[ if jiaoqiu were a little less broken, a little less critical of himself, he'd get up and he'd go after therion. he'd grab therion's hand and he'd tell him what he feels. he'd get all of the poison he keeps swallowing down out and he'd hand over his heart and ask therion to be honest, to just, for once, to be vulnerable, because jiaoqiu has earned a little bit of that, right? he can't keep expecting jiaoqiu to hurt him when he has done all he can to prove that he won't.
but he is broken, and he is critical of himself, and it's not therion that's at fault, it's just that this is how his entire life has gone. not enough.
(you should sit down, the general and the crow are--)
cunning and patience will get you nowhere if the rest of you is worth less than dirt. so. he watches therion get up and turn his back, and says nothing. he just slides off his own barstool and drifts off to the back of the tavern, towards their room. therion's room. he'll decide what to do later. ]
not that unusual, really - he disappears for days at a time sometimes. it's kind of the benefit of being who he is, that when he walked into this tavern, he had his whole life slung over his back, and now as he's leaving it, he has the same.
(only... he doesn't. the upstairs room where he's been staying has touches of his life - practical things like extra clothes and food, but the less practical, too. an extra set of earrings, a bottle of black nail polish. a hoodie that jiaoqiu bought that was too big on purpose, that therion stole more often than not. extra blankets for cold desert nights. a hairbrush bought specifically to deal with fur care that therion pretended he didn't buy just for himself to use for jiaoqiu, when they settled together and he'd brush out his tail despite all his complaining. and then there's jiaoqiu himself - a stolen treasure, something he never deserved to have, but the greatest heist he'd ever pulled off.)
in the end, he's gone with the clothes on his back, the shoes on his feet, and his shitty little backpack, off into the night to go fuck off somewhere else, as far away from sunshade and as far away from what he ruined as humanly possible, like maybe that'll make it easier. like maybe it won't hurt, if he leaves it behind. he skips out of the country, the first few days. off for inter-system travel, and then disappears again, somewhere else, again and again.
a week passes with no word. a week and a half. nearly two. not a text message, not an in person sighting, nothing. primrose notices - if she hadn't noticed his general absence, she'd notice jiaoqiu. she's a smart girl, observant. and it's on the eve of the beginning of that second week that she crooks her finger and tells him she's booked him a private service at the end of his shift. something special. some of the others are giggly about it, as they often are.
but in reality, that "private service" turns out to be the private back room of the tavern, once used for any manner of seedy activities, bed and all, and is actually just primrose herself, shutting the curtains on the rest of the world for a while. whether it's successful or not, primrose insists he sit with her for a while, pulls his head into her lap and fixes his braids for him.
she'll avoid the topic for him for some of the evening but, at some point, she sighs, and pulls on a lock of his hair, and says, "I don't know what's happened between you two, but I do know this - men are stupid."
and jiaoqiu may get the feeling that perhaps this a statement mostly directed towards therion.... mostly. ]
nearly two, and it's likely the worst primrose has ever seen him, really. he shows up to work, but he's shut off. his expression is placid, a smile, but there's nothing behind it. time is a blur, and he finds himself almost fast-forwarded. in front of a stove, looking at where he accidentally burned his fingers. in bed, where he rolled over into an empty space. outside, at the edge of town - unsure how he got there, actually. when he checks his wallet after that one, he finds that he doesn't have one anymore. not that it matters. he doesn't have anybody to buy anything for, so he just stops carrying things around with him at all.
he's late to breakfast service one morning because he doesn't hear his alarm. something in him is terrified at that. the overwhelming majority doesn't care, and he sinks back into the silence, apologizing to primrose when he comes downstairs, gold eyes dead and flat. that's the day that she books a private service with him, and he doesn't have any reason to refuse. so he goes, showing up because he has no other place to be.
primrose is allowed to do whatever she wants. his hair is passable - his braids look like he hasn't touched them in a few days - but his fur around his ears and his tail, especially, are tangled and snarled. he doesn't react much as she braids it, just rests where he's curled up, head in her lap. it should be comforting, but he's distracted by the lighting on the wall. if he stares long enough, it flickers. he's not sure if it's his eyes or if it's the light itself.
it takes him a second to realize that she's said something. you're supposed to reply, he tells himself. right. ]
A wise sentiment. [ he says, voice airy and light. he's good at this. he's good at pretending. ] Women have always been our greatest benefactors. Without them, we would run the world into the ground.
[ but he's distant and not really paying attention to what he's saying. he doesn't want to think about therion, and his empty bed, the black nail polish jiaoqiu is wearing clumsily painted onto claws, the brush that he hid under the bed because he couldn't bear to look at it. ]
[ oh, it's so bad. those dead gold eyes were a giveaway. the placid face is too. see, game recognizes game, because primrose azelhart wore that same expression on her face for the majority of her adult life. the same vapid, fake smile. it's how she knows, because she was great at pretending, too - it was one of the things that she and therion had in common, though in her opinion, he was kind of bad at it comparatively.
so, thus, jiaoqiu gets dragged off to be paid attention to. she looks down at him as she fixes the braids, undoes them with her clever fingers and combs her fingers through it, finds some of the snarls in his fur and gently picks through those, too, the best that she can. she doesn't know he needs a brush for it in particular. therion learned it from observation.
however, she does sigh when he says this. "Yes. And you are so full of pretty words, as always..."
and then tugs on a piece of his hair. "And not a single thought behind them. " because she is not stupid! she can see you moping!! and in fact, she'll let the silence rest for a moment after this correct accusation, and then add, "You're wearing black nail polish." ]
[ it's okay - she's doing her best, and it does mean something. over time, he's grown to care a lot about primrose. she's a brilliant, clever woman, and she's been through so much. she hasn't told him a lot of it, and that's fine, he never pries, but he recognizes the vapid smile the same way she recognizes his. he knows what causes that. war, of whatever kind. so - he cares for her, he picks up extra work to ease her burdens and he listens, because she is worth it. and... well, she's a little easier to look after than therion ever has been.
not a single thought, she accuses, and his tail flicks once, almost in protest. but he doesn't argue. his eyes are on the growing black hole in the middle of the room. if he reached out, he could probably touch it.
but her observation gets him to pause. ]
... Therion left it behind. [ he says, finally. it's kind of pathetic. ] I haven't... heard from him. I don't expect to.
"Yes, I thought as much." first, because jiaoqiu does not seem like an emo kid like therion does. she does not say this, but she does think it, and after the pause, she watches jiaoqiu's distant staring for a long moment, and mentally ratshakes therion because this has to be his fault.
"It's been some time, even for him." primrose starts, after a moment, weight behind her phrasing, because she knows him, too. primrose would see therion maybe once every few months, before his arrival with jiaoqiu, but the stretches were down to mere days, and he'd stay for weeks at a time. he left much more behind than just a bottle of nail polish. there's another soft sigh. "Will you tell me what happened? Or shall I guess." ]
[ it's a little jiaoqiu's fault too, because he sucks just as bad at communicating, but he has no way of - you guessed it - communicating this. he picks at the polish on his nails absently, laying limply in primrose's lap. ]
... I am a shackle. [ he says, softer, staring out across the room. ] I suggested that I find an apartment here. I invited him to live with me, and of course he wasn't interested. He won't need to play house any longer.
[ it's been like this from the start - he's always felt bad tying his chain to therion, because by nature therion was not someone who would be happy or satisfied with being stagnant in one place. he shouldn't have mentioned it. ]
[ mm. she looks into the camera like this is the office. not really but that's the vibe.
"... typical." yeah, that sounds about right. though, she glances down at jiaoqiu, pausing in her braiding, her voice as soft as always. "And did you believe him, when he said those things?" ]
a beat. jiaoqiu wrenches his gaze away from the room to look up at her. ]
I don't know what else to do, Primrose. [ he just sounds very tired. defeated. ] He won't say the words. What else am I supposed to think, when everything he says suggests I'm a burden to him?
[ not his actions, though. jiaoqiu knows, somewhere, that actions speak louder than words, and he knows the type of person therion is, but he's gotten to the end of the feeble self worth he's got. eventually, that's going to start telling him that he should stop reading love into how therion acts, no matter how genuine it is. ]
[ this time, her hands stroke through his hair instead of just braiding when their eyes meet - the gesture is affectionate, but more so than anything, it's laced with concern. she's come to care very much about jiaoqiu, in his time in this place, and watching him backslide like this is troubling. it's written on her face, a small, sad look that fades as she shakes her head.
"Let me tell you a story." primrose says, softly. "Once, Therion and I traveled together with a companion who was a pox on womankind. That man was, by far, the most charming man that I have ever known, and he meant every word of what he said - only, he never quite understood why women fell at his feet. Therion thought to laugh, when I scolded him for it.
However, he was no better. I said that the two of them together, combined, could make the perfect gentleman. One who communicates too much - and the other, who seems to assume that the other party will understand his intentions without saying a single word at all."
there's a notable pause for effect as she finishes what she's saying - a bit of amusement to the story, lightly told despite it's meaning. "A problem you're familiar with. Though...I wonder if it sounds familiar for more reason that one...?" ]
[ did you just compare him to cyrus he'll explode (no)
no, the meaning is clear, he knows she's getting at him for not communicating clearly either. he leans into the hands a little because it's... well, he didn't realize how touch-starved he was until he had all the touch in the world. it makes him feel a little more grounded, and that's why, at the end of the story she tells, he's a bit pouty. just a little. mostly mollified, though, because it's nice to know that he's not insane. silence, for a moment, and then: ]
I thought I made myself clear enough. [ he did not. he just expected i love you to do all the work. and to be fair, it was a monumental thing, but. y'know.
he slumps down into her lap, ears pinned back tightly against his skull. ]
... I don't know where he is.
[ so even if he wanted to try, which he doesn't because he's a baby, he can't. probably. ]
[ no he's both of them, which is worse!!! you are good at communicating but also TERRIBLE at it!!!!
anyway. as he slumps down, the more honest answers are sort of what she was looking for, and primrose continues to stroke through his hair, smiling a little at the pout on his face, though the last part earns a soft click of her tongue.
"Give me a few days." which is like, terrifying sounding and therion sneezes somewhere where he's also sulking, but it really just means she's going to reach out to cordelia, because if anyone knows where therion is, it's going to be her, but jiaoqiu doesn't need to know that right now. "I'd like to have a word with him myself."
there's a brief pause, and after a moment, primrose sets her hand down on his head and leaves it there, and her brow knits together. and then, a little softer: "...Do you want to try to find him, or not, Jiaoqiu?" ]
she says give me a few days and here's the thing - he believes she can find him, wherever the hell he went. primrose is a force of nature, and though he doesn't know it, so is cordelia.
but. he sits with that question for a moment, eyes closed, ears still pinned back. does he? does he want to face potential heartbreak? does he want to hold out his hand one more time, get bit again, have to wade through all of the moats and climb all the defenses and still, possibly, be told that he's wasting his time? does he want to risk all of that, for a chance to bring therion back home?
he looks down at his hand. at his nails, at the horrible paint job. ]
... Yes. [ he says, finally, voice small. he does. ]
the expression on her face softens a little, then slides into a smile, and she says, confident and simple - "Then, I'll find him."
as simple as that. jiaoqiu has done quite a bit for her here - as someone who also had precious few friendships in her life, each one that she cultivates is tender and important. much like therion, she held her heart out and had it shattered to pieces, and found years later that the emptiness vengeance left behind was only somewhat filled by the company and kindness of the people she came to care for. so many people who come through these doors are like her, like therion, like jiaoqiu - fundamentally broken people, who still find ways to fit their rough edges together.
so. she'll find that little rat thief, who she loves dearly, for jiaoqiu, who she loves dearly. let someone else have a chance at something - miscommunication is far more fixable than dishonesty.
running her fingers through his bangs, she then pulls her hand away and gives his cheek a little pat. "And the two of you will talk to each other, or there will be consequences." this is a threat. "In the meantime, stay with me this evening, and stop wallowing in that bedroom, at least for a night."
one night of platonic friend cuddles before shit hits the fan ]
i'll find him, she says, and he's quiet, but he can hear the chatter outside of the private room. he's a little cold. he's a little hungry. there's the low drone of a fan nearby, and the smell of dinner still lingering out in the hall. when he shifts, the bed is comfortable and warm underneath him. he feels it, when she pats his face. and there's a warmth, a thawing in his chest, at being asked to stay.
he does. he wants to. being alone isn't good for him, as good at it as he is. the dancers can giggle all they want about it, he doesn't care - jiaoqiu wants nothing more than to spend the night here with her, with someone who cares enough about both him and therion to intervene. he's bony, but he's good at cuddling, and he's very appropriate with how he does it. she's safe with him.
and somewhere in there, he presses a very gentle kiss to her forehead and gives her a simple thank you, because sometimes you are an idiot who needs someone to whack you on the head and remind you to keep trying.
sorry to primrose for what comes next honestly, lord ]
[ better! he looks a little better by the end of the night. primrose fixes his manicure so it's less pathetic, and then they cuddle, and the forehead kiss clearly makes her feel some kind of way about having friends and important people, and it's a good night for everyone.
a few more days pass in that way - peaceful, relatively. quiet. primrose reaches out to cordelia, who then sends heathcote out, and no one can find therion quite like heathcote can because they are the same kind of rat person. he reports his findings to cordelia, who brings them to primrose, and she informs jiaoqiu before his shift that evening that she knows where therion is. the town of northreach - it's an ice cold, tiny town high up in the mountains, but only a few hours away by car. doable.
when primrose hands the information over, there's something visible in her eyes - worry, it looks like, molded over easily by many years of keeping a straight face, but. cordelia said she was worried about therion, based on what heathcote said, and she passes that message along, too. take care, she says, shooing him away from doing any work, and sending him right on his way.
arriving in northreach, the town itself is Bleak. this place seems pretty rough - there's sort of an aura of fear that permeates through the main streets themselves. it's inhabited by all manners, at least, and no one looks strangely at a foxian no matter how pink he is, but there's something almost oppressive about the air here. the town itself isn't too big, either. there's a huge church, a few neighborhoods, a few stores, and a couple of bars. no sign of therion, but he'd never be out in the open, anyway, so that's not too worrying. any attempt to ping his phone is met with no response. ]
[ well. primrose is worried, which means jiaoqiu is worried. but he keeps it away, as best he can. he isn't the type to work himself up into a frenzy without information. all he needs to do is find therion, and then he can go from there.
jiaoqiu is not terrible at seeking. it was never his job in the military, nor was it his specialty when he worked for feixiao. but he learned a thing or two from moze, and he learned a thing or two from tracking moze, so he takes that and puts it to use.
when he enters northreach, he pulls his several layers closer, feeling more cold than usual, and starts looking. the church, he stays away from. he's not interested in it and he doubts therion would be either, so it's a last resort. the stores he checks first, peeking around for any trace of purple, looking for signs. he doesn't ask people so much if they've seen therion because therion is a professional - he imagines nobody will have seen him at all. instead, he listens. tries to see if people have had anything stolen lately. and if he can't find anything there, he'll scoot by the bars to try and find anything suspicious at all.
the aura of fear in this place is a little overwhelming. he numbs himself out a bit, exploring. ]
there's no sign of therion, but jiaoqiu's wisely not surprised by it. the people here seem very skittish - for the most part, residents keep to themselves, muttering to each other, while others seem to strut around like they own the place, laughing and carousing loudly as the other residents scurry away. a town of cats and mice, it seems.
there's a lot of talk about things going missing here. there's some kind of traveling shop owner complaining at one of the locals - I turned my back for one second, and all my goods were gone! Is someone going to do something about this? - as the local person shakes her head, pats the merchant on the arm, and says there's no point. No law here, at least for that kind of thing.
but strangely enough, as he's numbing out and approaching one of the bars, he finds it to be fairly full of a bunch of those rowdier types. the bartender, a surly looking guy, glances at jiaoqiu when he walks in and then goes back to work. nothing about that is particularly odd, but what is odd is on the wall, there's a wanted poster hanging on the wall. handmade, with a sketch of a young man in a scarf with his bangs falling over his eye. ]
[ no law here, huh. guess that explains why therion made his way here.
jiaoqiu is not necessarily out of place in a bar, but in a rowdy one full of rough and tumble types, a delicate pink foxian in a cardigan and slacks probably looks like he doesn't belong. he ignores the bartender and the rest of the patrons to wander over to the wall, and - if possible - reaches up and takes the wanted poster off the wall. there he is. he's been here. ]
What did you do to find yourself on one of these? [ he murmurs to himself, ears pinning back slightly. he stares down at the poster for a while, taking in the details, taking in how much he's wanted for, and then turns to go right up to the bartender. shoves the poster in his face, because with the amount of numb he is right now, he has absolutely no fear. maybe he looks out of place, but with his calm smile and lidded eyes, he definitely has Presence. ]
[ somewhere therion sneezes. or does he. he might be dead.
anyway!!! the wanted poster itself has his name, of course. there's no list of his crimes or anything like it - underneath the "wanted", it just says, "dead or alive. may go by other aliases. " and includes a substantial reward. it's pretty hefty, which he can probably imagine therion was pleased about. the sketch itself is decently done, though it doesn't look exactly correct, which he can probably imagine therion is less pleased about. like someone who created it either had never seen him, or just didn't care enough about his appearance to render it well.
the bartender, once he's been addressed, blinks - startling like he's expecting to get hit - and then pauses, looking at the poster. his demeanor is more like the regular townspeople, a regular person, and it takes him a moment to properly answer the foxian with the scary smile, but he does. "...A few months, now, I think. Since the town was taken over, at least...""
one of the rowdy guys elbows one of the others, and he comes over to sit down at the bar by jiaoqiu, grin on his face, beer in his hand, clearly tipsy and egged on by his bro. "Pretty faces don't come around here that often anymore. Is it my lucky day you got lost?"
[ if he's dead jiaoqiu is going to reach into the underworld and fish him out, so that won't even save him, tbh
in any case, he eases down the scary when the bartender startles like that. he's not looking to hurt or frighten people who are already hurt or frightened. his answer only gets him more questions, and he's going to ask them - the town was taken over? have you seen this person on this poster, have you heard anything? but then one of the rowdy guys comes over and grins at him, drunk.
jiaoqiu slowly looks at him, expression still calm. his ears flick in annoyance. ]
Hah. You're very funny. [ he says, flatly, clearly unimpressed. ] Have you seen this man? Any trace. Answer me now.
[ waves the poster in the guy's face. he's only interested in his thief!! ]
[ the bartender will answer what he can, though he shuts up when the other dude comes over. he looks at that calm expression, clearly unperturbed or unbothered by jiaoqiu being unimpressed and leaaans right over in his space to look at the poster.
"Nope. Right shame, too. I could use the cash." there's some snickering behind him. the guy sets his hand out to try and push jiaoqiu's holding the poster out down and out of the way. "That the kinda taste you got? Bad boys?"
awful! bad. the bartender does nothing to stop this. in the meantime, there's a bit of noise coming from the front of the bar. the sound of footsteps, and then out of nowhere, the door bangs open. all of the men inside make a fuss about it, yelling about the cold, but it turns out its one of their own. they're all laughing and shouting back, grinning and clapping each other on the back as they bound through the doors, and one yells, "Drinks on me, tonight, boys, we're about to be rich!"
this leads to more whooping and yelling. at the back of the group, jiaoqiu might see a flash of purple, smaller in stature - a long scarf, even. however, as the group parts, it reveals that there's just this guy at the back, face in his scarf, quiet but with a similar gleam in his eyes of something delighted. the group themselves looks roughed up, and as they all get closer, jiaoqiu's fox senses might pick up on the smell of blood. ]
[ oh, cool, he's going to have to kill an entire bar's worth of dudes!
the guy pushes the poster out of the way, and jiaoqiu is about to genuinely just set him on fire, that's about how stretched his patience is, but before he can, the door gets kicked open. he startles, and his hand goes to his chest like an old man.
the flash of purple, the scarf - it gets him to push off the counter, even though he knows it can't be therion, because therion would never one, be in a group of people like this, and two, would never enter a building by kicking open the front door. jiaoqiu sinks back a little, holding the poster tightly - except then he smells the blood, and his brain kicks into gear. about to be rich, huh.
he turns to the guy that was trying to hit on him, and gives him a little smile, resting his hand on the man's chest and leaning a little close. he's counting on the guy being too drunk to realize that every muscle in his body is tense. ]
Oh, no. [ he purrs. ] I am, however, into rich men. Your friends seem to have come into a little bit of coin. Why don't you ask them how for me, hm?
[ the drunk guy is absolutely not smart enough to realize how tense jiaoqiu is, no. there's an incredibly pretty foxian with his hand on his chest? why would jiaoqiu be upset. his attention is drawn immediately, looking stupidly down at jiaoqiu and blinking at him.
it looks like he doesn't want to allow this at first, because, no, he wants the pretty fox? and for a second you get the feeling like this guy's going to argue about it, but luckily, he doesn't have to. the rowdy group pushes past - one of them goes to the left, and then frowns as the thinner guy at the back, clearly the leader, walks up to the bartender and holds out his arm up high above the bartop, then releases his closed hand.
a familiar scarf drips out of his palm, coiling up as it hits the bar top. it's purple, made of a fine knit that lightens in color the further down it goes, reminiscent of a fox tail - though the coloration is ruined by the blood soaking the fabric. a second later, there's a clunk, and at the end drops out a switchblade. familiar, a well loved knife with a dark handle that jiaoqiu has seen flipped many times. it's also bloody. the lean guy smirks at the bartender and says, "Tell milord I left a present for him at the church, and that I'll collect in pure gold for it."
the guy who peeled off from the group, in the distance, says something along the lines of - "Oi! Where'd the poster go!" and the drunk guy who jiaoqiu was talking to looks from that one to the guy at the counter to jiaoqiu again, realizing very, very slowly. ]
jiaoqiu is not an angry person. he isn't. but the scarf makes his whole world narrow. his vision gets dark around the edges as he takes in the bloodstains. for a moment, he's standing in a stall, watching a little wolf flush beet red as he tucks the edges of a soft, new scarf into his jacket. he's got his hand in his own, he's being dragged through the city on an aching leg, he's gasping into his mouth in their bed, fingers laced. he's curled up under the blankets, letting that wolf pet his ears.
it's like rushing through an underground tunnel. like being deep underwater before your ears pop, the sound and colors a rush of nothing. he is a strategist. he's supposed to use his brain, he's supposed to sweet-talk these men into letting him into the church, a rescue mission, but the blood all over therion's things, taken by force, because there's no way he'd ever give them over - it makes a fury in him that he didn't realize he was capable of rise up in his throat and behind his eyes, and he cannot think of anything else.
he does not, for a second, hesitate to reach across the bar and take the scarf, and the switchblade. it does not matter if someone tries to stop him. that's the furthest thing from his mind, at the moment. those are his. try and stop him. see what happens. ]
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but he is broken, and he is critical of himself, and it's not therion that's at fault, it's just that this is how his entire life has gone. not enough.
(you should sit down, the general and the crow are--)
cunning and patience will get you nowhere if the rest of you is worth less than dirt. so. he watches therion get up and turn his back, and says nothing. he just slides off his own barstool and drifts off to the back of the tavern, towards their room. therion's room. he'll decide what to do later. ]
no subject
not that unusual, really - he disappears for days at a time sometimes. it's kind of the benefit of being who he is, that when he walked into this tavern, he had his whole life slung over his back, and now as he's leaving it, he has the same.
(only... he doesn't. the upstairs room where he's been staying has touches of his life - practical things like extra clothes and food, but the less practical, too. an extra set of earrings, a bottle of black nail polish. a hoodie that jiaoqiu bought that was too big on purpose, that therion stole more often than not. extra blankets for cold desert nights. a hairbrush bought specifically to deal with fur care that therion pretended he didn't buy just for himself to use for jiaoqiu, when they settled together and he'd brush out his tail despite all his complaining. and then there's jiaoqiu himself - a stolen treasure, something he never deserved to have, but the greatest heist he'd ever pulled off.)
in the end, he's gone with the clothes on his back, the shoes on his feet, and his shitty little backpack, off into the night to go fuck off somewhere else, as far away from sunshade and as far away from what he ruined as humanly possible, like maybe that'll make it easier. like maybe it won't hurt, if he leaves it behind. he skips out of the country, the first few days. off for inter-system travel, and then disappears again, somewhere else, again and again.
a week passes with no word. a week and a half. nearly two. not a text message, not an in person sighting, nothing. primrose notices - if she hadn't noticed his general absence, she'd notice jiaoqiu. she's a smart girl, observant. and it's on the eve of the beginning of that second week that she crooks her finger and tells him she's booked him a private service at the end of his shift. something special. some of the others are giggly about it, as they often are.
but in reality, that "private service" turns out to be the private back room of the tavern, once used for any manner of seedy activities, bed and all, and is actually just primrose herself, shutting the curtains on the rest of the world for a while. whether it's successful or not, primrose insists he sit with her for a while, pulls his head into her lap and fixes his braids for him.
she'll avoid the topic for him for some of the evening but, at some point, she sighs, and pulls on a lock of his hair, and says, "I don't know what's happened between you two, but I do know this - men are stupid."
and jiaoqiu may get the feeling that perhaps this a statement mostly directed towards therion.... mostly. ]
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nearly two, and it's likely the worst primrose has ever seen him, really. he shows up to work, but he's shut off. his expression is placid, a smile, but there's nothing behind it. time is a blur, and he finds himself almost fast-forwarded. in front of a stove, looking at where he accidentally burned his fingers. in bed, where he rolled over into an empty space. outside, at the edge of town - unsure how he got there, actually. when he checks his wallet after that one, he finds that he doesn't have one anymore. not that it matters. he doesn't have anybody to buy anything for, so he just stops carrying things around with him at all.
he's late to breakfast service one morning because he doesn't hear his alarm. something in him is terrified at that. the overwhelming majority doesn't care, and he sinks back into the silence, apologizing to primrose when he comes downstairs, gold eyes dead and flat. that's the day that she books a private service with him, and he doesn't have any reason to refuse. so he goes, showing up because he has no other place to be.
primrose is allowed to do whatever she wants. his hair is passable - his braids look like he hasn't touched them in a few days - but his fur around his ears and his tail, especially, are tangled and snarled. he doesn't react much as she braids it, just rests where he's curled up, head in her lap. it should be comforting, but he's distracted by the lighting on the wall. if he stares long enough, it flickers. he's not sure if it's his eyes or if it's the light itself.
it takes him a second to realize that she's said something. you're supposed to reply, he tells himself. right. ]
A wise sentiment. [ he says, voice airy and light. he's good at this. he's good at pretending. ] Women have always been our greatest benefactors. Without them, we would run the world into the ground.
[ but he's distant and not really paying attention to what he's saying. he doesn't want to think about therion, and his empty bed, the black nail polish jiaoqiu is wearing clumsily painted onto claws, the brush that he hid under the bed because he couldn't bear to look at it. ]
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so, thus, jiaoqiu gets dragged off to be paid attention to. she looks down at him as she fixes the braids, undoes them with her clever fingers and combs her fingers through it, finds some of the snarls in his fur and gently picks through those, too, the best that she can. she doesn't know he needs a brush for it in particular. therion learned it from observation.
however, she does sigh when he says this. "Yes. And you are so full of pretty words, as always..."
and then tugs on a piece of his hair. "And not a single thought behind them. " because she is not stupid! she can see you moping!! and in fact, she'll let the silence rest for a moment after this correct accusation, and then add, "You're wearing black nail polish." ]
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not a single thought, she accuses, and his tail flicks once, almost in protest. but he doesn't argue. his eyes are on the growing black hole in the middle of the room. if he reached out, he could probably touch it.
but her observation gets him to pause. ]
... Therion left it behind. [ he says, finally. it's kind of pathetic. ] I haven't... heard from him. I don't expect to.
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"Yes, I thought as much." first, because jiaoqiu does not seem like an emo kid like therion does. she does not say this, but she does think it, and after the pause, she watches jiaoqiu's distant staring for a long moment, and mentally ratshakes therion because this has to be his fault.
"It's been some time, even for him." primrose starts, after a moment, weight behind her phrasing, because she knows him, too. primrose would see therion maybe once every few months, before his arrival with jiaoqiu, but the stretches were down to mere days, and he'd stay for weeks at a time. he left much more behind than just a bottle of nail polish. there's another soft sigh. "Will you tell me what happened? Or shall I guess." ]
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... I am a shackle. [ he says, softer, staring out across the room. ] I suggested that I find an apartment here. I invited him to live with me, and of course he wasn't interested. He won't need to play house any longer.
[ it's been like this from the start - he's always felt bad tying his chain to therion, because by nature therion was not someone who would be happy or satisfied with being stagnant in one place. he shouldn't have mentioned it. ]
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"... typical." yeah, that sounds about right. though, she glances down at jiaoqiu, pausing in her braiding, her voice as soft as always. "And did you believe him, when he said those things?" ]
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a beat. jiaoqiu wrenches his gaze away from the room to look up at her. ]
I don't know what else to do, Primrose. [ he just sounds very tired. defeated. ] He won't say the words. What else am I supposed to think, when everything he says suggests I'm a burden to him?
[ not his actions, though. jiaoqiu knows, somewhere, that actions speak louder than words, and he knows the type of person therion is, but he's gotten to the end of the feeble self worth he's got. eventually, that's going to start telling him that he should stop reading love into how therion acts, no matter how genuine it is. ]
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"Let me tell you a story." primrose says, softly. "Once, Therion and I traveled together with a companion who was a pox on womankind. That man was, by far, the most charming man that I have ever known, and he meant every word of what he said - only, he never quite understood why women fell at his feet. Therion thought to laugh, when I scolded him for it.
However, he was no better. I said that the two of them together, combined, could make the perfect gentleman. One who communicates too much - and the other, who seems to assume that the other party will understand his intentions without saying a single word at all."
there's a notable pause for effect as she finishes what she's saying - a bit of amusement to the story, lightly told despite it's meaning. "A problem you're familiar with. Though...I wonder if it sounds familiar for more reason that one...?" ]
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no, the meaning is clear, he knows she's getting at him for not communicating clearly either. he leans into the hands a little because it's... well, he didn't realize how touch-starved he was until he had all the touch in the world. it makes him feel a little more grounded, and that's why, at the end of the story she tells, he's a bit pouty. just a little. mostly mollified, though, because it's nice to know that he's not insane. silence, for a moment, and then: ]
I thought I made myself clear enough. [ he did not. he just expected i love you to do all the work. and to be fair, it was a monumental thing, but. y'know.
he slumps down into her lap, ears pinned back tightly against his skull. ]
... I don't know where he is.
[ so even if he wanted to try, which he doesn't because he's a baby, he can't. probably. ]
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anyway. as he slumps down, the more honest answers are sort of what she was looking for, and primrose continues to stroke through his hair, smiling a little at the pout on his face, though the last part earns a soft click of her tongue.
"Give me a few days." which is like, terrifying sounding and therion sneezes somewhere where he's also sulking, but it really just means she's going to reach out to cordelia, because if anyone knows where therion is, it's going to be her, but jiaoqiu doesn't need to know that right now. "I'd like to have a word with him myself."
there's a brief pause, and after a moment, primrose sets her hand down on his head and leaves it there, and her brow knits together. and then, a little softer: "...Do you want to try to find him, or not, Jiaoqiu?" ]
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she says give me a few days and here's the thing - he believes she can find him, wherever the hell he went. primrose is a force of nature, and though he doesn't know it, so is cordelia.
but. he sits with that question for a moment, eyes closed, ears still pinned back. does he? does he want to face potential heartbreak? does he want to hold out his hand one more time, get bit again, have to wade through all of the moats and climb all the defenses and still, possibly, be told that he's wasting his time? does he want to risk all of that, for a chance to bring therion back home?
he looks down at his hand. at his nails, at the horrible paint job. ]
... Yes. [ he says, finally, voice small. he does. ]
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the expression on her face softens a little, then slides into a smile, and she says, confident and simple - "Then, I'll find him."
as simple as that. jiaoqiu has done quite a bit for her here - as someone who also had precious few friendships in her life, each one that she cultivates is tender and important. much like therion, she held her heart out and had it shattered to pieces, and found years later that the emptiness vengeance left behind was only somewhat filled by the company and kindness of the people she came to care for. so many people who come through these doors are like her, like therion, like jiaoqiu - fundamentally broken people, who still find ways to fit their rough edges together.
so. she'll find that little rat thief, who she loves dearly, for jiaoqiu, who she loves dearly. let someone else have a chance at something - miscommunication is far more fixable than dishonesty.
running her fingers through his bangs, she then pulls her hand away and gives his cheek a little pat. "And the two of you will talk to each other, or there will be consequences." this is a threat. "In the meantime, stay with me this evening, and stop wallowing in that bedroom, at least for a night."
one night of platonic friend cuddles before shit hits the fan ]
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i'll find him, she says, and he's quiet, but he can hear the chatter outside of the private room. he's a little cold. he's a little hungry. there's the low drone of a fan nearby, and the smell of dinner still lingering out in the hall. when he shifts, the bed is comfortable and warm underneath him. he feels it, when she pats his face. and there's a warmth, a thawing in his chest, at being asked to stay.
he does. he wants to. being alone isn't good for him, as good at it as he is. the dancers can giggle all they want about it, he doesn't care - jiaoqiu wants nothing more than to spend the night here with her, with someone who cares enough about both him and therion to intervene. he's bony, but he's good at cuddling, and he's very appropriate with how he does it. she's safe with him.
and somewhere in there, he presses a very gentle kiss to her forehead and gives her a simple thank you, because sometimes you are an idiot who needs someone to whack you on the head and remind you to keep trying.
sorry to primrose for what comes next honestly, lord ]
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a few more days pass in that way - peaceful, relatively. quiet. primrose reaches out to cordelia, who then sends heathcote out, and no one can find therion quite like heathcote can because they are the same kind of rat person. he reports his findings to cordelia, who brings them to primrose, and she informs jiaoqiu before his shift that evening that she knows where therion is. the town of northreach - it's an ice cold, tiny town high up in the mountains, but only a few hours away by car. doable.
when primrose hands the information over, there's something visible in her eyes - worry, it looks like, molded over easily by many years of keeping a straight face, but. cordelia said she was worried about therion, based on what heathcote said, and she passes that message along, too. take care, she says, shooing him away from doing any work, and sending him right on his way.
arriving in northreach, the town itself is Bleak. this place seems pretty rough - there's sort of an aura of fear that permeates through the main streets themselves. it's inhabited by all manners, at least, and no one looks strangely at a foxian no matter how pink he is, but there's something almost oppressive about the air here. the town itself isn't too big, either. there's a huge church, a few neighborhoods, a few stores, and a couple of bars. no sign of therion, but he'd never be out in the open, anyway, so that's not too worrying. any attempt to ping his phone is met with no response. ]
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jiaoqiu is not terrible at seeking. it was never his job in the military, nor was it his specialty when he worked for feixiao. but he learned a thing or two from moze, and he learned a thing or two from tracking moze, so he takes that and puts it to use.
when he enters northreach, he pulls his several layers closer, feeling more cold than usual, and starts looking. the church, he stays away from. he's not interested in it and he doubts therion would be either, so it's a last resort. the stores he checks first, peeking around for any trace of purple, looking for signs. he doesn't ask people so much if they've seen therion because therion is a professional - he imagines nobody will have seen him at all. instead, he listens. tries to see if people have had anything stolen lately. and if he can't find anything there, he'll scoot by the bars to try and find anything suspicious at all.
the aura of fear in this place is a little overwhelming. he numbs himself out a bit, exploring. ]
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there's no sign of therion, but jiaoqiu's wisely not surprised by it. the people here seem very skittish - for the most part, residents keep to themselves, muttering to each other, while others seem to strut around like they own the place, laughing and carousing loudly as the other residents scurry away. a town of cats and mice, it seems.
there's a lot of talk about things going missing here. there's some kind of traveling shop owner complaining at one of the locals - I turned my back for one second, and all my goods were gone! Is someone going to do something about this? - as the local person shakes her head, pats the merchant on the arm, and says there's no point. No law here, at least for that kind of thing.
but strangely enough, as he's numbing out and approaching one of the bars, he finds it to be fairly full of a bunch of those rowdier types. the bartender, a surly looking guy, glances at jiaoqiu when he walks in and then goes back to work. nothing about that is particularly odd, but what is odd is on the wall, there's a wanted poster hanging on the wall. handmade, with a sketch of a young man in a scarf with his bangs falling over his eye. ]
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jiaoqiu is not necessarily out of place in a bar, but in a rowdy one full of rough and tumble types, a delicate pink foxian in a cardigan and slacks probably looks like he doesn't belong. he ignores the bartender and the rest of the patrons to wander over to the wall, and - if possible - reaches up and takes the wanted poster off the wall. there he is. he's been here. ]
What did you do to find yourself on one of these? [ he murmurs to himself, ears pinning back slightly. he stares down at the poster for a while, taking in the details, taking in how much he's wanted for, and then turns to go right up to the bartender. shoves the poster in his face, because with the amount of numb he is right now, he has absolutely no fear. maybe he looks out of place, but with his calm smile and lidded eyes, he definitely has Presence. ]
How recent is this?
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anyway!!! the wanted poster itself has his name, of course. there's no list of his crimes or anything like it - underneath the "wanted", it just says, "dead or alive. may go by other aliases. " and includes a substantial reward. it's pretty hefty, which he can probably imagine therion was pleased about. the sketch itself is decently done, though it doesn't look exactly correct, which he can probably imagine therion is less pleased about. like someone who created it either had never seen him, or just didn't care enough about his appearance to render it well.
the bartender, once he's been addressed, blinks - startling like he's expecting to get hit - and then pauses, looking at the poster. his demeanor is more like the regular townspeople, a regular person, and it takes him a moment to properly answer the foxian with the scary smile, but he does. "...A few months, now, I think. Since the town was taken over, at least...""
one of the rowdy guys elbows one of the others, and he comes over to sit down at the bar by jiaoqiu, grin on his face, beer in his hand, clearly tipsy and egged on by his bro. "Pretty faces don't come around here that often anymore. Is it my lucky day you got lost?"
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in any case, he eases down the scary when the bartender startles like that. he's not looking to hurt or frighten people who are already hurt or frightened. his answer only gets him more questions, and he's going to ask them - the town was taken over? have you seen this person on this poster, have you heard anything? but then one of the rowdy guys comes over and grins at him, drunk.
jiaoqiu slowly looks at him, expression still calm. his ears flick in annoyance. ]
Hah. You're very funny. [ he says, flatly, clearly unimpressed. ] Have you seen this man? Any trace. Answer me now.
[ waves the poster in the guy's face. he's only interested in his thief!! ]
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"Nope. Right shame, too. I could use the cash." there's some snickering behind him. the guy sets his hand out to try and push jiaoqiu's holding the poster out down and out of the way. "That the kinda taste you got? Bad boys?"
awful! bad. the bartender does nothing to stop this. in the meantime, there's a bit of noise coming from the front of the bar. the sound of footsteps, and then out of nowhere, the door bangs open. all of the men inside make a fuss about it, yelling about the cold, but it turns out its one of their own. they're all laughing and shouting back, grinning and clapping each other on the back as they bound through the doors, and one yells, "Drinks on me, tonight, boys, we're about to be rich!"
this leads to more whooping and yelling. at the back of the group, jiaoqiu might see a flash of purple, smaller in stature - a long scarf, even. however, as the group parts, it reveals that there's just this guy at the back, face in his scarf, quiet but with a similar gleam in his eyes of something delighted. the group themselves looks roughed up, and as they all get closer, jiaoqiu's fox senses might pick up on the smell of blood. ]
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the guy pushes the poster out of the way, and jiaoqiu is about to genuinely just set him on fire, that's about how stretched his patience is, but before he can, the door gets kicked open. he startles, and his hand goes to his chest like an old man.
the flash of purple, the scarf - it gets him to push off the counter, even though he knows it can't be therion, because therion would never one, be in a group of people like this, and two, would never enter a building by kicking open the front door. jiaoqiu sinks back a little, holding the poster tightly - except then he smells the blood, and his brain kicks into gear. about to be rich, huh.
he turns to the guy that was trying to hit on him, and gives him a little smile, resting his hand on the man's chest and leaning a little close. he's counting on the guy being too drunk to realize that every muscle in his body is tense. ]
Oh, no. [ he purrs. ] I am, however, into rich men. Your friends seem to have come into a little bit of coin. Why don't you ask them how for me, hm?
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it looks like he doesn't want to allow this at first, because, no, he wants the pretty fox? and for a second you get the feeling like this guy's going to argue about it, but luckily, he doesn't have to. the rowdy group pushes past - one of them goes to the left, and then frowns as the thinner guy at the back, clearly the leader, walks up to the bartender and holds out his arm up high above the bartop, then releases his closed hand.
a familiar scarf drips out of his palm, coiling up as it hits the bar top. it's purple, made of a fine knit that lightens in color the further down it goes, reminiscent of a fox tail - though the coloration is ruined by the blood soaking the fabric. a second later, there's a clunk, and at the end drops out a switchblade. familiar, a well loved knife with a dark handle that jiaoqiu has seen flipped many times. it's also bloody. the lean guy smirks at the bartender and says, "Tell milord I left a present for him at the church, and that I'll collect in pure gold for it."
the guy who peeled off from the group, in the distance, says something along the lines of - "Oi! Where'd the poster go!" and the drunk guy who jiaoqiu was talking to looks from that one to the guy at the counter to jiaoqiu again, realizing very, very slowly. ]
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jiaoqiu is not an angry person. he isn't. but the scarf makes his whole world narrow. his vision gets dark around the edges as he takes in the bloodstains. for a moment, he's standing in a stall, watching a little wolf flush beet red as he tucks the edges of a soft, new scarf into his jacket. he's got his hand in his own, he's being dragged through the city on an aching leg, he's gasping into his mouth in their bed, fingers laced. he's curled up under the blankets, letting that wolf pet his ears.
it's like rushing through an underground tunnel. like being deep underwater before your ears pop, the sound and colors a rush of nothing. he is a strategist. he's supposed to use his brain, he's supposed to sweet-talk these men into letting him into the church, a rescue mission, but the blood all over therion's things, taken by force, because there's no way he'd ever give them over - it makes a fury in him that he didn't realize he was capable of rise up in his throat and behind his eyes, and he cannot think of anything else.
he does not, for a second, hesitate to reach across the bar and take the scarf, and the switchblade. it does not matter if someone tries to stop him. that's the furthest thing from his mind, at the moment. those are his. try and stop him. see what happens. ]
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