#deni writes

There's the slight twitch of his left cheek, meaning he must be angry, if the curled fist on his lap isn't a giveaway already. A raised eyebrow with his face tilted sideways, that he is holding himself back from disagreeing with whatever is being spoken. Short exhale of breath, a tiny huff-- truly angry now, with his shoulders tense. Always with a smile though, his lips pressed in a tight line. Not pleasant at all.

Not pleasant to Mingjue's heart, even more.

There was a time when Mingjue had visited the Cloud Recesses as a child with his father, his first visit there, and was asked to occupy himself with a tour of the sect by the Young Master Lan. It had all been so boring. His face must have given him away because Lan Xichen--you can call me Lan Xichen, Nie-gongzi--then you can call me Nie Mingjue--had taken him to climb a tree! In the Cloud Recesses! By the Young Master of Lan!

He had seen Lan Xichen smile for the first time then, a wide smile, all teeth and happiness. Climbing tress is my favourite thing in the world, Nie Mingjue, he had said.

Isn't it against the rules? Mingjue had asked and Xichen had smiled so shyly. A child still, not asked to hold himself back. A child under his mother's care still-- however infrequent.

I'm allowed to do it under the supervision of an elder. It's okay! Isn't it fun? Mingjue had grumbled about being only three years older than him but, yes, it really was very fun.

Xichen's laugh was even lovelier.

He had, however, never seen Xichen cry. Not when he was rarely admonished by Grandmaster Lan. Not even when Madam Lan passed away. Not when he was the target of unfavorable gossip, nor after his first kill in a nighthunt. Never, not once. The man doesn't even show anger, the question of letting out grief and sadness to the surface might not have even crossed his mind.

When Mingjue had taken him around one of the springs in Qinghe and told him, I like you, Xichen. Asked him, allow me to court you? Xichen nodded once, his face flushed, raised his head and kissed Mingjue's cheek in acceptance.

Mingjue had barked a delighted laugh and asked, well, aren't you going to say it back? Or answer me? Xichen had blinked at him--not once, those series of blinks he does, the ones he doesn't even realise he is doing--and looked so adorably confused. Mingjue might have teared up at how fond he was of this precious man. His Xichen.

It is only the thoughts of his smiles, all for him, that have kept him sane from losing it all during the time Xichen went missing after the burning of the Cloud Recesses. He is busy checking out sword supplies when a disciple informs him of Xichen's return.

He doesn't recall what all has happened in the time it takes him to to enter the room Xichen is in and then Xichen is in his arms, safe and maybe thinner than before--nothing that can't be fixed with regular meals--and he feels like he is floating, and he needs to breathe but Xichen--Xichen, he is--he is--

"Da-ge, Da-ge. It's okay, it's okay, A-Jue. I'm here, I'm okay, see," Xichen says, and Xichen's sweet voice is a punch to his gut and he thinks more tears escape him-- such a bother, he can't see his Xichen!

Xichen's hold on him is painful, his hands digging into Mingjue's arms. He has always knows Xichen's emotions come forth in actions, his smile not an indication of his thoughts or state-- but his grip on Mingjue's wrist, the clash of his sword against Mingjue's saber, his resolve to steel himself and not say anything, his decision to let his Uncle speak-- all of this says so much more about Lan Xichen than his smile does.

Now, however, Xichen's smile is as telling as his vice grip on Mingjue. There's relief on his face, "A-jue, I'm so happy to see you, so happy," and the unsaid I was so scared I would never see you again digging into Mingjue's arms.

"Xichen," he brings both his hands to cup Xichen's face, "Xichen." The expression on the first Jade is so unlike him that it undoes Mingjue and he says what he has never said. "Xichen, you are allowed to cry."

He knows, has known for a while now, that Xichen doesn't allow himself selfish words just as he doesn't allow himself selfish displays of emotions. Like, he was never told that he could. Like, he doesn't know how to.

"I--I-- but why would I?"

Nobody tells you that you can hear your own heart break, that you can hear the crushing weight of it focused into one soft unbearable whimper.

"Oh Xichen, why wouldn't you? Your sect was burned, your father died, your Uncle and Wangji were hurt and you-- you, Xichen," he can't bring himself to finish the thought, let alone speak of it. "Why shouldn't you, my silly Xichen? You can let go now," he assures him. He brings Xichen's hands to cup his own face in return, let's Xichen feel the moisture of the tears marring his face.

Xichen let's out a strangled noise, a sob, like--like he has never, like he hasn't, like he--

Rider Challenge #5: The Rider’s Parade 

I had never been one to believe in miracles, at least not in the grandiose, end all be all sort of way most people did. At least not until I met Rowan. Because it was a sort of small miracle when she started to come watch me on the beach every day, staying until I stopped training and dragged my exhausted body over to talk. A girl like Rowan, all city-light eyes and star-crossed smile, did not befriend a girl like me. And yet…

We formed an easy companionship.

The more I got to know Rowan, the more I wanted, needed her to like me. She couldn’t possibly have understood it, but when she stood next to me on the beach and talked about New York City, I found new resolve.

I was tired. I was scared, though I tried not to show it. I still hadn’t told my parents why I needed to race. Every day I went home, locked Elemental in the paddock, helped with the sheep, and prayed my parents would continue their steady pace of ignoring me. They were angry with me, for racing. I knew they were scared for me, that every day I went to the beach they feared I wouldn’t come home again.

How was I supposed to tell them that their biggest fear was my wildest dream?

“Tell me more about New York,” I begged, for what must have been the billionth time that day.

It was lucky for me that Rowan loved New York as much as I dreamed about it, because she never seemed bothered by feeding me more. Every microscopic detail I absorbed like a sponge. The yellow of the taxis, the horse-drawn carriages in central park that no local would ever step foot in, the warm smell of rain flushing up from under the subways in the spring, and people everywhere you could look.

“New York City,” I can’t help the happy sigh that escapes me. My longing for this thing I cannot have grows stronger by the day. Rowan catches my eyes, raising a bemused eyebrow, and I explain. “It’s just, that’s where I want to go.”

“Really? Why?” There was always a why with Rowan. I was beginning to think Rowan catalogued information, that she needed every detail so she could map a person out inside her head.  What if Rowan didn’t like the map she found in me? What if Claire Dalton would always just be the girl who read to the sheep?

“Thisby isn’t home,” I tried to explain it, but I could see Rowan’s confusion. She didn’t understand that Thisby would be the place I lived, without my having any love for it. “Ok, obviously it is my home, but I don’t feel like I belong here, if that makes any sense.”

Without meaning too, I reach out for Elemental, and he pushes his nose gratefully into my palm. I am happy for this small touch, for the reassurance that even if Rowan doesn’t understand the ache in my soul, Elemental does.

Rowan cracks a sly grin, and I cannot help but laugh at her unspoken words.

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to. You’re the queen of not belonging here.”

The words leaving my mouth stir something in me. I am more than the wanting in my bones. I am more than the ache in my stomach. I am more than the girl who climbed into the sea and tamed murder incarnate. I am more than Claire Dalton. Or I can be. I will be.

I grab Rowan’s hand, pulling her along with me towards the waves. Confusion paints her face, but she doesn’t resist. We’ve built an easy friendship in our few days together. As if we were meant to meet. Meant to be friends. Meant to inspire something in each other.

When my feet touch the waves, I stop and stare out at the sea. Rowan stares with me, patient as always. The wild, reckless part of her is probably thrilled by my manic behavior. She knows something exciting is to come, that the quiet girl she met on Skarmouth has finally come alive.

“This is my last year standing on this beach,” I tell her. Determination makes my voice harder than normal, lacking the usual whimsy that graces the pitch. “I’m going to win.”

Her laugh is light, the opposite of Thisby. If I look hard enough, I can see the city in her eyes. She is glowing with it, as if she’d captured every glimmering light in the New York City skyline and held them captive inside her body. “Wasn’t that already the plan?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t mean it before. Not really. But I do now.”

-

The Rider’s parade is the chaos I’ve come to love during the races. Everywhere, I am looking for Rowan in the crowd, though I know she likely  won’t show up until later. We hadn’t planned to meet for a few hours. Still, I wish she were here to watch me walk with the rest of the riders. My name is the whisper on the wind, a rustle of near indistinguishable voices murmuring my assent.

There is a rush you feel, when you realize your dreams have become the dreams of others. When I entered the races, I never thought that anyone would cast their votes in for me. I never thought I would be at the top of the riders board. I never thought anyone would believe I could win.

But the whispers don’t lie. Claire Dalton, she’s the one to beat.

My nerves are still uneasy, unused to the wild and reckless beat of hope in my heart. I long for Rowan’s easy laugh, or Elemental’s steady breathing. They are my only friends, the grandest pieces of my life. But it feels right that I attend the parade on my own. For the first time I am holding myself up, becoming the girl I swore to myself I would be.

Headcanons :

Killer physically cannot eat because of the amount of toxic DT in his system . He will puke up any food he eats , so he can't even have monster food to help his HP . He doesn't really - tell anyone about it , he just sorta skips meals .  He CAN drink stuff though , because it's easier to convert to magic before he pukes it up like food .

Also Killer is called Kit or Kip in an affectionate way by the others

— — — — —

Horror and Dust stop as they pass Killer's room , concerned . From the inside , Killer is heard coughing badly . Dust moves to knock on the door but stops when the coughing stops and he hears a loud thud . Horror opens the door and both of them rush to Killer , who is kneeling on the ground , a puddle of a mix of magic and toxic DT on the ground in front of him . He looks sick and nearly falls to the side but Horror manages to grab him in time . He sits back with Killer curled up against him , concern filling his eyes as Dust teleports out to get Nightmare . " What happened , Kit .. ? " Horror mumbles , rubbing Killer's back in an attempt to help . 

" ..'S nothin .. " Killer mumbles . Horror glares in response . " Yeah right , nothing . " Horror says sarcastically , rolling his eyelight . He keeps his arms wrapped around Killer and hums a soft tune while he waits for Dust to get back with Nightmare . Killer groans in pain , pulling his knees further up to his chest . Horror continues to rub circles in Killer's back , which seems to help at least a bit . Dust arrives moments later with a very concerned Nightmare , who is holding some medicine . 

Nightmare crouches down . " Killer , " He says sternly to Killer , who mumbles in annoyance and looks away . " Did you try to eat again ? " Nightmare whispers , so only Killer can hear . Killer nods again , looking down . " … I thought it would be different by now .. " He mumbles and Nightmare sighs in response . 

" Here . " Nightmare says softly , handing Killer some of the ( liquid ) medicine . Killer glares , not wanting to take it , but Nightmare gives a much sharper glare that makes Killer look down . Killer reluctantly takes the medicine , face scrunching up at the taste . He buries his face in the fluff of Horror's jacket with an annoyed mumble mixed with a yawn . Horror rests his chin on Killer's head , and Nightmare sits next to both of them . Dust turns to leave but hesitates when he feels both Horror and Nightmare's eyes on his back . With a sigh , he settles down next to them as well , Nightmare's tentacles curling around all of them , forming something similar to a blanket . Horror and Killer fall asleep quickly , while Dust takes a bit longer , and Nightmare last . The two bitties , Ink and Reaper , look at eachother in the doorway then curl up in their respective spots , Ink on Killer's shoulder and Reaper in Horror's jacket pocket . 

— — — — —

Cross could remember the last time he had seen Killer , but also ... couldn't . He could remember Killer going on some spiel and walking off , sounding excited , but he couldn't remember what it was about . He had been tuning him out .

Stars , why hadn't he listened ? If he had listened , he would have some semblence of where Killer was right now . It had been two weeks since he had last seen Killer , when usually his disappearances only last a couple days or so . Today , his worry had somehow built to a big enough extent for Cross to go looking for him . He couldn't be far , right ?

Cross continued to walk down the streets , footsteps brisk and hand ready to grab his weapon if needed . He looked down every alleyway , every accessible building , but yet .. couldn't find the idiot . He mentally berated himself for caring so much . Killer was probably just distracted or something . The twisting feeling in his soul was only him being aware of any danger nearby .

" Augh . Where IS he ?! If he got himself lost over something stupid like a damn moth I swear I'll - "

He stopped , facing the end of an alley , eyelights going out as he stared at the ripped jacket at the end of the alley , a bloodied rock laying on top . There was no dust , it had been too long for that to still be there . The alley had clearly been the scene of a fight , anything that had been laying in the alley basically crushed from the scuffle .

" .... No . No , no , no . This .. this can't be happening , right . . . ? K - Killer .. ?! C'mon . Stop messing around . " Cross calls out with a strained smile , stiffly walking over to the jacket . He stood there , simply ... staring for a moment , no longer speaking . What would he say ?