#decthless

a mere moth to a flame, knowing the ache that will come, yet still unable to move away. from the corner of his eyes, watching, yet pretending not to see. a curiosity that never leaves. an itch that he can never scratch. a wound that has not scabbed over, for often he picks at the scars. during all of this inner turmoil, if one were to ask lian how the festivities are going ( barring the tragedy that has occurred ) he'd clap his hands and give them one of his signature smiles. start a conversation about how lovely vallarion is, how kind and welcoming the ruling family has been — how he has heard again and again in his travels the beauty of this land, yet how difficult it is to actually walk these grounds. have you ever seen such a gorgeous shade of orange? isn't the air warmer than usual in this city? the topic would change within the blink of an eye, and he would no longer need to think about things that hurt to think about. one's mind is not as easy to distract as a stranger's, and it takes only so long before he cannot fight the magnetic pull of curiosity, of knowing his brother is within reach, and yes choses to stay away. always making the same choice. never attempting to breach the gap between them, no matter how much lian used to try. a few strides that always felt like worlds in between. a door between two realities. lian won't try anymore. it is of no use. he gave up years ago on trying to make amends, yet there is still a lot to be said, even without amends. as compulsive as he always has been, he decides there is no need to talk to him until the split second he changes his mind — seeing those familiar robes, he is brought back to memories of their home, the smell of trees, something lost, something that may never be found again. his feet move before he can stop them. his shoes are quiet against the warm soil, yet he doesn't assume he will surprise sheng; the older has always been the better fighter out of the two. "diànxià —" the word is heavy in his throat, feels like gravel in his mouth, carefully chosen. he does not call sheng gege anymore, haven't for a while, not when he decided he does not want to be brothers. and if that is dramatic to utter out loud, lian would say they would need to talk properly in the first place to fix things, which they rarely do. once the title is out, it feels difficult to find the right words. jumping into the water, yet not knowing how to swim, another one of lian's moments of carelessness. nonetheless, he pushes on with brute force, questions fall after another. it feels less difficult, knowing that they stand next to each other. not eye to eye. "do you have time? i am curious... about what your highness thinks of this ritual." a pause, before he has to clarify he has been asking this to everyone around him ( he has not ). "i have been asking around."

while the seeds of suspicion were planted long before their arrival in elaris keep, the news that followed only made it grow faster. the uneasy feeling in the youngest nuwa grew, taking more and more place within his lungs, threatening to break through his ribs. before hearing about the death of the ruling lady, before knowing the name that had been on the list, there was much to be happy about, it was easy to ignore the nagging feeling. for once in what felt like decades, their relationship had felt lighter, in the wake of their spar and matching bruises that ached, yet left them laughing as if they were young again. then, the glee of being able to leave braxigar had come, and made any speculations unimportant. but now, as the young nuwa paces around in their room, waiting for the elder to come out, he is left with a feeling he cannot begin to describe. within his grasp, there are pieces of a puzzle that do not fit one another. whispers that were barely heard, sheng ushering people out of rooms, something happening at the corner of lian's eyes, yet never fully visible. by all rational capacities, it's paranoia. another manifestation of his fear of being left out- of being abandoned, this time in knowledge, not in presence. he could very well ignore this, add it to his list of shortcomings, yet he is nothing if not impulsive, and it only tends to get worse when his emotions run amok. once the other is within grasp, lian walks quickly up to him, expression serious, hiding the distress underneath. "sheng." lian starts, and the words threaten to burst out of him, after having been ricocheting inside his skull for too long - at least by his own standards. "i need to talk to you." a pause to take a deep breath. "back in vallarion, do you remember you told me to come to you when i feel if something is amiss? if anything feels wrong?" another step forward, crimson hues meeting those that should be familiar. lian doesn't know if they are. "i think something's wrong." the pin drops. "and you are keeping it from me."

dark robes hang across wide shoulders, draping across the sofa, ends of the fabric reaching the floor. haneul sits near one of the arms, legs crossed over one another; a book lies across their lap, a hand idly playing with the corner of a page. their attention is not fully there, yet there is somewhat of an attempt to take in the information at their fingertips. another book about heliophra and its nature, something they know they should know more about, but there are many thoughts that cloud their mind to focus. one particular thought stands at the center of it, one shaped in the form of their young brother, and they wait until the younger is done preparing, settling in, dressing up — before entering the main room. "baeksa." they start, before they look up, words flat, void of any embellishment. their finger on the book pauses its movements, and closes the book shut. only then they look up, eyes dark, searching. there is an answer they await, something they wish would come unprompted. but as it stands, through the long journey that was made and in the month before, not spoken into the space between them. they know it to be foolish to assume it will come now, after all this time, yet they give the younger another opportunity to talk to them, before they do. "now that all hollows have reunited..." a tilt of their head, eyes focused on the younger, taking in their reaction. "anything you wish to talk about?"

in tumultuous times like these, it takes more effort to keep the other side of themself calm. it yearns to be out in the woods, with the rest of its kind, free from the shackles of fate and chaos they are currently bound to. it wishes to feel the wind on their face, for their feet to dig into the soil, to climb trees, and trek across the vast darkness of the forest that feels like home. the very same instinct yearns to curl around the kid that is their brother and be home in morkhul, where they are the most powerful, on familiar terrain, able to take over the world. now, every step must be calculated, every word spoken with gravity. no one knows why the fire started, who was behind it, or why it happened in the first place. and if there is something they hate, it's the unknown, preparing for something they cannot grasp. that does not mean they will not try to flip the script, yet they are also aware of their chances of success. that's where two parts of them cannot settle on an answer. they know how fickle baeksa' interest can be, how quickly they get bored, yet there is a certain relief and power in knowing where the younger is. once baeksa begins to rouse from his slumber, haneul slowly sits next to him on the bed, expression calm as they watch recollection settle into his features. "good morning, baek-ah." it's almost afternoon, yet they do not say it pointedly. a hand settles on top of the sheets next to him, able to be reached if the younger wishes. "eat something. it's getting late." their other hand gestures to the tray that was served earlier, plates full of food.