善恶摇晃 。

bloodied knuckles ･ tear blood stained cheeks  ･  rust  ･ a busted lip ･ claws ･ fangs ･ a bloody nose ･  chattering teeth  ･ a dark space underneath the bed ･ scratching noises on a wall ･ creaking metal ･ fog ･ dancing under moonlight ･ blood dripping lips ･ heavy breathing in the dark ･ a feeling of unexplained dread ･ a figure in a dark corner ･  dirty peeling wallpaper ･ a bloody handprint on the wall ･ sobbing in the dark ･  bite marks on the skin ･ eerie whispers ･ a hood covering a stranger’s eyes ･ the growl of a hidden animal ･  the sound of a blade being sharpened ･ a deep, dark forest  ･ walking on the streets alone at night ･  a cobweb-filled, abandoned building  ･ eyes darting in paranoia ･ a heavy beating pulse ･ the feeling of being trapped ･ struggling to get out a scream ･  boards covering broken windows ･ a quiet graveyard  ･  a gas station in the middle of nowhere ･ a road that never ends  ･ heavy fog rolling in  ･ the scent of blood in the air ･ eerie old photographs  ･ walking along traintracks at night ･ a chill going up the spine  ･  gathering crows ･ a dusty, dimly lit study ･ mist over a deserted cobblestone street ･ ghost towns ･ shadows around a campfire ･ the sound of chanting ･ church bells tolling ･ an orange harvest moon  ･  a broken down carnival  ･ a dirty stuffed animal abandoned  ･ wiping bloody hands on fabric ･  nightmares ･ waking up in a panic ･ a power outage ･ heavy lightning storms ･ a secret trap door  ･ the feeling of being watched ･ fear from trauma ･  a Ouija board set out on a table  ･  an eerie doll  ･ a scream of anguish  &  pain ･ withered plants ･ a room that’s been forgotten & gathered dust ･ owl eyes in the dark ･  curled, dead tree branches ･ a ritual altar ･ flickering candles ･ a lantern held up in the dark ･ fear of being followed ･ creaking floorboards ･ repressed, horrible memories ･ clenched teeth ･ soft, echoing piano keys  ･  an old book covered in dust ･  many pairs of glaring eyes ･  stumbling in pitch black darkness  ･ being stranded in the middle of nowhere ･ tarot cards on a table  ･ a trail of blood.

“  OH,  I JUST REMEMBERED  ..  i have something for you.  ”  he reaches into the folds of his robes and produces something delicate,  gold - plated flowers in an intricate tangle of stems and un - bloomed petals.  the fingers holding it are infinitely careful,  as if one accidental movement could snap or tarnish it.  

    𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂, 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃, 𝐁𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃. xue yang wants to laugh, but he can’t. he can’t give away what he’s been doing yet. he smiles to himself, places an elbow on the table as he rests his jaw in his hand, watching xingchen. SCURRY, LITTLE MOUSE! he must be so frazzled. 

    he’s sad that xingchen wouldn’t let him rub at his burn. he would’ve gone to get him a damp, cold cloth, but xingchen was already pulling away and trying to settle the situation be himself. quick to pull another reaction out of xingchen, xue yang sticks his foot out and TRIP XINGCHEN.

   ❛     𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆! you should be more careful! first the teacup, and then the pot, now this? quite the CLUMSY one, aren’t you?   ❜     he says, tugging at xingchen’s robes. 

    HE MUST HATE THIS. xingchen’s not in control, has no sense of direction—xue yang is having a lot of fun just getting xingchen to look this way and that.   ❛     forget cleaning. i’m not dirty, and you’ve made too many mistakes. you should take a break. let me help you,  ❜      he says, grabbing xingchen’s hand  ( 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ), guiding him to sit down.    ❛     if you get up, i’ll be forced to COMPLAIN to your master.  ❜     

THRICE IS NO COINCIDENCE.  xingchen catches himself with a sharp intake of breath,  stumbles a few steps on the floor.  his skin’s raised in goosebumps from the fall,  and they don’t subside once his voice rings again.  xiao xingchen’s expression sharpens into a glare.  

“  what are you doing ?  ”  he swipes vigorously at the hands pulling at his robes.  brimming with quiet rage:  “  why are you tricking me ?  ”  xingchen tries to focus on the footfalls,  but he’s flustered.  the blood rushes to his head in beating waves  —  he must’ve looked like such a fool,  rushing this way and that,  placing all his blind trust into a man he barely knows.  

    𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 𝐗𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍! xue yang could vomit from how sweet and good he was. who the fuck said xue yang wanted him to give up his food in order for them to eat comfortably?  ( not that xue yang was going to tell xingchen otherwise. )  he calms himself, skips along with xingchen as they head back home. he’s sure a-qing will yell at him for not sharing his food with daozhang, but xue yang didn’t make that decision. 

     ❛    not many people purchase their crops because those crops are ROTTEN AND NO GOOD,  ❜     xue yang snaps, kicking a stone on the ground hard, watches it nearly hit the leg of a stall. 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅’𝒗𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓. he side eyes xingchen, wonders if he can feel how hard he’s glaring. if he glares enough, would xingchen catch fire?   ❛    why should i stay behind? you can’t even see the produce. you can’t even hunt! just let me take care of the food, and you can stay home and do the laundry.  ❜     

THE PRICKLY FEELING OF SHAME RECEDES the closer they get to familiar ground.  xingchen silently reviews his list of unfinished tasks:  repair the splintered chair leg,  find blankets and other better sources of heat for the winter,  investigate the odd occurrences in the neighboring village after a-qing is put to bed.  oh,  and of course  —  return to the market tomorrow morning.

“  they are aware their produce is not of the best quality.  for that reason,  i believe they won’t reject the prices i can offer tomorrow.  on the off chance they do  ..  ”  he trails off,  hearing the forceful scruff of a heel  —  his companion’s,  judging by proximity and inferred texture  —  and the hard thump of the rock as it lands.  no reactions arise more than small mutters of surprise,  so he carefully ignores it,  along with the minor flutters of unease he’s learned often accompanies him now.  

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE STARTERS  —  x.

HE REGARDS THE MAN WITH SCRUTINIZING EYES,  searching,  but not accusatory.  there’s a strange quality to him,  a hollowness both solid and muffled,  sanded down into something unrecognizable to who it once was.  xingchen finds his words familiar,  despite what little he’d been taught about the world,  and what little he’s discovered about mortality in his brief stay.  even the most remarkable lives are eventually reduced to nothing but vague impressions and whispered stories,  single names in an endlessly updating ledger.  

his voice is as devoid of judgement as it ever is,  tinted with an open curiosity and a genuine desire to understand.  

               JIANG YANLI BOWS IN RETURN, memory tightening its hold around her throat. now, she is no hero herself, but she has seen enough of them. the man before her has the makings of one, from his easy demeanor down to the IMMORTAL’s mountain where he was raised. yet she cannot help but think of—

               NOT SO LONG AGO, a boy tried to get justice for the people he loved, and got nothing but ash. she has been to the burial mounds once after their destruction, and seen the ruins there. she imagines it is not something xiao xingchen should have to hear. 

               ❛ IT’S A RATHER CRUEL WORLD you’re going up against, ❜ is what she finally settles for. ❛ but i believe you’ll succeed, because else those awful crimes will go unpunished, and i cannot be at peace with such a world. ❜ a beat of silence. ❛ but you are not ALONE, are you ? surely someone else in the world must see things the way you do. ❜   

CONTINUATION. / @palefrost

HE SEES THE SHADOW OF SOMETHING HE RECOGNIZES AS SORROW,  and his heart bleeds.  such sorrow is one of the things he cannot possibly amend  —  that may be one of the world’s simplest laws,  but to him it tastes like failure,  like incompetence. 

xiao xingchen’s smile is tainted at the edges with disappointment,  but reassurance is a warm,  solid presence in his eyes.  “  i’m not,  ”  he agrees.  his expression shifts without intention,  softens with fondness.  “  i have a friend  ..  —  one who shares my aspirations.  as unforgiving as the world may be,  there will be people like us.  ”  a pause.  

“  i admire you,  miss.  ”  xingchen’s eyes trail over the gentle firmness in the set of her lips,  note the determination in her gaze,  grounded and reassuring like bedrock.  “  i may not have walked the world for long,  but i find something special in you.  ”

THERE’S THE FAMILIAR SCENT OF ROT IN THE AIR,  accompanied with the sharp twang of blood.  they stand amidst the bodies,  suspended with the sum of leftover adrenaline and fatigue.  xiao xingchen moves first despite the streaks of red blooming across his robes,  brings his hands together and bows his head in a formal salute.  there’s a strange twist in the corners of his mouth,  a hint of displeasure and a dash of shame.

“  thank you for saving my life.  ”  he straightens,  stiffly.  shuanghua slides back into its unassuming sheath,  intricate bronze carvings carefully covered with strips of white cloth.  in the heat of the battle,  he gleaned little of his savior,  his impressions of the other filled solely with the swift slice of sword strokes and the repeated thud of toppling corpses.   

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE STARTERS  —  x.

DOWNCAST EYES LIFT TO MEET THE VOICE  and recognize understanding in her gaze.  his stiff posture relaxes in increments,  shedding the layers of steel armor he’d only freshly donned.  he salutes her,  politely.  gathers his thoughts before speaking.  

“  my shifu stressed the importance of values and beliefs.  i have been built and raised on them  ;  i am a man of my morals as much as i am a cultivator.  nevertheless  ..  ”  he turns from the window,  takes in the golden imposition of a sect reaching for the world’s throne,  the whispers and hidden glances of exchanged secrets and agreements.  

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃 – @palefrost

    𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄! but in a way, xue yang shouldn’t be surprised. xingchen had always been just a little bit dense  ( just look at how he and song lan were! DENSEST COUPLE, the both of them! ).  xue yang smiles to himself as he watches xingchen fumble, his mental state very much 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑩𝑬𝑫 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑪 now.

    watching the cup overflow, xue yang just moves slightly so that the tea doesn’t drip on him, chuckling to himself as he watches xingchen scramble for a towel. when he returns, xue yang purposefully KNOCKS OVER THE TEACUP, spilling the rest of its contents.

    ❛    oh no, xiansheng—𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐏 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃. you must’ve hit it with your sleeve,  ❜     he exclaims, his voice full of worry but his eyes full of mirth.

    xue yang lets xingchen clean up the table, silently reaching for the teapot as HE SPLASHES A BIT OF HOT TEA onto xingchen’s bare hand.

  ❛    ah, xiansheng, that must’ve hurt! you must’ve forgotten where you put the teapot, 𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝒀 𝑯𝑶𝑻,  ❜     he says, putting the pot back as he grabs xingchen’s hand, rubbing his thumbs over the burn.   ❛    let me SOOTHE it for you.  ❜     

HE HEARS THE ROLLING RUMBLE OF CHEAP CHINA ON WOOD,  lips pulling into the barest traces of a frown.  his movements were  ( have always been )  careful  ;  he’d purposefully avoided the cup  —  or at least,  he should’ve,  unless it was moved  ..  perhaps the other had picked it up for a drink and set it down in a different spot.  even so,  he hadn’t felt any weight against his sleeve.  “  i’m sorry,  ”  he murmurs quickly,  albeit genuinely,  reaching out to catch the run of the puddle.  “  i didn’t spill any on you,  did i ?  ”

the rag soaks through with warm tea as he tries his best to catch most of the moisture,  more carefully this time.  just as he straightens to wring the towel outside,  a sudden splash of scalding heat hits the back of his hand.  a small,  trickle-y feeling spreads with the sting.  the drawback is immediate,  instinctive,  and although he does barely more than flinch,  his mind takes the brunt of the attack.  confused,  stammering,  frowning openly now,  he protests,  “  the teapot was upright,  it couldn’t have  —  ”  

𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 – @palefrost

‘ probably best you didn’t say anything to them . ’ for xy!

    𝐏𝐀𝐇! who is he supposed to be? his mother? xue yang almost raises his foot to kick the stall over, glares hard at the spoiled tomatoes and rotting fruit. no negotiations, no haggling–WHAT A BUNCH OF BULLSHIT!!

    but to cause a scene… xue yang didn’t want to cause any trouble for xingchen, not when he so kindly walked by, tugging at xue yang’s sleeve to silently ask him to follow. this kind of stall with THIS KIND OF PERSON, a low-life haggler and cheapskate who couldn’t spare a penny for his disgusting produce, 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐗𝐔𝐄 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆'𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐄. 

    he follows closely to xingchen, staring at his face, judging to see if he was truly angry or annoyed at what had just happened, but there were no lines and no wrinkles. without his eyes, it was even harder to guess his emotions.

   ❛   𝐃𝐀𝐎𝐙𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆, what will we eat if we can’t get any food?  ❜    

HIS COMPANION’S FRUSTRATION IS TANGIBLE,  but it merely seeps into his voice,  weighs down his footsteps.  xingchen’s far from a first-time audience of his long-winded rants and curse-laced arguments,  but the rapid escalation of the fight was something new,  and he understands when further intervention is necessary.

“  you needn’t worry about food.  ”  the clamor around them is chaotic and distracting,  but xiao xingchen's calm is perpetually undisturbed.  he wades the waters of people with ease,  continuing on despite the pitifully meager weight of his coin purse and the glare of the vendor fixed onto their backs.  “  we still have enough for two small meals.  you and a-qing can eat,  and i will return tomorrow.  ”  

001.    the  fairy.

chipped nail polish.    glitter highlight.  tall trees with smooth bark.   tangled hair.  the taste of cinnamon sugar.    talking too loud and too fast.    overgrown flowers in your hair. crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature.  flirting.   walking home at three am with no coat.   platonic hand holding.  blowing smoke out of your nose.   dragonfly wings.    chaotic good.   freckles.    fairy rings.   secret meetings.   gender nonconformity.  leather.    smudged eyeliner.   forbidden fruit.

002.    the  reaper.

computer errors.   a shiver down your spine.  haunting beauty.    hard liquor.    crowns of thorns.    shadowed alleyways.   decaying plant matter.    shattered mirrors and broken glass.   corrupted memories.   stopped clocks.   the scent of stale cigarettes.   tattered black hoodies.   walking your friend(s) home.    the crescent moon.   the sea.   a graveyard on a foggy day. cold rings on cold fingers.   absolution.   looking out of the window of an airplane.

003.    the  witch.

graffiti. pretending to know what you’re doing.   worn paperback books.    growing up too fast.  parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.   lace and combat boots.   moth wings. candles on every surface.   a weathered deck of cards.   turning the music up.   fireflies in jars.   calloused fingers.   drawing on your skin.  sunlight filtering through clouds. petrichor.    a dying rose in a jar.  wearing a crystal pendant.   illusions of spells.  black cats.   mint gum.   chapped lips.    dirt under your fingernails.   the cycle of life and death.

004.    the  wolf.

murders of crows.   frost - bitten leaves.    wolves howling at midnight.    knocking on your door.    leaving food out for stray animals.  the twang of an acoustic guitar.  honey.   tiny red buds on trees.   claw marks on the walls.    golden eyes.    slightly too long stubble.   knitted fingerless gloves.   sleeping on the forest floor.   always finding your way back home.

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE STARTERS  —  x.

XINGCHEN HESITATES,  brows pulling together in confusion.  his train of thought stutters to a halt before inching forward,  puzzled,  the tracks gone.  the fingers wrapped around the handle of the kettle twitch minisculely,  as if itching to reach towards the bandages around his head,  verify their placement.  their guest’s tone held no indication of malice,  but it’s become apparent that xingchen’s ability in interpreting tones is  ..  pitiful at best.  

the distinct sound of overflowing tea snaps him out of his own head,  and he quickly sets the kettle back down,  reaches for a rag to clean up the mess.