[ it hangs between them, the most horrendously beautiful thing he's ever crafted; a weapon with a mind all its own, given to its own whim. he does not command the stygian tiger seal, anybody could do that, but it does reflect upon him as the children of echidna look upon their mother - the one that gave them form. the half that he offers to jiang cheng burns, where the other half feels like a cold weight against his stomach, settled low and hidden within the folds of his dark robes until he hides it away.
the command that yiling and yunmeng marry could only come from someone seeking to fetter them both in one another's embrace, to collar yiling's patriarch and bring him and his armies of the dead to heel under the strength of a proper cultivator. even if that cultivator was the remnants of a once-destroyed sect. they'd want the tiger seal, and he was not going to let them have it. not it, not wen ning and not chenqing. they could have him, in his shidi's family register, owned as a wife would be -- but they'd never, ever have him. ]
You really are so precious to me. My wonderful shidi, you're going to make me blush like this! My knees feel so weak, are you going to hold me up? You should hold me up, you're the one who's gone and made my heart flutter! I can't believe they want to waste you on me rather than finding you a proper wife.
[ the words are soft, tucked in the meager space left between them as jiang cheng leans in to his space. he feels the warmth of his brow, the soft flutter of his eyelashes; softly, wei wuxian's fingers find the softness of jiang cheng's throat, stroking down the fragile column to the hollow of it. his outburst of merriment fades softly, replaced again by that more somber, unnatural sheen that grips him. ]
Take it with you, okay? You need to go back and tell them we're agreeing to this demand, show them the seal's half to prove my word, and I need to prepare for the trip.
[ 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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[ it hangs between them, the most horrendously beautiful thing he's ever crafted; a weapon with a mind all its own, given to its own whim. he does not command the stygian tiger seal, anybody could do that, but it does reflect upon him as the children of echidna look upon their mother - the one that gave them form. the half that he offers to jiang cheng burns, where the other half feels like a cold weight against his stomach, settled low and hidden within the folds of his dark robes until he hides it away.
the command that yiling and yunmeng marry could only come from someone seeking to fetter them both in one another's embrace, to collar yiling's patriarch and bring him and his armies of the dead to heel under the strength of a proper cultivator. even if that cultivator was the remnants of a once-destroyed sect. they'd want the tiger seal, and he was not going to let them have it. not it, not wen ning and not chenqing. they could have him, in his shidi's family register, owned as a wife would be -- but they'd never, ever have him. ]
You really are so precious to me. My wonderful shidi, you're going to make me blush like this! My knees feel so weak, are you going to hold me up? You should hold me up, you're the one who's gone and made my heart flutter! I can't believe they want to waste you on me rather than finding you a proper wife.
[ the words are soft, tucked in the meager space left between them as jiang cheng leans in to his space. he feels the warmth of his brow, the soft flutter of his eyelashes; softly, wei wuxian's fingers find the softness of jiang cheng's throat, stroking down the fragile column to the hollow of it. his outburst of merriment fades softly, replaced again by that more somber, unnatural sheen that grips him. ]
Take it with you, okay? You need to go back and tell them we're agreeing to this demand, show them the seal's half to prove my word, and I need to prepare for the trip.
no subject
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. ]