#the eepies...

@sixeard​​:    close he lays, resting head against old friend's shoulder. macaque's eyelids droop, heaved by stone weighted sleep. fur flicks with the wind and a yawn steeps off of growl-stapled lips. all he can manage is a grunt towards his yang.

    how long has it been since they’d fallen asleep?    (since they’ve been this close to each other?)    time seems to blur together in the threshold between dreams and reality,    where centuries and minutes are but a step away from each other.    wukong almost believes that they’ve been sitting like this forever-    with macaque’s head resting and wukong sitting uncharacteristically still,    broad shoulder unwavering,    as sturdy as he can will it to be.    

the classic wukongian urge to wake him up is there;    the tempting pull towards their new normal-    it’s safe,    in a twisted way,    a place where he can never truly see the tangibility of the damage he’s dealt,    where the yin is cast wholly in the yang’s devouring shadow-    but the monkey king does nothing to disturb his old friend.    for once,    he simply is. 

macaque follows in his footsteps soon after,    slowly rousing from his slumber.    old monkey can feel every movement against him-    the rustle of his fur,    the shift in his weight,    his cheek against his collarbone.    wukong returns his greeting with an incoherent grumble,    resting his temple against his yin’s.