" u-uwaugh !? " ritsuka would've thought yan qing wanted an impromptu wrestling match , the way she flung herself at her . the girl was barely able to keep her balance , clumsily clinging onto the other . she would've asked what was that all about , what excitement she had brought along today— but all thoughts were interrupted , crashed and exploded like a car fire when yan qing kissed her upon the lips . ritsuka's inexperience and lack of most affections are quick to surface up as she easily flusters on what's a brief moment .

     " y - yan qing ... you , you shouldn't make my heart rate go crazy like that ... " she manages to mumble out , cheeks burning red ; but keeps her hugged close anyways .

﹄ ◇ ;  @keiseiensei / AS SAID BY CASSANDRA PENTAGHAST.

i do not "rough people up." // ME JUMPING ONTO KYQ JUST TO FLING HER AT SQX kyq vc i don't rough them up i just teACH THEM LESSONS-

       ⌜◈⌟    ▌ ── "𝐇𝐦? 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝. 𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝!"

       𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞. Had she witnessed this exact same scene only a year ago, she might have had more to say on the matter. But gratitude was so much easier than vexation. And having spent a considerable amount of time becoming well-acquainted with mud and filth and all manner of true depravity, she found this more heroic than unseemly. And so, eyes sparkling beneath grimy bangs, Shi Qingxuan limps close enough to take hold of her savior's hands.

      "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩, 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮?"

      𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐒𝐡𝐢 𝐐𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬. She had always fancied herself an elegant and graceful fighter, should the need ever arise for her to take to bare fists. On the rare occasion the need had indeed arisen, she'd been informed she had more in common with a fish flopping about than with even the most novice trainee. What she did know was a hit like that wouldn't be content with only leaving marks on the recipient. Once, long before her brother's ascension, she had thrown a punch with enough force to send a troublesome boy packing. She had given him a bloody nose and herself split knuckles. The former Wind Master vividly recalls the ferocious sting spidering across her fingers. Naturally, it hadn't compared at all to her brother's scolding as he wrapped her hands. She would forego the admonishments, of course, but she must have some loose strip of cloth somewhere, just in case--

      𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬. A map of scars and scrapes unfurls across the hands she cradles in her own. These hands... they have so much life written on them. And she, shamefully, hasn't yet mastered how to read such tales. But they are warm. They are warm, and they saved her from yet another scrap during her arduous travels. So, how beautiful they are too.