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

[poorlittlesange]

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.

Comments

[fanfavors]

You know, it was Huaisang's own mistake to ask. He leans back on one hand and dangles the remaining scrap of croissant above caomeimei to have her flutter up towards it, to give himself something enjoyable to look at while he bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes copper. Yes, the fucking guqin, of course, just give him one moment here to let the hot bubble of righteous indignation to simmer back down in his gut; to stop rattling his own bars and spitting about how complicit everybody is in a lot of things.

No, it's not the time for that. This is the time for caomeimei's treats and Jin Guangyao's watery doe eyes over Lan Xichen, ordinary things that don't press sharply on his heart. He'll brick up a tomb around it, that's very Nie-quick-fix of him, ha—

"You live in the same house, though," he says, harmlessly, pursing his lips to give Jin Guangyao a look of genuine concern. These brothers, what are they doing? Huaisang shakes his head. "It's not this one's business how san-ge spends his time, but— think about it."

A brief quirk of a smile, earnest but not too earnest, like he's finally learning how to not be pushy. Ahem. The earlier moment has passed into a dull throb in his cheek, and that's fine, he exists here in the better space again: concerned that his elder brothers are going to wander in circles and go nowhere. He gestures at the woodblock.

"San-ge is good at this, at least."

[poorlittlesange]

It's fortunate for the both of them, perhaps, that Jin Guangyao is so focused on saving his own face that he does not look up to scrutinize Huaisang's too closely--at least, not until he makes those observations, and then Jin Guangyao has to look up at him again.

"You live in the same house, though. It's not this one's business how san-ge spends his time, but--think about it."

He's confronted by that little smile, one that seems shockingly aware of the delicate subject its bearer is encroaching upon, which is more than evidence enough for Jin Guangyao to decide that, fuck, he knows, doesn't he?

(The narrator: this, too, is called dramatic irony.)

Jin Guangyao sets the chisel down carefully and reaches for the little clay teapot to refill his cup. When in doubt, tea--and deflect. "Ah, Huaisang, this one is sincere--he truly has no talent for such things, and would not wish to waste our er-ge's time. But you do have a gift for it," he insists and nods to the woodblock again. "The oak wood may not yield to the chisel as well as pear, but you have a good eye for design and form, and that is something this one does not possess." Then his eyes light up and he smiles again, yes, the perfect distraction--

"Why don't I take you shopping in Cellar Door?" he suggests. "I have seen a number of specialty shops since my arrival here that might sell supplies we can repurpose for your art. Then you can try your design again and see how your work progresses when you have everything you need in front of you."

[fanfavors]

Ah, tea and deflection, a masterful move. Huaisang dutifully listens to Jin Guangyao's deflection, finishing off the last bit of his pastry and wondering if this thing - the er-ge thing, the most obvious thing in the world - was supposed to be a secret? Like, from him, specifically? It's been how many years and how many yearning looks he's errantly witnessed? Please.

But alright, it's a fine deflection, and it isn't really his business, besides.

"More specialty shops...?" Like... the one er-ge took him to? He does not say this, because he is being polite about the deflection, but he'll remember which shop they needn't bother with, when it comes to getting finer quality materials. "This Huaisang would be happy to go shopping with san-ge! Ah, do you think my design is too complicated for a first try...?"

(It probably is, but he'll expire if he can't have at least three birds per artwork.)