deercountry | it's hard to be charming and smart and disarming

Entry tags:

it's hard to be charming and smart and disarming | november catch-all

Who: Jin Guangyao + select closed prompts + additional starters to come
What: After a near-miss with qi deviation, Jin Guangyao makes an effort to just, you know. Take it easy. This is easier said than done, because this is Trench, not a spa resort. (Also his blood is glowing through his skin occasionally, which is not ideal, and he is learning all about zealots.)
When: Throughout the first half of November.
Where: His home in the Willful Machine + The Sanctuary in Crenshaw + other locations as specified.
Notes: If you're keen on threading something, hit me up on plurk @ ragweed and we can figure something out.

Content Warnings: None currently but will update as needed.

I. Convalescence at Home (Open to existing CR)
[ooc: set during the week and a half of November.]

Jin Guangyao does not manage idleness well. Which is a shame, because idleness is what he has in abundance for the first two weeks of November.

He spends his time on mandatory bedrest for the first few days as his golden core gradually repairs the damage he inflicted upon it during his and Nie Huaisang's brush with death, able to do little more than occasionally sit up in bed and eat whatever food his friends are able to prepare after scrounging around in his cupboards. (More often than not, they simply order something for delivery, which saves everyone a lot of trouble.) But once he survives the most precarious stage of his recovery, it is good for him to get out of bed, to stretch his legs and move about his home. 'Light physical activity,' is what a doctor might prescribe, and so that is what he does, predominately in the form of some light housework, guqin practice in the courtyard, and meditative tai chi.

By the time this two-week period of homebound convalescence is up, he is chomping at the metaphorical bit to leave the house and do something useful. But he can't, and he's pretty cheesed about it.

II. The Sanctuary (Closed to Palamedes)
[ooc: set towards the end of the second week of November, after he is no longer homebound ~~and a bit pissy about it~~.]

His first destination upon finally being granted a bit more freedom of movement is the Sanctuary in Crenshaw.

It is impossible not to be drawn towards the tall sakura tree at the centre of the courtyard, and so Jin Guangyao does not even try. The energy that suffuses the place is indisputably positive and balanced, and he can already feel the effects of it soothing the ragged edges of his meridians, which still feel like recovering burn wounds, if burn wounds happened to your qi. (Just little cultivation problems.)

He is hardly the only person hoping to derive some spiritual relief from the tree today, but there is space near one of the roots for him to comfortably fold himself into a lotus position, and to meditate. So that is precisely what he does.

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Something subtle has shifted in Shen Yuan's posture and demeanour. Jin Guangyao can see it, from the outside, but he can't understand it, not yet. He does understand, however, that he has come to care about Shen Yuan's comfort in a way that he cares about few others--beyond Lan Xichen, Nie Huaisang, and yes, now Mike Enslin as well--and so hearing his friend offer up an apology where, Jin Guangyao believes, one most assuredly is not necessary, causes an ache in his heart.

"This one suspects shidi may have misunderstood." He angles his head some to try and catch his friend's gaze. "Shidi has done nothing wrong and most certainly does not owe this one an apology for his feelings." A pause. Then, gently: "This one is sorry that you experienced such a terrible thing."

"Ah."

A lump in his throat, not bile this time but something much worse: feelings. "It's not a memory I care to dwell on," he explains, and takes another careful sip of tea.

"If it hadn't happened, I might not have transmigrated and learned cultivation," he points out in neutral tones. "I might not have ever come to Trench and met my friend Jin Guangyao. I cannot...think of the experience itself in a positive light, but ultimately I have benefitted in several ways since."

Feelings are dreadful, aren't they Shen Yuan?

Worse when there is no easy way to assuage them through words, Jin Guangyao finds, because words are the most reliable tool he has at his disposal for solving most of the problems he encounters. Sometimes, however, they simply aren't sufficient.

He reaches across the table to press his hand gently against Shen Yuan's wrist, squeezing once. "This Jin Guangyao is fortunate indeed to call Shen-di his friend." He meets his eyes and adds earnestly, "Thank you, shidi, for how you helped me, and Xichen, and Huaisang, after my qi deviation."

Feelings are the *worst*...but under the weight of Jin Guangyao's sincerely offered sympathy, Shen Yuan finds his reticence melting little by little. He sets down his teacup, freeing his hand to rest it on top of Jin Guangyao's and give it an understanding little pat. "In truth I was happy to help," he says, and then feels the need to clarify, "I'm happy that I was *able* to help. I would not wish to be a burden on you three."

Like he was on society, wasting all his privileges, letting day after day slip past him in that little apartment until he forgot there was a world outside and forgot to look away from his laptop screen and forgot to check his leftovers until one day they turned on him and sank claws into his gut --

Shen Yuan grimaces, reflexively pressing his hand to his stomach. The lights flicker, bright and then dim. He looks over at the open window, bewildered. The first time, the first time could have just been a flashbulb memory, a trauma response, but for it to happen again...

(The only time he will ever acknowledge having trauma is while he's thinking about something else.)

"What did you see?"

Jin Guangyao asks the question carefully and tries not to let his gaze linger on Shen Yuan's hand where it presses into the fabric over his stomach. (He knows how the memory of pain experienced can sometimes ache just as acutely as the moment one initially felt it.) But there is something more to it than just a memory, given how Shen Yuan suddenly looks towards the open window, the confusion on his face.

He squeezes his friend's hand again. "Shidi," he starts again, tentative, careful, "you are safe here."

"I..." Shen Yuan looks back at his friend's face, concerned and sympathetic, and finally the penny drops. "*Trench,*" he groans, in tones of exasperation and distaste, and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose instead. "Bad enough I had to live through it, now I have to do it over again?" he mutters out loud. If Maul's theory about the Pthumerians enjoying their stories is true, then some of the Pthumerians must have real shitty taste.

"It was...my death," he finally says in response to Jin Guangyao's question. "I ate spoiled food by mistake, and..." He shakes his head, not wanting to linger over the disgusting details. "You wouldn't believe how exhausting it is, to die that way," he tries to joke.

"This one can imagine it," Jin Guangyao replies, and while he follows Shen Yuan's lead and matches his little joke with a smile, his eyes remain kind and attentive. He sits quietly for another moment or two, considering something, and then deems to reach a decision.

"Would shidi like it if this one played the guqin for him?" he offers, then adds, almost apologetic, "Since this one is still recovering from his qi deviation, it wouldn't be wise to use musical cultivation to ease your spirit. But music can be a comfort, even when it does not contain any spiritual energy."

"Jin-ge shouldn't strain himself," Shen Yuan agrees automatically. If he'd tried to insist on using musical cultivation right now, Shen Yuan would definitely have refused. But as long as he promises not to...

"Just music would be lovely, though." Shen Yuan shyly ducks his head. "This one has been impatiently waiting for a chance to hear Jin-ge play again."

He's grateful, too, that Jin Guangyao isn't trying to pry more details out of him. What happened... it's in the past now. What's the point in digging it up again?

If there is anyone in Trench who understands the compulsive need to keep one's secrets hidden, it is Jin Guangyao. (And, since he has no competing agenda or compelling personal reasons that require him to bring them to light, Shen Yuan's secrets are safe.)

He laughs a little, abashed, and lowers his eyes, the perfect demonstration of humility in the face of such praise. "Shidi only needed to ask, if he wished to hear this one's playing again," he points out demurely. "Please," he adds and gestures to the chaise lounge in the parlour, "feel free to make yourself comfortable." Then he unfolds himself from the low chair and disappears briefly into the courtyard to the adjacent bay to fetch his instrument from his bedroom.

He is only gone for a handful of moments, but he doesn't leave his humble parlour unattended in his absence. His little steppe fox omen, unobtrusive and quiet as ever, sits quietly by the doorway and watches Shen Yuan with a cocked head and half-lidded saffron eyes, as though she is trying to make some determination about him based on her Sleeper's recent behaviour. Whatever she decides (or doesn't), remains a mystery, and once Jin Guangyao returns with the guqin in hand, she seems to lose interest in him entirely and trots out into the courtyard to do who knows what. Fox things, probably.

"Allow me a moment to ensure it is tuned correctly," he tells Shen Yuan while settling down onto another low seat. He places the guqin on the table and begins to methodically adjust the pegs, plucking a string every so often with his head held just so.

Shen Yuan settles himself on the chaise lounge with a grateful little sigh, putting his head down for a moment with his eyes closed just to try and recover his equilibrium. When he senses someone watching him he opens them again, and is neither surprised nor displeased to find Jin Guangyao's little omen studying him so intently. "Keeping an eye on me for your Sleeper, hm?" he asks her in a quiet voice. "What a dear, filial little omen you are." The little fox doesn't seem to have any particular opinion on his statement, and he doesn't try to talk to her again or coax her to come closer -- but he does sigh a little, wistfully, when she scurries off again upon Jin Guangyao's reappearance.

"Your omen is very cute," he says to Jin Guangyao himself as he sits down and starts retuning his guqin. In a joking tone he adds, "Seems like everyone got cute omens except me."

For a moment Jin Guangyao looks almost puzzled by Shen Yuan's observation, before looking over his shoulder after xiao meimei where she has found a sunny patch to lounge in on the courtyard flagstones. He purses his lips into something that might be a smile, but might just as easily be an expression of some private consternation; perhaps he's recalling the exchange between Duty and Lan Xichen in their group chat not too long ago, about what it might mean for an omen to seem at odds with her Sleeper. "She keeps her own counsel," is his mild, pleasant-sounding, and utterly uninformative response, before he looks back to Shen Yuan. Time to redirect their conversation back towards Jin Guangyao's preferred topics, which are: anything but Jin Guangyao.

"Would shidi like to talk about his omen?" he invites and, having tuned the guqin to his satisfaction, plays the melodic introductory notes of his chosen piece of music. No spiritual energy suffuses the notes as they vibrate from the strings, but they're hardly required simply to enjoy his playing.

"Mm." He will, but first he wants to listen to Jin-ge's playing. He lets his eyes slip closed again, a near-serene little smile on his face as he gives the music all of his attention, at least for a few minutes.

Eventually he opens them again and quietly, in a voice pitched to be heard but not to overwhelm the guqin, says, "Xiu Ya. Spirit sword of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. 'Elegant in combat, refined in cultivation.' Forged in the spirit caves of Wan Jian Peak, claimed by Shen Qingqiu, 'inherited' by Shen Yuan,'" he grimaces wryly and continues, "Transported to Trench. And she didn't speak to anyone other than Palamedes in our first month here, so don't fuss too much about your xiao meimei. Things will work themselves out."

(It satisfies some private, proud creature in his heart, to see his gift for this notoriously difficult instrument appreciated by others. Jin Guangyao watches Shen Yuan's expression once his friend's eyes have closed, and if he decides to indulge a little in demonstrating his prowess at the an technique, drawing out a vibrato from the plucked notes as the fingers of his opposite hand glide across the strings, well, let him have this, okay, just let him show off a little.)

"How should this humble one address the esteemed Xiu Ya, should he have cause to speak with her?" Leaving aside the fact that he can, apparently, now speak to someone else's spiritual weapon because, sure, fine, he can accept that--but a spiritual tool is something to be revered and respected, and he would not wish to be rude. He lets his eyes drop from Shen Yuan's serene featured back to the guqin and fans his fingertips across the strings, relishing the lush sound of the harmonics filling the air around them.

(That vibrato sent chills up Shen Yuan's spine, okay, actual chills. Jin Guangyao should absolutely be proud of himself for this.)

"Just address her like you would an older cultivator," is Shen Yuan's answer. "She likes to put on airs and talk like she's a noble lady, but at the end of the day a sword is still just a weapon, and a weapon's only as good as its wielder, right?" He opens his eyes to smile at Jin Guangyao. "After that little fiasco on the group chat, I think she could stand to learn a little humility."

"Then this Jin Guangyao will address the honourable Xiu Ya as 'shigu.'" He's wearing a thoughtful little smile on his lips now while he contemplates this hypothetical meeting with the sword-as-omen, as though this peculiar quirk of circumstance is a source of not-quite-amusement for him, but something adjacent to it, somehow.

The piece Jin Guangyao has opted to perform for Shen Yuan is lengthy and meandering, like most of the music in his repertoire, and so for a time he is content to let the conversation between them idle into a companionable silence while the music carries them forward through time. When the melody's final strands finally fade away into silence, he settles his hands in his lap and looks across at Shen Yuan again.

"How are you feeling now?"

Oh, huh. "I think she likes that," Shen Yuan says, surprised. "I think she really likes that, wow." He didn't know Xiu Ya was capable of liking anything! But then again...

"She seems to approve of you," he informs Jin Guangyao, in an amused tone. Xiu Ya's disapproval would not be enough to stop Shen Yuan from spending time with someone he really liked -- but considering how much he likes Jin Guangyao, and following on that how much time he'd like to spend with him, it's good that Xiu Ya doesn't intend to harass him about it.

That settled he closes his eyes again to enjoy the rest of the piece, only opening them when it's over to applaud with polite but sincerely-felt enthusiasm.

"Better," he answers, and smiles at Jin Guangyao. "Jin-ge is very skilled. Listening to him play, it's like all my worries never existed in the first place."

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it's hard to be charming and smart and disarming | november catch-all

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CW: death and coping through humor

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