ππ πππππππ πππππππ ππππππππ ... KENJI FUJIWARA
[ the black sheep of fujiwara family / elixirs major / rare magic: telekinesis ]
β- ππ‘ ππ’π ππ’ππ πππ£πππ: about. visage. pinterest. threads.
ππ πππππππ πππππππ ππππππππ ... LI ZHIYU
[ youngest child of the li family / transmutation major ]
β- ππ‘ ππ’π ππ’ππ πππ£πππ: about. visage. pinterest. threads.
ππ πππππππ πππππππ ππππππππ ... CADENCE BROOKINGS
[ comes from a family of bookbinder, library staff / verum alumna ]
β- ππ‘ ππ’π ππ’ππ πππ£πππ: about. visage. pinterest. threads.
ππ πππππππ πππππππ ππππππππ ... DAEVA AKA MANAH
[ demon in disguise / professor of decomposition, death of superego etc. ]
β- ππ‘ ππ’π ππ’ππ πππ£πππ: about. visage. pinterest. threads.
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there is a weight upon her shoulders that makes it difficult to move. it's been that way since the moment she woke up. unsure about how many hours of sleep she had gotten after everything that happened yesterday, cadie tries to ground herself. first things first- they are safe. albeit she fears this might change with what the future has in store for them; the people she cares about are healthy and safe. terrified, scared, trying to understand everything that's going on βΒ but safe. her mother, her sibling, her friends βΒ navuluri themself. she has been worried about every single one of them, and only managed to put her head on the pillow after making sure everyone was inside with locked doors, without a scratch on their bodies.
as she climbs down the stairs from the verum staff housing, and wanders towards the grounds, she seeks for that familiar face. perhaps someone else would find it weird how much she was worried about navuluri β how much she still is worried, but cadie has never been the type of person who cares about what other people think. navuluri is not like those creatures who have terrorized cynefin βΒ and cadie believes that with every ounce of her being. once she enters the gardens, it isn't difficult to spot the figure she is looking for. her shoes dig into the soft soil as she makes her way there, and once she does, she holds out an arm, touching them on the shoulder to alert them of her presence. once their eyes meet, there is a plethora of emotions swimming in cadie's: concern, fear, as well as relief to be next to navuluri's side.
"hey..." she starts, walking around their frame, so that they are standing face to face. the hand on their shoulder shifts with the movement, so that she is holding the side of their arm instead. as cadie realized in the past couple of weeks, physical contact with them manages to calm her down, though she isn't sure if it has to do with the bond or βΒ something else she does not know just yet. "are you alright?" another pause, she studies their expression, trying to understand what's going on in their hands. "i would- like to talk to you. about... what happened."
(Β kentaro sakaguchi , genderfluid , anyΒ ) β as the demons pour out of the seaΒ DAEVA AKA MANAHΒ makes their way to the shore, anΒ eleven hundred and sixty-six-year-old creature who appearsΒ thirty-five. here with their feet planted on cynefinβs soil, it is images ofΒ a stone cold face, when they smile, it twists something ugly in your chest, an uneasiness you cannot name, pristine suit, cufflinks to match, an image out of a book, not a thread out of place, a vanishing spirit, flickering out of your sight so quickly that you are not sure if it was a real or a mirage, nightmares plaguing your dreams, a curious gaze twisting the knife of memories, just to see how you squirm,Β that flood the minds they touch. some may even say that they areΒ properΒ andΒ calm, but it matters little that they areΒ untiedΒ by a sorcererβs contract β they remain unabashedlyΒ fiendishΒ andΒ deceptive. beware, for demons are never truly kind. β±Β kira, twenty5, she/her, gmt+3.
you come into existence before the beginning of time. before the word common era was fabricated. a time so long ago, humans can never manage to wrap their slight minds around it.
they think monsters are created. you know them to be wrong. you are not born either. you do not have a father, a mother, or a god. for you are god.
there is no incidence. no single creator you will ever bow to. you are the source, and the source is you. if you used to be someone before - you have chosen a long time ago not to remember. you have also forgotten this choice already made.
you create yourself into this shape. a shape that shifts in perpetuity. the only constant is its change. you create yourself at every epoch, at every success, at every failure, at every cusp of time.
all you know is a hunger that will never be sated. a craving that you have carved into yourself, a hole in the place where there never was a soul. you know humans attempt to find comfort in their terrors, that the devil makes evil happen, that there must be a reason for their suffering. you know there is none. you have simply come into existence, and your existence alone is there to prove them wrong.
you are the anti-matter to the matter. darkness to the light of life.
you are the drop of poison in a well in a starved village, the source of life that drowns them from inside. you promise to quench their thirst, you promise them paradise. you only ask for a price. you seek what they find most worthy, a forced sacrifice that carves into their minute souls. they begin to revere you. and once they do, you hold the water out to them in your palms, and let them drink from your rotten hands. how it trickles down their chins disgusts you. they cling to you, looking up from where they are praying on their knees. once they have enough, once all of them have had enough, it begins to burn them from within. you relish in their cries. you find yourself another well to poison.
you are the whispers that fall upon powerful ears. you sit on the arm of a thrown, leg thrown over a royal mantle, a greedy hand moving up and down on the skin you are wearing. you lazily lean down upon the shoulders of a nation. you pretend to listen. you boast of their successes, imitate adoration and reverence, then murmur words that have never been true. you are the voice that causes kings to incite wars, the end of bloodlines for decades to come.
you are the seeds of doubt fed to weak minds. you are the charming, beautiful, or handsome figure who possibly could not mean any harm. you come as a father, as a mother, a lover, a friend, or a god. whoever they need the most. you appear in their dreams as a mirage, you hold them close when they need to be held. you give them promises that you will keep.Β promises that by the time they are fulfilled, the people who wished for them are no longer the same. you know how to orchestrate their nightmares now, where it pains them the most, where to twist your daggers to hear them shriek.
a contract is sacred. your existence itself is sacrilege. you weave the ones you make with care, picking those that will yield you the most power. for a contract to be made, you ask for their most prized possession. power for power. something to hold above their heads before they can achieve what they wish through you. more often than not, it's a secret, revealing their soft belly, where it would hurt the most, what keeps them up at night. you tell them this is a fair deal. everything has to come with a cost. of course, this does not apply to you.
when you come into this reality in the woods of cynefin, you have a goal in mind. one none of these humans know. one they will never know.
once again, when you walk through what these people call ancient halls, you want to scoff. instead, you shift into what's most needed, a professor, a demure, kind-looking creature. one people feel more at ease dropping their guards around. you give them carefully constructed smiles, as well as a backstory, just detailed enough to be believable.
a khemia professor without khemia, one without a bond, you are a master of lies, know how to hide the truths whenever and however needed. you lie in waiting now, taste the sorrows of the city and its habitants, look for its weaknesses.
it is not the time to strike yet, and you have never been the one to play with your cards out in the open.
you used to wonder if your hunger would be satiated. by now, you know it will not. this is simply who you are. you want to play regardless. the outcome of this game does not matter, you will play, as long as it keeps being interesting enough for your attention.
it was not that they were particularly hyper-aware of what they're speaking about. instead, the hyper-awareness comes from the softened fact that they nearly always drift through the world surrounded by riddles of their own making. they believe themself to be speaking clearly, only to uncover that it happens through some kind of fogged-up glass. at least whenever they are around zhiyu, the glass has cracks and lets some kind of light in. does he realise that there is light spilling through the splinters in the bone? you need better light with which to see how things unravel. this is part of why ollie grows frustrated with the darkness of their dreams. meanings remaining a mystery to them. and the present world was already mystery enough. the happening of the mudslide. the promise of something else and nothing coming.
fascinating to them how they were thinking of nothing and yet somehow, zhiyu still manages to appear. he becomes more than the mirage. more than the concept. here he does not retreat from a simple movement such as holding their hand. they almost don't know what to do with this. what to expect from it. isn't it best to expect nothing more? slow and lethargic in their walk towards the bonfire, but at least it is a walk that is taken together. "it's not that i dislike it. it's just. it's difficult to enjoy when the night goes like this. makes it hard to think about much else. but at least it's warm." the chill does not assist them either. already their temperature runs cold, as if dealing with constantly being submerged in the deep water. "i haven't had the time to do any of what's available. i went from my house to ... well, where you found me."
rather embarrassing. but he doesn't mind. or, at least, he doesn't seem to. and ollie will go along with that, with the string of hope and belief that such a thing could be so. feeling the ease of the breath entering their lungs as they grow further and further away from the sea, from the salt. somehow, it doesn't follow afterwards. left behind on the cliff's face. "so i have the time. the rest of the night, really." because if the scent of the sea-salt was all that would haunt them, then they would accept that. that's all that needs to happen for tonight. "as for wishes ... i usually can't think of anything. but. right now, i can think of something." a side-long glance towards him. the wishful thinking of: may you always have a lantern to find in this darkness. whatever that even means. the thought of what it could mean makes them begin to flush. "i think it's endearing."
the soil beneath their feet has hardened, a path woven by passengers throughout the years, those who travel from the village to the cliffs. it is a brown, dark path, with grass by the sides, a peppering of a small flower here and there, those resilient enough to withstand the cold of the winter. any sign of life on the way has already been trodden by cruel steps, any sapling that attempts to go against the flow of life receives its penalty in due time. to see one already stepped on, lying on its side, twists a string in his chest. it's always been difficult. being different. trying to swim against the stream. in a way, zhiyu cannot help but think how similar the experience just shared with him is to his own. it aches to hear ollie talk about what they are going through, and he cannot help but wonder if there is anything he can do to help βΒ if they will even let him.
as they explain, a hum leaves his mouth, eyes still fixated on the path as they walk. it makes sense β- it has been impossible for him as well, to separate delight from fright, happiness from sadness. the fear that something worse might happen any second, steals from the possibility of complete joy. the images of his family worried about the mudslide, of haoyu trying to keep it together about the man who fell to his death, now ollie's terrors added to the mix. with everything around them slowly unraveling to turn into worse, it's hard to enjoy the small things. "i understand. it is- hard." despite this, zhiyu, hopelessly and perhaps even foolishly, tries to hold onto what he has. "maybe it will be good." a pair of hopeful eyes look up into theirs, a tilt of his head. "what's the worst that can happen? if- if you don't like it, i am sure there are indoor activities as well." new year's is possibly one of the liveliest of times of cynefin, when everyone tries to chip into the celebrations.
"i think you'll like it β the fruits. do you have any... favorites?" it feels silly to talk about all of this, when everything around them is chaotic, though his curiosity is genuine, as well as his desperation to help them have a semblance of a good time this evening. another nod, a part of him glad to hear they have the time. his promise looms in the background, but once they are back in the main village, he knows they will have more time until midnight to try the different stalls together. as they deliberate on their wish, he cannot help but watch their expression, a part of him expecting there to be none at all β which is why the answer comes as a surprise. their flush causes one of his own, the word 'endearing' causing it to spread across his face. he does not know the reasons why, but it does. it's a subconscious, knee-jerk reaction, his mind flowing to impossible possibilities that he shuts down. "you- you do?" a question falls from his lips before he can stop himself. "o-of course, don't tell me- otherwise it won't happen." pursing of those lips, a couple of seconds pass before he continues. "i hope... it happens. whatever you want β i will also wish it comes true for you."
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there's a glint of both fear and fascination in her eyes, as they roam the town square, waiting to see the demon keep its word. the memory of the encounter in the library, still in fresh vivid colours, causes a delicate smile to play upon her lips β my brothers are coming for cynefin, the demon promised. haliya wonders how. she wonders what will happen next. " you there ! " she calls, forgetting herself, as she approaches. " how long until midnight? "
the bonfire this year feels... bittersweet. sweet due to the memories of other bonfires before this one, the time they used to spend here with her family βΒ and bitter due to everything that's happening, and the fact that the brookings family does not have one of their members in cynefin anymore. as cadie stands in front of the fire, hands held out to feel the heat, the question comes as a surprise. "hey β" she begins, head tilting as she deliberates on the answer. "i think... around half an hour now?" though she cannot say she is completely sure. "are you excited for the new year, then?"
(Β rachel hilson , demi female , she / themΒ ) β amongst the faces lining the staff portrait wall, you recognizeΒ CADENCE 'CADIE' BROOKINGS, theΒ twenty-nineΒ year oldΒ library staffΒ within the school. having spentΒ two yearsΒ as a member of the verum staff, students say that theyβre reminiscent ofΒ the way glue sticks to the tips of your fingertips, hands stained by paint; the smell of a homecooked meal wafting through the corridors, laughter spreading through the small house; books upon books on your bedside tables, the ground; pages littered everywhere in your workshop, waiting to be bound, stories to be told for generations to come, a secret you hold close to your chest, excitement thrumming under your veins. theirΒ dedicatedΒ andΒ dexterousΒ temperament brings color to these halls, but be warned, you may also find them to beΒ stubbornΒ andΒ neurotic. regardless, hopefully theyβll remain when itβs time for verum to open its doors again. β±Β kira, twenty5, she / her, gmt + 3.
BIOGRAPHY
you grow up in a small cottage. green ivy decorates the stone walls of your house, the smell of mom's homemade stew wafts through the open windows, reaching a garden surrounded by flowers of all kinds. nurtured with love and care, all of them bloom in spring, a perfume that fills your chest with warmth.
you sit on the ground, soil dirtying your clothes, grass painting your pants green, without a single care in the world.
you play with your sibling, homemade toys in your hands; knick-knacks made of wood and fabric, before you are called inside. with grins on your faces, you fight over who gets the spot next to the window, then sit down on the table, grab a slice of bread, and dig into your meal.
as children, you don't see the lines of worry etched onto your parents' face. you don't see how money stretches thin, the family profession no longer profitable by any means. you don't think of what it means, you don't expect anything to change β until the war comes, and it changes everything.
you make promises. both to yourself and to those you care about.
then to someone new.
you intend to keep all of them.
-
cadence is born two minutes before her sibling, which she holds over their head every single time. she is the big sister, minutes count. as fraternal twins, they are born together, raised together. their mother knits them the same thing each time, maroon and lilac, green and orange, always two different pairs of the same item on their shoulders. they learn to take care of each other, as well as the nature around them.
none of the parents have khemia running through their veins, but you hear of stories of a faraway uncle, an aunt, a niece thrice removed. you wonder if you have any chance at it βΒ and your mother smiles down at you, running a hand through your hair, telling you are special with or without it.
brookings family come from generations of bookbinders- a family profession taught by each parent to their child, practiced at a small nook of a bookstore in cynefin. it's their second home, where shelves are full of hand-bidden books created with varying care and embellishments on them.
people come to the brookings to create family heirlooms, precious manuscripts that they want to preserve for years to come.
as it is tradition, cadence, endearingly called cadie by friends and family alike, learn the art of book-binding as she grows up. surrounded by books, she loves the art of preserving manuscripts, as well as choosing the right leather, the right engravings, the art that goes on the cover β- it's something she adores, the fact that they are part of that history, that tradition in other people's lives.
when she and her sibling turn out to be attuned to khemia β it's both to the happiness and surprise of their parents. although a part of them are worried about their children going off to a world so unknown themselves, they encourage them to go to verum. cadie has always been attuned to the world around her, the energy within objects, the flowers that grow in their garden β so it is clear that anima will be her major.
years pass, a whirlwind of knowledge and entry to a world she adores. new friends, new memories, she manages to visit family during the holidays, and stays at verum during school days to optimize her time and costs. no longer a child, she knows how they struggle with money - and tries to chip in, working half time at the library, spending less and less, managing to save enough to give back to her mother whenever he can.
unfortunately enough for the brookings, the demand for hand-made books falls more and more as years pass, making it impossible to live by the family business of bookbinding. their path to their store is untrodden, their father waiting every day at his workshop, without any customers dropping by.
it's both sudden and unexpected. one day, cadie and her sibling walk inside their cottage, and she can feel that something is off. there are tears in their mother's eyes, hands shaking as they clutch against her skirt. there is a letter on top of their dinner table, drops of tears marring the ink of the neat handwriting.
it's as if their perfect world has shattered all at once. their father went to fight in the war β volunteered, despite his age, wanting to do something, anything but come home every day with the same news.
at first, cadie is furious, frustrated by how he did not come to any of them, not even their mother.Β they are grown people now, and family is supposed to carry burdens together, not sacrifice themselves like this.
then- she realizes someone has to fill the position their father has left, and puts herself in his shoes. determined to make their family business boom again, she works at the library to earn money for now, and practices book-binding each day. she has something that their father never had βΒ khemia. and she intends to use that to their advantage.
one day, when someone approaches her with a blinding smile that makes her heart skip a beat, and a promise to help with so many of her problems βΒ it feels too good to say no. so, she makes a promise.
the guilt is a rather familiar, taunting feeling. how immediate it is when it overwhelms the body, cloys the mind. ollie takes in a breath & there is a heaviness in the salt & there is a heaviness in the guilt. steadied as those hands still are clasped, as they & zhiyu remain within one another's company & the rest fades to blackness. they are seized by the need to return the squeeze, to gently twist their fingers until their own thumbs would caress across his tendons, across his knuckles. making a promise that shouldn't have to be kept when a mind changed; yet ollie understands entirely. how many promises have they themself made in their lifetime which later transform to burden? ( and, they realise perhaps with a slight startle, they are thinking outside of themself. their mind is removed from the darkened recesses. from the maw. ) they allow their gaze to drop from the worry upon his expression towards his chest. as if a light glowing within can be glimpsed even through the depths of the fog.
they nearly wanted to remain suspended in time. they would sacrifice the semblance of safety they felt away from the cliff's edge, if it meant that he gained some respite. but is this not merely an assumption? reading through the disappointment seeming to flicker against his features? "there is. not exactly the most exciting thing." so far as they could remember, this had been the new year's celebration choice for a few years now. the last time, they had overslept. & this time, they were wishing they had done the same. ( except of course, not quite entirely. because then he would've come here & instead of them standing in wait, he would've discovered an empty space. and have not either of them had enough of empty spaces? ) "but i think we can make an exception for this year. and for haoyu. can't we? the last thing i want to do is stand up here any longer. i don't want to look at it. it's so ... empty."
or the malady: the sea is too full. they wish it was empty so that it was easier to gaze upon. instead, they grip zhiyu's hand, turning away from the foam entirely. nothing is going to happen. everything is going to be fine. the warmth of the fire will bring out the salt from your bones as though they are licking wounds. "we'll see. right now, we can just. walk as though it hasn't happened. and meet your brother at the bonfire. i think we're expected to show up anyways. wouldn't want to have anybody be upset and wondering where we got off to." the wandering into the forest, the crawling on the shorelines, hadn't happened yet. perhaps, in that sense, this moment suspends itself in time. there is no one in the world they would rather drift with. a blush. that's a bit too forward, isn't it. a bit strange to think. "will you make any wishes?"
suspended in time, the trance broken by the reminder of his promise and the sudden guilt it brings. a purse of his lips, he wonders about the implications of breaking the promise he has made to his sibling. he needs to be there by midnight, being late would understandably make them worry, especially with everything going on. the image of haoyu standing there, waiting, swirls something ugly in zhiyu's chest. thinks about the time they had today, the visit to the market, how for a few moments, everything felt like the old times βΒ and he knows that he doesn't want to break that trust, the feeling that it can be okay again; no matter if it's true or not. he looks into ollie's eyes, and hopes this won't break this newfound trust either.
they surprise him yet again- the fact that they find the bonfire dull. "oh- you don't like it?" curiosity, easy to read. for him, bonfires have always been a staple moment for their holidays as a family. after they have dinner together, they wander to the city center, watch the flames rise up, talk with their people, sing folk songs together. with little information he knows about ollie βΒ it isn't hard to put the pieces together that they had a completely different experience. something in his chest aches, and he is hit with the wish to change that somehow. one day, he wants to show them that it can be good- with friends, with each other. "yes, of course. let's go." it makes all the sense in the world for them to want to leave this space, the memories of what happened must plague them the longer they stand.
at the grip on his hand, a small smile appears on his face, and he pulls them to motion to walk further down the path. one hand drops, but the other remains holding theirs. an unspoken fact, an unwillingness to pull back before they do first. "that sounds good. have you... had time to visit the food stalls? they are really good." the taste of the candied fruits lingers on his tongue. as they begin to walk, right by each other's side, zhiyu wonders if it would be too forward to ask. "we can- try some. if you have the time." maybe that will aid in numbing the terrors, albeit a little. and at their question, his eyes widen in surprise, and a moment passes as he thinks about what exactly he will wish for. "yes. i like doing that." perhaps it is childish and nonsensical to some, though it is yet another tradition zhiyu holds on to. "what about you?"
ππππππππ: verum, professor lee's office
π πππ: LI ZHIYU
ππ: SION LEE ( @primordialized )
dark blue hanfu ghosts over the wooden floors; steps quiet as they climb up the stairs, moving through the old hallways. the smell of history-ridden rooms and paintings would be somewhat comforting if not for the schedule for today: meeting professor lee during his office hours. it would be an understatement to point out zhiyu is merely nervous. it has been building up for the past few days, mind running through hundreds of scenarios, trying to figure out the reason why he was asked to see him there.
not the type to slack off or cause problems, zhiyu does his best to fit in as much as he can in a world he was introduced to merely years ago. a ghost wandering through the castle, surrounded by history he can't wrap his mind around yet. all the reasons why he usually keeps it quiet, talks when he should, and does his schoolwork on time. as he knocks on the door, receives permission to enter, and steps inside, he tries not to show how anxious he is about this whole ordeal. tries to calm the tremor in his hands, though the tight expression remains. "sir β you asked me to see you?" his eyes move from the ground back up at the other's face, waiting for him to lead.
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location: near the bonfire at the town square, but probably way before the countdown to midnight.
status: closed to zhiyu, @solavirtus ; what came from the sea.
they'd lost sight of zhiyu sometime during their food tour at the market, which would not be a concern in itself if it hadn't been hours since they last saw their youngest sibling. this long since they last saw him, haoyu cannot help the way their shoulders tense as their gaze sweeps across the town square in hopes of catching on zhiyu's familiar figure. they'd made him promise, earlier, that no matter what he would make his way back to the bonfire far before midnight comes should they part ways. and part ways they did, until haoyu's eyes snags on their brother at the edge of the square. merely a shadow that far away from the warmth of the fire, but they relax all the same. a hand on zhiyu's arm is all that they offer to notify him of their presence. "didi," haoyu saysβtries to keep it light. "you've not ran into any trouble since i let go of you, have you?"
flames of the fire cast reflections on a waxy face. despite the proximity to the pyre, zhiyu remains frozen. arms wrapped around himself, fingers digging into the outer layers of his modern hanfu, the sides of his arms. doesn't know how long he has been standing there βΒ how long it has been sinceβ- time has taken a different quality. stretching thin, then picking up in the blink of an eye. his eyes are stuck on the way the fire moves, though it does not thaw the fear in his chest, the way his frame trembles. all he can see, through them, is a pair of dark orbs, looking at his own, looking deep into his soul. the macabre creature almost grinning back at him, taunting the way he could not breathe at the sight. the touch on his shoulder comes as a surprise, so much that he violently flinches away, a pair of petrified, shimmering eyes look around. zhiyu has never been to shy away from physical touch, least of all by his family β- though it takes longer for recollection to set in. even when it does, the terror does not ebb away. "h-hao-ge?" the nails dig harder through the fabric, his voice quiet enough that it can be mistaken for a sharp intake of breath. "i- i saw it." the back of his eyes sting, growing wetter, threatening to spill over. what breaks him is this: "it saw me."
there was no rush. was he certain? the world never stops revolving. always, there is movement of some kind. from people, places, feelings, vibrations in the air. always, a worm wriggling in the decomposition of the earth or the socket of an eye. & always a dream to follow, all the way down, in a perilous plummet. how could ollie ask for more time? consider it to be theirs when the sands were already so slippery? still, the way he clings to them, a knowing that should not be present. he does not leave them to their own devices, their wishful thinking, their drifting elsewhere. perhaps it would be better if he did. doesn't he deserve better than to drown?
every dream, the same. therefore, this couldn't be a dream. it wasn't going in the same pathways as to the rest of them, not even a little. the purse of his lips and the small shake of his head β these bodily reflections might go unnoticed, but to ollie, they are aware of every set of bone and every crease of flesh. they must be. not only does their magic demand it, but the glimpses of themself in the mirror, preparing for the day ahead after an elongated night of nothingness, also contributes. "you don't need to apologise to me." it consumes them, the concept that he might feel even a bit responsible for what they were enduring. this was something which had been granted as a curse for as long as they could remember. "there's nothing to be sorry for. i'm believing that these things are what they are. that there has to be some kind of reason. and i just. i'm nervous about what it could be, that's all."
that's all. as though this could be simple. ollie wants nothing more than for it to fade into the background & become a lesser part of their existence. "isn't there a bonfire? i think i'm on a little bit of a timer for these festivities. we're both going to miss all of it. though i've never seen you go out and party." addressing him with a sceptic's eye. the way that they speak, a lullaby, lulling into another dream-scape perhaps, and the nonsense of the lilt in their words almost irritates them. why can't they just have some kind of normal conversation? every word an obstacle. "although it'd be rather sweetly embarrassing to have someone see us like this." it is a gothic novel's kind of embrace: hands clasping hands, warmth in the cold. "it's always the same anyways. i tell you about one dream, you'll hear about them all. it's a real downer, talking about how it feels to die on a night meant for new beginnings."
a rush of surprise beneath the consuming worry. much too easy to read on zhiyu's face by a careful eye: the tilt of his head, parting of his lips. confused at the fact that they are quick to refute the apology. "but..." lingers on, the explanation comes, and while what ollie says makes sense, the urge to apologize remains. a hard time wrapping his head around 'things are what they are' β thinks in simpler terms: someone has wronged them, despite their intentions, despite any excuses they can come up with. ollie deserves better than that. the outlook of 'there has to be a reason' is surprising enough that he falls quiet. he is unsure if he actually agrees with it, though respects it too much to say anything against it with so little time of deliberation. his dealing with sorrow and pain usually ends up pointing the arrow either outward or inward. rather than accepting it in stride, or contemplating it must have happened due to cosmical reasoning, finds it much easier to come up with the answers through earthly means. while they continue to surprise him βΒ something in his chest tells him ollie still deserves apologies, especially by those people who thought they were lying.
the mention of the bonfire pulls him out of the reverie, a flutter of his eyelashes as if snapping back into reality. "oh...Β you're right- there is a bonfire." the memory of the last conversation he had with his older brother echoes in his head. the promise he had made to be there before the clock struck midnight. they still have some time, though he knows he doesn't want to break his promise to them. the comment about his lack of partying preferences surprises him yet again. the fact that someone, ollie in particular, has taken notice of him. it's odd, though a spark of warmth lights inside his chest. zhiyu never thinks he is actually seen, always flying under the clouds, a ghost slipping through the crowds. ( am i really alone in my wandering then? ) "i'm- i'm not. but i made a promise to be there..." guilt swims in his tone. the contradiction of telling ollie they had time- while he has already made a promise to haoyu about it, makes him feel terrible.
"...to hao-ge."Β an explanation, one that will probably help put the right pieces together. though zhiyu still extends that hand, metaphorical, and physical. "i'm sorry- we can- we can still stay if you'd like more time." and he would, if ollie asked. at the reminder of how close they are standing, a flush spreads across his cheeks, though he does not pull back. the sheepish smile turns into sadness as they go over the hypothetical scenario in which they did tell him their dreams β- something in zhiyu's chest tightening at the dejected outcome. "well βΒ it doesn't matter as long as you want to talk about it." and that is the crux of it all. if it helps, no matter how much, if it lifts a bit of the burden from ollie's shoulders, then that's worth it. "at any point, if you want to talk about them βΒ i am here to listen."
sometimes he thinks of how different they are. how often haoyuβs brows furrow, their features closing off to the rest of the world, their expression unreadable. compare that to zhiyu, with his widening eyes and raised brows, and all of it all too transparent for haoyu. he wishes he is more like that, sometimesβwhen he forgets himself and his impossible wants. βit has meββ tired, on edge, angry. ββwound up,β is what they settle for, an agreement as much as it is an explanation. "you know the mudslide hasn't been very kind to us."
but then his brother smiles, and haoyu thinks maybe the omen doesn't have to be an omen. there is a dead man by the mudslide and there is his littlest brother smiling, and surely these two things are only mere coincidences. new year's eve isβcould beβany other night. and like any other night, haoyu relents in the face of his brother. "i've nothing better to do until someone lights the fireworks," he says. it's a truth. "come. i'll take you." keep you safe, goes unsaid. they turn, slowly. enough for it to be an invitation for zhiyu to follow. still, just to be certain, their gaze settles on their brother once more, their neck craned to look over their shoulder. i'm still here. it's not quite a smile on their lips, but it's a near thing. "if this town is good for anything at all, we'll have every fruit imaginable candied. hurry, before they run out of your favorites."
another hum. a sting. he understands. wishes he didn't need to β that they would have regular lives, a reality before the mudslide. tend their land, spend their time at home in the evenings, cooking, singing, reading. now, whatever they do, there is always a certain quality of fear. unease at the fact something else might happen tomorrow. the waters might rise a bit more, the mudslide growing ruthless. locking them in. it's terrifying β even more so now that some of their own people are growing restless enough to try to fight the wind. to the extent of their own demise. he really does get it. "it really hasn't." a quiet acknowledgment, sorrow flashing over his features.
then they agree, uttering a promise of a less-troubled time, together. the loneliness in his chest that has made its home there, hides behind a tree. a bird in hiding. zhiyu nods with vigor, lightening up as much as one can after deliberating on the terrors of the mudslide. his lips curl in a smile, and he is quick to follow them. "yes, thank you!" falls into step next to his sibling, leaning forward to see their expression. there is a near smile on his brother's lips. he's struck with the hopeful thought that maybe, everything will all be alright. another excited hum at the idea of various candied fruits, he quickens his step. "so you think they will have strawberries? ohβ and kiwis?"
was something within them still slumbering? still dreaming, despite being awake? they swear they rose from bed this morning. put away their textbooks. gazed out the window. swear that they walked through town, helped prepare the decoration on the cobblestoned streets, smiled the whole time. ( perhaps they were floating the whole time. in the effervescent sea of whatever they conjured. ) their hands, removed from their face & ollie bites down on the whimper that threatens to emerge. need to get this under control. need to take a deep breath. do something, but what?
this isn't fair. they shouldn't be pulling zhiyu into something he never asked for. still, he clutches their hands. the ministrations to the tendons beneath their knuckles is a warmth they didn't expect. their gaze, drawn to the lighthouse-nature of it. the way that it is not a burning, but a glowing. calmness settles over their features despite the knit still in their brow. for a moment, they let their eyes drift shut. floating: yes, this is familiar. "no one believes me. they say i just need to sleep. and they're right. but then when i sleep, i just see it all. i'm dragged back under. i feel so lost."
immediate, drawing their eyes to open again. salt crystals, perhaps, formulating on their lashes. they look through the snowfall to the light he emits. he was still there.
"we're supposed to be down at a party." that warmth emits even further away. they try a smile. "this isn't very festive of me. thinking about all the terrible things that may happen. like we can control any of it." this time, in their own voice, they hear it: the attempt to drift. immediate, the flash of fear. instinctive, how they bring his hands up to their forehead. it's not fair. they look at him, shy, through their fingers. "i'm sure everything will be fine." as much reassurance to him as to themself.
something shifts, though only on the surface. through his panic and concern, zhiyu watches them try to keep their terrors in control. the clenched jaw, a whimper pushed down. the attempt to keep breaths regular. his hands remain holding theirs, small ministrations to rub some heat into them. to see them grow lucid relaxes him, albeit little. not by much. not when he can see the waves crashing into the shore. the panic of his own does not ebb away. those words twist a knife that was already stuck in his chest, one that he forgot was there. the loneliness in them. mirrored. it hurts to hear it all β- the helplessness, how their terrors were brushed away. a silent, unspoken promise to himself, to not do the same to them.
"ollie β-" zhiyu begins, hold tightening around their hands. they aren't this close. he knows, but something inside pushes him forward, desperation thrumming under his skin to comfort. to try to pour some water over the burns. attempt to bring them to the surface. "i am so sorry." not the right thing to say, he thinks, not by a landslide. never been the best at comforting, though uttering honest ones all the same. "i'm- i'm sorry they don't believe you. that- that doesn't change what you are going through. i'll- i'll listen... if you let me." the hesitancy behind them causes his voice to stumble over the words, though he does his best to continue looking into their eyes. to show them he means them. zhiyu knows all too well how it feels to have everyone in your life turn against you. "i'm... here. you are here. you got back." another attempt. you are not lost. hanging in the air between them. zhiyu cannot say them out loud. aware there is much more depth to this terror than what he hears on the surface.
they pull their hands back; some of the warmth is lost. his hands fall to his sides. zhiyu would be embarrassed by his forwardness if he did not realize how hurt they still look. a mask, covering what he saw just before. shutting down the visible emotions, an attempt at self-protection. ( again, familiar. how he has attempted the same many times himself. ) it twists the knife. purses his lips. a small shake of his head. "it's... it's okay if you- if you need more time." deliberate, slow. careful not to push. "there is no rush."
entrenched in their own catatonia, imprisoned. not satisfied with this as their fortunes mis-told, as their nightmares unfolded before them. a hitch in the back of their throat, a light blinking of their eyelids but reduced to the bare fluttering of their lashes. a stutter of air. a hard swallow that bobs against the ink of their throat. it aches β it aches within them. muscles in their bare calfs, quivering with the strength of the need to move. ( do something before it's too late. ) dreams were meant to have meaning. theirs, having lost all meaning but darkness. hallucinating the happenings of them against the shoreline. the creatures that would crawl.
their pallor remains a mystery to them. the trembling sense of decay within quivers all the stronger at the sudden reaching. how zhiyu's arm outstretched resembles that of a lichen-covered branch floating towards them in the long, dark river. here, no river, only sea. cloying to them. they fear it. it would kβ"what?"
moon-wide eyes begin to blink anew. reduced to what they truly are: eyes that see. a sharp glance towards his worried expression, down towards his hand. "it's just the ... i don't ... i don't know. i feel stuck here." their hands shoot towards either side of their face. clenching. "i feel stuck here." it's the only thing that makes sense. it's a well of shame, being seen like this. "i-i don't know what's going on. it's so ... dark."
ollie is still somewhere else. somewhere zhiyu cannot reach. they are at the top of the mudslide, and his feet keep trying to climb, soles digging into the wet soil, ankles twisting β then slip back down. again, and again, an impossible task. they keep slipping away. this terrifies him. how lost they sound, how they try to blink the mirage away. trembling hands reach closer, and although their eyes meet, he does not think they can see him. they feel miles away.
"hey βΒ hey, ollie. look at me, please." a plea, desperation seeping into his voice, trying to keep the ever-growing panic at bay. he still hesitates to touch without their permission. 'i'm stuck' repeated over and over again. something in zhiyu's chest twists at the admission. the helplessness in their tone β-
their own hands going up to their face is what breaks his last resolve, and he takes that final step forward. gentle fingers cover their own, cold from the sharp air, from the fear, blood rushing to his head, leaving extremities as ice. "you're not stuck, ollie." repeats their name again in an attempt to be heard. grabs their hands in his own, so that they cannot hurt themselves β just as what had hurt them so deeply in their dreams."you're not stuck. i am here, okay- you got meβ-" the whiff of their perfume mixes with his own. and he doesn't- he doesn't know how to do this. how to bring them back. he still tries.
"can you look at me, please?" rubs the back of their hands in his own, chest heaving with worry, with concern, with numbing fear. the back of his eyes sting. "c-close your eyes. can you close your eyes for me? and- when you open them back up again, i will be here. i won't let you go."
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it is sacred, this role of being an elder brother. you have toβ he'sβ be kinder, haoyu. he hasn't been good at it lately, this kindness. his is warped and twisted and all kinds of thorny. seeing zhiyu cut themselves on itβwords coming out in a stutter a tell-tale for the elder brother who's watched them grow up their entire livesβis enough to soften all the harsh lines on the planes of his face. i don't mean toβ haoyu wants to say, but what does he not mean to do? βbe harsh with you, perhaps, but has his love not always been like this? "sorry," he says instead. it's no better. "there'sβ something happened at the mudslide, zhizhi. a man died. fell to his death. you have to be careful." this time, it's not a demand. just care and concern, unwrapped. a hand reaches out to pat zhiyu on the shoulder. "enjoy the festivities. just stay away from the edge of town. have you seen the food stalls at the market? you'll be safe there." then, after a moment of hesitation, "i could take you, i suppose. then we'll both be far from harm's way."
the apology is unexpected: surprising. it must have shown up on zhiyu's expression no matter how much he tries to school it. in the way his eyes snap up to his brother's face, widening, eyebrows raising, albeit little. it similarly eases some of the tense lines on his face. a nod, he is quick to brush the apology away, as much as he appreciates it. "no, i understand." not referring to why it has happened, but why it has put haoyu on edge. "that must have been... terrifying to witness." something pained crosses his features, the thought of haoyu being there is enough to send him reeling if he lingers on that line of thinking any further. ( and perhaps he will, when it's later in the night, and it's him staring at the ceiling of his dorm as he sleeps alone. for another time. ). then- the offer comes, and it lightens up his face as much as it can after the previous subject matter. ends of his lips curl up in a smile. "really? you- you have the time?" perhaps he shouldn't question it like this, so he continues before waiting for a reply. "i haven't seen them yet. i would really like that." spending time with him, in a place where he knows they will be safe? the idea lifts up more of that weight of anxiety over his chest. the way he straightens up, fingers tapping the sides of his own robes is zhiyu's version of showing his excitement. "do you think they'd have those candied fruits we used to have years ago?"
ππππππππ: verum school grounds, courtyard
π πππ: KENJI FUJIWARA
ππ: SAVINA MASOE ( @svnblinds )
the school's almost empty today. with the way people are going home to their families, or preparing for festivities for the evening, it's all very expected. if kenji was not living at the dorms himself, he doubts he'd come to school to begin with. he will probably wander into town in a bit, to see how everything's going on, chat with friends. get ready for the evening. when he spots a familiar face sitting across the courtyard, he makes his way to her, plopping down on the bench, his large black coat taking much of the space. "savina βΒ you haven't left yet?" it is early in the morning, and the way the sun shines on his face warms something in his chest. after every terrible thing that has been happening, today will be a day of respite. of celebration. "what are you planning for new year's? anything exciting?" he turns his face towards her, eyebrows raising up in curiosity. "will i get any scraps from masoe family's famous desserts?"
