[ 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.
[ he snorts, at first - a little dryly. suffered much. he guesses. he's not really the type of person to call it suffering, it just is. and for as shitty as parts of his life were when he was growing up, he's carved out a name and a place for himself that he's happy with. content with being nothing and no one, therion despite everything, rarely holds grudges.
in moments like these, jiaoqiu feels like a kid's balloon, just one grubby hand away from floating off into the heavens. he's not stupid - his gaze flicks back to jiaoqiu's for a moment, more intense than before, and he nudges him with his shoulder. ]
Hey. Don't get stuck on it. [ not the nicest things to say, but maybe it's better to be harsh - therion's certainly never been one to sugarcoat anything, and he doesn't mean it necessarily cruelly. but he can watch jiaoqiu starting to drift back into the long years of his past and pull him back. if anyone knows how to leave the past behind, as far as he thinks, anyway, it's therion.
anyway. ]
Good thing it got better, fluff. All that and it still can't cure your old bones.
[ no, it definitely helps - the harshness is almost better than something sweet. pain, or spice, or sharp words... whatever it is, it keeps him here. it's why he eats food so hot it burns his insides, and it's why he dug his claw into the wound on his palm, months ago. deep breath. right, yeah. don't get stuck on it. don't think about the answer to that question, and how his plan didn't even amount to anything in the end. he's still here. for better or for worse.
slowly, jiaoqiu slides down and rests his head on therion's uninjured shoulder, exhausted by the effort of keeping himself from fading. therion's words get him to let out a little huff of a sound, something approaching a laugh. ]
What a shame. [ he jokes, lazily. ] Old bones or no, I keep up with you fine.
[ mostly. like listen if therion told him to jog for his life he'd just keel over and die, but that does not extend to sex. he can do that just fine!!
as he speaks, he slides his hand down therion's arm, tracing his claws along the inside of therion's wrist, and then up the inside of his arm, just very lightly. touching to touch, really. ]
The offer stands, should you want something even to ease the scarring.
[ rude??? but he's just saying this to get a reaction of some kind, because he can't ever resist it, and also because it's easier to lean into that after what has been an incredibly eventful evening. he doesn't stop jiaoqiu from resting on his shoulder - it's a little bony, but the muscles are strong, and though it's maybe not the best pillow, the tactility might be nice.
he doesn't care much about not wearing a shirt around, despite being usually relatively covered up, considering by now how many times jiaoqiu has seen him without one, but there's something awfully intimate about that little touch, the hint of a claw at his wrist. his arms are scratched up from the fight earlier here and there, but beyond that, jiaoqiu's touch strokes over a variety of old wounds. scars, from similar fights - old cuts that never quite healed right. a perfectly circular cigarette burn. an ancient, faded stick and poke tattoo of a little knife, marked through with another old injury. on his wrist, an old mark from a shackle that he only recently managed to shake off. his battered body is evidence enough for that life that he's lived, and he watches jiaoqiu do this instead of staring off into the void, the monster that tells him to wreck it for the moment silent and still. ]
I'll think about it. [ that's the best he's got. ]
Edited (me voice its a modern au i do what i want ) 2024-10-10 02:15 (UTC)
the rudeness gets him to laugh - he digs his nails in briefly, a little pinch. but just once, and then he's touching again. over the marks, the old scars, the scratches, and particularly that cigarette burn. he's gentle, but that one gets him. it's so intentional, is the thing. his battered body, run ragged by the world. jiaoqiu doesn't have many physical scars, from a life behind the frontlines. sometimes he wishes he did, maybe.
but that's an idle thought. he's more interested in thinking about the way that therion froze up and bluescreened at the gentleness, that he didn't know what to do with jiaoqiu kissing the scar over his eye, and it makes a little pilot light go on in his chest. click-click-click. ]
[ if you asked him, he couldn't tell you what it was from, but the reality is he could conjure the memory. it's just one of many - it could've been from fucking around, being a stupid teenager with darius, or it could have been from any number of scraps and fights he got into as a kid, surrounded by people who would beat him into the ground until he learned how to bite back.
but it doesn't matter. he glances up from where he was watching those idle patterns, then over to the plate. it's pretty much empty and he eats like a bird, anyway, so he just makes an affirmative noise. his mouth's still tingling from all the capsaicin, anyway. ] Mn.
[ amazing how he feels less like he's going to spiral away deep down the fear hole TM now that he's had a full meal. it's still there but like sometimes that helps. crazy. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
but fine. opens his mouth. behind his fringe, his ears start turn a little red? this is weirdly embarrassing. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ 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? ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
Yes. It is difficult to readjust to your senses. It took me years, and a very dedicated healer.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
in moments like these, jiaoqiu feels like a kid's balloon, just one grubby hand away from floating off into the heavens. he's not stupid - his gaze flicks back to jiaoqiu's for a moment, more intense than before, and he nudges him with his shoulder. ]
Hey. Don't get stuck on it. [ not the nicest things to say, but maybe it's better to be harsh - therion's certainly never been one to sugarcoat anything, and he doesn't mean it necessarily cruelly. but he can watch jiaoqiu starting to drift back into the long years of his past and pull him back. if anyone knows how to leave the past behind, as far as he thinks, anyway, it's therion.
anyway. ]
Good thing it got better, fluff. All that and it still can't cure your old bones.
no subject
slowly, jiaoqiu slides down and rests his head on therion's uninjured shoulder, exhausted by the effort of keeping himself from fading. therion's words get him to let out a little huff of a sound, something approaching a laugh. ]
What a shame. [ he jokes, lazily. ] Old bones or no, I keep up with you fine.
[ mostly. like listen if therion told him to jog for his life he'd just keel over and die, but that does not extend to sex. he can do that just fine!!
as he speaks, he slides his hand down therion's arm, tracing his claws along the inside of therion's wrist, and then up the inside of his arm, just very lightly. touching to touch, really. ]
The offer stands, should you want something even to ease the scarring.
no subject
[ rude??? but he's just saying this to get a reaction of some kind, because he can't ever resist it, and also because it's easier to lean into that after what has been an incredibly eventful evening. he doesn't stop jiaoqiu from resting on his shoulder - it's a little bony, but the muscles are strong, and though it's maybe not the best pillow, the tactility might be nice.
he doesn't care much about not wearing a shirt around, despite being usually relatively covered up, considering by now how many times jiaoqiu has seen him without one, but there's something awfully intimate about that little touch, the hint of a claw at his wrist. his arms are scratched up from the fight earlier here and there, but beyond that, jiaoqiu's touch strokes over a variety of old wounds. scars, from similar fights - old cuts that never quite healed right. a perfectly circular cigarette burn. an ancient, faded stick and poke tattoo of a little knife, marked through with another old injury. on his wrist, an old mark from a shackle that he only recently managed to shake off. his battered body is evidence enough for that life that he's lived, and he watches jiaoqiu do this instead of staring off into the void, the monster that tells him to wreck it for the moment silent and still. ]
I'll think about it. [ that's the best he's got. ]
no subject
the rudeness gets him to laugh - he digs his nails in briefly, a little pinch. but just once, and then he's touching again. over the marks, the old scars, the scratches, and particularly that cigarette burn. he's gentle, but that one gets him. it's so intentional, is the thing. his battered body, run ragged by the world. jiaoqiu doesn't have many physical scars, from a life behind the frontlines. sometimes he wishes he did, maybe.
but that's an idle thought. he's more interested in thinking about the way that therion froze up and bluescreened at the gentleness, that he didn't know what to do with jiaoqiu kissing the scar over his eye, and it makes a little pilot light go on in his chest. click-click-click. ]
Are you finished eating?
no subject
but it doesn't matter. he glances up from where he was watching those idle patterns, then over to the plate. it's pretty much empty and he eats like a bird, anyway, so he just makes an affirmative noise. his mouth's still tingling from all the capsaicin, anyway. ] Mn.
[ amazing how he feels less like he's going to spiral away deep down the fear hole TM now that he's had a full meal. it's still there but like sometimes that helps. crazy. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)