then i fall, then i know

DEISCENSION. —  low + sporadically active / mutuals-only / multi-verse; very cross-over, oc, & pre-established friendly!

ind. roleplay blog for shi qingxuan from tian guan ci fu. written by lain ( they/them, 26 ). mostly canon-compliant, not spoiler free. portrayal informed by seven seas' english translation alongside broader xianxia, wuxia, & gothic horror conventions. open to starting from scratch, plotting, and/or writing non-linearly!

carrd. —○— verses. —○— meta. —○— canon arc crash course ( tba )

a sun-drenched tale featuring: the steep price of innocence; eternal light blinding you to your own shadow; falling without grace; setting the broken bone and learning to stumble before you can walk again; a love that cannot be killed.

while shi qingxuan is upbeat in personality, her story ( and tgcf as a whole ) contains many horror elements. dark themes present, primarily: extreme family dysfunction/abuse, physical & emotional abuse, death/grief/survivor's guilt, experiences with transphobia & gendered violence, suicidal ideation, codependency, and psychological distress. although these themes may not be directly written in interactions, they are at play behind the scenes. i tag all potentially upsetting content as #word cw. if you need anything tagged, let me know!

important note: i write shi qingxuan as transfem. she does not follow strict binary in gender presentation and practiced norms. this is integral to my characterization of her. any weird behavior regarding this will result in an immediate block. 

riding the winds with: @tenkoseiensei (+blogroll) ; @riwrite ; @fatepowered ; @diivineray ; @kirakiras ; @futurefind ; @lanqin / @blightbloom ; @melodicbreeze ; @oathstruck

     ⌜ 风. ⌟ ▌ ── ABOUT A WEEK'S journey southeast of the capital, where the air grows thick with brine and perpetual damp clings to skin and cloth, the remnants of a temple stand hollow and forgotten. When Shi Qingxuan enters it, she feels like she is climbing inside the gutted carcass of a great beast in the late stages of decomposition. The walls, stripped of thousand-threaded tapestries and couplets, sweat salt and lichen. Cracks spider along the stonecut floor, widening into rifts where altars, pedestals, and cabinetry carved from mahogany once stood. Palm-sized icons lay fragmented beneath the niches they once inhabited, like the driftwood of a shipwreck. In the center of the main hall, the statue of an ill-fated god gazes upon its ruined empire from atop an intricately detailed stone pedestal. Although exposure to harsh elements and reoccuring vandalization have largely defaced the statue, Shi Qingxuan still recognizes who it is.

      "You've changed a lot since I last came to visit, ge," she says as she lowers herself to the floor, relying on her cane to keep steady. The chill rising from the stone floor seeps through the thin material of her trousers, burrowing beneath her skin and gnawing at aching joints. She grimaces, then forces her cracked lips into a smile. "That's fine. I've done a lot of changing since then, too. I'm much better at writing with my left hand now. My hair's a lot longer. I've earned a bit of money here and there. Nothing you'd be impressed by, but," a shrug somewhere between nonchalant and sheepish, "sometimes it's enough to get us a few mouthfuls of something good. Haven't spent a single coin on wine. Never thought you'd see the day, did you, ge?"

     Her laughter echoes, making the plundered shrine feel even more hollow, even more disconnected from the world Wudu said she would never survive in without him. He never did place much faith in her capability to simply exist without need of his interference. It incensed her then, and it incenses her now. In a way, though, he'd been right. Why else does she keep coming back here, despite the toll it takes and her viciously conflicted feelings? Why else does she babble nonsense to him whenever she lays at his feet, even though she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt he cannot hear her?

      Overcome with exhaustion, Shi Qingxuan nestles closer to the foot of the pedestal. As she drapes her upper body across the shallow platform, head pillowed into the crook of her arm, she admits, not for the first time, "I miss you." A sharp, shuddered intake of breath. The corners of her eyes sting. "That doesn't mean I forgive you. Some days, I really, really ha..."

     Movement in the corner of her eye. Her mouth snaps shut around the half-finished sentiment. Someone is entering from the lefthand vestibule.

      Apprehension curls its icy fingers 'round her ribs, eager to crack them open at a moment's notice. In all likelihood, it's another wanderer seeking shelter from the encroaching night. But she can't be sure, not with how much contempt for her brother continues to simmer in the mortal realm. Her entire body tenses in preparation either to curl in on herself or attempt to flee, depending on who the shadows give way to. Filaments of sunset slanting through an unshuttered window glint on filigreed armor. Recognition flickers to life on her face, followed by incredulity. This is the last person she wants to see, now or ever.

     ⌜ 风. ⌟ ▌ ── SHI QINGXUAN KNEW paying a visit to Ling Wen was a bad idea the moment it came to mind. Quite possibly one of the worst she's had since reascending. She told herself as much while speaking with Xie Lian about the possibility of it, while the request was passed along, while waiting to hear back on the feasability of arrangements, while said arrangements were made, and while preparing herself to see Ling Wen again once all the details were settled. But she's never been one to listen to her own cautionary council. Leastwise when it involves personal matters.

     She had the entire walk between her newly emergent palace in the Upper Courts and Ling Wen's current chambers to do right by her peace of mind and back out. Certainly nobody was making any attempt to convince her otherwise. Her cheery greeting to the two martial gods sent to escort her, both of whom she recognized and addressed accordingly, was met with blank stares and a curt directive not to stray. There was no chatter to distract her, only the jingle of accessories and tandem footsteps. Those she had considered friends could not care less about continuing to play nice. Without the rank, title, or influence she held as Wind Master-- more accurately, as the Water Tyrant's overindulged baby sister --there's no longer any need to curry goodwill with her. There's no interference in her decision because, ultimately, it means nothing to anyone uninvolved so long as she doesn't do anything spectacularly stupid.

     Everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed. She would laugh about it if she could find where her voice had run off to. That's fine. She'll save her breath for when it's just her and Ling Wen.

     But once the two of them are sat across from each other with a low table between them and simple silk screen providing a moderate amount of privacy, it's like Shi Qingxuan has forgotten how to speak at all. Her gaze refuses to linger on Ling Wen's face for too long ( she looks tired, though not nearly as haggard as she appeared before all... that ); she fiddles with the ends of her sleeves and clears her throat multiple times without saying anything afterwards. Though she'd taken great care to arrange her appearance on the higher end of presentable, she feels like a child playing dress-up. Not for the first time, Shi Qingxuan wonders if that is exactly how her brother and his friends saw her all this time. The thought sits bitter against the back of her throat. She has half a mind to spit it out alongside a slew of other accusations.

      That's not why she's here. Or is it? She doesn't know. Seeing Ling Wen face to face does nothing to quell the steady stream of grief that's been leaking from her heart and polluting her every waking thought since her brother-- who she misses so terribly, who she has grown to despise, who she still does not know how to live without, whose arms she still wants to run crying into, who made her feel so beloved yet so small and broken and wretched-- her brother, Ling Wen's friend, a man she'd lived all her life beside without truly knowing--

      "What was ge like when it was just the three of you?"

     She's surprised by the calm of her voice, which she expected to fall to pieces the moment it shaped the word 'ge' out loud for the first time since she re-entered the heavens. Her eyes go wide as though Ling Wen was the first to speak, to ask such an absurdly personal question out of nowhere.

*nickname(s): fish and srimp

*zodiac: cancer

*last movie i saw: closes my eyes.... huhhmmm i don't remember so i'll compromise by saying my latest read is the left hand of darkness by ursula k. le guin.

*last thing i googled: the sopranos fart reverb..................

*favorite musician: ah this is hard because i have a pretty broad array of favorites... longest standing faves are utsu-p, buck-tick, mother mother, and depeche mode; acquired over the past couple years are machine girl, magdalena bay, health, the last dinner party, pixel grip, ichiko aoba, hemlocke springs, and soooo.

*song stuck in my head: this week it's been switching between delusionalism by mass of the fermenting dregs and this corrosion by sisters of mercy.

*other blogs: swd sideblog i write on pretty sparingly and a secret(ish) multi-oc that i log into once a year since i've taken to primarily rping all the aforementioned on discord.

*do i get asks: yes and i also like launching sqx into inboxes at mach speed. none of you reading this are safe.

*following: 156

*amount of sleep: smiles.

*lucky number: man i wish i knew

*what i’m wearing: a graphic tee that says FISH HARD DIE FREE and black cargo pants.

*dream job: i want swag city now forever and ever. tap in. (real answer: it'd be sick to eventually work in preservation and/or special collections, but i am looking forward to any library or archives position i get upon graduating from my mlis degree!)

*dream trip: am i allowed to be sappy and say going to visit my gf. yes i am. going to visit my gf.

*play any instruments: those of sorrow and contrition and torture and horror and etc. etc. etc. (no </3)

*languages: english and baby levels of chinese, which i'll be picking back up again once i'm done w/ grad school!

*favorite songs: too many to list so i'll just say the one i've had consistently on repeat the past month is image by magdalena bay.

*random fact: i accidentally knocked over a full bag of lentils while i was making dinner on a group call with mo, dia, and nik. you would've thought i'd gotten stabbed with the way i screamed. haven't lived it down since. and i also occasionally still find a stray lentil when i sweep in the kitchen.

*describe yourself as aesthetic things: cry of mourning doves at sunset, dried wax drippings on a half-burnt candlestick, floating in the pool on a late summer day, long leather coats, a bookshelf lined with notebooks filled up over the years