vengeful lotus

Jiang Cheng ⋆ 38 ⋆ he/him

   ↳ Mo Dao Zu Shi

anonymous asked:

You're like a dad. Happy father's day have a cookie🥠

A bright eye flits up from the parchment laid before him and occasionally steals fleeting glances. His lips curve ever so lightly to indicate mirth, his gaze then falls and returns to his work. He’d been mulling over his brush strokes for awhile, each character neat and elegantly placed in perfect lines of three are taken from a place of tender fondness. Ichimokuren lowers the brush and finally, when he thought his masterpiece was complete, rotates the paper for A-Cheng to read.

Your eyes are fire. Their image burnt through my soul, Scarred by their beauty.

“It’s not my best haiku but I hope you like it.”

@yunmeng-pride​

〝 What is- 〞

Jiang Cheng had waited, patiently, while Ichimokuren toiled away over his calligraphy. Although curious, he hadn’t been rude enough to try to read what he was writing upside-down. He’d expected some form of poetry; something Ichimokuren had written a lot of recently, in their language-learning exchange. But this?

➤ @yunmeng-pride​ ❥ Canvas pt. 2

𝄢There’s a pause in Wei Wuxian’s mindless wandering through the halls, as purple robes are quick to grab and hold his attention longer than he had hoped. Ah, surely the harder they tried to stay away from one another fate always seemed to trick them back into one another’s presence. This a shift in his posture as he contemplates turning on his heels and running down a different direction. But unfortunately, he was being hunted and he had just managed to lose the monstrous creature. Though he takes note that the other has not paid mind to him, which causes Wei Wuxian to follow his line of sight. His eyes landing upon the rather hauntingly realistic rendition of Lotus Pier. 

𝄢Soon enough he finds himself walking closer to the painting, his feet moving on their own and before long he is standing beside the one who he fears the most. Sharing in the sickening nostalgia. Wei Wuxian for once is silent. One could say that he looked as though he was admiring the rendition, taking a moment to fully comprehend the beauty of it all. Until there was a brief flash of sorrow in his eyes. No. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t deserve this type of luxury.  He shouldn’t be allowed to linger in the presence of home he no longer belonged to. A home he betrayed. His heart at that moment felt heavy and his eyes were quick to search for a distraction. An escape. 

𝄢 Though leave it to Wei Wuxian to fail in noting the figures which stood amongst the scenery. 3 to be exact, off hidden amongst the details but still ever-present. 

𝄢  ❝ Ah– Have you been here since the start? I mean I don’t blame you the details are immaculate almost like you can step right in. Hm?? This seems like a pretty quiet section too, not much to worry about. Ahaa. Don’t worry I’m only passing through I’ll be out of here before you even acknowledge my presence. ❞ of course, the silence didn’t last long. As expected. He couldn’t let himself be consumed by grief, at least not now. So it was better that he rambled away and displayed himself as usual. A smile on his face and his carefree nature out in the open. 

He can hear the gently lapping of the current against the posts of the pier. The rustle in the lotus stems as a breeze picks at the surface of the water, carrying the sweet scent through him and off, into the bright blue sky. It’s summer, water bugs skimming along, being picked off by fish, eliciting a giggle from one of the trio every time the gaping fish-mouths break the surface.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t startle at the voice, but his hands curl into tight fists at his sides. He has the distinct urge to shove the man away from the painting, protecting it’s sanctity from that which does not deserve to be in the presence of such a pleasant memory. His restraint is strong, however, and a conscience that he has taken some time to grow in Spirale reminds him:

This is his memory, too.

〝 No, 〞 Jiang Cheng replies, sharp and cold, as he tears himself away from staring at the canvas.  〝 I found it while looking for more of--those. 〞 What timing. A hideous, unflattering, creature of a painting lopes into view at the end of the hallway. The Yiling Patriarch, in all of his ugly glory, the way the tales remembered him.

If Wei Wuxian is as new to the city as Jiang Cheng expects, the man is likely armed with little more than a stick. He steps in front of the other, the ring on his finger flashing to summon Zidian to his grip.  

@yunmeng-pride​ liked this post for an event related starter

Seeing a statue of the Dawn dragon had never been an ill omen—It’d been something to respect, to revere as something of a god and even his ancestor—Yet suddenly it was very much starting to feel like an ill omen. As much respect as Takumi has always held for the Dawn Dragon, having a statue of it crawling toward him with murderous intent is not very comforting at all.

But hey, at least this one isn’t his dead mother!

Takumi’s about at a loss of what to do when he notices someone who seems to like a capable fighter in his own right. Much as Takumi hates to ask for help, he can at least admit here that he’s out of his depth on his own.

“I sure hope you know how to fight a stone dragon, because there’s one headed right here!”

As soon as one problem is solved, another one picks right up in the gap. At least this man seems more capable than most in a dangerous situation. No whip this time, Jiang Cheng is wielding a mallet in one hand and a chisel in the other. He flips the mallet with a flourish before tossing the chisel over to the man as the large stone beast comes crashing around the bend.

somebody’s hands are on him, just like that. he feels his body hoisted up and supported, making him realize how exhausted he really is even as he tries not to lean too much of his weight on the stranger. but his body won’t uphold itself at all and the jostling movement of being lifted and moved does him no favor in helping him feel better.

he’s so tired. he barely registers what’s happening around him as he tries to parse the quick escalation of the situation, the sudden appearance of a weapon almost making him think he’s started to see things…

the loud crash of the pursuing statue being yanked with brute force into another and the following wince he gives at the loud sound ringing out around them makes it all seem very much more real. that was close, way too close for comfort, and it’s a relief that he might now have a brief window of safety from the ongoing threat… but he’s still on the question he’d been asked, his mind barely putting two and two together at first until it clicks. it was something he’d eaten here that poisoned him, wasn’t it? when and how had that happened?

“i-i did…but…” 

he tries desperately to remember everything he ate, as if it could help him pinpoint just when he had possibly come into contact with a harmful substance in any form at all…

…but there’s no time to waste right now, and even he knows that through his muddled thoughts.

granted, he tries as much as he can to hold himself up only to feel his body trying to give on him again. he grips at jiang cheng now to keep from losing his footing once more.

“n-no.” he manages in a strained tone. “i… i thought i could but– i’m… i need help.”

he hates how pathetic he sounds right now.

Throwing the statues about like the rocks they are isn’t going to put them down for good, but it buys Jiang Cheng enough time to help this idiot man away and put distance between them and the pursuing figures. His skills in healing are lacking, and he knows he doesn’t have time to stop and try to sap the poison from this man’s body if they don’t want to be mashed to pulp. He lets out a frustrated sigh as they round a corner.

sunrise.

Ichimokuren sighs, gaze catching on one of the passing leaves before sinking into the earth. The sound of joined laughter rings harmoniously through the trees, scattering birds that had settled on their boughs for the evening and leaving a sense of peace in his heart. It felt.. wonderful. To be held so intimately and feel at ease with the world. This carefree laughter that came after the storm dissipates any strain he felt during their struggle and now he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He almost feels lightweight, like a feather drifting unhurriedly in the air, caring not where the wind takes him or when he’ll reach his destination. He hadn’t felt this secure in years, not since Lord Seimei intervened and gave him a second chance at living. There’s so much he wants to say. He wants to give Jiang Cheng reassurance, to urge him to look towards the future as new beginnings are on the horizon but the words don’t come. His lips are claimed and he falls silent. 

There must’ve been some mistake. Surly Jiang Cheng didn’t meant to.. not with him. His body reacts as if it’s panic, trying to reign it in and quash it. But he knows as well as the next person that there’s no running from something nourished in one’s own chest. He yearns in between those shared breaths, a rising crest of desire to lean in and claim those dewy lips as his. But he dares not go through with the idea, to be so demanding of Jiang Cheng in such a manner would be … even though he..  

Ichimokuren leans in until their lips brush, but doesn’t seize the opportunity. Instead he allows himself to be swept up in the moment, breath catching in his throat and pulse racing beneath his skin. He lifts his hand and caresses the smooth line of Jiang Cheng’s jaw and sinks into the kiss that envelops them both, deep and warm.

Everything Jiang Cheng had known of Ichimokuren before, he feels now ten-fold. His warmth, his kindness, his gentleness. A patience and care for every action that Jiang Cheng can’t fathom. All of the things that Jiang Cheng isn’t, Ichimokuren embodies. As he holds Ichimokuren against his chest, so too does he hold all that Ichimokuren is. Close to the warmth of his core, close to his heart.

Jiang Cheng pulls away only when he remembers his need to breathe. A sharp gasp against Ichimokuren’s lips before he turns his face away. The heat on his cheekbones spreads to his ears, and down the back of his neck, his whole body bristling as his senses catch up to him. He knows he should apologize for his boldness, but the words don’t come to him. Instead, once he’s found his breath,  〝 You’ll catch ill if you stay out here like that. 〞

@yunmeng-pride​

he still hasn’t given up. walking has become a rather large task for the weakened doctor, and he’s upholding himself with one hand on the wall as he shuffles himself slowly forward. his other arm is wrapped about his stomach tightly, as if it will do anything. by now, he’s most certainly aware that he must have ingested something poisonous. and as much as he’d tried to purge it from his system, too much of it had already likely been absorbed into his body.

a last ditch effort that did him little good, only leaving him with a rolling nausea despite his emptied stomach that has him pausing every so often to stave off the urge to retch.

and unfortunately, something appears to be on his tail, too. there’s a dragging sound against the floor coming from somewhere behind him. he hasn’t looked to find out what, because he doesn’t want to know. the dolls were bad enough, and by now he’s barely managed to escape from whatever pieces of art had sprung to life to try and chase him down. he doesn’t have a clue how he’s managed to escape their clutches up to this point. 

this is awful. the absolute worst.

and whatever is after him now doesn’t intend to give up. every time he has to stop, it gets closer to him.

he hates this. 

but squinting ahead he- he thinks he sees an actual human being and in one last determined effort manages to sprint forward with as much might as he can put into the motion.

this person, they look like they’d be able to help him! even if they can’t save him from the poison, he recognizes someone who would more then know their way around in combat. and maybe it’s a lot to expect out of a stranger, but he has no other options in the current situation. he has to try, has to hope he’s not seeing things or that he hasn’t run across a too-realistic statue.

“h-help– help me, please. i– i don’t…”

but before he even reaches the man completely, his legs give on him altogether, and there he lays collapsed - conscious but too weak to get up even when he tries to push himself up off the floor.

A voice--a rather pathetic and sickly voice--reaches Jiang Cheng’s ears and he turns towards it, expecting just about what he’s faced with. Someone collapsed on the ground, a statue not far in pursuit. In one step, he’s standing over the man, reaching down and grabbing him by the back of the shirt to hoist him to his feet. He hooks one arm under both of the stranger’s, holding him upright.

〝 Get ahold of yourself, 〞 he scolds, but his actions make it clear that he intends to protect the man. With a flash, the ring on his right hand coils out into his favored whip.  〝 You ate the food, didn’t you? 〞

❝ I have heard the flowers that blossom in this ash garden can even come from your home. ❞ cerulean fall on a myriad of foreign flowers in bloom as she says this. ❝ But I haven’t been able to affirm so yet. Not a single dandelion or pinwheel aster… has your luck fared different? ❞

@yunmeng-pride

Jiang Cheng always assumed the strange flowers were just from the nature of how unusual this place was as a whole. He’d never considered that the lotus blossoms in the pond were from his home. He bends down to take one of the large, pink flowers between both palms and snaps the stem before standing back up.

Kind eyes watch the lowered gaze and when Jiang spoke of his worth Ichimokuren falls silent. That he should have to worry about something as one’s own reputation struck the caller of wind as perplexing. His head tilts with a thoughtful slant and lips part as though he wished to voice his concerns. Looking at him Ren is filled with an overwhelming feeling, he doesn’t know why… but a part of him would very much like to hold his dear friend. If only to chase away his demons. Jiang Cheng had suffered much in his own way and it seems he still suffers.

“I will not say I understand your meaning but.. your reputation.. matters little to me. Are we not alone? Is there no one else around but you and I to speak ill of such things? I won’t pass judgment for something that was out of your hands.” The wind flits by in gentle gusts, blowing the grasses and boughs of trees to the east, making the water ripple where it laid. 

The sudden warmth of callus fingertips against him is startling at first, the careful mask of peace shedding for a moment to an expression of bewilderment…then acceptance…and finally, a profound happiness that sets his heart ablaze. Its almost euphoric to be held like this, so intimate and close he can hear the pleasant thrumming of a lively heartbeat. 

In turn Ren rests his head against Jiang Cheng’s chest, his arms come around to embrace him and his hands slide up his back. Fingers gently grip the purple fabric and he hides his face away in an attempt to mask the prickling warmth that seeps its way to his visage and blooms to the very tips of those pointed ears. When his smile comes its faint, laughter half suppressed to the point where his shoulders begin to tremble in mirth. Was he laughing out of relief or happiness? 

It was a bit of both.

“Now this..  this Jiang Cheng is new to me. Where has he been hiding all this time?” He inquires, shifting his chin and peering up at him though petal pink lashes. 

The very moment the word alone passes Ichimokuren’s lips, Jiang Cheng becomes incredibly aware of just how alone they actually are. The sounds of the empty forest press in on them; the faint rustle of creatures beginning to stir after a storm, the breeze that jostles the wet leaves and scatters the water droplets. The hum of the city is so far from here that it reach them. He almost swears he can hear Ichimokuren’s pulse, though that might just be because he can feel it under his palm.

Laughter, mingling with his own; a sound so soft and sweet it brings color to Jiang Cheng’s cheeks. His hold on the other loosens enough to put breathing room between them. Space enough that he can look down and see Ichimokuren’s face. The gentleness of Ichimokuren’s features shoot a spark through his nerves and he suddenly finds himself short on breath.

〝 He’s new to me, too, 〞 Jiang Cheng forces out, hardly above a whisper. Perhaps new isn’t the right word, though Jiang Cheng surely hasn’t known this version of himself since he was a young man, long before he knew tragedy, when he could flirt with the pretty women at the foot of the mountain in Gusu with relative ease. There are many more words Jiang Cheng wants to follow with. More apologies, explanations, maybe a scolding or two for being out alone so late. They never come, lost forever to the emptiness of the forest around them.

“Yes. I’m here.” A blue eye follows the steady rise and fall of his hand where its held gently against Jiang Cheng’s chest. He’s relieved to see some semblance of coherence return to his dear friend, he sees it in the way taut shoulders gradually relax and feels the air around them shift to a temperate calm. Politely waving the concern off, he remained as he was, regarding the other with a warm smile. He seems unfazed by the incident, exuding an almost near perfect aura of tranquility were he not looking the wayward wanderer battered and bruised in wrappings and dirt stained yukata.

“ A couple of scrapes is hardly concerning, these aches of mine will heal in time.” He shifts and reaches out again, brushing muddy fingers along a strong jawline until it stills and cradles Jiang Cheng’s face in the palm of his hand. His caressing touch is slight, barely there but encompasses all the compassion he has to give. Ichimokuren is fiercely proud and forgiving, he couldn’t possibly condemn the cultivator for something he had no control over. 

“I do not blame you in the least for your actions.. they were done by a man who is not Jiang Cheng. I know who he is and he would not harm without reason. That you’ve returned.. has gladden my heart.” 

The mud is cool against Jiang Cheng’s skin. Only made more prominent when a heat prickles up his neck and into his cheeks. Even alone in the woods, he’s embarrassed by such close and intimate contact. And after what he just did, it’s hard to imagine Ichimokuren is comfortable being so close.

〝 My reputation would say otherwise, 〞he scolds, knowing exactly what people say about him. His voice is low, gaze pointing downwards in an apology, despite the forgiveness he’s being shown. A forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. Truly, Jiang Cheng is a man who no longer believes in second chances.

His body is heavy with a spiritual weariness. He leans his head back against the trunk of the tree, where the wood is splintered from the impact of Ichimokuren’s body. He closes his eyes, this thumb running along the dampened silk collar of the dragon god’s kimono. There is a very real fear in him, that he had almost killed Ichimokuren here. The shadows of past betrayal haunting him, even now.

In a rare act of vulnerability, his fingers slide to hold the back of Ichimokuren’s head, pulling the man back into Jiang Cheng’s chest. His other arm comes up to wrap around the slim shoulders. He holds Ichimokuren there, his face falling forward into the crown of the other’s head.

His hair smells of mud.