protagonisthalo | [closed post] date night

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[closed post] date night

By the mansion's calendar, it has now been about six months since that first time Luo Binghe cooked for Shen Yuan. He had been terrified then, desperate to be with Shen Yuan but entirely unable to read what he was thinking. They barely knew each other—Luo Binghe had only just found out his beloved's name—but already, the glimpses he'd stolen of what was underneath Shen Yuan's easily-flustered façade had him frantic with the need to know more.

That intensity has barely dimmed. Now he knows Shen Yuan much better, between what Shen Yuan has told him, what Luo Binghe has guessed from his expressions, and what they've shared through dreams. Yet his greed remains ravenous. He needs to fill his eyes with Shen Yuan every day, to hear his words, to kiss him until they're both gasping for air. He needs to know what troubles him, what delights him, what Luo Binghe might do to keep him interested and affectionate. He has long split his obsessions between power, marriage and revenge. Now all his focus is narrowed to one target, like a beam of sunlight concentrated to a pinpoint hot enough to burn.

And now that Dark is over, he can once again channel some of that focus into cooking. Even though he cooks for Shen Yuan daily, he has put no less effort into this meal than that first one back in the month of Idas. Since they are celebrating the end of Dark, he has made longevity noodles with prawns. To accompany them is stir-fried amaranth greens with ginger and minced tofu, pork jiaozi with a black vinegar dipping sauce, fried mushooms, tea-pickled lotus root, and for dessert, almond jelly with slices of ripe persimmon. To the side, he places a jar of warmed green plum wine.

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"As I've told both of you before," Aornis replies calmly, with emphasis on both and turning slightly while responding in turn, "There's not one specific thing I want -- and I've already made an enemy of you. We even talked about it last night." She takes in the whole room now. Oh, a date night. How adorable.

"Last night?" Shen Yuan demands. They'd been together last night, like they were most nights, and Aornis had definitely not been there. And what the fuck did she mean she's told them both before?? She hasn't told him shit. He lowers his voice slightly, but doesn't take his eyes off her. "Binghe. Did you visit her dreams? Why didn't you tell me?"

Luo Binghe shakes his head. "I didn't. She's bluffing. Or trying to turn us against one another—"

Aornis scoffs slightly at this interpretation of her words. "Why would I lie to turn you against each other when I could just tell the truth? You've been a real thorn in my side recently, Luo Binghe. You just won't leave me alone. It's been rather impolite."

Luo Binghe has fought villains with the power to alter memory before, but they are rare, and villains who lie are common as dirt. He narrows his eyes. "Tell me what you claim I have been doing."

Shen Yuan stays quiet to listen, his fingers still looped around Binghe's wrist, but he's taking stock of the room around them, figuring out what he could use as an improvised weapon should the need arise. Except—something else about the room is bothering him, distracting him from the tactical notes he should be taking. He can't place what it is, at first; it looks the same as it had when he'd entered it, the low table piled with all of Binghe's wonderful food, the cabinets at the sides, the door, the window out onto the Mansion lawns. His eyes catch especially on the window: he can't shake the feeling that the view out of it is wrong; that he should be able to see city streets and high-rises, not the first green shoots of spring.

And then he realizes: this room is exactly the same layout as his dining room back home. The furniture isn't the same, but it's all placed in exactly the same places: the table, the cupboards, the window, the door. And through the door should be his kitchen, where he would wait with his mother and his siblings, listening to this same song.

"Hmm, let's see," Aornis begins, ticking each item off on her fingers as she mentions them. "You've invaded my dreams upwards of twenty times -- though don't worry, you forget about it the second you wake up. You've brought up that horrendous Thursday Next woman every single time you've done so. You insulted my brother this most recent time."

Though a touch irate now, she seems perfectly at ease in spite of the fact that both other individuals in the room are physically more powerful than her. She knows that. Perhaps she's even resigned to whatever's going to happen in this meeting, thanks to the realization that either something needs to change and something drastic needs to happen -- or she's going to rot away in a narrative loop. How ironic would that be?

"My love, write this down," Luo Binghe says urgently. "Write something down, quickly, in case she—" Oh. Write something down, like Shen Yuan must have done in the library. Aornis III. The third time she had done something to Shen Yuan—and that was months ago. His blood runs cold. His grip tightens on Xin Mo's hilt, but he doesn't yet draw it; he does not intend to do so until he's ready to use it. "Remind me of the insult, so I may say it again."

Oh, shit, right, of course—Shen Yuan blinks himself out of thinking about the fucking furniture and lets go of Binghe's wrist to rummage in his own qiankun pouch—hanging from the belt loop of his nice date jeans—for the pen Crowley had conjured for him so long ago and his notebook. Aornis can erase memories, he writes, Binghe confronted in dreams—

"No, I'm not going to rise to your bait," Aornis admonishes Luo Binghe, giving Shen Yuan writing in his notebook a mild that's cute look. "Not when it gives me an edge in this rather lopsided confrontation. I know everything about you and Shen Yuan. The two of you barely know anything about me. Not that that matters." An idle threat, dropped at the end.

"Then, if we cannot know anything about you, and we cannot stop you from altering our memories"—or more likely, there is a way to stop it that Aornis is unlikely to divulge—"what is your purpose in distracting us? The food is going cold."

Shen Yuan continues to write: Has erased conversations with me at least three times, probably more. Likely behind Magnus stabbing. His mind is working overtime, trying to connect things up before he forgets again, but he still has frustratingly little information. "You were in the closet with me. What happened in there?"

“So many questions,” Aornis tsks. This time, she addresses Shen Yuan. “Your boyfriend has been bothering me. I’m trying my hand at …neutralizing him. If it doesn’t take, I’ll just wipe the tapes, so to say. It’s really a handy ability to have, though unfortunately it doesn’t entirely work on Magnus.” This information answers approximately half of his question about the closet.

"Neutralizing?" This makes Shen Yuan stop writing and take a protective step in front of Binghe. "As if you even could--"

Luo Binghe yanks him back. "My love," he says quietly but firmly in Shen Yuan's ear, "many things can hurt you that won't touch me, please stay back." He watches Aornis, still but tensed, ready to spring into action when the moment is right. It's clear she has more to say; far be it from him to stop her from exposing more of her aims.

Aornis watches them carefully. "I know he's more powerful than I am," she says quietly, agreeing with Shen Yuan. "But I also know his weaknesses. There are two main ones. Number one, you. Number two... his temper."

She knows what Xin Mo can do. She knows what Luo Binghe can do, with or without Xin Mo. She's witnessed it many times in the dreamscape. There's no way her abilities can match up to it. However, she does have a couple of tricks up her sleeve. The mysterious music playing in the background changes to some upbeat electronic music. Aornis had a lovely time partying in Ibiza to this song. What a coincidence! At the same time, she leverages a subtle distractionary tactic. Well, subtle at the moment, at least.

"Binghe," says Shen Yuan, a hand on his chest. He can feel how ready he is to fight—to finally have someone to fight, an explanation, at least sort of, to all their frustratingly circular mysteries that have plagued them for months. A human explanation. But there's something in Aornis' calm that makes him so, so nervous. He tucks his notebook back into his qiankun pouch and seals it with a quick talisman, coded to his own qi. "Let's just—let's just go, let's just leave, there's no reason to engage with her—"

"She will only erase our memory of this encounter. We should take care of the threat now," Luo Binghe says with a meaningful glance at Shen Yuan. This is already enough, for Luo Binghe, to justify killing Aornis, or at least taking off a limb. She has used her power maliciously against them both, and the last thing she said was a clear threat toward Shen Yuan. If this were his world, he wouldn't hold himself back—but he needs Shen Yuan's assent. He does not want to be fully outcast, and he cannot trust himself to judge what violence is acceptable to the residents of this place.

"Resorting to violence first, as usual?" Aornis shakes her head and gives Shen Yuan a knowing look, almost as though she's a stage actor feeding him a line. "Typical. Especially after what happened with Galahad..."

Shen Yuan returns her look with a poisonous one of his own. It's a low fucking blow—one she knows will get under Binghe's skin. He remembers how upset with himself Binghe had been after that confrontation; the look he'd given Shen Yuan when Shen Yuan had found him pressing Galahad against the wall by his throat, claws pricking his skin enough to draw blood. He remembers how small Galahad had looked, struggling against Binghe with all of his god-given might; the nauseous hurt and horror that had rushed through him—rushes through him now, again, as if brand new. The sickening, defeated feeling of not being enough—not meaning enough—for Binghe to stop himself from meeting hurt with hurt, even when he'd promised. He swallows, hard. "That wasn't his fault," he says, with very little of his usual righteous anger. "Galahad attacked first."

Luo Binghe is lost, which makes panic skitter through him like its own living thing. What Aornis said had the cadence of a finishing blow—and Shen Yuan has taken it as such—but it's meaningless. "What happened with Galahad? I didn't touch him."

Shen Yuan turns to stare at him. "Binghe," he says, confusion making his tone sharper than he means it, "I was there. I saw you."

Looking mildly self-satisfied, Aornis is content to listen to this conversation play out.

"I didn't," Luo Binghe says, voice rising in pitch. It is obvious what Aornis is doing, she said that his weakness was Shen Yuan, and she does not have the power to hurt him physically, so she is twisting his mind. Understanding it doesn't lessen any of the horror of seeing his most beloved person doubt him, the one person who never has before; it has the ground crumbling under him, every thorny feeling Shen Yuan has soothed away rushing up at once. "Shen Yuan, beloved, we know she can alter memories—"

The obvious conclusion hits him. They know she can alter memories, so how can Luo Binghe be sure he isn't misremembering? It was so unlike him, after all, to let someone hit him without defending himself. Even in his memory it feels wrong, out-of-body, terrifying. Would he really have been able to stop himself? "I didn't —I wouldn't—" he says, but the way his voice skews into desperation is unconvincing even to his own ears.

The hurt in Binghe's eyes is real--he isn't lying--and Shen Yuan has a moment of vertigo, where his memory of that moment in the hallway seems to double, overlap, Binghe with Galahad pinned, his snarl collapsing into horror at the sight of Shen Yuan overlaid over Binghe curled in on himself, hands clenched tight at his sides, a different misery clouding his face--but then reality¹ reasserts itself. "This--it doesn't matter," he says, as firmly as he can, even though it does--it has, this whole time, a thread of unresolved hurt, a fracture in his trust. "It doesn't. It's--it was months ago, she's just messing with us--"

¹ Well.

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