#traittor

           “Or… you could wear what you have on and go as a jackass. ”

He Xuan knew better than to get involved. He had no desire to ever set foot in the Heavenly Capital again, hell, he would be a happy man if he never had to face another Heavenly Official in the next hundred years. Unfortunately he was indebted to Hua Cheng and once word reached him that the White Calamity would possibly take advantage of the opening of Mount Tonglu He Xuan had to promise to lend his support. He would keep his distance, act from the shadows, it was what he had always done, the last thing he wanted was to travel with Crimson Rain and his merry band of Heavenly Officials. No, that was not quite the truth. The last thing he wanted was to be here at all, but he owed it to Hua Cheng to play his part, and therefore he would.

The opening of Mount Tonglu had been unpleasant. The tremors that shook the earth had awoken him from his well-deserved rest, but they also kept torturing him as they grew in intensity. Every time the earth trebled his stomach ached and cramped, eventually making him clutch his middle to keep himself from falling over. In a way it was hilarious. He was one of the strongest ghosts in all of the three realms, yet a few earthquakes could bring him to his knees. He Xuan remembered the time he had spent inside the kiln, he remembered how everything he had done was out of hatred and spite, and he had hoped he would never have to return to his place. Not only did he not hold any fond memories of the time he spent here, travelling these woods also filled him with a slight feeling of unease. Black Water was made to rule the waters, he felt like a fish thrown onto dry land.

Suddenly there was a noise. At first it was quiet, it sounded very far away, but it approached quickly. It was the sound of laughter. But this laughter would make one’s hair stand on end. There was no glee in it, it only sounded sinister. When He Xuan turned around he saw him there. The White Calamity. A mask was hiding his face and concealing his expression, but his spiritual energy felt hostile, like he was eager for a fight. And He Xuan was not wrong. He managed to dodge the attack, but he was obviously at a disadvantage here with nothing but forest surrounding him.

The knife in the White Calamity’s hand glistened dangerously in the sunlight, it was a fine blade, but it looked almost as sinister as the man that was wielding it. This was just He Xuan’s luck. Coming to Hua Cheng’s aid and being forced to face one of the remaining calamities. Reaching into his sleeve He Xuan pulled out a dagger of his own, blade and hilt carved out of the bone of one of his bone dragons, but he did not use it to attack, he simply parried the other calamity’s attacks. He did not want to fight, he was hungry.

(arranged marriage): our muses are thrown together into an arranged marriage. / @traittor

In a quiet, distant way, it's almost a little sad. Xie Lian has always known, in the abstract, that his life belongs to Xianle. It's not something that's spoken so explicitly - it's just a whisper of truth that whistles through all parts of his day like a gentle breeze ; more often than not, it doesn't feel like anything more than the status quo.

Today, Xie Lian carries it with reverence and - resignation.

Is that ungrateful ? The days are long and they have not seen rain in so long, and he has seen and heard and felt his people's pain. This, he had assured his mother when she fretted over the choice that the King had made, was the best case - a peaceful solution to a devastating problem. A path towards the safety and prosperity of Xianle, hopefully for many generations to come. Surely this is the kind of answer that would please the gods : one's life in the service of many.

Except, Xie Lian is greeting this day, his betrothed, with no sleep and a restless heart.

When the procession finishes its path through the city, Xie Lian is ready to receive them after the King and Queen finish their welcome. There have been so many days when he'd scoffed at the little rituals and nods to tradition, the many steps between oneself and what one wants to accomplish. Today, he is grateful for the last few moments of privacy - the chance to compose himself. So he's poised, head already inclined slightly in a bow when someone opens the door.

Startled, Xie Lian turned around to face the voice of whoever had managed to sneak up on him. His hand goes to touch his own hair on instinct as he looks around for the source of the voice, but sees nobody.

❝ ... ❞

❝ No. Go harass someone else now. ❞

Black Water was tired. He considered himself a patient man, what else but patience would help him see his plans through after all, but even he would eventually reach his limits as he was forced to watch the loathed Water Master prance around with his head held high, being admired by those weak Heavenly Officials that revered him for his power and the influence he had on the people around him. They did not know that Shi Wudu was nothing more than a thief, a criminal. It took every ounce of self-control He Xuan had left not to pounce on that Water Master to rip his head off right in the middle of the Heavenly Avenue, spilling his filthy blood for everyone to see. It wasn’t the time to do so, not yet. He couldn’t throw all cautions to the wind. Otherwise the finale he had planned would not be satisfying at all.

No one questioned the Earth Master when he descended from Heaven, he was an esteemed Heavenly Official after all, but instead of leaving for the mortal realm, he found his way to the ghost realm. And not just any realm. Stepping into the hollow willow sanctuary was like stepping into another world. From one second to the next there were no more signs of life. There were no birds singing in the trees, no animals hiding in the bushes, even the grass looked more gray than green, drained of life in the realm of someone who seemingly cared about nothing but bringing destruction to this world.

Maybe it was foolish to come here, but there was no other place Black Water could go. In the mortal realm the annoying Heavenly Officials would still be able to contact him through the communication array, in Ghost City there was a big possibility that Crimson Rain would demand his attendance to further their schemes, and to have He Xuan tell the other Ghost King about whatever he had learned of this former Highness of Xianle. But in the realm of White No-Face, there was no way for anyone to reach him. Finally. There was silence.

Except for the snickering of the realm’s owner that now reached his ears, but that was to be expected. He Xuan had taken a gamble. He had asked for shelter in another calamity’s realm, now the question was if it would be granted.

When White No-Face approached the air seemed to grow even colder, but He Xuan remained still. He had nowhere to go, no energy to fight. He needed rest. Plus, right now he was nothing more than an intruder. The expression on his face was distant, empty, hollow. He did not even have the energy to scowl. When White No-Face reached out his hands, He Xuan let it happen. The other Calamity’s hands were surprisingly warm and surprisingly gentle on his cold skin.

“I hate them”, He Xuan whispered into the emptiness of this realm, half expecting his voice to be swallowed by the hollowness of this sanctuary. But it was true. He hated them. He hated the Heavenly Capital, and the Water Master and all the other shallow Heavenly Officials.

As if they felt Black Water’s inner turmoil those hands pulled him forward and He Xuan moved to slightly bend at the waist, allowing the White Calamity to press their foreheads together, his cold skin slightly pressing against the equally cold surface of the other’s mask. The moment felt incredibly intimate, and even though He Xuan could easily tower over this other Calamity, he knew that in this realm he was a guest at most, and he should consider himself lucky to not immediately have White No-Face gut him like the fish he was.

“Please allow me to stay. Just this one night.”

He Xuan hated the thought of someone making him plead for anything; he could still remember too well the way people of his past had made him beg when he was nothing more than a naïve scholar locked away in a dark prison. The idea of being at anyone’s mercy made him feel sick to his stomach, though at this point he was no longer sure if there was anything else but hunger inside him.

“I won’t cause any trouble, all I need is a bit of quiet”, the Black Calamity added, lifting his hands to put them over White No-Face’s, claws moving over the other’s porcelain skin without breaking it.