Ouyang/Baoxiang thoughts pt 2
Still thinking abt when I first saw this tie-in picture for the HWDTW reward story and did not really know what the picture was about… so for a hot two minutes I thought Ouyang/Baoxiang would become canon sobbb
Aand like it totally made sense in my head, since they are both so fucked up they’d suit each other perfectly… but most importantly bc they both knew Esen like no other, they both lost Esen and know what that loss means for the other, since they also both chose to kill him and will carry that regret forever.
Like idk I just love the idea and potential of two people being brought together by their shared grief, and maybe eventually even finding some sort of solace or absolution through that. But obviously it would never have been possible between these two, precisely bc of how fucked up they are.
I always find myself with these ships where the characters mirror each other in such fascinating ways, showing each other what they most resent abt themselves leading to mutual dislike. The other having what the other doesn’t, leading to obsession and jealousy and some really complicated untouched emotions. Where the characters can show their truly ugly sides to each other without filter.
I just always want to see what would happen if these type of characters met under different circumstances, in a different universe, and what kind of friends, rivals, allies, lovers they could become. What if they could recognize themselves in one another and find it something to cherish, not to reject? What if they were totally insufferable to each other but still stuck together bc on some level they still care? What if they could help each other heal while still remaining their terrible selves, just a little less fucked up?
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love in the little things
shepherds of haven (@shepherds-of-haven). red antiqua / f!MC (rhiannon vasi). ~1.3k words.
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Every time Rhiannon thinks she’s got her life under control, something comes back to bite her. Change has always felt a bit like a threat— she finds herself uncomfortable, out of her depth. She likes things to be predictable and people to be kept at an arm’s distance.
Red… is a complication.
She can’t bring herself to say it’s a bad thing, though, having her old friend around these past weeks. Even when he inadvertently storms through the walls she’s spent a decade building like they’re made of paper— and when every moment she spends with the other mage reminds her of why she’d fallen for him all those years ago.
He'd asked her to meet this morning on their shared day off, so here Rhia finds herself standing wrapped in a warm cloak in the courtyard of the Shepherds’ compound, gray eyes blinking blearily at being drawn from her bed so early.
(If it were anyone else, she’d have told them to chew on rocks. )
It’s fairly empty of other Shepherds so far. Mist clings to the top of the tower, and the quiet, cloudy start to the day has Rhia feeling especially drowsy. She’s half entertaining the potential of leaving Red a note and retreating to the warmth of her blankets when she sees him enter the courtyard and instantly perks up. His height and shock of scarlet hair make him easy to pick out, and though she’d grumble if asked, Rhia can’t deny that her heart flutters at the way his handsome face lights up when he notices her waiting.
“I got these for you!” Red calls out in lieu of a greeting as he jogs over, and he’s a little out of breath as he hands a little paper bag to her, holding it like some precious thing.
After an instant of surprised hesitation Rhia takes it, curiously unfolding the top and peering inside. Within lay two fresh strawberry pastries, their fruity, buttery scent wafting upwards from the bag. Her mouth opens in a perfect “o”, because she recognizes these treats, from her favorite little bakery halfway across Haven— the one she seldom goes to, because it’s so far away, and often everything but plain bread is sold out not long after sunrise.
She’s still trying to calculate just how damned early Red must’ve woken up for this when she hears him shifting in front of her.
“If you don’t like them, I can get a different flavor.” Red rubs the back of his neck, laughing. Though his posture is relaxed, he’s buzzing with an energy Rhia can’t quite put her finger on. “And they might not be warm anymore, since it took me a while to get back here—”
“No!” Rhia blurts out, before realizing she’d interrupted him, and her face flushes “No, no, I— they— these are my favorites. They’re perfect.”
She knows full well she’s rambling now, but the broad smile on Red’s face is enough to light up a room and she can’t quite bring herself to care.
“I remembered how much you loved strawberry pastries at the Circle, and figured you still might.”
All of the air flees her lungs in an instant, leaving Rhia feeling a bit like she’d been tossed into a freezing lake. For all she’s done to try and convince herself that she hadn’t mattered, that her childhood friends were better off without her and that she’d be a long-forgotten memory, he… Red had remembered. Such a small detail, but she feels the truth, the genuine affection behind the gesture. That had to count for something.
Her breath, catching in her throat, feels like the sting of an affection that lurks so deep and raw within her, Rhia thinks she might burst from it.
(A pain, too, in equal measure.)
It takes a split second to collect her composure, but even so for a moment all she can muster is a quiet, emotional, “Thank you.”
And then she does something very, very stupid.
Rhia impulsively throws her arms around Red, pulling him tight in a hug just like he’d done with her the day they’d reunited. And when his arms wrap around her in turn, warm and comforting, she tries not to think too hard about how right it feels. Tries not to think of how Red’s all-too-familiar scent of juniper and ink reminds her of the things she’s never going to be able to have. Most of all she tries, desperately, to convince herself that none of this pity— that he’s not mourning the person she used to be, doing this because he feels he must (because Red would, he would, and as selfish as Rhia knows she is, she can’t bear the thought).
But perhaps she is still the same, in some ways. Maybe even the ones that matter.
The bag of little pastries still gripped in her hand can attest to that.
When she pulls away, face flushed crimson, Rhia pushes back a few strands of dark hair that had escaped from her braid. Finds herself staring at the ground, at rough cobblestone that’s suddenly far more interesting than the pair of pretty green eyes focused right on her— though she’s unable to refrain from peeking up at Red through her lashes.
“I’ll take that as a sign you like my surprise,” Red says, lightly, but he can’t keep the dazzling grin from his face, nor the slight flush from his tanned cheeks. There’s a softness in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners— a tender expression that makes her chest ache with the force of it.
“This is how you used to look at me,” she wants to say. But Rhia’s a coward and always has been, so she keeps her mouth shut.
Instead she raises an eyebrow at him imperiously, trying to pretend like she hadn’t just bared her heart for him to see. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Even after all these years, he can read her well enough to know she’s teasing. Red laughs, brushing his fingers lightly against her arm, and not for the first time Rhiannon wishes that he weren’t so easy to love.
Instead of saying anything further she opens the paper bag, mouth watering at the sight of the pastries, and plucks one out— before tilting it towards towards Red in silent offering.
Red merely laughs, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “No, they’re both for you. My treat.”
Rhia purses her lips. “It’d be no fun to eat them alone.”
“You’ve never shared your pastries,” he says mildly.
“I do with you.”
A pause.
Red’s eyes widen slightly.
The silence lingers a moment, something both tense and soft between them. It says too much and not enough all at once, but it’s as honest as she can bring herself to be in the moment.
It’s Red who breaks the quiet, as his lips curve into a gentle smile. “If you insist.”
He agrees to take the remaining treat only on the condition that she take the first taste of her own— and that, she has no qualms about.
Rhia’s burning cheeks slowly fade as they chat and nibble on their breakfast, walking the streets of Haven near the compound. The conversation between them flows as naturally as it ever had, and if there’s a few topics she avoids, Red doesn’t seem to mind. They’ve got years of catching up to do, to learn each other all over again; but it’s easier, the second time, to fall back into familiar patterns and inside jokes. Still, something in her begs for more, more, and no matter how much Rhia thinks she can’t bear to hurt him the way she’s hurt everyone else she’s loved, she can’t quite stamp down that flicker of hope.
But her heart is full; and with the taste of the berries and powdered sugar sweet on their tongues, laughing together about the crumbs coating Red’s face, Rhia accepts that this has to be enough.
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