ooooooo this is fun! Thank you for sending me this :D
I decided to go with Tueller Drill which... I read the wikipedia summary twice before I put together that drill meant practice rather than 'to bore a hole'. Not something I've heard of. It is FUN as a fic title though. If someone is running at you to stab you with a knife, how fast can you draw your gun and fire? If they're even close-ish to you, not fast enough. Don't bring a gun to a knife fight.
You didn't specify a fandom, so you get two:
First I am going to subject you to Ilya Rozanov. I think this would be a character study on the way Ilya's relationship with his family shapes the other relationships in his life. It's a fun detail that both his father and his brother are police, so they've probably DONE this drill. What sticks out to me from the wikipedia is this: "At shorter distances the knife wielder was always able to stab prior to being shot." In other words, if you let people close to you, they will be able to hurt you and you cannot stop them. Not only do we see this constantly from Ilya with his father and brother, but it's something that he seems constantly aware of. When his brother hurts him he is sometimes able to hurt back but he doesn't usually choose to, and that really isn't the same thing as protecting himself. With his father, he can't even do that. To me, this genuinely reads as a choice, rather than an inability to protect himself. He so clearly loves his family. He actively WANTS to help care for his dad and we see him doing it. He's supporting his brother, his sister in law, and his niece, even as he KNOWS his brother is making terrible choices with his money. Even at his worst as he's physically attacking his brother he's still taking care of him. He knows they're going to hurt him over and over. He chooses not to distance himself, and that means not protecting himself.
This is supposed to be a fic tho, not an essay so here's what I would do: This fic is an interior look at two canon scenes: The first is Tuna Melt Day: Ilya gets that phone call from his dad, who needs him and is angry and upset. And Ilya has done everything he can to help his dad but it's not enough and he's counting on his brother and his brother doesn't answer. And then he has to shake it off and go back to hang out with Shane and he's desperate to pretend everything is normal. And then Shane immediately asks him about it. And you can SEE the fear in Ilya's eyes. He's spent the whole day trying to lure Shane closer; inviting him over, persuading him to stay, feeding him and flirting with him and making small talk. He wants Shane closer. This is too close though. This is a level of vulnerability that Ilya can't risk. So he deflects. And they still have the tenderest sex of all time. And then Shane PANICS and runs away and immediately starts dating Rose Landry. Holy fuck, says Ilya. That was kind of a mess. I'm glad I didn't make myself vulnerable to him. So why does this hurt so much?
And then it's All Stars. And Ilya has been trying (and failing) to not care about Shane. It has gone SO BADLY. What even is he hoping for at All Stars? I don't know. I doubt he knows. But here's Shane and he's SINGLE and he's flirting with Ilya and sneaking little looks at him through his sunglasses and WOW is playing with him fun. It's a good weekend for them and Ilya is asking himself if they can pick up where they left off and then Shane invites himself to Ilya's room and Ilya is like 😏. And then when he gets there Shane walks in with his heart on a plate and an apology and an absolute refusal of the polite fiction that is Ilya's last and at this point ONLY line of defense. It's already more than sex, they both know that, but Shane, with his characteristic and intensely North American sincerity, wants Ilya to ADMIT IT. And this time he won't let Ilya deflect. Shane, who RAN OUT the last time Ilya tried to get closer, won't accept less than being let all the way in. He wants Ilya's affection, his fear, and his honesty. If he has a knife it will be in Ilya's heart before he can even start to react. He hasn't let anyone this close since he was a small child. He hasn't let anyone this close since before his mother died.
And Ilya gives him everything. His fear for himself, his fear for his family. His impossible wants. And Shane climbs into his lap and wraps him up and holds him. And it's the warmest, softest, safest place Ilya has ever felt.
Second Option is a much shorter and goofier Murderbot Diaries fic where Murderbot tries to run a firearms training course. It goes like this: Gun handling: safety stays ON. Safety stays on ALWAYS. ALWAYS RATTHI. Target Practice: Not like that. NOT like that. Ok that's fine (it's not fine). That's pretty good even (it's still terrible). Situational Readiness: Ok remember your reaction time is slow as shit. So you have to be ready. Watch the Target (yes they ARE Targets, Thiago) and be ready to fire if they get close. But keep your safety ON. And don't fire if you can't make the shot. And don't fire if they're TOO close there's no point. Actually Ratthi give me the gun. I will handle the firearms. None of you are allowed out of my sight ever again.
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Writing ask meme time!!
2 or 17 or 33? Or all? Tis your choice!
:3 meme time!!
2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?
omg so many. Love a good trope. Love to write one someday. Right now I think I would really enjoy writing some fake dating, or some other fun form of "mutual pining while doing very stupid activities together."
17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?
I almost always write start to finish, in part because I'm an insufferable academic and I kind of think of my fiction as like... very weird essays? Also I am impatient and if I write something from farther along in the fic, I won't be able to post that thing for even longer and have to wait more >:(. I will do sort of shitty outlining where if I have ideas for stuff that happens later, that stuff goes in bullet points or one sentence notes at the end of the doc. Very occasionally if I think of a REALLY banger line for a later scene that also goes at the end of the doc.
The only really non-chronological writing I do is the pre-drafting stage, which for some reason 90% of the time happens by messaging someone else (usually you lol). And honestly that's still probably chronological more often than not.
33. How do you feel about crack?
Crack my beloved!! my favorite thing!!! I love it the very very most. One of the greater tragedies of my writing life is that my first default tone is EXTREMELY formal so writing crack is VERY DIFFICULT for me. If not for that I would write crack all day long and nothing could stop me.
I am fully vaccinated and antibodied up and I'm getting on a plane on Tuesday! I'm going to HUG MY MOM in less than 72 hours!
This means it's time for the end of the Distance Drabbles. The very last one is going to be #443. When I started I thought I was only going to do like 30 of them LOL. I'm going to miss this project so I want to give it a proper sendoff. (Also including the NIF Exchange Drabbles I will have written 484 of these things and I want to make it an even 500)
So I am taking PROMPTS! Send me a prompt and a pairing (or like...a single character or an OT3 or a polycule of your choice lol) and I will write a drabble for it :D. Any fandom on this blog is fair game.
You can send me basically anything you're craving, but if you need a little inspiration, here are all the prompts from my table that I somehow never rolled despite doing this every day for well over a year. They're under a cut because it's a long list.
Almost Kiss | No one's going to hurt you
Birthday Fic | When I'm with you, I'm home
Blind Date | There's nothing I can do anymore
Bodyguard AU | This is going to hurt
Curses | I'm scared
Dance AU | You're the one thing keeping me sane right now
Fake Dating | I just wanted to let you know that I think you're beautiful
Florist AU | Do you promise?
Historical AU | I can take care of myself just fine
In Vino Veritas | Are you going to talk to me
Once in a blue moon | you have the emotional capacity of a brick
Kink | Am I dead?
Locked in a room | Look at me
Neighbour AU | I just really miss talking to you
Prison AU | You've shown me what love can feel like
Secret Relationship | Come with me
Star Crossed Lovers | I'll walk you home
Survival/Wilderness Fic | Remember when we were little?
College!AU | You said so, didn't you?
Bath Bomb | Fortune Teller
Broken Promise | Retirement
celebration | Amnesia
cold | Bookstore
confetti | is it possible to die from embarrassment?
drinks | Mixed Up Shipment
Habits | Two friends
Hangover | Photo Album
healthy | Lipstick
Ice skating | Yawn
Military AU | Basket
mist | Stickers
priorities | Resolutions
Roommate AU | I'll never be able to enjoy a brownie again in my life, and it's all your fault
snow storm | Christmas tree
Hidden | Stumble
star gazing | Permanent marker
steaming mugs | wild goose chase
Stellar constellation | why is there an egg in my bed?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Xia Jiang’s mouth is flecked at the corners with foam, twisted with hate and desperation. Months of privation have stripped the humanity from him, and the animal beneath is a vicious, feral thing. Mei Changsu keeps his breathing even. He has walked through fire and hell. He has nothing to fear in this place or from this man, save only that Jingyan has come with him. For Jingyan, he will have to be clever and careful.
It is for this reason that he is genuinely paying attention as Xia Jiang raises his arm, finger pointed in accusation, and declares that this Mei Changsu is the famed criminal Lin Shu. Even so, it still catches him by surprise. He stares into Xia Jiang’s wild eyes, shock un-hidden on his face. There is no way Xia Jiang could possibly know this, and after a moment he realizes that Xia Jiang does not. He knows only that all is not as it seems, and has chosen the accusation most likely to upset the emperor. That he is right is pure coincidence, and it will not save him.
It is not only Xia Jiang in the room, though. When he turns away, he finds Jingyan staring at him, truth raw and brimming in his eyes. Xia Jiang has a wild guess with no evidence, but Jingyan has a bet unpaid for years, a god’s measure, and a suspicion that Mei Changsu has been dodging for months. Jingyan meets his eyes and Jingyan knows.
The emperor, meanwhile, is leaning in, eyes narrowed. “This man looks nothing like the criminal Lin Shu, Xia Jiang. How do you explain this?”
Xia Jiang bows low. “Your majesty, there are methods, people in the Jianghu with the power to give a person an entirely new body. The Xuanjing Bureau has records of such people living within our borders, some in the mountains near Meiling. Lin Shu must have relied on such a person to give him a new face, so that he might come back to destabilize your majesty’s rule.”
His declaration is interrupted by Jingyan’s snort. “This is your grand accusation? A witch in the mountains and a magical transformation? You waste the emperor’s time.”
“Jingyan.” The emperor’s voice is just at the edge of level. “The imperial library also has records of such people.”
Jingyan shakes his head. His eyes turn again to Mei Changsu, just for a moment. “I do not believe this. Even if such a thing were possible, Lin Shu is dead.” His eyes drop to Xia Jiang’s stooped form. “Xia Jiang has sworn these many years that he saw Xie Yu kill Lin Shu with his own eyes. Does Xia Jiang mean to say that he has been lying to the emperor since the days of the Chiyan Incident?”
Xia Jiang’s mouth twists in frustration. “Your Highness, if he were not Lin Shu, why would you have trusted him to advise you. Why would a Qilin Talent pick you, if he were not Lin Shu.”
Jingyan’s eyes cut to Mei Changsu’s face, before dropping to the floor. “If he were Lin Shu, he would never have hidden such a thing from me. If he were Lin Shu, he would have told me who he was. I do not believe this.”
Mei Changsu has at this point had quite a lot of practice in keeping his face neutral. He is certain he appears perfectly indifferent. Xia Jiang, meanwhile, grows increasingly desperate. He turns his accusations next on Mei Changsu, but it is becoming increasingly clear that he has run to the end of his plan. He has no further evidence to offer, merely circumstance and suspicion. Even a year ago, that would have been enough, but Xia Jiang has underestimated Jingyan’s skills, and Jingyan himself is no longer undefended. The emperor is paranoid, but he is not forgetful, and the spring hunt was only weeks ago. They are going in circles, but Xia Jiang is losing ground and he knows it.
“Mei Changsu,” cries Xia Jiang. “Will you allow your body to be examined, or will you confess your crimes now.”
“What would it accomplish?” snarles Jingyan. “If magic has given him an entirely new body, what proof could this examination offer? Any person might be Lin Shu, and there would be no way for anyone to show their innocence.”
The emperor’s fist tightens, and Mei Changsu makes his move. “I will confess that I am Lin Shu.” The room falls silent. He presses on. “There is no evidence that I can offer of my innocence, and Xia Jiang has no proof of my guilt. We are at an impasse. If his majesty wishes to execute me, I will not stand in his way. I am Lin Shu.”
For a moment, no one moves. The room is utterly still. Mei Changsu takes a breath. “Does his majesty believe me? At Mount Jiu An, it was Prince Jing who brought soldiers to save his majesty, where if he had delayed even one more hour, the throne would have been his to claim at that moment. It was Xia Jiang who sent Prince Yu’s rebellion to the mountain in the first place. I am loyal to the son of heaven. If he wishes me to confess, I will not refuse.”
The emperor shuts his eyes, and Mei Changsu knows that he has won. Xia Jiang clearly knows as well. He falls to his knees begging, and when this fails to win back the emperor’s trust, he lunges at Mei Changsu. He is still screaming entreaties as the guards drag him away.
Xia Jiang knows he is going to his death, and Mei Changsu sends a vague thought in Lin Chen’s direction. In his final words to the emperor, though, he has landed a blow. Gao-gonggong disappears on whispered orders, and the sudden, tense silence is loud enough to echo. The emperor tries to dismiss Jingyan but Jingyan, who has been vibrating with tension and visibly biting his tongue for most of this meeting, will not go. Not even to see his mother. He comes to the very edge of defying a direct order before Gao-gongong returns, and the veneer of pretense evaporates.
Mei Changsu is not sure what will happen, should he take the cup. His health has always been fragile, but starvation, thirst, cold, and heat pose no true threat to his un-life. His plans are not yet fulfilled, but Jingyan is well-positioned now, and certainly capable of carrying out the remaining steps without him. Lin Chen might see their wager paid, or he might not. Additionally, he has no idea how the emperor will react if he takes poison and lives. He reaches for the cup, but Jingyan is faster.
Jingyan’s jaw is tight, but his eyes are no longer wild and wide. His words are as steady as his hands. The poison in the little cup barely ripples. The emperor makes an abortive half-gesture towards him, but Jingyan’s shoulders are set with absolute certainty. He will not flinch. This same posture carried him out of hell. He meets his father’s eyes as he raises the cup towards his lips, and Mei Changsu is forced to consider yet another course of action. While he might survive the poison, Jingyan certainly will not. If one of them should drink, it should be him. He’s not sure, however, if he can wrestle the cup from Jingyan, and even if he could it would be wildly inappropriate. He might be executed anyway for laying hands on the crown prince. He is bracing himself for a surprise attack when the emperor caves, and Jingyan pours the poison on the floor.
The tension running out of the room staggers them all, but it is Mei Changsu who can barely keep his feet. Jingyan ushers him out of the room, and by the time Meng Zhi catches up with them he is swaying on his feet, almost grateful to accept the offered arm for support. Jingyan leaves to visit his mother, but his parting gaze is knife sharp, as clear as a vow.
Mei Changsu spends most of the remaining day in bed, a futile effort that does almost nothing to soothe his household. Li Gang is once again insisting that a doctor be called for, and Mei Changsu briefly wonders whether he might convince Lin Chen to visit, and how Li Gang would react. He’s not quite sure whether the chuckle that echoes softly in his ear is a memory or not, but he does not push his luck. Nie Feng is restored to his old self, delighted to be home with his wife, and Mei Changsu isn’t quite sure what all these favors are going to cost him in the end. Li Gang will fret, but Mei Changsu has been far sicker, and never yet has Li Gang disobeyed his orders.
It is late evening, most of the house abed, when the small bell in the passageway finally rings. Jingyan looks awful, drained and exhausted with tear tracks staining his cheeks. Only one of them is dead, but Jingyan looks like a man walking out of his grave nonetheless. Mei Changsu pulls him quickly into the study, and for a moment there is only quiet. It is difficult to meet Jingyan’s gaze, but impossible to look away.
“It is you then, isn’t it.” Jingyan’s voice is hoarse.
Mei Changsu nods, and fresh tears flow down Jingyan’s face. He takes a ragged breath.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to have to mourn me twice.” Two years ago, with Lin Chen, those words had sounded reasonable. Now, faced with Jingyan’s tears, they are idiotic and insufficient. He searches for something else when Jingyan speaks again.
“When I got home and you weren’t there,” his voice breaks. “I thought I had failed you somehow, or that I had been tricked, and you were never there, even though I was sure I had felt you behind me.”
Mei Changsu bites his lip. “I was with you all the way out of the underworld, but I woke up in Meiling. After that, I thought it would be better to gather strength, before I came back for you.”
Jingyan shuts his eyes. It does nothing to check the tears rolling down his cheeks. “These past two years, there were so many times I thought maybe—but by then I was so sure that I had failed. I thought I was going mad, that the gods were making me see things, to punish me for my hubris, for daring to ask for you back.”
It’s too much. Mei Changsu lunges across the space between them, pulling Jingyan in. Jingyan’s head tucks into his neck, and he is so warm against him, even as tears run into the collar of his robes. They are both shaking with the force of Jingyan’s sobs, and if Mei Changsu’s arms aren’t strong enough to hold them together, Jingyan meets him halfway. Mei Changsu presses his cheek to Jingyan’s head, whispers into his ear. “I never could have done any of this without you. You made all of this possible. You’re a miracle Jingyan. I bet my soul on you and I would do it again in a moment.”
Jingyan pulls back to look at him and he’s so close, his eyes so wide and full. Their eyes meet and they are both caught, suspended and still. Jingyan lifts a hand, and Mei Changsu is briefly certain it is reaching for him, but his fingers curl in on themselves and he tucks his hand away in his sleeve. Something flits across his face and he looks, for a moment, slightly embarrassed. His eyes on Mei Changsu’s are just a bit guarded as he gathers himself, spine straightening as he pulls back. These past two years, he has watched Jingyan pull away from him more times than he can count, and it has always hurt, but it has never felt wrong like this.
Something within him breaks, and he reaches for Jingyan. His fingers slip over Jingyan’s jaw, and he almost misses his hold, for Jingyan is already reaching back, leaning in, face tilting up to meet Mei Changsu’s own. Jingyan’s mouth is soft under his, a shy, vulnerable invitation. It breaks his heart, and he can do nothing but press in. Jingyan’s hands clutch at his robes, anchoring them together, and Mei Changsu leans into it, strives to pour as much of himself into Jingyan as he can. Perhaps he can patch Jingyan’s broken heart by feeding him pieces of his own. They fall in together, sinking to the floor, and Mei Changsu sends seeking hands to write certainty into Jingyan’s skin. I am here, I am here, I am here.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
In the end, it all goes exactly to plan. The emperor resists, but they are all aligned against him. He is left with no choice, and in the face of his own powerlessness he breaks. Mei Changsu looks into the face of the man he once called uncle, and for just a moment they see each other. It is not forgiveness, and there will never be mercy between them, but it is honest, and more than Mei Changsu had bothered to hope for.
It ends like this, with an investigation concluded, a crown prince ascendant, and Jingyan at his elbow as he steps over the threshold into his family’s reconstructed ancestral shrine. Tucked beside his parents is a tablet covered with a red cloth that he realizes with a jolt is his own. For a moment, he is tempted to remove the cloth—it’s hardly as though he is still living—but he has a purpose to fulfill, and he does not intend to pay respects to himself.
He fills his hands with incense. He half expects it to burn his skin, but he feels only the gentle curls of it pressing into his palms, before he pours it into the coals, lets the fragrant smoke fill the space. It blurs the air before him, but he does not need to see for this. The floor is cool under his aching knees as he brings his palms together, making the air ring. Across the city and throughout the kingdom, there are thousands of families making just these same bows, perhaps even at this same moment. In recent weeks a discrete market has sprung up, a response to the suddenly increased demand for incense, which the Jiangzuo Alliance has been quietly sourcing and selling at a loss in an effort to supplement the usual suppliers and keep prices low.
The last time the city filled with incense, it had been a flood, swamping him in darkness as he fought to keep his head above the surface. Now it is a tide, flowing past him and through him, tugging at his clothes, beckoning him forward. To the thousands of prayers making their rushing way towards his army camp he adds his own whispered message. I am coming. I will be with you soon. Please wait for me.
He sinks into his final bow, head pressed to the floor, his last respects paid, his prayers twining with the incense. He does not get up. He can no longer feel his hands, nor the cold floor under his knees and pressing against his forehead. The scent of incense fills his nose, clouding out all else.
Behind him, he hears Jingyan take a sharp breath, just as familiar hands cup his elbows. When he looks up, incense smoke rolls in plumes before him, blurring into long white robes, wreathing loose dark hair. Lin Chen draws him to standing and there is no pain, only the cooling wash of Lin Chen’s power, gentler here than he has ever felt it. His eyes are soft, far from human but almost gentle.
The room around them dims, even as the lights grow brighter. He can barely see the tablets for the bright wash of Lin Chen’s robes, the burning glare of candle flames. He is standing fully under his own power now, but Lin Chen’s hands remain steady on his arms. Mei Changsu raises an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m going to run?”
Lin Chen laughs, eyes dancing. “I’m about to get my foyer back after much inconvenience. I will take no chances.” His eyes flick over Mei Changsu’s shoulder, and after a moment he inclines his head. “Your highness. You must accept my congratulations for your many singular achievements.” Jingyan sputters in shock, and Lin Chen presses on. “I do apologize for the misunderstanding, and the delay. It was not my decision to make you wait such an absurdly long time. I hope that you may now hold my word fulfilled.”
Mei Changsu turns just in time to see Jingyan let out a harsh bark of laughter. His face is stained with tear tracks, but even so, his mouth is twisted into a rueful smile. He drops into a deep bow. “I thank the lord of death for his kind words. This one would never dream of holding a god responsible for the decisions of his subjects.”
Lin Chen snorts. “Just so.” The hands under Mei Changsu’s arms nudge him gently. “Are you going to say goodbye? I will not give you another opportunity, you know.”
He half expects not to be able to leave Lin Chen’s grasp, but his arms slip free easily, Lin Chen’s fingertips brushing over his hands as he turns. In a few painless steps, he has Jingyan in his reach, and then in his arms. These past weeks, he cannot count the number of times he has held Jingyan like this, but this time, just this once, his arms have new strength and there is no pain as he pulls him close. Jingyan’s sobs shake them both, and for a moment he is frantic to spare him this pain, but of course it is far too late. Instead he lets his hands slide up to cradle Jingyan’s head, pressing their foreheads together. He can feel Jingyan’s ragged breath sliding over his lips where his own breath has stopped. Lin Chen is just behind him, a hand reaching out to land butterfly-light on his shoulder. He leans forward to press his lips to Jingyan’s one last time, presses closer when Jingyan’s lips part under his in a desperate welcome. The warmth of his mouth is the last thing he feels as the world goes black.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
In honor of NIF Week I have once again updated the drabble compendium on AO3. So if you want to read all of the NIF drabbles, they are now all in one place again (at least for the next few hours).
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It begins with a sound, a slow, rhythmic pounding that echoes off the stones and fills every corner of the endless hallways. The scouts Lin Shu sends can find nothing, and when he ventures out himself the hallways twist back against him, taking him nowhere useful. The sound is everywhere present, neither fading nor growing in volume, keeping steady time with his silent footsteps. It is far too long before he places the familiar rhythm, knows that what he hears is the sound of a beating heart. He returns to the camp and draws the ranks together, preparing for anything that might come.
He is sitting with his mother when Fei Liu comes to find him. His mother gasps, and Lin Shu stares. His quick, bright energy is so out of place outside of the garden, and in his hand he clutches a single, perfect orange. His small face is fiercely determined, jaw set.
Lin Shu is rising to greet him when Fei Liu darts close and takes his hand, gripping tight. “Come now,” he says in his strange child’s voice. “Su-gege, come.”
Fei Liu tugs on his hand and he follows, trotting through uncounted silent hallways. Fei Liu does not speak again, and Lin Shu finds himself idly wondering where Fei Liu learned that name for him, how Fei Liu persuaded the orange tree, whether Fei Liu can hear the beating of the heart as he does, how Fei Liu found his camp. He has never seen him anywhere but the garden.
It is not the garden that Fei Liu leads him to. As he stumbles to a halt, he finds himself in the throne room, with Lin Chen before him sprawled over the polished stone. Lin Chen does not look up when they enter. His eyes are fixed on the figure kneeling before him, and it is only Fei Liu’s grip that keeps him upright because that is Jingyan on the floor.
His shoulders are straight, squared with certainty even as he kneels, and he is so bright in this dark room, so unmistakably alive. His heart keeps certain steady time, ringing in Lin Shu’s ears, and his words are as certain as Lin Shu had known they would be. Every part of him hums to step closer but he finds he cannot move.
Lin Chen’s voice is as cold as Lin Shu has ever heard it. There is nothing at all in his eyes as he looks at Jingyan. When Jingyan answers him, offering his own life, Lin Shu finds himself lurching forward, a scream stillborn in his throat as he stumbles to his knees on disobedient legs. Fei Liu brushes past him in a whisper of silk, soaring over his head to land at Lin Chen’s side. He is there only a moment, leaping away as Lin Chen reaches for the orange in his hand. Lin Chen’s eyes follow him as he soars across the room, and when he settles behind Lin Shu, those eyes come to rest on him.
Lin Shu knows what it is to meet Death’s gaze, but this is not that. He feels himself measured, assessed, but he is not flayed open. These are the eyes that have mocked him under plum blossoms, the long endless roll of time unraveling in idle conversation, the sweet scent of the oranges overripe in the air. It is a momentary thing. When Lin Chen turns back to Jingyan he is Death absolutely. Power rolls through the room, cold and drowning as it washes through him. What speaks, finally, is that which dwells in the depths of his friend's eyes.
He can feel those words sliding under his ribs, binding his soul, molding the terms he swore to. He sees them settle on Jingyan’s shoulders, sees him square up against their weight. He staggers to his feet as Jingyan does.
The hall rolls out before them, an endless line of shining stone. Jingyan walks as he always walks, with sure purpose and steady feet. He takes his first step in Jingyan’s shadow, and a voice brushes against his mind.
You will bear a heavy price for this as well, little marshal. You are not of the living, and you do not belong in the living world. Every moment you spend there will be agony without respite. Are you prepared?
Yes, he thinks, as his feet pace with Jingyan’s, as Jingyan draws him forward.
Should he succeed, know that you will be on borrowed time. I will keep my word; you have one chance. Should you fail you will return to me regardless.
I will, he thinks. He feels the cold of the stones seeping up through his boots.
Then follow him out, Mei Changsu.
The path is endless, unmarked and unmeasured. His world is the line of Jingyan’s shoulders, the back of his dear head, fixed forward, as certain as starlight. There is light beyond him, faint and impossibly distant, but piercing to eyes that have not known light for time beyond counting. The rhythm of their silent feet is the heartbeat he has lost, unweary and sure.
The camp has turned out to watch them pass. His soldiers meet his eyes with pride in their faces. He did not know each one’s name while he lived. He does now. Minister Zhang stares at him with naked hope in his eyes. He sees now why the other ministers had always thought he was terribly young.
The last faces he sees are his parents, standing with Prince Qi. His father’s shoulders are bowed in grief even now. He tries to call out to him, but there is no sound in this place. His mother’s eyes on him are steady, bearing him forward as she grips his father’s hand. Prince Qi’s eyes are immeasurably sad on him, hope the faintest shadow in their depths. He holds his gaze with all the certainty of his soul. I will find your son, he thinks, and it feels like a promise.
The light ahead is brighter now. His legs begin to ache. His feet are cold and sore. Jingyan keeps a steady pace ahead of him, their strides in perfect, matched rhythm. He knows the endlessness of death, he will not falter.
He can see nothing but Jingyan now, ringed by the rising sun, steadfast, unwavering, shining. He is so near now, he could reach out and touch him. He could lay a hand on his shoulder, walk by his side as he did all the days of their lives. Jingyan has carried him all this way. Jingyan will carry him home.
He follows Jingyan into the sunrise. The light blinds him.
Hey friends! No Ragged Banner update this week. I’m going on hiatus for the month of December to just chill a bit (and also build up my chapter buffer because this Fall was a LOT). Updates will resume in January :D
