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If anyone asked, the rehearsed answer is because he needed medical attention. He would even say the same even if Kisa themself inquired. He would say it, even when he knew they would see past the lie he uses to comfort himself.
He arrives at the hospital, immediately seeking the scent of the firefly, following their trail as if tracking prey. Hunter once again — always, craving to sink teeth into flesh.
He finds Kisa, and something like hunger flashes across his eyes, and he made no effort to hide it. He stood, silent for a moment, clothes soaked in blood (not his), skin smeared with its ruby red shine.
He didn’t trust himself to speak, because any excuse he’s come up with is drowned by the truth: He simply needed their attention.
there’s a little too much delight in sneaking up behind zhan, no care for whether or not the fighter jumps or not — you’re close enough to see the gentle raise of skin, the shiver running up spines, and isn’t that everything?
“or better yet, can i be your drink?”
a laugh that’s serrated by their teeth is let out before eyes meet the fighter’s properly, shrapnel hanging in the air. there is no such thing as too close, and the scientist is a firm believer of this; leaning in enough to see reflections in dilated pupils.
“no need to turn me down just because you’re a married man, zhan. we all know that’s just for show. but what i know — “ fingers almost ghost jawlines, careful. “ — is that that’s not true now, is it?”
the scientist pulls themselves away just as quick as they came, sipping on drinks too casually.
“you’ve got quite a funny way of showing love, and that’s coming from me. a bit fucked up, but what do i know? anyways, if you’d like a little something that plays well with you two’s little fucked-up affections i’d be more than happy to help spice up the marriage.”
More than ever, Zhan Lei wished he could have smelled their presence before he felt it.
Their voice cut through the thick glaciers of his reverie, and it startles. What surprised Zhan the most about it, however, was that he did not find it unpleasant. Not even when they seemed so openly ( and playfully ) seductive. His breath catches in his throat like a sharp blade, lodged deep the moment they clean too close — so close that in the hundreds of smells around them, he was beginning to drown in theirs.
He sat immobile and lets them speak, teeth gritted, listening closely even when he initially intended to close his ears to the firefly. He deigns to ignore them, and would have continued to do so, until he insinuated something he has never dared to speak out loud. How do you know?
With effort, he tried to appear nonchalant, even as his cold hands grab at their jaw, pulling them down to level their faces.
“You talk too much,” Zhan Lei tells them, voice cold, eyes flashing. “What would it take to shut you up?”
Location: Fort + Barracks
Timeline: Blood Brawl (pre-brawl)
With: @steelecarnage
“Cai too scared you had to stand in for her?” Titus asked, brow quirked. Back against the wall, his frame stood unmoving from its position, almost as though every nerve in his body was finely attuned to the still air, anticipating an incoming attack. Perhaps under another sky he could say that in jest, two agreeable figures under a waning moon, but those days between Zhan and Titus were long gone. Not too different, yet now set diametrically opposed like the two sides of a chest board. Where Titus fought for his own ambition, Zhan found it satisfactory simply being someone else’s pawn. Frankly, it disgusted him.
“I saw your wife the other day,” he cooed, feigning nonchalance. He knew their relationship sat precarious, and there was pleasure to be derived somewhere from rubbing salt in someone else’s wounds. Call it sadistic, or twisted, Titus thought bitterly, but Zhan had shoved the knife of betrayal into his heart first. Titus was merely repaying what he owed. “Gave her my well wishes for the brawl.”
“No. She’s just had her fill,” he answered simply, tone flat as always. He’s never been one to waste his spit on too many words. The question was simple, and the answer was simple. That’s all there was to it. Zhan does not think about it any further.
It was completely different, however, when it came to the topic of his wife.
By now, it seemed like everyone knew how strained their relationship was, no matter Zhan Lei’s efforts to correct it, to keep it stable, to make it presentable. It was a sore spot for him, no doubt about it. At the mention of Rin meeting with Titus, Zhan’s eyes snapped up sharp, meeting his, suspicious. Zhan had no idea they met the other day, and though it doesn’t show, he is driven mad by the thought of not knowing.
“What kind of well wishes?”
[ tw for bodily harm / injury ]
Not for the first time, Zhan Lei comes home late.
The aches in his muscles are familiar and welcome, pain that he knew ripped apart at the sinew of his flesh just so his body could work to stitch it all back together again. An endless cycle he subjects himself to every time he comes to train with his mentor, de facto heir to the leadership of his House. The training took hours, and bruises piled upon bruises, broken bones in his arm jutting against the flesh, begging for his attention. It reminded him of his wife.
And speaking of his wife: She’s here. What a fucking miracle.
He enters their home, discarding his coat and his bloodied shirt using his uninjured arm, gently placing them on the back of a chair, all the while comforted by the smell of her. He knew she was inside their room, and that information gave him a great deal of peace.
He didn’t even have to tie her up to keep her there, this time.
“Rin,” he calls her name, the hint of desperation almost scrubbed clean from his tone. Almost. “Come here. I need your blood,” he orders, stepping into their room, warm blood from his wound glistening in the dim lights as he paused by the entryway, hungry eyes laid on her.
Zhan Lei grit his teeth, and waited patiently, bracing himself for the inevitable fight. It always was a struggle to devour his own wife.
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It was a title she only allowed him to use. Had anyone else uttered it to her, she would have turned them into a blood smoothie within a minute. She was born and raised in a military camp devoid of any and all maternal instincts - it was a surprising, if not a little ironic, twist of events that made her take the Cicada’s little carnage under her wing ; and so the Cicada’s hound became her pup.
An amused smile tugs at the corners of her lips, the fond exasperation evident in her ever watchful gaze - yet, the amusement soon fades into something akin to approval ; mixed with only the faintest hints of worry. It was… a reasonable decision and not at all that unexpected ( though, being nine centuries old she finds very few things truly surprise her nowadays ). “I suspected you might be inclined to join the ruckus. That is why I summon you here. We ought to practice.”
Watchful gaze briefly skims over Zhan’s slender figure - careful to note any possible weakness, the military upbringing making her a perfect mentor to hone his skill. She still thinks he could use a more physical approach, tactics and good old fisticuffs when weapons are forbidden - or if his ability should overwhelm him. “Good, that is good. We will combine our usual practices. In the ring, you will not be allowed a weapon, unless it comes from your ability. Your nose is your advantage, but also a weakness.” She circles around him, inspecting, lips pursed in thought.
“Of course, since it is a fighting ring, you will have to engage. Let’s see if the strength of your punch improved as of late.”
Zhan Lei remained silent, watchful. He watches every tick in her expression, her every move, taking note of the amusement in her eyes and the sudden flash of worry. He briefly wonders if the mother hound is worried for him because she thinks he is still too weak.
I can never lose. She will be very disappointed.
He meets her eyes, and the reply was a curt: “Understood.”
With an obedient nod, he places the blindfold on himself as she circles around him. He had her scent memorized, and his nose senses her far better than touch, hearing, or sight could, and yet...as powerful as it is, Cai is right — his nose is also weakness. Not to mention the fact that most of vampirekind knows about it.
Zhan Lei is immobile for a few seconds, brain concentrated on her scent, trying to locate her. He suddenly bursts forth, not wasting time to throw a punch her way.
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locations: the barracks, Cicada HQ.
with: @steelecarnage·
Time is relative in an eternal lifespan ; yet, considering how memory works, even nine centuries can seem to fly by in a heartbeat. If a century is a short time to her, then half of it is even shorter. It seems like it was only yesterday when the last Bloody event was hosted - and this marks the 24th instance of her politely declining any physical involvement in it. Once, she despised herself for it, for the secrecy of cold flesh being swapped for a colder metal, rendering her unwilling to fight for the glory of her house.
Now? Nine centuries old and, arguably, slightly less keen to beat the crap out of everyone in her line of sight, she is rather content to be on the sidelines, watching the event and judging the techniques of not only the Cicada’s contestants, but everyone else participating in the event. However, there was one member of the house she wasn’t quite certain would be submitting his name - and she rather wondered if he was up for it.
Normally, she wasn’t the one to voluntarily fraternise with the majority of her house, but Zhan had been one of the select few exceptions to the solitary rule she’s put on herself. If she was truly honest, she’d be inclined to admit she’s rather fond of the boy - but, she’s always had a soft spot for troubled, lonely souls, especially it the said souls were often overlooked, or neglected. The curiosity over the impending Blood Brawl wasn’t the only reason she’s summoned him for a quick spar.
“You come at an auspicious time, pup. Blood Brawl always renders Cicadas catching up on their long overdue beauty sleep. We’ll have the ring to ourselves and no interference.”
“Of course, mother. I have vowed to appear before you as promptly as I can whenever you call for me,” was the sterile reply, devoid of any emotion. Though the glint in his eyes and the minuscule quirk on the corner of his lips betray his understated playfulness.
Zhan Lei is confident, however, that Cai knows he meant every word.
“I am participating this time,” he declares, off-handed. Matter-of-fact. His hands work quick to unbutton the dark Cicada uniform, anticipating grueling hours of hell under his mentor-slash-mother figure’s harsh tutelage. After a brief pause, he adds: “I assume you wanted to know.” At these words, he looks up at her, looking to meet her eyes and wondering if he’d been right to assume.
A heartbeat passes ( or whatever the equivalent was for creatures like them ), and quick to move from one topic to the next, mechanical and methodic in his ways, he speaks again: “I brought a blindfold, as per your request.”
He tosses aside his discarded uniform, leaving only the thick black piece of cloth in his hands — his blindfold. Shirtless and bared of any weapon, his hands clasp behind his back, he stood patiently awaiting her instructions, like the obedient pup he was, and will always be. For her.
enhanced tracking » pin points exact location of target. overpowered by stronger scents, losing scents of ordinary things.
So I gathered fistfuls / of ash, dark as ink, / hammered them / into marrow, into / a skull thick / enough to keep / the gentle curse / of dreams.
⸺ Essay on Craft, Ocean Vuong (2014)
𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.
In the early days of using his power, he would close his eyes and ignore other sensory information to concentrate on the scent profile of whoever or whatever he was tracking. Over time, his sense of smell has been so attuned to this skill that he no longer needed to completely shut his eyes and cover his ears.
Now, he usually remains stationary, and the only visible indication that he’s using his power is the flare of his nostrils and his eyes turning into slits.
This is in no way visible to anyone else, but in his head, what happens is akin to seismic location (inspiration: Toph Beifong). It also visually looks similar to Tanjiro Kamado being able to pinpoint the location of demons through smell.
𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚜.
At this point, I think Zhan Lei has been so dependent on his olfactory sense to feel the presence of people around him that without it, he would feel a great sense of loss.
I believe Zhan Lei’s enhanced smell doesn’t necessarily have much of a detrimental effect on his other senses on a day-to-day basis. It does irk him when strong smells are present and lingering, because his heightened sense is able to pick up on them lightning-quick, and these strong smells — whether pleasant or pungent, can disorient him.
When used to near full extent, however, it could potentially dull his sight, hearing, or touch all at once, but not permanently. On the other hand, I imagine his sense of taste being amplified by the use of his power, since taste and smell sort of have a link.
Zhan Lei does not feel much when using his power, except perhaps a sort of tingling sensation that starts from his nose towards his head, spreading throughout the body.
𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑.
I imagine Zhan has an excellent memory for scents, and in the few seconds that he encounters a scent he’s focusing on for the first time, he would already have it filed inside his brain, and is able to recognize it should he happen across it again. His ability has been honed through time and training that he is able to pinpoint a target’s exact location with frightening precision, even moving targets.
It took time and training, but I imagine he is now able to track a target’s location even while he’s moving, so it’s quite literally “you can run but you can’t hide” when dealing with Zhan Lei.
𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.
At first, he had to be completely immobile when he used his powers. Now, there are still times when he struggles to use his super-enhanced tracking while moving, and it hampers his speed especially during a high stakes chase. This is something he is continuously training on. He is at least able to get a general sense of his target’s location while he’s moving, but it’s not as astonishingly accurate as when he’s immobile while tracking.
Stronger smells are also able to overpower his nose, disorienting him and making him lose track of whatever/whoever he’s chasing. An especially strong (either pleasant or pungent) smell can even serve to drown out his own sense of smell, like a block on his nostrils that gives him a constant head-splitting headache, making him lose sense of ordinary smells around him. And while the pain is something Zhan Lei could deal with, the loss of his sense of smell makes him feel helpless.
𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.
As part of the House of Cicada, his extraordinary ability to track the exact location of his targets through smell alone has proven useful, and at times essential. During manhunts, he is always present, used as a powerful tool to ensure capture of many miscreants. With Zhan Lei part of the vampiric society’s law enforcement, the chances of evading capture from their clutches has dropped dramatically (well, never zero, but still...). I imagine one has to pray Zhan is not on the manhunt task force so they have a chance at escape.
𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.
His power alone is not enough to survive day to day as a member of his beloved house, which mercilessly knocks them down their tiers at any small sign of mediocrity. He saw it as his lifelong duty and obligation to continuously hone himself in different styles of combat, and weaponry.
Since he has a leaner body than some, unable to develop bulky muscles, he chose to study martial arts that focus on using an opponent’s brute force and strength against them, most of which are defensive. As a law enforcer, he doesn’t resort to violence immediately, choosing to defend himself only when attacked.
I think he mostly uses long-range weapons during chases, as he is able to hit them even without seeing them (through the help of his nose). But he is flexible enough to fight close combat when needed, never really stopping the training he started when he was still human and fighting tooth and nail against his own relatives. He knows it’s essential to be able to fight in close proximity with his enemies.
Honestly, a lot of the close combat sparring he does these days is when he’s fighting his own wife (whose ability is to nullify his powers).
Within almost 3 centuries of life, he has learned how to use hundreds of weapons, but chose to master only a few: bow and arrow, spears, butterfly swords, and two butterfly knives (balisong). Headcanon: he’s ambidextrous.
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