"i hate seeing you like this ." Yingxing
Yingxing is home from the forge uncharacteristically early. Dan Feng notes this idly, his gaze drifting to the clock on the wall - the most he's moved since before the artisan had left in the first place. Upon seeing the vidyadhara in the same crumpled heap he'd been in early that morning, Yingxing sighs. "I hate seeing you like this," he says. Dan Feng says nothing. Moves nothing.
Yingxing sits beside him on the bed, removing his gloves to pull his hair back, gently stroking his cheek. His temperature feels normal at least. A little on the cooler side, but it always is. He presses a kiss to his temple, and the dragon finally stirs.
"Don't tease," he grumbles hoarsely.
"I'm not," Yingxing replies. "Jing Yuan told me what happened. You overdid it, didn't you?"
Dan Feng closes his eyes.
"Hey. Didn't you sleep while I was gone?"
Yingxing frowns. "You need water, right?" he guesses. He's seen Dan Feng like this before. Kind of. Never quite so severe. If he'd gone back to Scalegorge Waterscape, his attendants would have been ready for him, but he came to Yingxing instead. Dragons don't come with instruction manuals. It makes the most logical sense to him, though.
Dan Feng's eyes flicker open. It almost seems like he had forgotten that simple fact himself. "Right..."
Without another word, Yingxing vanishes, returning with a tall glass of water. He pulls Dan Feng into an upright position to drink it, and despite how he initially protests, he quickly finishes the entire thing. Yingxing takes the empty glass from him and he leans forward, resting his forehead on the craftsman's shoulder.
"Did you know them?" he asks. Dan Feng shakes his head.
"Doesn't matter. Too far gone. Maybe if I didn't waste... Or if I was stronger. Could've saved one? Don't know..." As he speaks, he reaches for that power again. The sensation of what usually feels like rushing waters is more like a sad little puff of steam. But a puff of steam is much better than a bone dry desert.
Yingxing gives him a nudge and his connection slips. "Knock it off."
"You're no better," he grumbles. Yingxing snorts.
"And you fuss over me too."
"Like to fuss over you," Dan Feng purrs weakly, twirling a lock of silver hair around his fingers. He admires it for a moment. "I'll go back... tomorrow."
Yingxing looks doubtful. He doesn't have to say anything. Dan Feng is so drained he can hardly string together full sentences, let alone complete the rituals that will be asked of him when he does return to the waterscape.
The community will mourn the losses. The species will mourn. And as their high elder, their healer, Dan Feng will too. He will guide them through it, even. He has no choice. A lot of them have never even experienced a true death before. Yingxing can only imagine that the traditions are full of cloudhymn magic, solemn, lengthy, and dramatic. Dan Feng will fit in perfectly. His attendants will clean him up well, and he'll play his part earnestly, even if it means he's catatonic for another week afterwards. He probably will be.
"Lover," Dan Feng purrs again. "You could pretend to believe me."
"I believe that you believe that." Yingxing brings him closer and Dan Feng leans his whole weight onto him. He needs more water. Neither of them have eaten much of anything either. But Dan Feng sighs quietly as Yingxing's warmth sinks into him, and the craftsman concedes with a frown that he can't move him yet.
