Maybe I should call you a -- a parrot instead. [ a beat. avoids... calling him a crow. he clears his throat, and then reaches to pick a dumpling off the plate and munch on it. ]
[ the beat does not go unnoticed. he watches him eat on the floor for a second, about to open his mouth to imitate him again, and then closes it, thinking better. thinking of that swishing, wagging tail. of the warmth of another body and the way he'd said if you are cold, let me warm you. all therion ever does is take. maybe he can try - maybe in his own way, like a cat slowly coming closer, maybe he can try a little give.
he scoffs, rolls his eyes. ]
Yeah, yeah. Your hands are clean, but you'll be complaining about your old bones next.
[ he picks up the plate of dumplings, kind of abruptly, and scoots over in the little chair. it's not the first time they've shared it, though it is the first time it's been - well. not because they were half undressed. ] I don't want to hear it.
he's surprised, by this, enough that it shows up on his face. his ears pin down briefly, and then puff back up, flicking a little. for a long moment, it seems like he might say no, like he might stubbornly keep himself on the ground, but... therion is offering. he's giving, in his own way. and he can't push that away, not when it's so clearly an effort to try. a follow up, a follow through.
so, carefully, jiaoqiu climbs up onto the chair. he groans appropriately, making a show at rubbing at his back. ]
So very generous. [ he jokes, lightly.
and then he arranges himself. settles in the chair itself, but eases sideways, resting his legs over therion's lap. he's pretty light, even if he's bony and a bit gangly. he will also reach for the dumplings again, using it as an excuse to lean against therion. ]
Unfortunately, the state of my bones is irreversible. You'll hear them, even if I don't make any mention.
[ shut up!!! (he didn't actually say anything about it) shut up!!!
whatever. this is - better, this is better. it felt weird to be split on two different levels like that, especially for a skittish little thief, and despite his complaining about jiaoqiu's complaining, he does care and know it's probably bad for him to just sit on the ground like that. he should get to sit in the chair. it's not like therion also desperately craves human contact or anything no matter how cognizant he is of it.
because therion's expecting it, he doesn't really tense this time. he makes a little noise as he takes up space, squishing them both into the recliner seat and nudges his thigh so his old bones aren't digging into therion's scrawny ones, then lifts the dumpling plate again to allow him to get himself settled properly. and. it's nice. it's really warm, actually. he's allowing himself to kind of be trapped here, with the legs over his lap, but while as always he's aware of the exits, he's not acutely searching for them.
once jiaoqiu's arranged himself, he puts the dumpling plate back on top of jiaoqiu's legs and - lets him lean in close, too, grabbing another dumpling to eat quickly, letting the spice burn his mouth and the back of his throat and focus on that instead of the unfortunate little heart-thumping feeling he gets at being so close. ]
I don't think you know how not to mention them. [ ooooh ooowww et cetera. the eyeroll and grousing are once again deeply perfunctory. ] At least you're not full of shit about being old.
[ it's actually questionable if therion even knows how old he is, let alone jiaoqiu, so he can't really complain. his fake id says he's 22, but having a real ID would require him to exist in any kind of system, which he simply does not. ]
[ therion is right, it's probably bad for him to sit on the ground for multiple reasons, and it's not just his bones.
it's much warmer, here. it's softer. they're both sort of stringy people with not a lot of padding, but having a warm body to curl up with is always so much better than nothing. even that's too impersonal, he thinks - it's not just that therion is a warm body, it's that therion is therion, and that's why it's nice. his tail tucks in close, and he hums soft, reaching for another dumpling. the spice feels good. for the most part, he feels good too - encouraged, even, because therion is eating, is sassing him. it's normal. which means he isn't about to bleed to death, and he isn't about to run. the grouching rolls right off jiaoqiu's back, as usual. ]
I've been around for a while. [ he says, finally. he rests his head against the recliner, closing his eyes. ] I suppose it's my memories that I should be more concerned with, not my body.
[ but, y'know. foxians don't ever really make it to the age to get mara-struck, because around three hundred-ish their organs just all stop working pretty abruptly, so at least there's that. isn't this fun conversation fodder! his ear flicks, and he reaches for another dumpling, but this time, he breaks it in half, and then lifts one half like he is in fact going to feed therion. ]
[ hmm. that makes him think back to that cemetery again, to the nearly faded, out of time figure in front of two gravestones. how many of those gravestones are there? scary. the idea to someone like therion - someone who has no connections - is almost like proof that the way he lives his life is correct. that getting attached to anyone only ends poorly, whether it's by death or by betrayal.
only...that's the thing. that's what this is - attachment. he feels it, the urge to cut loose again, the sudden little stab of fear that comes from the idea of caring for someone else long enough that to lose them one way or another leaves another scar. he feels it in jiaoqiu attached to his side, physically, in the warmth of his body. it'd probably be better for them both if he fucked off forever - temporary pain from another miserable little grave to melt beside. if he even had one.
he's pulled out of that stream of thought by the dumpling in his face. thankfully, this is a good enough distraction - therion gives jiaoqiu an extremely flat look. ]
[ the horrible thing about this is that jiaoqiu also thinks it might be better for therion to fuck off forever. not because he doesn't want him here - he does. that's the problem, right? they're both reaching for each other. both reaching, and thinking I can't subject him to this. jiaoqiu can't find more to lose if he doesn't have anything to begin with, and past that, therion doesn't deserve to be assigned anchor. it's a heavy thing. it's a burden, jiaoqiu thinks.
but for right now, he can't find it in himself to pull away. so he doesn't. he just gives therion a little smile, tail wriggling. ]
[ HELP he's so funny. jiaoqiu unfortunately thinks this is very endearing, and there's that spark of life again, the desire to tease. therion's ears go red, and jiaoqiu zeroes in on it like a target. the heavy things can come later. for now, he's indulging, greedily pulling those reactions out bit by bit.
he leans a little closer, and carefully feeds therion a piece of dumpling, expression impish. and then just as carefully, he leans up just a bit to press a kiss to therion's ear. maybe he bites it a little, too, not hard - just a nip. ]
[ he thinks this is stupid!!! he thinks this is very stupid!!! in fact, when he nips at his ear like that, therion bites his fingers. rude.
his ears get redder afterwards though so hey. he extricates the dumpling bit and swallows it, pulling his head back some. the motion jostles his front fringe, just a little bit, showing the edge of his scar once more when he leans away. ]
You'd think you of all people would know not to stick your fingers in someone's mouth. [ in a wolf's mouth, but he doesn't repeat the nickname. ]
I've had my fingers in worse places, let me assure you.
[ this isn't even meant to be dirty he just means he's had his hands in some really rancid places
he does know how it sounds though, and he grins a bit about it. the bite gets him to shake his hand out, but it's a really perfunctory motion because one, he barely felt it, and two, if therion wasn't chewing he'd shove his fingers right back in. he wipes his hand on his own shirt, because therion is shirtless.
said grin fades just a little bit when the edge of the scar shows itself, though. it's been months, and he's always avoided it because therion seems skittish about it. but jiaoqiu is in his lap, and therion said he'd stay. maybe...
carefully again - he brings a hand up and touches therion's cheek, sliding just a little under the fringe of hair. not all the way up, not moving it aside, just kind of an ask for permission. can he see? ]
[ he can't help but snort a little bit at the dirty joke, intentional or otherwise, because his sense of humor is akin to a frat boy's and this is the kind of person he is. however!! there's not much to laugh about a second later.
jiaoqiu's hand on his face always elicits Emotions, but this is different. he's always jerked his head back and dodged out of the way of anything getting anywhere near his bang fringe, whether in the heat of the moment or even just on a windy day. it is, in essence, a piece of armor, covering an extremely vulnerable part of him in more ways than one. it's the echo of his final fight with darius, a vicious, knives out conflict that had ended with therion's trust shattered along with many of his bones. a wound that he cared for himself, that never healed quite right. a weakness, a vulnerability.
his breath catches. sharp, obvious. therion tries to play it off, quickly, voice going disinterested and bored, like this isn't a huge deal. ]
What? This? You're not missing anything. You really want to look?
[ because clearly he's sooooo unbothered by this!! it's flimsy, and the last question is asked almost flippantly. jiaoqiu could back off here, or he could press forward. for the first time, it seems like there might be a chance that he won't back away from it. ]
[ the fact that therion hasn't jerked back violently like all the other times is a good sign. that's something. but even though he's trying to just play it off, jiaoqiu can hear the shift in his breathing, the way that his heartbeat kicks up a notch, if only for a moment. whatever this is, whatever caused what therion is hiding - jiaoqiu doesn't know for sure, but he imagines it's significant, that it's the reason why therion ducks and dodges any affection, genuine feelings. scars like that run deep.
the doctor in him is curious, wants to see. but it's more than that. sliding out of that last piece of armor. like walking an empty fox home in the rain.
he pauses. ]
But if you tell me to stop, I will.
[ he wants that to be clear, before he pushes therion's hair aside. jiaoqiu is a brat, a void, a bad person, but what has always been important to him is consent. he couldn't always get it, on the battlefield. now, in his small apartment, in a beat up old recliner, he can offer trust, and see if he gets it in return. ]
[ it is flippant and bored, dry and unconcerned. he probably can't get a tacit yes out of therion - not with this, not where he desperately has to hold onto the shield he's stapled over his emotions so no one can see how vulnerable he really is. not where he has to hold onto his composure, gripping it like a vise, in order to allow himself to even have this moment of trust.
but that is his version of yes. jiaoqiu knows him by now. if nothing else, the way he just pushes his cheek into the hand, moving his bangs just a little further, confirms it. he doesn't care. who cares. he can just look at it. no big deal.
and so, he holds his breath and does everything his power to keep himself neutral, keep his expression neutral, as tense as a taut wire as the curtain of his hair starts to move. underneath his bang, therion's left eye is marred by a huge scar that extends from his eyebrow down to the edge of his bangs. the skin is wrinkled and unhealed, gnarled dead tissue, discolored compared to the rest of his naturally tan skintone, and the eye itself is only barely open, forced half shut by the damage to the eyelid - even his iris is a dull, cloudy green, a clear indicator that his sight is murky at best.
he's not trembling or anything, but by the time his eye's out in the open, therion's holding his breath, his heart thudding so hard in his chest that he can hear it rushing in his ears, and he remains silent.
there it is: the ugly indicator of what trust and attachment got him in the past. ]
Edited (i love this art so much i decided to link it) 2024-10-09 20:48 (UTC)
[ this is good enough. he can read between the lines.
jiaoqiu has seen a lot of horrible wounds in his lifetime. he's seen gore and blood and bone, and everything in between. the dead tissue, the scarring - it does not make him gasp or shock him any. and he wouldn't react explosively regardless, but he takes extra care to school his expression, because therion is so tense that jiaoqiu can almost hear his heart trying to escape his chest. it's not a big deal, therion says, but his body language says otherwise. and jiaoqiu is good at reading that, at least.
it hurts to see. clearly, it didn't heal right. clearly, he had nobody to help him fix it. no wonder he had trouble coming here. it makes jiaoqiu angry. his eyes, his throat, his mouth, his lips burn with something toxic and gritty, and he swallows it down, ears pinned back against his skull. he's so angry for therion, and it feels - good. like he could get his claws into it, like he could bury his fangs into something soft.
a pause. deep breath. instead, he leans up, and presses a kiss to the scar, just under therion's half-ruined eye. right after, he eases therion's hair back down over it, giving him the blanket to pull up over his head, so to speak. a little thank you, for having the courage to give over something as vulnerable as this. ]
If you'd like, I can give you something that may help your vision. [ he says, voice easy. he settles back down against therion's side, reaching to pick at the dumplings again. casual. meaningful, because he knows that was a big thing, but letting him come down a little before he picks at the sore spot. ]
[ the visual cues are hard to miss no matter how good jiaoqiu is at hiding the rest of it - though the one that he sees surprises him a little. the way his ears pin back like that is a strange reaction, and it almost makes him defensive, but then again just about anything could set his hair trigger off, at this point. though he holds very still, he's fighting every urge to upend jiaoqiu and the plate and flee, or to start snapping his teeth like a dog. mostly, he doesn't know how to handle his own emotions, a messy disaster of distrust and pride.
and then - well, and then jiaoqiu kisses under his eye. this time, another unschooled reaction, one close to stunned. he sucks in another breath through his nose, and his heart fucking leaps in his chest, suddenly feeling like it might come out through his throat. the reaction of kindness and... tenderness, in the face of something like that is almost unbearable in its root causes, almost too much. the only thing he's ever known that side is the kiss of a knife. he doesn't jump, and he doesn't jerk out of the way, and instead he's just sitting there with his whole world rocked as the bangs come back down over his face.
it takes him a full beat to do anything, and therion's never slow on the draw. slowly, his hands come unclenched from where they were curled. and then he snaps back into nonchalance, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, and shrugs, turning his head away and combing his bangs with his fingers, reflexively, ensuring they go back in place. therion doesn't move away, doesn't push him away, and that's enough. ]
Doesn't really matter. [ whether that's about his vision or how it happened, at first it's hard to tell. he's long learned to compensate for his eye, learned how to be dextrous in every manner there is in order to keep himself alive. like always, he has learned to adapt, and learned how to survive. ]
[ another violent ear flick. this time, his tail swishes, too. his expression is calm and placid, like always, but he can't help the little reactions, the ones that betray the way he feels about it. god. he feels about it. that's something in and of itself. ]
It matters to me.
[ he says, simply, and puts a dumpling in his mouth. whether that's about his vision or how it happened - it's the same. ]
[ but therion knows that it does. and he knows that rehashing this is pointless, but sometimes he can't help but stick his finger in the wound and prod at it, because that is his nature.
however, he knows there's not really any arguing it. he takes a dumpling too, fidgets at the edges of it with his fingers, like he might pick that open, too. and after a long, long pause, finally, he acquiesces. ]
... I'm used to it. I'd have to relearn. [ if he could see fully again. the story behind it is to raw to even come close to without being dragged. ]
Have you heard of Tumbledust? [ ... ] With just one drop, it's able to numb a patient's body during surgery, making them painless throughout the entire process. However. Increase the dose or the potency, and it'll slow the metabolism, making the blood thin and resulting in the loss of all senses. Even long-life species cannot escape its effects.
[ his voice gets more and more flat, as he explains. he's just staring at the wall, now. arms folded in his lap. ]
A long time ago, a borisin man broke free of a prison, and planned to eradicate an entire ship's worth of people. But, you see... it is a custom among borisin to kill prisoners and drink their blood before battle to stir up their madness.
When you are faced with watching a hundred thousand people die, and you cannot convince a paranoid and distrusting man to drink poison, you work with what you have.
[ tumbledust is not a name he's really familiar with - he's heard of plenty of street drugs, but not the kind that help people, usually. and as jiaoqiu explains, therion turns his head to really look at him, to process what he's actually telling him with a slowly raising eyebrow.
in therion's world, people are selfish. jioaqiu is an incredibly unique entity in his so far experience, in that he does seem to just give (and give, and give, and give, until there's nothing left) and all this has done is prove it. the idea of poisoning yourself - presenting yourself on a silver platter to be consumed, devoured, to destroy someone else - would never, ever occur to someone like him, and for a moment he's stunned at the magnitude of what he did. the twisted sort of logic combined with the utter lack of fear, the ability to stare death in the face and walk straight towards it for the sake of others.
it takes him a second to remember - therion exhales out, harshly, the noise a hah, shaking his head. ]
...You're nuts. [ once again, his intuition that something was deeply wrong with him was not wrong. that he had a death wish. not wrong! jiaoqiu is unbelievable in so many ways. however, it doesn't necessarily sound like a bad thing, just sort of a realizing thing, the depths of how it went, the depths of things that jiaoqiu would do. therion's story is not nearly so grandiose. ]
[ this is about the response he was expecting, it's fine.
it's funny, to think that therion might think this is an act of selflessness. maybe it is a little, on paper. but he's never thought about it that way. to sacrifice means you need to care about the thing being given, and he hadn't, in such a long time. there was no fear, and it wasn't noble, because bravery isn't an absence of fear, it's moving in spite of it. this was penance. he poisoned himself to poison the borisin, to weaken him just enough for the general to win. he was useless enough to be caught. his use was in this, and he had no regrets because it did not matter, in the end, so long as his general lived.
silence, for a moment. ]
The drug made it seem like I was dead. I was found much later after the battle had concluded. The healer could not tell me how I survived - she suggested perhaps it was because I desperately needed an answer to a question. The spirit can be much stronger than the flesh, under the right circumstances.
[ the far away deliverance of the information doesn't really surprise him either, the way he just stares at the wall - he's quiet for a long moment after jiaoqiu finishes.
the spirit can be stronger than the flesh, huh. ]
...
[ after a second, he turns, just slightly - just enough to press his good, uninjured shoulder to jiaoqiu's a little more firmly, subtly curling in closer, subtly pressing them together from shoulder to hip. it's his turn to look back at the wall, but therion says, quietly: ]
... I get that.
[ when the spirit outlives the body. laying broken at the bottom of a cliff, when he just wouldn't die. he doesn't say anything after that, just lapsing into silence, pressed closer to jiaoqiu's side. ]
[ it's grounding. therion presses against him, and it helps. there's a mire in front of him, a swamp, a void, a black hole. it sits in the middle of the room and threatens to drag him in, but therion keeps him here. that's a relief, he thinks. even if it hurts. his fingers curl around therion's arm, gently. just to have something. ]
I don't doubt that. [ he says finally, closing his eyes. ] You have suffered much in a short amount of time, and yet you still function.
[ jiaoqiu's life has been long, and his pains and traumas spread out over the years. at least he has that. ]
In any case. I can see now. I won't bore you with the treatment details, but it did take a long time to adjust, both ways.
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jiaoqiu makes a FACE. ]
Maybe I should call you a -- a parrot instead. [ a beat. avoids... calling him a crow. he clears his throat, and then reaches to pick a dumpling off the plate and munch on it. ]
My hands are clean.
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he scoffs, rolls his eyes. ]
Yeah, yeah. Your hands are clean, but you'll be complaining about your old bones next.
[ he picks up the plate of dumplings, kind of abruptly, and scoots over in the little chair. it's not the first time they've shared it, though it is the first time it's been - well. not because they were half undressed. ] I don't want to hear it.
[ so come on. come over here. ]
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he's surprised, by this, enough that it shows up on his face. his ears pin down briefly, and then puff back up, flicking a little. for a long moment, it seems like he might say no, like he might stubbornly keep himself on the ground, but... therion is offering. he's giving, in his own way. and he can't push that away, not when it's so clearly an effort to try. a follow up, a follow through.
so, carefully, jiaoqiu climbs up onto the chair. he groans appropriately, making a show at rubbing at his back. ]
So very generous. [ he jokes, lightly.
and then he arranges himself. settles in the chair itself, but eases sideways, resting his legs over therion's lap. he's pretty light, even if he's bony and a bit gangly. he will also reach for the dumplings again, using it as an excuse to lean against therion. ]
Unfortunately, the state of my bones is irreversible. You'll hear them, even if I don't make any mention.
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whatever. this is - better, this is better. it felt weird to be split on two different levels like that, especially for a skittish little thief, and despite his complaining about jiaoqiu's complaining, he does care and know it's probably bad for him to just sit on the ground like that. he should get to sit in the chair. it's not like therion also desperately craves human contact or anything no matter how cognizant he is of it.
because therion's expecting it, he doesn't really tense this time. he makes a little noise as he takes up space, squishing them both into the recliner seat and nudges his thigh so his old bones aren't digging into therion's scrawny ones, then lifts the dumpling plate again to allow him to get himself settled properly. and. it's nice. it's really warm, actually. he's allowing himself to kind of be trapped here, with the legs over his lap, but while as always he's aware of the exits, he's not acutely searching for them.
once jiaoqiu's arranged himself, he puts the dumpling plate back on top of jiaoqiu's legs and - lets him lean in close, too, grabbing another dumpling to eat quickly, letting the spice burn his mouth and the back of his throat and focus on that instead of the unfortunate little heart-thumping feeling he gets at being so close. ]
I don't think you know how not to mention them. [ ooooh ooowww et cetera. the eyeroll and grousing are once again deeply perfunctory. ] At least you're not full of shit about being old.
[ it's actually questionable if therion even knows how old he is, let alone jiaoqiu, so he can't really complain. his fake id says he's 22, but having a real ID would require him to exist in any kind of system, which he simply does not. ]
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it's much warmer, here. it's softer. they're both sort of stringy people with not a lot of padding, but having a warm body to curl up with is always so much better than nothing. even that's too impersonal, he thinks - it's not just that therion is a warm body, it's that therion is therion, and that's why it's nice. his tail tucks in close, and he hums soft, reaching for another dumpling. the spice feels good. for the most part, he feels good too - encouraged, even, because therion is eating, is sassing him. it's normal. which means he isn't about to bleed to death, and he isn't about to run. the grouching rolls right off jiaoqiu's back, as usual. ]
I've been around for a while. [ he says, finally. he rests his head against the recliner, closing his eyes. ] I suppose it's my memories that I should be more concerned with, not my body.
[ but, y'know. foxians don't ever really make it to the age to get mara-struck, because around three hundred-ish their organs just all stop working pretty abruptly, so at least there's that. isn't this fun conversation fodder! his ear flicks, and he reaches for another dumpling, but this time, he breaks it in half, and then lifts one half like he is in fact going to feed therion. ]
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only...that's the thing. that's what this is - attachment. he feels it, the urge to cut loose again, the sudden little stab of fear that comes from the idea of caring for someone else long enough that to lose them one way or another leaves another scar. he feels it in jiaoqiu attached to his side, physically, in the warmth of his body. it'd probably be better for them both if he fucked off forever - temporary pain from another miserable little grave to melt beside. if he even had one.
he's pulled out of that stream of thought by the dumpling in his face. thankfully, this is a good enough distraction - therion gives jiaoqiu an extremely flat look. ]
Seriously.
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but for right now, he can't find it in himself to pull away. so he doesn't. he just gives therion a little smile, tail wriggling. ]
I said I would.
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but fine. opens his mouth. behind his fringe, his ears start turn a little red? this is weirdly embarrassing. ]
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he leans a little closer, and carefully feeds therion a piece of dumpling, expression impish. and then just as carefully, he leans up just a bit to press a kiss to therion's ear. maybe he bites it a little, too, not hard - just a nip. ]
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his ears get redder afterwards though so hey. he extricates the dumpling bit and swallows it, pulling his head back some. the motion jostles his front fringe, just a little bit, showing the edge of his scar once more when he leans away. ]
You'd think you of all people would know not to stick your fingers in someone's mouth. [ in a wolf's mouth, but he doesn't repeat the nickname. ]
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[ this isn't even meant to be dirty he just means he's had his hands in some really rancid places
he does know how it sounds though, and he grins a bit about it. the bite gets him to shake his hand out, but it's a really perfunctory motion because one, he barely felt it, and two, if therion wasn't chewing he'd shove his fingers right back in. he wipes his hand on his own shirt, because therion is shirtless.
said grin fades just a little bit when the edge of the scar shows itself, though. it's been months, and he's always avoided it because therion seems skittish about it. but jiaoqiu is in his lap, and therion said he'd stay. maybe...
carefully again - he brings a hand up and touches therion's cheek, sliding just a little under the fringe of hair. not all the way up, not moving it aside, just kind of an ask for permission. can he see? ]
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jiaoqiu's hand on his face always elicits Emotions, but this is different. he's always jerked his head back and dodged out of the way of anything getting anywhere near his bang fringe, whether in the heat of the moment or even just on a windy day. it is, in essence, a piece of armor, covering an extremely vulnerable part of him in more ways than one. it's the echo of his final fight with darius, a vicious, knives out conflict that had ended with therion's trust shattered along with many of his bones. a wound that he cared for himself, that never healed quite right. a weakness, a vulnerability.
his breath catches. sharp, obvious. therion tries to play it off, quickly, voice going disinterested and bored, like this isn't a huge deal. ]
What? This? You're not missing anything. You really want to look?
[ because clearly he's sooooo unbothered by this!! it's flimsy, and the last question is asked almost flippantly. jiaoqiu could back off here, or he could press forward. for the first time, it seems like there might be a chance that he won't back away from it. ]
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I'd like to see all of you.
[ the fact that therion hasn't jerked back violently like all the other times is a good sign. that's something. but even though he's trying to just play it off, jiaoqiu can hear the shift in his breathing, the way that his heartbeat kicks up a notch, if only for a moment. whatever this is, whatever caused what therion is hiding - jiaoqiu doesn't know for sure, but he imagines it's significant, that it's the reason why therion ducks and dodges any affection, genuine feelings. scars like that run deep.
the doctor in him is curious, wants to see. but it's more than that. sliding out of that last piece of armor. like walking an empty fox home in the rain.
he pauses. ]
But if you tell me to stop, I will.
[ he wants that to be clear, before he pushes therion's hair aside. jiaoqiu is a brat, a void, a bad person, but what has always been important to him is consent. he couldn't always get it, on the battlefield. now, in his small apartment, in a beat up old recliner, he can offer trust, and see if he gets it in return. ]
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[ it is flippant and bored, dry and unconcerned. he probably can't get a tacit yes out of therion - not with this, not where he desperately has to hold onto the shield he's stapled over his emotions so no one can see how vulnerable he really is. not where he has to hold onto his composure, gripping it like a vise, in order to allow himself to even have this moment of trust.
but that is his version of yes. jiaoqiu knows him by now. if nothing else, the way he just pushes his cheek into the hand, moving his bangs just a little further, confirms it. he doesn't care. who cares. he can just look at it. no big deal.
and so, he holds his breath and does everything his power to keep himself neutral, keep his expression neutral, as tense as a taut wire as the curtain of his hair starts to move. underneath his bang, therion's left eye is marred by a huge scar that extends from his eyebrow down to the edge of his bangs. the skin is wrinkled and unhealed, gnarled dead tissue, discolored compared to the rest of his naturally tan skintone, and the eye itself is only barely open, forced half shut by the damage to the eyelid - even his iris is a dull, cloudy green, a clear indicator that his sight is murky at best.
he's not trembling or anything, but by the time his eye's out in the open, therion's holding his breath, his heart thudding so hard in his chest that he can hear it rushing in his ears, and he remains silent.
there it is: the ugly indicator of what trust and attachment got him in the past. ]
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jiaoqiu has seen a lot of horrible wounds in his lifetime. he's seen gore and blood and bone, and everything in between. the dead tissue, the scarring - it does not make him gasp or shock him any. and he wouldn't react explosively regardless, but he takes extra care to school his expression, because therion is so tense that jiaoqiu can almost hear his heart trying to escape his chest. it's not a big deal, therion says, but his body language says otherwise. and jiaoqiu is good at reading that, at least.
it hurts to see. clearly, it didn't heal right. clearly, he had nobody to help him fix it. no wonder he had trouble coming here. it makes jiaoqiu angry. his eyes, his throat, his mouth, his lips burn with something toxic and gritty, and he swallows it down, ears pinned back against his skull. he's so angry for therion, and it feels - good. like he could get his claws into it, like he could bury his fangs into something soft.
a pause. deep breath. instead, he leans up, and presses a kiss to the scar, just under therion's half-ruined eye. right after, he eases therion's hair back down over it, giving him the blanket to pull up over his head, so to speak. a little thank you, for having the courage to give over something as vulnerable as this. ]
If you'd like, I can give you something that may help your vision. [ he says, voice easy. he settles back down against therion's side, reaching to pick at the dumplings again. casual. meaningful, because he knows that was a big thing, but letting him come down a little before he picks at the sore spot. ]
Will you tell me how it happened sometime?
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and then - well, and then jiaoqiu kisses under his eye. this time, another unschooled reaction, one close to stunned. he sucks in another breath through his nose, and his heart fucking leaps in his chest, suddenly feeling like it might come out through his throat. the reaction of kindness and... tenderness, in the face of something like that is almost unbearable in its root causes, almost too much. the only thing he's ever known that side is the kiss of a knife. he doesn't jump, and he doesn't jerk out of the way, and instead he's just sitting there with his whole world rocked as the bangs come back down over his face.
it takes him a full beat to do anything, and therion's never slow on the draw. slowly, his hands come unclenched from where they were curled. and then he snaps back into nonchalance, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, and shrugs, turning his head away and combing his bangs with his fingers, reflexively, ensuring they go back in place. therion doesn't move away, doesn't push him away, and that's enough. ]
Doesn't really matter. [ whether that's about his vision or how it happened, at first it's hard to tell. he's long learned to compensate for his eye, learned how to be dextrous in every manner there is in order to keep himself alive. like always, he has learned to adapt, and learned how to survive. ]
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It matters to me.
[ he says, simply, and puts a dumpling in his mouth. whether that's about his vision or how it happened - it's the same. ]
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[ but therion knows that it does. and he knows that rehashing this is pointless, but sometimes he can't help but stick his finger in the wound and prod at it, because that is his nature.
however, he knows there's not really any arguing it. he takes a dumpling too, fidgets at the edges of it with his fingers, like he might pick that open, too. and after a long, long pause, finally, he acquiesces. ]
... I'm used to it. I'd have to relearn. [ if he could see fully again. the story behind it is to raw to even come close to without being dragged. ]
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Yes. It is difficult to readjust to your senses. It took me years, and a very dedicated healer.
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he pauses, fingers freezing, and tilts his head just enough to regard him. for not the first time, jiaoqiu gets cast in a different light. ]
...What happened to you?
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Have you heard of Tumbledust? [ ... ] With just one drop, it's able to numb a patient's body during surgery, making them painless throughout the entire process. However. Increase the dose or the potency, and it'll slow the metabolism, making the blood thin and resulting in the loss of all senses. Even long-life species cannot escape its effects.
[ his voice gets more and more flat, as he explains. he's just staring at the wall, now. arms folded in his lap. ]
A long time ago, a borisin man broke free of a prison, and planned to eradicate an entire ship's worth of people. But, you see... it is a custom among borisin to kill prisoners and drink their blood before battle to stir up their madness.
When you are faced with watching a hundred thousand people die, and you cannot convince a paranoid and distrusting man to drink poison, you work with what you have.
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in therion's world, people are selfish. jioaqiu is an incredibly unique entity in his so far experience, in that he does seem to just give (and give, and give, and give, until there's nothing left) and all this has done is prove it. the idea of poisoning yourself - presenting yourself on a silver platter to be consumed, devoured, to destroy someone else - would never, ever occur to someone like him, and for a moment he's stunned at the magnitude of what he did. the twisted sort of logic combined with the utter lack of fear, the ability to stare death in the face and walk straight towards it for the sake of others.
it takes him a second to remember - therion exhales out, harshly, the noise a hah, shaking his head. ]
...You're nuts. [ once again, his intuition that something was deeply wrong with him was not wrong. that he had a death wish. not wrong! jiaoqiu is unbelievable in so many ways. however, it doesn't necessarily sound like a bad thing, just sort of a realizing thing, the depths of how it went, the depths of things that jiaoqiu would do. therion's story is not nearly so grandiose. ]
How'd you live through it?
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it's funny, to think that therion might think this is an act of selflessness. maybe it is a little, on paper. but he's never thought about it that way. to sacrifice means you need to care about the thing being given, and he hadn't, in such a long time. there was no fear, and it wasn't noble, because bravery isn't an absence of fear, it's moving in spite of it. this was penance. he poisoned himself to poison the borisin, to weaken him just enough for the general to win. he was useless enough to be caught. his use was in this, and he had no regrets because it did not matter, in the end, so long as his general lived.
silence, for a moment. ]
The drug made it seem like I was dead. I was found much later after the battle had concluded. The healer could not tell me how I survived - she suggested perhaps it was because I desperately needed an answer to a question. The spirit can be much stronger than the flesh, under the right circumstances.
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the spirit can be stronger than the flesh, huh. ]
...
[ after a second, he turns, just slightly - just enough to press his good, uninjured shoulder to jiaoqiu's a little more firmly, subtly curling in closer, subtly pressing them together from shoulder to hip. it's his turn to look back at the wall, but therion says, quietly: ]
... I get that.
[ when the spirit outlives the body. laying broken at the bottom of a cliff, when he just wouldn't die. he doesn't say anything after that, just lapsing into silence, pressed closer to jiaoqiu's side. ]
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I don't doubt that. [ he says finally, closing his eyes. ] You have suffered much in a short amount of time, and yet you still function.
[ jiaoqiu's life has been long, and his pains and traumas spread out over the years. at least he has that. ]
In any case. I can see now. I won't bore you with the treatment details, but it did take a long time to adjust, both ways.
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