[ earnest, he has always been. serious to the point of rigidity, constricted by all of what he should be and could be, jiang cheng is no more free of the shackles than wei wuxian is, the lands of yunmeng binding him down as surely as that of yiling, how it sinks its claws into the flesh and coils dark in his blood and narrows, shining slick like oil spill in the gleam caught in wei wuxian's eyes in the candlelight.
they are trapped, each in their own ways. they are cornered as wild animals might, their backs to the wall and the rest of the cultivation world against them who seek to collar them both like this, against and along each other, to drown or rot or tear each other to shreds and they would watch gladly.
jiang cheng does not trust easily. the other three great sects - the only three great sects, yunmeng's faded brilliance obviously not worth being counted upon for much, by them - have induced them to hold a ceremony of brotherhood amongst them, to live and die by each other.
what then, remains? what can jiang cheng possibly do, but to turn to wei wuxian, to live and die by him as they have promised?
in the end, he only has his brother to call upon. in the end, he is the only one he could ask to help.
the hand against his throat feel gentle, creeping down and down along the too-fragile skin to the dip against his collar like some spider, like some snake that coils itself around. his voice too, is soft - soft like some poisoned mist that would choke one in their sleep, and jiang cheng swallows dry, nods without speaking.
he does not stay long, after that. wei wuxian is his ( just as much as he is wei wuxian's, now and forever ) but the air of yiling is too much for him, the dark cloying aura that spills from the depths of burial mounds sticking to his throat. as he steps out from the mouth of the cave and alights on his sword jiang cheng feels that he can still taste it; the metallic bitter tang of power like blood, like steel. the half of the tiger seal tucked into the folds of his inner robe burns and freezes in alternating fits and stutter that has him ever conscious of it.
i will go to koi tower, he has told wei wuxian. i will go tell them. they cannot deny it, not with this. ]
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they are trapped, each in their own ways. they are cornered as wild animals might, their backs to the wall and the rest of the cultivation world against them who seek to collar them both like this, against and along each other, to drown or rot or tear each other to shreds and they would watch gladly.
jiang cheng does not trust easily. the other three great sects - the only three great sects, yunmeng's faded brilliance obviously not worth being counted upon for much, by them - have induced them to hold a ceremony of brotherhood amongst them, to live and die by each other.
what then, remains? what can jiang cheng possibly do, but to turn to wei wuxian, to live and die by him as they have promised?
in the end, he only has his brother to call upon. in the end, he is the only one he could ask to help.
the hand against his throat feel gentle, creeping down and down along the too-fragile skin to the dip against his collar like some spider, like some snake that coils itself around. his voice too, is soft - soft like some poisoned mist that would choke one in their sleep, and jiang cheng swallows dry, nods without speaking.
he does not stay long, after that. wei wuxian is his ( just as much as he is wei wuxian's, now and forever ) but the air of yiling is too much for him, the dark cloying aura that spills from the depths of burial mounds sticking to his throat. as he steps out from the mouth of the cave and alights on his sword jiang cheng feels that he can still taste it; the metallic bitter tang of power like blood, like steel. the half of the tiger seal tucked into the folds of his inner robe burns and freezes in alternating fits and stutter that has him ever conscious of it.
i will go to koi tower, he has told wei wuxian. i will go tell them. they cannot deny it, not with this. ]