protagonisthalo | [closed post] date night

Entry tags:

[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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He would only say so if he truly believed Luo Binghe hurt Galahad. Because Luo Binghe holding himself back for Shen Yuan's sake did matter, and Shen Yuan wouldn't hesitate to acknowledge it. They both know that one of them is misremembering—but Shen Yuan does not think it is him. No matter how strong Aornis' skill at manipulating memory, that spark of doubt in Luo Binghe is not her creation. "You don't trust me," he says, gaze searching Shen Yuan's face, pleading to be proven wrong.

It feels wrong, desperately wrong, to hear. Shen Yuan takes a breath, trying to calm down, to really think. He trusts Binghe. Of course he trusts Binghe—it's their anniversary, and he'd come in today wreathed in that trust, awed by it, by all the ways Binghe had proven himself worthy of it. He hadn't been thinking about Galahad then, and not even in the way he hadn't been thinking about Sagramore—it hadn't been a careful non-thinking, he just—hadn't been. What should have been a discordant note hadn't been. There had been no fracture.

But—he can't shake the image of it, the feeling. If this memory was fake, and it felt like this—so real, so interwoven with everything else—how does he know others aren't? No one here knew him in his first life. All he has of himself, back then, of his family, is his memories. If this one is wrong, if Aornis can so completely convince him of it, how does he know—

He tears his eyes off Binghe to stare again out at the room, the layout of it, his breath quickening in panic. Is it coincidence, that it mirrors the one in his memory, or evidence? The song—the story about his mother, all those quiet nights waiting with his siblings—how does he know any of it's real? Who knows how long ago she could have started planting things in his mind. This new selfhood, the surety he'd felt ever since cutting his hair, feels now like a cruel fucking joke. His ears are ringing, the room swimming in front of him, Aornis in the center of it all, head cocked, lightly smiling. "What are you doing to me?" he demands, his voice cracking with it. "What have you done?"

Edited 2024-05-23 15:48 (UTC)

Aornis could walk out of the room right now after this demonstration of what she can do, the discord that she's capable of sowing with a simple added memory. It's just enough to give them a taste of fear and panic. An ill-fitting memory always causes a butterfly effect of chaos and confusion as it settles into the mind, jostling with other conflicting memories. It's clearly already broken them -- but it isn't enough. It doesn't solve the problem of Luo Binghe.

"I'm glad that the two of you are finally witnessing the extent of my abilities," she says, calmly gesturing at Shen Yuan with one hand, clearly indicating that he's the one she's meddled with. Then she turns to Luo Binghe. "I could turn everyone here against you, if I wanted to. Or... I could make everyone forget you. It would be like you never existed." Rather coldly, "More importantly, I could make him forget you -- and if that happened, no amount of overwrought threats or physical harm could ever bring those memories back."

Luo Binghe doesn't doubt she can do it, or that she would. Whatever confrontations they've had in the dream realm have gotten under her skin. She has shown herself to be a threat that cannot be managed, only eliminated, and he must stop her from hurting Shen Yuan a moment longer. He pulls Xin Mo from his sleeve, leaping forward to end her in one clean stroke.

Aornis may not have supernatural strength or speed, but she is a Hades. She's trained for moments like this. Without hesitation, she takes a few quick steps back to be further out of his reach -- in the same motion, drawing her pistol out from where it's hidden. She aims steadily at Luo Binghe's head and pulls the trigger.

Luo Binghe does not know this weapon, but his instincts are quick, and he easily blocks the projectile with the flat of his blade. He brings Xin Mo around to swing at her again, but before he can, he feels something else rush toward him from above and jumps back out of its way without thinking.

The crack of the gunshot, incongruously, makes Shen Yuan pull himself together. He's too late to stop Binghe drawing Xin Mo, but he wouldn't have, anyway, and he definitely won't now—Binghe is fast, impossibly fast, he knows this, but he's never seen a gun before, and Aornis is still so goddamn calm; even when her first bullet spangs! off Binghe's blade Shen Yuan sees her aim again, and above them—

The rope holding the chandelier hanging above the table snaps, and it starts to fall. Shen Yuan flings out a hand to stop it, to redirect, to send it smashing into Aornis instead, and—nothing happens. Binghe dodges, and the chandelier crashes down into the center of the table, sending shards of glass spinning in all directions, sparks fizzling into the food Binghe had spent so long preparing.

He has a momentary, insane notion that somehow Aornis has made him forget how to cultivate, that he no longer knows the instinctual ways to call up qi that he'd never even had to learn in the first place, that were inherent to this body, but when he concentrates his awareness on said body he finds an all-too-familiar sluggishness, his meridians blocked, Without-a-Cure eating away at the edges of his core with a thousand hungry little mouths.

He steadies himself against a wall, wiping idly at his cheek where a shard of glass had cut him, and the cut hadn't healed. What the fuck. He knows this is possible—sleeping with Binghe isn't necessarily a one-and-done type of cure, sometimes a particular beauty is particularly badly poisoned and needs regular injections, as it were, of tenderly administered dual cultivation to rid it from her system entirely, especially if she's popular with the male readership. But it had been six fucking months, and for this to happen now—what kind of insane coincidence, what cursed fucking luck—

Edited 2024-05-23 17:17 (UTC)

If Aornis thinks she can stop Luo Binghe with these foolish tricks, she is mistaken. He lands neatly on his feet, undisturbed by the chandelier, and shoulders Xin Mo to come at her again. But as he does, there's an unmistakable distortion, his qi going haywire.

Xin Mo has been restless for months already, barely tolerating Luo Binghe's usage of it with no recompense. He knew it was only a matter of time before it turned on him, but can't it perform for him this one last time before he must seal it—?

His vision wavers, blood pounding in his head. The sword is draining his qi and pouring fear into him in return, heightening his paranoia and flooding his mind with visions of bloodshed. It is hard to discern what is truly in front of him, Aornis' image shifting and vacillating in and out of the noise. Beneath the chaos, some part of him screams that it isn't fair—he is used to things miraculously going his way in battle, a blow landing a hair's breadth away, the item he needs showing up in the nick of time. He is meant to win—it's what is right—and now the world is turning on him, everything swiftly going wrong. Only the oath Shen Yuan favors can express how he feels. "Fuck."

Edited 2024-05-23 17:32 (UTC)

Coincidentally, Aornis has not been hit by a single shard of glass from the falling chandelier, nor did she seem particularly surprised by its sudden fall from the ceiling. She raises her pistol again -- but pauses briefly at Luo Binghe's expletive, tilting her head at him almost animalistically.

"Something wrong?" She asks him, sweetly. Without giving him time to answer, she pulls the trigger again. This time, he is barely able to fend off the bullet with his sword. He's clearly struggling.

Shen Yuan moves as soon as he sees Binghe stagger—even with the poison in his veins the resentful energy pouring off of him, off of Xin Mo, is sickening, tangible, thickening the air around him as Shen Yuan gets close. He grasps at Binghe's wrist, his robes, trying to steady him. "Binghe. Binghe—" He can't even send him qi to strengthen him—he's reduced to just frantic touching, about as useful as a fucking moth. "Sweetheart—"

Edited 2024-05-23 17:51 (UTC)

Luo Binghe tries to push him away, weak and ineffectual. Xin Mo's qi could be even more dangerous to Shen Yuan than it is to him—and besides, Shen Yuan has already proven that he doesn't believe in Luo Binghe, he's just waiting to turn on him like everyone else—

He stumbles to his knees, the room whirling around him. The floor seems to buckle and swell—he puts a hand down, his stomach swooping along with it. Xin Mo's power is poison in his veins, burning through him.

Pathetic. That's what Luo Binghe called her in the dreamscape last night. Well, look at him now.

Third time's the charm, isn't it? Aornis aims at him one more time and pulls the trigger--

Motion out of the corner of his eye draws Shen Yuan's attention to Aornis again, and he doesn't even have to think about it. The way he didn't think about catching Elder Hammer's hammer, the way he never seems to think when it comes to Binghe at all, like there's a perfect neural pathway between Binghe in danger and his muscles that bypasses every logic center in his brain entirely. He may not have access to his qi, but he's still fast.

It takes a moment for the pain to hit; he looks down at his chest, vaguely surprised by the bloom of red against his white shirt, and then his legs buckle and he stumbles backward, into his boyfriend, and falls.

"Shen Yuan!" Luo Binghe catches him in his arms—everything is still dark and syrupy, but he lowers Shen Yuan gently into his lap, patting him frantically. He puts his hands over the wound, trying to pour qi into it, but his qi is too corrupted—he snatches his hands back, scared of hurting him, and touches Shen Yuan's face instead, the smear of blood on his chin making him feel sick. "Beloved, you can heal it if you focus—"

Aornis had been focused on exacting her revenge -- but she takes a moment to take in the scene now, rather impassively. She was momentarily stunned when her bullet didn't hit its intended target, but the recognition that this may be an even better outcome is beginning to dawn on her.

Shen Yuan shakes his head. "Can't," he manages, and reaches up to cup Binghe's face in turn. "It's okay." There are reasons he can't, and reasons it's okay, but he's having a really hard time thinking of what either of them are, right now, and anyway he has something much more important to say. He grips his own chest, like he might be able to hold the blood in long enough to say it if he tries hard enough. Maybe he can—maybe there's enough qi in him left, for that, at least. "Binghe. I do—I do trust you. I don't care what she's—" he has to catch his breath, wracked and shaking, "—don't care. What she fucking put in my head. I trust you. I love you." He smiles, and it probably looks so fucked with the way his lips are going numb, and his eyes closing, too. His final words are barely a mumble. "It's gonna be okay."

Luo Binghe's breath stops for a long moment. He continues stroking Shen Yuan's face, feeling for his qi—he can't feel anything, but Xin Mo's energy is like a wall, impossible to reach through. "Shen Yuan," he says again—the words sound clumsy, slurred, but he can't tell if it's his speech or his hearing that's indistinct. "Please—"

He fumbles for a pulse, his fingers pressed to Shen Yuan's throat. Shen Yuan is still bleeding, if he weren't still alive how could he still be bleeding?—but his face is pale and slack, and nothing beats against Luo Binghe's fingertips. Dizziness overtakes him. He can't tell if it's real—he sees Shen Yuan lying motionless in his arms, but there are dark creatures on the edges of his vision that disappear when he blinks fast enough—and there's still danger, Aornis is still here, he has to concentrate—

"Shen Yuan," he says again, barely audible, and slumps over, losing consciousness entirely.

Aornis lowers her gun while the two of them have their moment. She could just as easily eradicate Luo Binghe right now. He's in no state to fight back -- but the idea of him coming to with no memories and his dead boyfriend in his lap is too delicious to pass up.

"Have fun making your way out of this plot twist," she tells Luo Binghe's unconscious form. Without lifting a finger, she wipes him of all memories of today's confrontation. Then -- almost as an afterthought -- she pauses for a moment and wipes herself clean from the memories of every resident in the mansion before walking out the door.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[closed post] date night

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject