[ 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. ]
okay!!! well. listen. the scarf is definitely useless to the guy now. it's gross and bloody who would want that, but the switchblade is probably worth a pretty penny. and besides, their boss will probably want it as a trophy, so there's immediately a fuss. the lanky guy's hand snaps out to grab jiaoqiu's wrist - he's fast and has a tight grip. clever fingers. clearly a thief, too as he sneers - "The hell are you doing? Trying to steal the bounty? Didn't see you coming to help subdue the tea leaf. Who's this clown?"
the louder noises in the bar stop - this confrontation starts to draw attention. the bartender looks between jiaoqiu and the man, frantically, and says, "--Messenger, he's, uh, messenger boy. Delivering."
[ tea leaf makes him instinctively bare his teeth, fangs on display.
but. the bartender speaks up, and it catches his attention. calm down. this is not how you handle this. you have to be smart. you have to be cunning. you cannot take an entire room full of thugs down yourself, you are not moze, you are not feixiao, you cannot have a death wish while therion might be dying or dead - what you have is your smarts. don't lose them. he breathes in slow, and then straightens.
smiles. and firmly takes the lanky guy's hand off of his wrist. peels his fucking fingers away, digging his claws in, but - delicate. like the way someone who does not appreciate being touched by filth might do. he puts the thief's hand down on the bar, and pats it. condescendingly. ]
My apologies. Most wouldn't dare to contest me. You must be feeling dazed from your fight. [ his smile gets a little sharper. ] Our friend here is correct, I am a messenger. I am on loan, here. Perhaps you've heard of Hoolay? I'd hate to have to report to him that a group of distinguished gentlemen such as yourselves damaged his goods.
[ he adjusts his cardigan. ]
Now. If you'll please hand me the scarf and the blade, I'll be on my way to alert your lord. You'll get your coin.
[ there's a bit of murmuring through the crowd - some "who?", some hissed, "what the fuck, you wanna stay away from that guy, man", and, "it's the obsidians' poster anyway, it's not like they give a shit what we do, lord darius is the one who set the bounty" and a variety of other reactions from a bar full of drunk thieves. some of the others take that as their moment to mind their business.
the lanky guy bristles up the second jiaoqiu bares his teeth, and scowls when he pats his hand, and looks like he's about ready to stab him, tense everywhere and a second from a fight, because there are a lot more thugs than there are pretty boys in here. however, between them, the bartender nods, trying to back up jiaoqiu's story because he was nice to him, and a tense, long moment passes in the bar, the leader of the thieves staring at jiaoqiu.
but, finally the leader of these thieves decides whatever jiaoqiu said passes enough muster - the namedrop helps - and he snorts, rolling his eyes and pushing the switchblade back across. fine, take both. "Bring it back when you're done, messenger boy. My trophy."
but with that, jiaoqiu's free to leave. in fact, several of the whispering, muttering thugs even part like the red sea to his sheer presence, slightly in awe and slightly terrified. ]
[ he's going to come back and give the bartender all of his gold, honestly.
he has to drag himself down under to not react to the mention of darius. he can't, right now. he just meets that long gaze with a smile, his usual. the world is blurry and the whispers of the thieves are distorted and wobbling, and he has to go, he needs to leave this bar right now because nothing is more important than finding therion. so, he takes the scarf and the switchblade, tucking them neatly into his bag, and turns. walks out of the bar, back straight as a rod, not making eye contact with the thugs, because this persona is above them. distinguished. spoiled.
it does not feel good to have people be terrified of him, even when they're his enemy. it does not feel good to put himself back in that mindset, of being hoolay's tool. he holds his chest a little once he's outside of the bar, once he's far enough, like he's going to cough or have a panic attack or - something, and then it passes. it passes.
and then he walks as fast as he can manage without looking strange, right to the church. ]
[ out he goes! jiaoqiu can feel the leader of the thieves' gaze on his back the entire time.
northreach is cold and miserable, so no one thinks much of the way he holds at his chest, if people were able to give the time of day beyond little glances and murmured whispers, people avoiding making eye contract for too long lest something goes wrong. lest you become like the former leaders of the town who got gutted as obstacles for speaking up against the abhorrent behavior of this gang called the obsidians. lest you end up made an example, or dead in an alley with no one to save you.
as jiaoqiu walks to the church quickly, he might notice an alley that smells particularly bloody nearby. the site of a confrontation, likely, but there's no one there - instead, there's a smeared trail of blood in the snow, thick drag marks where something or someone was dragged through it, and footsteps surrounding the trail of more than one person. the trail leads up the main path to the church, and all the way up the stone stairs leading up to the front entrance of the building.
the church itself has seen better days: aside from the bloody front stairs, there's a hole the siding where it's crumbling, and the stained glass window appears to have been smashed open. the front doors are currently closed.
there's not any sign of a person, though the drag marks continue through the snow beyond the front doors. ]
[ there's something in him that hurts, as he walks through this town. this is the sort of place that needs help. needs fixing. he's always hoped to help people live better lives. he's always tried, before he burned out so hard that he could barely stand. the only thing that had given him hope was his general, and she burned away, too. but - years later, in a choked-out city full of industrial noise and static, he'd found something to hold onto. he'd followed a blood trail to that, too.
he feels sick. he feels like he could collapse. this city is broken, and he itches to tear down the gang from the inside out. he wants to set fire to people's insides. if they've done the unthinkable, if they've killed therion - if he's dead, he's genuinely not sure what he'll do. the nausea rolls over him, down his spine, makes him dizzy.
but he puts it away. he doesn't have time for it. instead, he follows his nose - the smell of blood is so pungent to him right now that it makes him gag - and makes it to the stone stairs. the front entrance.
there's no people he can see, but he puts his mask back on anyway. he is hoolay's right hand, and he will be making sure that this bounty is suitable. he pushes the door open, and walks into the church. where do the drag marks lead? ]
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no subject
... 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. ]
no subject
"... 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. ]
no subject
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?" ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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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okay!!! well. listen. the scarf is definitely useless to the guy now. it's gross and bloody who would want that, but the switchblade is probably worth a pretty penny. and besides, their boss will probably want it as a trophy, so there's immediately a fuss. the lanky guy's hand snaps out to grab jiaoqiu's wrist - he's fast and has a tight grip. clever fingers. clearly a thief, too as he sneers - "The hell are you doing? Trying to steal the bounty? Didn't see you coming to help subdue the tea leaf. Who's this clown?"
the louder noises in the bar stop - this confrontation starts to draw attention. the bartender looks between jiaoqiu and the man, frantically, and says, "--Messenger, he's, uh, messenger boy. Delivering."
right?? right?? ]
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but. the bartender speaks up, and it catches his attention. calm down. this is not how you handle this. you have to be smart. you have to be cunning. you cannot take an entire room full of thugs down yourself, you are not moze, you are not feixiao, you cannot have a death wish while therion might be dying or dead - what you have is your smarts. don't lose them. he breathes in slow, and then straightens.
smiles. and firmly takes the lanky guy's hand off of his wrist. peels his fucking fingers away, digging his claws in, but - delicate. like the way someone who does not appreciate being touched by filth might do. he puts the thief's hand down on the bar, and pats it. condescendingly. ]
My apologies. Most wouldn't dare to contest me. You must be feeling dazed from your fight. [ his smile gets a little sharper. ] Our friend here is correct, I am a messenger. I am on loan, here. Perhaps you've heard of Hoolay? I'd hate to have to report to him that a group of distinguished gentlemen such as yourselves damaged his goods.
[ he adjusts his cardigan. ]
Now. If you'll please hand me the scarf and the blade, I'll be on my way to alert your lord. You'll get your coin.
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the lanky guy bristles up the second jiaoqiu bares his teeth, and scowls when he pats his hand, and looks like he's about ready to stab him, tense everywhere and a second from a fight, because there are a lot more thugs than there are pretty boys in here. however, between them, the bartender nods, trying to back up jiaoqiu's story because he was nice to him, and a tense, long moment passes in the bar, the leader of the thieves staring at jiaoqiu.
but, finally the leader of these thieves decides whatever jiaoqiu said passes enough muster - the namedrop helps - and he snorts, rolling his eyes and pushing the switchblade back across. fine, take both. "Bring it back when you're done, messenger boy. My trophy."
but with that, jiaoqiu's free to leave. in fact, several of the whispering, muttering thugs even part like the red sea to his sheer presence, slightly in awe and slightly terrified. ]
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he has to drag himself down under to not react to the mention of darius. he can't, right now. he just meets that long gaze with a smile, his usual. the world is blurry and the whispers of the thieves are distorted and wobbling, and he has to go, he needs to leave this bar right now because nothing is more important than finding therion. so, he takes the scarf and the switchblade, tucking them neatly into his bag, and turns. walks out of the bar, back straight as a rod, not making eye contact with the thugs, because this persona is above them. distinguished. spoiled.
it does not feel good to have people be terrified of him, even when they're his enemy. it does not feel good to put himself back in that mindset, of being hoolay's tool. he holds his chest a little once he's outside of the bar, once he's far enough, like he's going to cough or have a panic attack or - something, and then it passes. it passes.
and then he walks as fast as he can manage without looking strange, right to the church. ]
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northreach is cold and miserable, so no one thinks much of the way he holds at his chest, if people were able to give the time of day beyond little glances and murmured whispers, people avoiding making eye contract for too long lest something goes wrong. lest you become like the former leaders of the town who got gutted as obstacles for speaking up against the abhorrent behavior of this gang called the obsidians. lest you end up made an example, or dead in an alley with no one to save you.
as jiaoqiu walks to the church quickly, he might notice an alley that smells particularly bloody nearby. the site of a confrontation, likely, but there's no one there - instead, there's a smeared trail of blood in the snow, thick drag marks where something or someone was dragged through it, and footsteps surrounding the trail of more than one person. the trail leads up the main path to the church, and all the way up the stone stairs leading up to the front entrance of the building.
the church itself has seen better days: aside from the bloody front stairs, there's a hole the siding where it's crumbling, and the stained glass window appears to have been smashed open. the front doors are currently closed.
there's not any sign of a person, though the drag marks continue through the snow beyond the front doors. ]
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he feels sick. he feels like he could collapse. this city is broken, and he itches to tear down the gang from the inside out. he wants to set fire to people's insides. if they've done the unthinkable, if they've killed therion - if he's dead, he's genuinely not sure what he'll do. the nausea rolls over him, down his spine, makes him dizzy.
but he puts it away. he doesn't have time for it. instead, he follows his nose - the smell of blood is so pungent to him right now that it makes him gag - and makes it to the stone stairs. the front entrance.
there's no people he can see, but he puts his mask back on anyway. he is hoolay's right hand, and he will be making sure that this bounty is suitable. he pushes the door open, and walks into the church. where do the drag marks lead? ]
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