily on their sense of hearing for just about everything. For Weyoun to keep his own space well-lit would be like a blind man keeping all the lights on when he lived alone.

That said, you had to strain your eyes somewhat to see Ziyal's painting.

Tora Ziyal's work was a tad too minimalistic for your tastes. It wasn't bad, no, not at all. It was very good. You could see the skill that went into it, the precision with which each stroke of paint was made, and it was beautiful. It just wasn't something you would hang on your own wall. The sparseness of it didn't seem Cardassian or Bajoran despite both styles being present. You wondered what that had come from. Maybe, you thought, it was something to do with the fact that Ziyal had lived the majority of her life without decoration. That had to have an influence on someone, especially in the developmental years.

“It’s very good,” you finally said when you felt Weyoun lurking at your shoulder. “Excellent combination of traditional Cardassian and Bajoran styles. Funny, you wouldn’t usually see this sort of technique used outside of Bajoran icon paintings, but it looks good used this way. The minimalism is a unique touch.”

Weyoun sighed in relief and you felt the gusty breath fan over the back of your neck. “Oh, thank the Founders. I asked Major Kira, but she was no help. Now I can face Dukat tomorrow without getting my own ears handed to me.”

You stifled a laugh at that. “Yes, well, Dukat can be… difficult. I’m sorry about Kira. She’s just… not good at socializing. You’re either very close with her or you’re not even on her radar, and it can seem like she doesn’t like you.”

“But…” You felt Weyoun’s warm breath ghost across your neck again. Why was he so close? Was it so those weak eyes of his could see? “She doesn’t like me.”

Your lips pursed into a flat line. “No, she doesn’t. But I wouldn’t take that personally. She doesn’t like most people, whether they deserve it or not.”

There was a brief silence, and then, “You’re very kind.”

You flinched from the unexpected words. “Not really.”

“No, you have been,” Weyoun insisted. “You’ve never been anything but kind to me.”

Flattery, flattery, flattery, you reminded yourself. Nothing but flattery, pretty words to make you lose your guard. He’s a lying snake.

“I know you don’t want me here either,” Weyoun continued. You could feel the heat of him there, at your back. Almost touching, but not quite. All you would have to do was lean back, just the slightest bit… but, of course, you didn’t. “But you have been courteous to me. I asked you a favor and you granted it without complaint, and when you came to me, you truly helped.”

“I don’t have a reason to be unkind,” you argued, and Weyoun made an odd, inhuman sound that was almost like a hiss.

“You have plenty of reasons,” he said waspishly. “More, perhaps, than even Major Kira, but you have always been kind and you have not wavered in that kindness despite your distaste for a situation that is ultimately my fault.”

“Maybe I hate Dukat more than you.”

A hand at your elbow, applying just enough pressure for you to know he was holding you. “Don’t lie to me.”

“That was hardly a lie. Dukat’s scum, if you haven’t noticed.” Then you took a deep breath, calming yourself. It didn't really help, but it made you feel like you could speak without wavering. "Do I need a reason?"

"I'd feel better if you had one," Weyoun admitted. His grip on your elbow eased slightly, but he still held his hand there, on the soft skin of your arm. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No." It was the truth.

"You want something from me, then?"

"Not a thing," you answered, because there was nothing he could give you that you wanted. It would be wonderful if he could end the occupation, but that wasn't within his power, so you wouldn't snark at him about it.

Finally, you turned to him, hesitantly making eye contact. He still hadn't let go of your arm, though, bringing you close. His bright violet eyes bore into yours like neon, closer than you had ever seen them, and you could feel his breath on your face. There was starlight from the porthole shimmering on his milky skin.

This was wrong.

"I'm not like you," you said, suddenly too honest. "I don't need a reason to be kind. I don't give only because I plan to take."

"Everybody wants something," he growled, low and dangerous. You didn't flinch.

"And the Founders want everything," you snapped back. "They're a monster with a bottomless pit for a belly. The Dominion will eat the whole galaxy if they get the chance, Weyoun. They'll never be satisfied. And what use will you be when they've finished?"

Weyoun recoiled from you like you had burnt him. "That's not true! The Founders bring order and peace everywhere they go!"

"Is that what they did to your people?" you demanded. "Tell me, Weyoun, what use will you be? What will they do with a tool that's outlasted its usefulness? Do your gods have sentiment?"

Weyoun snarled and your eyes burned with the hurt of it all. You had always felt like Weyoun was the villain, but that wasn't really it, was it? He was a kicked dog crawling back to its master time and time again. He was still wrong, of course, and he still did terrible things, but you wouldn't be able to look at him like it was his fault ever again.

You reached out and pressed your palm against his white cheek. Weyoun stiffened at the unexpected touch, probably having expected a slap and certainly not a gentle caress. His mouth parted in surprise. Tentatively, he leaned into the touch.

"Do the Founders do this for you, Weyoun?" you asked, as gently as you could even though your throat had gone hoarse.

"I obey the Founders in all things," he said, high and quiet like a child.

You came even closer and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. He gasped softly, like you had wounded him, and you felt him press his cheek more firmly into the cradle of palm.

"Do they do that?" you asked, brushing your free hand over his silky hair.

"I obey the Founders in all things!" he repeated, even more desperately this time even as he fluttered into your touch like a moth to flame. "I obey..."

There wouldn't be anything else out of him tonight.

"I'm so sorry," you said, pulling away from him.

As if you had been his only support, he sank to the floor. He looked shocked, like he had seen death, his mouth curled downwards and his eyes wide and glossy. He shook, and you wanted to hold him, but you knew he needed to feel this. He curled into himself, as if to shield the hurt, still looking up at you like you had snatched the world out from under his feet. And maybe you had.

"I obey the Founders in all things," you heard him repeat as you left him there. "I obey the Founders in all things, I obey the Founders in all things..."

You saw him again but only from a distance, and then one day, he was gone. He had left to be on Cardassia Prime, or so was the gossip. You wondered if you would ever see him again.

The occupation of Deep Space Nine ended abruptly. The Dominion flooded out and Deep Space Nine's loyal occupants flooded in, taking back their homes with immovable pride. For you, nothing much changed, except that you still couldn't look at Odo without feeling ashamed of him. And, although you said nothing, it seemed like he knew. He wouldn't look you in the eye.

You cried when he died. This time.

The news came and went like the flitting of birds in Spring. A freak transporter accident, they said, but it hadn't been an accident. Of course it hadn't been. Good riddance, they said, but all you could think of was that man, pale and trembling on the floor of the wardroom like a lost child. And, with more regret than you had ever felt over anything, you wished that you had gone back and held him instead of leaving him there to tremble alone.

Odo had been gone for a short while when he returned and immediately called for you. The truth was, you had gotten so used to him avoiding you that he hadn't realized he was gone.

You stood in his office, and there was no judgment in your gaze. You were tired of being angry with him. You missed him. He looked up at you like he expected a tongue-lashing to rival one of Major Kira's bursts of temper, but you only waited for him to speak.

"Another Weyoun has been activated," he finally said, his gravelly voice sounding as hesitant as his eyes looked.

You felt a jolt of panic in your gut. Why was Odo telling you this? No one knew about your... odd relationship with Weyoun. Relationship wasn't even the right word. More like a series of very strange encounters. But, still, no one knew... Except for the new Weyoun. Was that where Odo had gone? To meet the new one? Had Weyoun said something? No, why would he? Especially after the last time you spoke. No Vorta would admit to something like that, and certainly not Weyoun, and never to Odo!

"And?" you prompted. "What's it matter? He's not here."

Odo sighed heavily, but it lacked the infused sarcasm of long-suffering that his sighs usually did.

"We barely made it back," Odo said, and your heart jolted, "but he is here. He's defected."

"Defected?" The word stuck to your throat and came out like a croak.

Odo nodded. "He... asked for you. Specifically." He looked pained to make the admission. "One of his conditions for providing the Federation with information is that he be placed under your care." At this, Odo's eyes sharpened into his detective's gaze. "Do you care to explain why?"

"I'm not sure," you said, because you really weren't. After last time, why would he want anything to do with you? "I was nice to him, but I wasn't that nice, and the last time we talked mostly involved me chewing out his gods. No offence."

"None taken," Odo grunted. "The question is, do you agree to this?"

It took you a moment to remember what Odo meant. "You mean, having him placed under my care?"

"Yes."

"Well, I don't think the Federation's going to let me say no, if that's the only way Weyoun's willing to talk to them."

Snorting, Odo gave you that proud, sharp look that he always used to do when you figured something out on one of his cases. You had missed that look.

"You're right," he said. "So, you agree?"

"Yes." You paused, and he waited. "Odo... I really missed you."

And Odo smiled at you for the first time in a long time.

Weyoun looked a bit worse for wear, but when he saw you, he smiled, but it was a soft and shy thing, something you didn't know Weyoun was capable of. It broke something inside you to see that smile.

"My dear," he said, quiet and soft, not with the lyrical cadence he usually used. Used to usually use. You saw his fingers twitch to grab your hands and wondered how habits like that could be passed from one clone to another. "It's... good to see you."

You smiled, deja vu cluttering the moment oddly. "It's good to see you too, Weyoun."

"I had hoped..." He winced slightly, in the way meant to hold back a grimace. "I would have told them what they wanted anyway, you know, but I thought that if I asked, you might... at least be willing to see me again."

"I'm here, aren't I?" you said. "And I'm attached to your asylum contract. We'll be seeing a lot of each other."

At this, that soft smile returned, a little less nervous than before.

"I'm glad you agreed to this," he said. "I... defecting was... I had you in mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "You didn't betray the Founders for me."

"No," he admitted, "but I let Damar kill me knowing that I would come back to you."

The admission rocked you harshly. You tried not to let it show, but there was suddenly concern in Weyoun's expression. Real, genuine concern. It made you shudder with the knowledge of possibilities.

He raised on hand and cupped your cheek, just as you had once done to his previous self in a dark wardroom.

"You were right," he said, his thumb brushing close to the curve of your mouth. "The Founders don't do this." He kissed your forehead. "And they don't do that."

You sighed softly. "And what else?"

Weyoun lowered his head and pressed his lips against yours.

#Weyoun x reader #Weyoun #deep space nine imagine #weyoun imagine #ds9 imagine #ds9 #deep space nine #imagine deep space nine #imagine weyoun #weyoun 6 #imagine #star trek imagine #imagine star trek #vorta

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the-four-islands · 6 years

Text

I found an old journal on my computer today. Enjoy?

LAST NIGHT 20TH 8TH 2015

This was probably before the island. I was with my family a new house- two houses, actually, on a isolated and cold grassy hill. I wanted so badly to be able to sleep but my parents were screaming at each other. It was a great crime to sneak out like I did but I remember slowly making my way down the steep hill under a bush to call Izaac on Skype. I found a narrow balcony that was only big enough for my body, so somehow the house had changed into an apartment while I was outside. It shifted back and forth as I spoke to him and he calmed me down, from cool grey to dark blue over and over again. My dad found me and pulled at my hair, yelling in my face. He was absolutely furious. I called Isaac again in another room and after demanding that gravity be just weak enough for me to get away with it without hurting myself, jumped out a window. I tried to aim for a black trash bin behind the chicken-wire fence but missed.

When I finally called him again I had to run into a tree and was losing balance, so all he saw was a bunch of blurred images and me trying to say something but losing myself to laughing because I was holding onto ropes and vines to stay up in as it shifted backwards underneath my weight. It was behind a glass barrier- maybe an exhibition? Actually! This is what lead to the event at the island! I decided to run away and keep exploring. The island was in Nowhere but seemed to link to the boat that goes to Discovery Bay.

My memory starts inside a tiny wooden house in the centre of a small island, where we had to clear out the shelves of a storage cupboard. Most things had expired a while ago and the people next door were always.. so tall. They were white and so tall. Now, this leads into a deal with an old black necklace, and something to do with circular dislocated flames. They would kill us whenever they could. I tried to sneak in one night and was surprised when they told me something about crashing into a green giant on the way to the DB ferry- it was staged, they said, through wild grassy rocks.

The island itself was probably in that region where everything is sandy and dry. There was some kind of event and I couldn’t decide what to wear, but I ended up going barefoot. It was a warm and humid night. There were more circular flames floating in the air with bugs flickering around them, their sounds mixing in with small shells being crushed underneath people’s feet. I think it was a procession of some kind? It was somewhat tribal, or similar to a resort trying to act tribal in an effort to seem interesting to tourists.

The shelves were full of things like rice, popcorn and an unreasonable amount of chips. We found some hidden lollies too. Which was great. It was always night when the people seemed to change- I had figured out a girl next door was a sprite? Or changeling when I caught her colouring her necklace in with black, so I changed it around so she would colour in the wrong areas when she wasn’t paying attention She was in the corner and the ceiling and her kind wanted to kill us, to take us away somewhere. She was not human. Between my small room with the shelves there was a door to the left and one to the right. I had made friends with someone on the left but decided to go right, which was where I found the sprite. She was tall and angelic, beautifully so but she was malicious. She pretended to be innocent but why? What did her kind want? These are the things I can’t remember and it is very frustrating.

SHE WAS ZOE. Why is it that every time I see her she’s some kind of angelic being?

I realised somewhere that I could turn back time and catch her before she hurt us. I told the others in my room and they went along with it, so I re-did everything that had happened in the dream before coming to this island. Including going to the shifting house, calling Isaac and running away.

On the way to the ferry pier I had to sigh “oh my god, I’m stressed, what am I going to do,” and bumped into a tall and muscular man i’m somehow remembering as the lion from the wizard of oz. My apologising would make him ask what I was worried about, and somehow this conversation becomes important to triggering other events later. Maybe he was supposed to tell me something. Once I was back, I tried to take the necklace from the sprite. The proof was that if I found a flame I could concentrate and make it move to somewhere else in this hotel room- white and sparse, minimal, clean. It would be suspended in the air. Another word would make it from into a large circle so that the ceiling would burn black. The loop happened quite a few times.

I’m not sure where in the story this happened. There was a dream machine on a beach where you can chose an emotion or plot, similar to the entrance to a train station where you put in coins and a metal bar turns to allow you through. I was worried about my brothers and wanted to go back to the dream with the tall people and the black necklace. The machine said this dream had expired and transported me, some strangers and the guide from before (that I think I had fallen in love with by this point) into a clear pale blue room in another island. We were floating and we had to make these creatures whose heads to were connected to their tales- they weren’t allowed to breathe, which made me feel sad. Kayla was showing us how to do this but I have no idea what for. There were more hills…they were everywhere. Somehow that ended when I took a creature and ran out.

Later on in the same night, this happened.

I was standing on the DB beach which leads to Hong Kong. I felt fear, and then I was running through that airport that has been linked before, with a boy I think I knew (no idea who he is now though). Gravity was weak when I ran through the Townsville airport, but also Central all at once.There was a cafe that we had to go past and I KNOW I have been there before in another dream. It’s an impossibly large mall area but I recognised different landmarks and knew how to get to the front. The large subways and grey tiles with palm trees sprouting everywhere are definitely from another time. I know they are.

We jumped into an elevator shaft that spat us out into the middle of a waste dump. I think it was behind those buildings in Tung Chung, but we were utterly lost. My only source of reference was the IFC tower so I decided we had to set out to find it. The dump was full of sharp edges and rusted corrugated iron that slowly flaked apart as we passed by. We found two other people huddled in a small pit there and said we would help them find their way, but they refused to leave. They were happy there. Hong Kong, for the first time in my memory, had completely transformed into FULL impoverished mode. We wanted to cross to the IFC but were blocked by a an absolutely disgusting river slowly moving through a concrete path.

Thankfully, a solution was found soon enough- there was an old man leaning out of his window and singing into the air, and as he did these enormous, bulbous fish as big as my arms would jump across the water and furiously try to flap their way up the cement slope like salmon moving against a waterfall. He must have been singing about food because as I looked at them I got the inexplicable sense that they were hungry. There was a large black alligator and two eels that were so big the water wasn’t deep enough to comfortably hold their bodies, so they had to slither and thrash along instead of swim. The boy I was with said we might be hungry on our trip so I called to them too, copying the melody of the man in the window. As I did he pointed to a thin rope bridge and signalled to be quiet. My companion said that we had to stop calling to them, otherwise they’d hit the bridge and we’d fall. Getting across was excruciatingly difficult. We got across eventually, but the fish had lost heart and didn’t want to move so we left them.

The next part of the dream is mostly a blur of back alleys and roads where everything was brown and covered in slime and flies, and one particular moment where we had to step across the carcass of a giant squid draped over decaying tyres, picked apart by rail-thin brown dogs. The height and complexity of the buildings was staggering. Bright, cramped, infested, greys and browns and greens, filthy and fishy with pipes and air-conditioning units jutting out every which way, ropes swinging and ladders dangling from bamboo towers so high the pollution stopped me from seeing the tops.

Along the way I remember we had given up and decided to just make a home there for the night. He had found some rope and made a hammock which attached to the side of a woman’s balcony made from bamboo, only reached after climbing up a small tower of dumpsters. She was a sadist and was happy that someone had come to her. There was a weird thing with pain scales, slicing tongues and force-feeding him chemicals but they both seemed to be into it. I decided to leave him behind and climbed to the top of the highest apartments. Now, everything had been built out of bamboo and tarp- rooms just big enough to house one person but that was enough for the people there. They had made marketplaces of beautiful, richly coloured and giant vegetables so far above the ground it was as if an entirely different city existed up there.

This was the moment where my perspective shifted and I wasn’t myself anymore. I was losing control of the dream. Fighting this is…a pretty difficult thing to explain.

I was a young cantonese boy and was with an old man, we were flying to get back to a bus station but a very beaten-up helicopter was trailing us. I sat on top of a large sign and saw the brown ocean and the rivers trailing out underneath me and cried so much, because all the weight and stress of what was happening in the real world just crashed down on me despite being irrelevant to the dream. He had a silver beard and a crooked back and was very, very old, a fast runner but a slow walker in tattered clothing. I didn’t want him to die. The officers in the helicopter thought we were these escaped robbers (as did everyone else) but we were innocent. I remember so desperately wanting to jump off the building and end the dream but the old man lifted me up and urged me forwards to hide in the roof of a small restaurant. It didn’t work. We walked through the front door and at once every head in the room turned and started whispering. When the helicopter men came in I held onto the old man as we were shot in the chest, over and over. I drifted out of my body and saw them taking us away to dump our corpses behind the building with all the other rotting carcasses to be eaten by the dogs. Because we were already up so high, we were thrown over and out of a window. We were covered in our own blood, we fell in slow motion and it was peaceful. As we landed we gently lay side by side, our arms spread across the ground stained with slime and chewing gum and cigarette buts. Paper fell all around us. A girl walked up to us and told us that soon our DNA would be identified and we would be found to be innocent, but the officers would leave our bodies there to for people to look at and pass by.

After I died (?!) I fell back into my own body, still up in the markets. Seems like my head didn’t want me to wake up just yet. I was mourning the death of those two strangers and couldn’t stop shaking and crying. But, I kept walking and when I found the bus they were looking for it was in a completely different location than before. I think I’ve seen this area in other dreams where it’s close to Tung Chung. The line was fairly long and I sat next to someone I knew in real life. We started talking about what we had dreamed about that night. She knew about the machine on the beach that coordinated dreams and told me about the places she had been. I felt that she was very important to me, but now for the life of me I can’t remember who she was. The bus was very crowded in the end. That’s where it ended, sitting in my cramped seat and looking out the window.

NOTES: - I’m beginning to the think this was the same old man as my dream about the hidden utopia, and the marketplace full of mangoes where I learned to be invisible. He’s always showing up as some kind of guide/mentor. Next time I’m lucid I’m going to try and find him again.

#dystopia #brown city #the guide #literally such an iconic dream holy shit 2015 changed the landscape PERMANENTLY #island: home

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