#goldenstrength

@goldenstrength

HEARING THOSE WORDS, his heart clenched. If it had been anyone else, Wei Wuxian would have said, ‘Of course we’re not the same. I am—’ but right now, all he can think of is ‘I know. I can’t help but think that is true too.’ Jin Ling is pure, a child born of innocence and alluded from the tragic stories wrought in the two generations that preceded him, but why is it that he sees the pain carried in his eyes? No, that was wrong, Wei Wuxian thought. Jin Ling should never have to carry the burden left in the wake of the Wens, nor… him. He should have lived as carefree and unbounded as Sizhui, despite their backstories. He should’ve enjoyed the world and life his grandparents and parents fought so hard to carve out for him and yet—

Send a ❤️ to kiss my muse. Send a 💙 for my muse to kiss yours. // @goldenstrength

He found Jin Ling fast asleep on the bed of the inn, appearing too tired to even bother that he wasn’t properly undressed. This definitely means that he was tired out by their adventures in the morning—Lanling Jin was famed to have the most comfortable and luxurious beds of all the cultivational sects with their habit of spending money like water—so for Jin Ling to be able to sleep so soundly in a mediocre inn with thin blankets and sheets, this could only mean that fatigue had worn him out. 

Wei Wuxian walks in, freshly out of the bath, and tosses his clothes onto the bed next to Jin Ling’s that was his. How uglily he slept! Wei Wuxian could not help by giggles to himself, bending down to bring the teenager’s leg fully onto the bed and tuck him in, pulling the blanket further up his body so it covers his chest. The way he slept when he was tired reminded him of himself. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng both had been ugly sleepers, especially when they’re tired from long lengthy days under the sun, looking like wild monkeys that marathoned halfway across the earth. A moment later, a whimper sends him spinning his head back, blinking widely. The teenager had thrashed and kicked and—Wei Wuxian leans in closer with an ear. Did Jin Ling just talk in his sleep? If anything, the child appears to be having a nightmare. 

Then, for some reason, he felt an urge. One that was lost long in time since the day his life was robbed of Jiang Yanli. He closes his eyes, raising a hand to sweep Jin Ling’s bang off his face before pressing a kiss on his forehead—these were things Jiang Yanli used to calm him down back when he was having nightmares too. 

[[ album meme. echos. ]]

𝑵𝑬𝑷𝑯𝑬𝑾:

let it never be assumed that jin guangyao was surprised by such behaviors from a teenager because that was wholly the opposite of the case: as a matter of fact, such should be expected, especially from jin ling, volleyed constantly betwixt two uncles whose conceptual recognition of ‘raising a child’ were wholly and almost laughably distant. jiang cheng resembled his mother, and in a way so, too, did jin guangyao. while once was indeed the thunderous role of distant lightning and a storm while guangyao’s hand could be surprisingly gentle, really.

on the rare occasion that his heel did have to be placed firm upon the ground these lashings were expected from a teenager. never enjoyed, but respected, so as the chief cultivator lowered slowly the letter that he was reading, placing it flat upon the table before him, he rose.

❛ jin ling, ❟ spoke the cognitive articulation of his tone, neither overly harsh nor soft, and there was only the most fleeting instance of a smile lingering at the corner of his lips, (because this child saw so many frowns from his other uncle it felt almost unkind to grant them to him now, even as he acted like–well, a brat) ❛ i don’t doubt your competence, but i cannot in good conscience send you alone. ❟ it was not wholly unlike the worrying parent whose child desires to travel far away, alone, for the first time. 

but mayhap the chief cultivator was the fretting mother here as he shook his head: ❛ i will be sending cultivators with you, to escort you on your way to yunmeng– ❟ 

𝑱𝑰𝑵 𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮:

he felt for those that were young but had youth rent asunder from them, pulled from beneath their feet with the ferocity of a crumbling bridge that stood as a singular defense line from a plummeting chasm and tumultuous river churning beneath, and deep within his chest did he relate to such aches in pains. turned out, more often than not, that those children became more willing, as if they felt obligated, to fill rolls to big for them; to try and bridge gaps that their small forms are unable to, and he knew the pain. but unfortunately, he was limited here. this was not his son, but he supposed he was the nearest to a kind parent that jin ling knew. 

had his mother at least survived, that would have been different, but fate played in ways even the calculating chief cultivator was abhorrently imperceptive to. 

❛ you don’t have to do anything this time, a-ling. ❟ the voice was soft as he lifted his head to look at jin ling from where he currently sat (their height disparity wasn’t quite to the point that he had to look up when standing but something in his core informed him one day such may be the case–unless he took after his mother–)

[ softness / accepting / @goldenstrength ]