masqce

[masqce]

                       So Hilo is aware that his sister has no interest in helping him out with clan business— that’s news. Shae had begun to wonder if perhaps she hadn’t been clear enough the first ten times, though it turned out that her thoughts on the matter simply held no weight. Hypothetically speaking, if this fairytale were real, she’s inclined to believe that Hilo would have disregarded her opinion altogether and wished for her cooperation despite her protests. “Yes, Hilo. I’m very proud of your negotiations with the genie,” Shae compliments him, clearly enunciating each of the words. As she enters the house, however, her voice lowers, her next words aimed mainly at herself. “You’ll accept magically appearing in a foreign city; you’ll even accept believing in genies to grant your wishes, but— god forbid your sister actually saw your brother,” her pitch rises again, yet the volume remains below average, not necessarily needing Hilo to listen in to her venting. Proud of Hilo— what’s it to him, anyway? It’s not like he’s ever cared to get her approval before, why start now? Besides, she can’t help but to shake the feeling that her brother is about to get involved in something that he won’t be able to handle. If it seems too good to be true, it usually is. What on earth did he really give away in exchange for a few pieces of jade? It couldn’t have been so simple as merely asking. She heaves a sigh in frustration, resting one of her palms on the table while she prepares (about a second) to speak to him.

“Help you with what, Hilo?” she retorts tiredly, not feeling like he’s leaving her much of a choice in the matter. That still doesn’t change her stance, however. “Do you even have a plan beyond ‘reestablishing No Peak’? So you have a safe full of jade— now what? None of these people will be able to come anywhere near it without suffering the consequences. And even if they could, you’ll be running out of jade in no time.” With proper adjustments, sure, there must be a way to adapt No Peak to the climate of Washington. But why waste all that time and money when life here wasn’t half bad to begin with? Shae sighs, unwilling to think about it any longer; “So unless that safe of yours will continue to replenish its content or you have access to an actual Kekonese jade mine, you need to let it go. At least for the time being.”

He's a little hurt by the immediate wariness and subsequent frustration in her gaze. They might not have seen eye to eye recently, but she's still his Weatherman, and it's growing more and more inconvenient for her not to act like it. He's going to have to come up with some way to snap her out of this odd attitude, even if the incredible news of his newfound stock of jade doesn't do the trick. He leans his back up against the wall next to her door as Shae moves to unlock it. "Certain wishes don't pass. I think controlling someone's free will would fall into that category close enough," he says, when she suggests that he should wish for just that. "You think I'm joking, but what's in the safe in my apartment?" He whistles, shaking his head. "You would've been proud if you heard me negotiating, I tried to think through all the loopholes-- but it worked. Jade just as real as the kind I'm wearing, but a hundred times more of it." His tone is clearly self-satisfied, confident that he'd made the right choice; he'd achieved something, collected something that they can use on a practical level to start building the clan back up. Something that literally doesn't exist here, which is no small feat-- even if the opportunity had fallen into his lap by the providence of chance. Now, Shae's other suggestion, sending them back home... Hilo could ask about it, but he's more doubtful of the possible success of that wish. It's not as easy to verify that it happened if one of them gets sent back first and the others after, or to be able to tell if the Kekon they end up in is really their Kekon and not just a woven illusion of some kind. But on the other hand, he's not sure that using a second wish to simply 'double the jade' he has is useful, either. "Like I said before. I needed your advice, so I came to ask for it," he tells his sister with frank openness. "Are you going to help me, or not?"

#( &hilo. ) #( kaul shae&kaul hilo. ) #( &kaul shae speaks. ) #long post tw

[masqce]

                             Staying inside and studying— a much wiser and more practical attempt at surviving the city’s chaos than his initial plan of helping others had been. Shae’s glad to hear it, as it is likely thanks to this change of mind that her cousin has managed to stay alive in the first place. Natural talent or not, there’d been reports of creatures far more powerful than all of them combined, who’d still not stood a chance against the violence. Anden may not have followed her advice per se, but she’s still grateful to find that he’d heeded her warning. And that she’s still allowed to enter his apartment, after Hilo’s little chat with him. After they’ve both eaten their fill, Shae will try and figure out the best way of bringing up that particular subject, and— “You met Hilo,” she confirms, only mildly surprised by Anden’s sudden candor, a little earlier than anticipated. She could still paint the man as some peculiar stranger with behavioral problems; she would surely be able to convince the younger. But as much as her brother would (constantly) get on her nerves, twisting the narrative that badly was not what he deserved, either. So Shae swallows back the nagging urge to do so, keeping her composure. She proceeds with patience: “I'm afraid that someone was speaking the truth. He is my brother, but that doesn’t mean we’re always on the same page. If you’ll tell me what exactly he said to you, I’d be happy to answer any questions you may have. Only if you’ll allow me to, of course.” 

"You as well." Anden said with a small smile. Despite his confusion he was relieved to see Shae outside his place and looking well. He wasn't a particularly vindictive person, certainly not without getting worked up first, and even if the situation was confusing, and he felt certain Shae was hiding things from him, he didn't wish her any harm. "Luckily I didn't have any issues. It was easy enough to mostly stay inside and study." It's what he did when things were normal after all. He didn't need to mix it up just because the city had been in disarray. Even then he'd managed to get outside and help a few people without drawing any negative attention to himself. "That sounds great." Anden agreed with a nod. He opened his door wider to let her in before quickly continuing before he could think about it for too long and lose steam. "I actually wanted to talk to you after everything calmed down. I met someone recently who said he was your brother."

#( &anden. ) #( shae&anden. ) #( &kaul shae speaks. )

[masqce]

                          “The Moon Supreme!” Zhuyin replied in a lively manner, her words coated in a generous layer of appraisal. Too generous, perhaps, a feat she balanced out with an absolute lack of sincerity. This man— whoever he was— she would have assumed he was merely trying to prank her, if it weren’t for the fact that nobody in the world would make this convincing an actor.  Besides, Zhuyin had already had the pleasure of meeting him prior to today, and his overall demeanor had been little different back then, only more reasonable. Moon Supreme, huh. “In that case, I should apologize for my terrible manners, Your Highness the Moon Supreme— is that what I’m supposed to address you with?” she decides to humor him, her amusement evident. “Forgive me, it is my first time meeting a Moon Supreme. What is it you do, exactly?”

As much as she claims to be answering his questions, she still leaves his last one unanswered, unless her response was nonverbal and meant to be implied. Dongfang Qingcang did not request to get to know the other and would like to do as little getting-to-know as possible, but her following question doesn't make sense to him. "King of the hill-- I don't know what you mean. I am the Moon Supreme, and there is no hill." That's enough of a difference from being a king to warrant a correction. "Age has nothing to do with it," he adds darkly, without a hint of humor. No one ages out of a position of power; it tends to be the opposite, in fact, even from what he's observed here. And he's not 'playing' anything, in case that hasn't been made clear. He'd reprimanded her, to begin with, so why the situation would be reversed, he has no idea; the more he thinks about her statement, the more frustratingly baffled he becomes.

#( &dongfang qingcang. ) #( qi zhuyin&dongfang qingcang. ) #( &qi zhuyin speaks. )

[masqce]

                        Those are the words he’d wanted to hear: I’ll release you, except that they’re spoken in a way that has him suspect it’s not going to be that simple. If it were, they never would have gotten in this situation in the first place. Mu Qing carefully keeps an eye on Xie Lian as the man approaches him, step by step, not entirely unlike a predator would its prey. Surely, the other is only trying to get him to lower his guard, but— he won’t. He shifts his weight to the balls of his feet, his eyes narrowing. “No, it’s not alright,” he bites, glowering at the man. “I’ve been telling you it’s not this entire time! Are you even listening to me?!” Alright, he asks. Ridiculous. “Release me first.” 

Oh, Xie Lian thinks, once he hears the sheer desperation in the other's tone: Mu Qing's really upset. Far more than he would have expected after that trick; it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, he's seen Xie Lian use the silk band before! But then again, well, he's sure the other will get over it. So he lets the man say what he wants and doesn't take it to heart, since he doesn't think Mu Qing would truly never speak to him again because of this incident alone. People say things they don't mean when they're frightened, or embarrassed. Neither of those should be true in this scenario, though, not when Xie Lian only wants to help and Mu Qing having been hurt is nothing to be embarrassed or self-conscious about. Maybe that's what Xie Lian shouldn't be surprised about; he's never really understood the other's tendency to be like this. "I'll release you," he agrees good-naturedly, following along the free end of Ruoye until he meets the other face-to-face. "After I have a look at your wrist. Alright?"

#( &xie lian. ) #( mu qing&xie lian. ) #( &mu qing speaks. )

[masqce]

                          Ha-ha, very funny. Dying and losing one’s memory isn’t exactly a rarity in this city, so it’s not like his question had been without reason, and it certainly doesn’t warrant calling him “fucking crazy” or a “freak”. Mu Qing’s used to it by now, yet still makes sure to threaten the other with a murderous glare. “Plenty of people were left without a target and still ended up dying. I’m just making sure you didn’t run straight into a knife somehow, since I’m definitely not helping you retrieve your memories a second time.” There’s far better ways to spend his time that involve neither memories nor dying. “But you can go ahead and tell that story to the police, see who they’ll be locking up,” Mu Qing proceeds, effortlessly catching the pillow. There’s no need to hold onto it as tightly as he does, but it apparently makes for an ideal way to release his vexation. Not for it to disappear completely, but enough to smooth out his voice: “...Have you eaten yet?” 

once again, mu qing has decided to show that he cares by being... well, mu qing. so acting like a complete asshole who has no emotions whatsoever. he catches the pillow in one hand, giving the other a smirk. "no, i was actually about to call the cops about the freak in my apartment that i definitely haven't known for eight centuries. no idea why he's here, i think he's definitely fucking crazy, though." he retorts, before flinging the pillow back in the other's direction. "yes, i remember you. i told you, i didn't get a target or anything."

#( &feng xin. ) #( mu qing&feng xin. ) #( &mu qing speaks. ) #murder mention tw

[masqce]

                     The sharp blow against his jaw briefly sends Mu Qing’s world spinning, and it takes him everything he’s got not to curse out loud. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he doesn’t immediately resort to brute violence and knock Qi Rong out for real, though he wants to. The longer Qi Rong speaks, the harder it gets for him to hold himself back, seething in his spot. “I know of your… tendencies,” Mu Qing hisses lowly, refusing to use that term out loud, and refusing to acknowledge that he... may have misjudged the situation. It’s not as though it couldn’t have been true, after all. “Their body has yet to go cold, of course it’s still going to be there.” 

qi rong is quite sick of the other always sticking his fucking nose into his business, and he slams his head back to connect with the other's face before twisting away. "you're a moron. if i'd done it, there wouldn't be a body left, you should know that by now. so how about you screw your big fucking head on properly and think for once in your life?"

#( &qi rong. ) #( mu qing&qi rong. ) #( &mu qing speaks. ) #violence mention tw #death mention tw #swearing tw

[masqce]

                     “You could have died even without a date,” Mu Qing unpromptedly corrects Feng Yu, when the man goes on to list all of the times he could have died, but hadn’t. It’s not particularly crucial for him to be explaining these details one year after the disaster had taken place, but it’s not unimportant, either, seeing as the man works for the White House. He should have his facts straight, so that any repeat of events can be properly prevented in the future. And what Mu Qing says is true: he had simply been walking around with Feng Yu’s own brother when the pair of them had suddenly started to try and kill one another, no dating involved. So he clears his throat, briefly elaborating: “during the Valentine’s Day murders, I mean. I was not on a date, either, and still had someone try to come for me.” But now that he hears his own explanation out loud, he does realise that it may have been a little redundant to bring it up, and he quickly moves on to what is important: “but it’s good to know that memory retrieval by any method other than dying isn’t as uncommon as I thought it to be.” Only to him, apparently. Whatever the reason for the blockade may be, it is equally as promising as it is irksome to learn that being slow to retrieve his memories makes him an exception. He doesn’t need to fill Feng Yu in on this, not in detail, but a few vague truths may potentially allow him to give a few pointers. “They haven't fully returned, but a large chunk of them has.” At this point, he must only be missing approximately 97% of his memories. 92%, if he counted all the incomprehensible bits and pieces that had come to him in dreams. “The rest of them seem to be just out of reach… I’m trying to figure out what else I can do to retrieve them,” he says, a little too honestly, so he quickly adds: “not that it matters much. They could come back today or in ten years, for all I care. At least I know who I am.”

"Correct. I was here for almost a year without my memories, but I never died to retrieve them. On the murderous Valentine's Day, I escaped the chaos by the humbling fortune of having no date, and over Halloween, I was lucky enough to stumble across a less awful section of the corn maze and camped out there until it was over," he reports straightforwardly. "During the summer of the serial killers, we had a tough summer legislative session, and I didn't get out of the office. My memories did simply come back without warning." Feng Yu senses the annoyance in the other's voice, and he can acknowledge that it's likely warranted; he hadn't tried to get them back, as he hadn't known he had anything missing to remember in the first place. It had been sheer luck, and otherwise he'd likely still be working with no clue he had a brother here to miss at all. When Mu Qing settles down at the table, Feng Yu takes another seat, reaching for one of the two cups of coffee without having to be told that it's his. "Are your own memories fully returned?" The man must have at least some of them, if he'd mentioned meeting Feng Xin at the palace.

#( &feng yu. ) #( mu qing&feng yu. ) #( &mu qing speaks. ) #death mention tw

[masqce]

                   his heart jolts, startled by both the voice and the manner in which he’s being addressed. not the guangyao— uncle. logically, he’d been aware that anyone who lost their memories in the city would someday come to retrieve them, jin ling included. but being aware of these facts was one thing; actually handling them was another. no matter how well-prepared he had thought himself to be, now that he's being faced with the reality of the situation, guangyao is quick to realise just how foolishly optimistic he had been. his pace slows to a halt, his mind racing. it’s too late to ignore his nephew now; too late to head back home and mentally prepare himself for this meeting. he’d half come to hope jin ling would stay far away from him in the first place, like any sensible person would, and like any sensible parent would have told their child. not approach their murderer. he should be frightened, and angry: it would be well-deserved. though, ironically, the boy’s anxiety may be even worse of a punishment than simple avoidance would have been.

“are you always this nervous when telling people it’s good to see them?” he doesn’t expect a genuine answer to that question; moreso, he’d like jin ling to rethink his decision to approach guangyao, and hopefully leave on his own accord. and he could achieve just that by telling the other that he had meant to kill him. it would certainly be more effective than arguing against it. “you look well— i’m glad.” he’d told jin ling’s father the same on multiple occasions, in spite of the lacking memories. “but if you’re truly questioning whether or not i... killed you on purpose,” guangyao proceeds, “i'm afraid there won't be any answer that'll help set your mind at ease.” 

@masqce / jin ling & jin guangyao

“Uncle. Or Guangyao. I don't know if you still don't know who I am.” Jin Ling was nervous. He didn't want to say scared. He hadn't been scared of Guangyao before, even after he'd been held hostage and the man later went on to say he didn't know who Jin Ling was (something he still couldn't confirm or deny) the largest part of him had just been relieved to see the man alive again. Even now he was happy to have both of the people who raised him alive, but he kept a little more distance, shoulders hunched defensively even as he tried to relax. "...it's good to see you again." It was. Jin Ling was sure that it was, and as long as he insisted that to himself he wouldn't get overwhelmed or scared or frustrated and start crying, no matter how easy that would be to do right now. "I- you didn't kill me on purpose right?" The question just feel from him, completely devoid of tact, but he had to ask. It had been sitting with him since he remembered everything. "I know there was magic involved, or that's what everyone said. You wouldn't right?" It wasn't entirely cohesive, the way he was speaking, but he couldn't possibly try to reign himself in and make it better.

#( &guangyao speaks. ) #( guangyao&jin ling. ) #( &jin ling. ) #murder mention tw

[masqce]

                     the fog of morphine surrounds him like a thick cloud, dulling all his senses. it reeks of blood and ashes, as though the nightmare has somehow followed him back to reality. but his nightmare didn’t have chiye in it: his presence stands out through the mist, like an unexpected anchor to ground him and make sure he doesn’t lose himself completely. in this mist, the enmity between the two of them no longer seems to exist— not to shen zechuan, whose disoriented gaze clings desperately to the expressiveness of chiye's deep brown eyes, and the inexplicable promise that they’ll somehow guide him home.

it’s fine, you’re fine. that’s what the stranger had told him, too: we’ll be fine. we will be fine. but that’s not the truth— the stranger, drenched in his own blood, had been many things, but he had not been fine. zechuan had been though, that’s true. the unknown man had become his shield and given his life to protect him, to make sure that he would make it out alive. 

he’s fine. he’s fine. he’s fine. 

but he can’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t have been, not by himself. he forces his eyes shut again, bracing himself against the overwhelming influx of emotions, forgetting that his mind was still the scariest place of all. zechuan shudders at the return of what looks to be either a ravaged warzone, or a horrifying mass grave. in this place, he is alone again. 

but he’s fine. it’d been only a nightmare, no matter how vivid— chiye is right. more importantly, chiye is here— in the real world. that knowledge unexpectedly is the one thing to steer him back once more, his breathing shallow, yet his mind finally starting to clear. it’ll help to focus on anything that distinguishes his consciousness from his subconsciousness: the concern in chiye’s eyes versus the vacant eyes in the pile of bloodied corpses; the strangely familiar scent chiye has on him versus the pungent odor of decay; the cold touch of those corpses versus the comforting warmth of chiye’s hand brushing against his skin. 

his touch doesn’t startle zechuan. on the contrary, it gradually helps to steady the pace of his breathing, slowly easing him back to his senses. which is odd, given that absolutely nothing about this makes sense. at all. he should have pulled away immediately, not lean into the touch. more importantly, he shouldn’t have felt the urge to crawl even closer, lured in by the promise of safety. 

it’s the morphine that’s still messing with him. zechuan finally snaps back to reality, not entirely clear-headed, but clear enough to know that he should pull back, which he does. immediately. after first having relished in the moment far longer than necessary. as for looking like a wreck— well, he doesn’t need a mirror to know that there’s no arguing that. his clothes stick uncomfortably to his frame, and his hair must not look any better. he can’t be bothered to concern himself over it at present. “did they find anything?” he asks, drowsiness still thick in his voice. zechuan raises it a pitch, but that only reveals the hollowness to it. “the police— have they found anything new?” it’s not the best attempt at diverting the conversation, but he proceeds anyway: business is easier to talk about. though, it isn't long before the disturbed look upon chiye's face causes him to lose his train of thought, and a simple “i’ll be returning to the office tomorrow,” is what he settles for.

It's the doorway of an unfamiliar hospital room that Chiye finds himself standing underneath, looking in at the man within. Visiting hours are nearly over, and despite his lack of hesitation striding through the hospital's front automatic doors, asking for the room number at the nurse's desk, and taking the stairs two at a time to get here, he stalls once he's at the door. Checking on an injured employee; it's something he would do for anyone, he tells himself. If the other was awake, he would talk circles around him for showing up, surely-- in that voice that always sounds as though it knows far more than everyone else, that's always in control of whatever the situation-- but even so, Chiye doubts the man would send him away immediately. The problem is that he's not awake to prove his assumptions right, so there's no melodic voice to taunt him; there's only a motionless body on a bed.

Or rather, mostly motionless. As he steps closer, he can see how Shen Zechuan's eyebrows are drawn tightly in his sleep, and his shivering is visible underneath the layers of thin blankets. Chiye glances around in displeasure as though he'll find a thermostat immediately on the wall; can they turn the air conditioning down in here? But then again, the man's sweating as well, so the shivering may not be from the cold. Is it fever, or something else-- the stress of a nightmare? Within a few uncomfortable minutes, it becomes apparent that the latter is more likely. Chiye's never seen him this vulnerable, he can't help but think. The last time he'd seen him asleep-- during his poorly-thought-out visit to Zechuan's apartment during the man's illness-- he'd been more open than he'd ever seen him, but he still hadn't looked like this, almost haunted.

So he doesn't hesitate to attempt to wake him, if only to get him to stop looking so wrong. "Shen Zechuan," he says insistently, before repeating, more loudly-- "Shen Zechuan, wake up." It's only when he lays a hand on the man's shoulder that he seems to startle into awareness. But while his touch had the desired effect of waking him, it didn't improve the situation much, since the man thrashes, awareness absolutely missing from his eyes as Zechuan looks his way and lashes out at him like he's the one who attacked him and put him here in the hospital in the first place. Chiye doesn't move closer, but he also can't step away. "Shhh. It's fine, you're fine," he says lowly instead, his voice even, as though avoiding startling a wild animal-- which is, unfortunately, exactly what the other looks like at the moment. He reluctantly wills himself into patience, waiting until the man can get some semblance of his bearings back, before stating, "You were having a nightmare... I had to wake you." If Zechuan wants to blame him for interrupting his sleep, it clearly hadn't been restful sleep in the first place, so he can go right ahead.

He finally steps forward, taking a sprawling seat in the plastic chair next to the bed so that he doesn't have to keep towering over the other. The unnatural quiet in the room weighs on him, and the unusually deep concern he'd felt for the other a moment ago twists at him uncomfortably. "You look a wreck," he finally says with unfiltered bluntness as he internally tries to parse out why he was so bothered in the first place. Sitting this physically close, some inexplicable power compels Chiye to thoughtlessly reach out and lightly smooth the sweaty hair away from the other's face, though his hand freezes as he pulls it away, his own face dropping into a disturbed frown. Anything he'd been planning on saying is gone, replaced only with a storm of conflicting feelings.

#( &shen zechuan speaks. ) #( shen zechuan&xiao chiye. ) #( &xiao chiye. ) #murder mention tw #death mention tw #anxiety tw #nightmare tw #blood mention tw #injury mention tw #long post tw #it is actually shorter than your reply you can fact check me

[masqce]

@mvsicinthedvrk asked: perhaps not for the event but for later [ nightmare ] chiye wakes zechuan up from a nightmare

                     zechuan jolts awake with a start, shivering, though covered in sweat. his mind struggles to catch up with this change of scene, still stuck somewhere in between reality and his nightmare. the panic has yet to dissipate from his eyes when they settle on the tall man in front of him, not immediately capable of registering him as anyone he recognises. rather than finding comfort in his presence, he’s still far too set on protecting himself, considering the other to be a threat. his body moves on instinct, first lashing at him, then dazedly scrambling himself together. even as the situation slowly begins to settle, shen zechuan doesn’t dare to lower his guard, the morphine yet to fully leave his system, his brain still processing the environment. in the meantime, he keeps his gaze focused on chiye— it is him— yet zechuan can’t find it in himself to throw any witty remark his way. he can’t even seem to find his voice at all, simply staring at chiye as if expecting him to charge at him at any given moment, no doubt looking absolutely deranged with his hair and clothes a tousled mess.   

#( &shen zechuan speaks. ) #( &xiao chiye. ) #( shen zechuan&xiao chiye. ) #nightmare tw #anxiety tw #: (

[masqce]

                      Among innumerous names that had passed through the system, theirs is one that had managed to cause a rare moment of delay in Ling Wen’s office— and not just because she’d been listed as an employee of the White House. Although she could count their number of conversations on one hand, Jamie had been a pleasant presence to have around the workplace, unlike the majority of others. Perhaps enough so to take a minute and let the news sink in, if Ling Wen hadn’t been aware that any of the dead would be back up within days at most. It’s not entirely unexpected either way— Jamie had already mentioned not being thrilled to go after anyone, thus, it had only been a matter of time. “I see you failed to take my advice,” Ling Wen says as she approaches the other, not in the least bit concerned about being met with no recognition and only confusion. It was hardly the first time for this to happen. “If you’re looking for a job, we’re still in search of a new groundskeeper. Let me know if you’re interested,” she shamelessly adds, handing out her own business card. 

"I envy your pragmatic approach to life sometimes," Jamie stated as they caught their breath. It was as 'nice' of a way as they could think of to put it, which she figured was still leaps better than just calling her a cold-hearted bitch...again. "Just because you're right, don't mean I have to like it. After all, yeah they'll come back, but their memories sure as hell won't be coming back with them...though I suppose I can always take comfort in how that may be a good thing in some situations." Jamie let out a light laugh as she grinned in response and said, "Oh come on now, I'm already helping you as best as I can. No need for the flattery."

#( &jamie. ) #( ling wen&jamie. ) #( &ling wen speaks. ) #dead mention tw #she has no tact i apologize

[masqce]

                          Sorry? Up until ten seconds ago, the crown prince had been nothing short of obtrusive: never mind being apologetic, he hadn’t even considered his behaviour to be remotely problematic in the first place. The sudden switch in attitude is suspicious, enough so to cause Mu Qing’s curiosity to get the better of him, just for a moment. But that moment of hesitation is enough for Ruoye to catch him off guard, sheer panic flashing in otherwise unreadable eyes. “Your highness!” the title comes out in a desperate hiss; hard to tell whether it’s a plea or an admonishment, perhaps a bit of both. On top of that, the anxious embarrassment of not only getting caught so easily, but to be backed in a corner like this— forget keeping his composure, he’s long lost control over his own features, eyes grown wide in horror. He knows better than to think running off with Ruoye still on him will get him anywhere, yet he can’t think of anything sensible to say to save himself out of this predicament. Instead, he lets the panic do the talking for him: “Release me, or I will never talk to you again!” 

When Mu Qing pushes past him-- and goes to hide his hands in front of himself yet again, which really is even more suspicious-- Xie Lian doesn't let him get far. He can't grab onto Mu Qing's injured arm to stop him from going, because he doesn't want to injure it worse; trying to grab hold of the other, uninjured arm won't work, either, as it will be far too easy for the man to shake him off. Luckily, he does have one tool at his advantage. "I'm sorry," he says apologetically as his only warning, but then with a flick, he sends Ruoye out, and the snake-like ribbon shoots around Mu Qing, with the intention of entrapping both of his arms against his chest (though not too tightly as to hurt him) before he can walk too far away. It's for his own good, Xie Lian thinks.

#( &xie lian. ) #( mu qing&xie lian. ) #( &mu qing speaks. ) #absolute clown

[masqce]

                      Bringing along an aura of endearing chaos, Powder had been no different from usual when she had appeared at his doorstep that afternoon. She’d greeted him; greeted Monkey, and had wasted no time letting herself into the apartment. Still, Shen Qiao had immediately felt that something had shifted within the younger. Something was off; not necessarily bad, but— hard to place. Her referring to Silco as “this guy” who was “acting like her dad” only seals the deal, leaving him to feel a little bit helpless. After he’d regained his own memories, he had a vague feeling as to the tragedy that must have befallen her, though explaining that would be about the worst way to go about this. So, after a moment of studying her in quiet contemplation, he finally moves from his spot and settles down on a seat near to her, lips curved into a patient smile. “That does sound a little confusing,” he admits, deciding first to figure out how bad of a situation they were dealing with, “have you tried asking your mother about this?” 

~ post event skip ~

"you know I had this guy- what was his name again." she asked herself; hugging the dog, 'monkey' to her chest. "-silco! he was acting like he was my dad- it was real weird.. I don't even know my dad, -i just got my twin sister- and lori- my mom. -you don't think it's some weird affair situation, do you?" she rambled with a chuckle.

#( &jinx. ) #( shen qiao&jinx. ) #( &shen qiao speaks. )

[masqce]

                    That’s his cue to leave— he’d already shown the former emperor far more than he should have, regardless of whether or not he knew the meaning behind the shackle. He certainly doesn’t plan on sharing any more information; not with Jun Wu, not with anyone. And, to be fair, his own knowledge on the matter was subpar at best, having only seen it on Xie Lian before, and having only heard about the creation of it through other sources. So— he should leave now, not only for his own good, but the others as well. Jun Wu says he may be able to get rid of it, though… that’s enough of a promise to at least spark his interest a little longer. “What else would you need to know?” Mu Qing poses, instantly regretting it. “I don’t know how it was created, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

the other's reaction seems to be a bit too intense for the situation, but he really has no idea what the thing wrapped around his wrist is, so he can't really gauge the situation all too accurately. "i may be able to do so, if it's created through cultivation." his prowess in that area was well known, though he didn't make a point of bragging about such things. "but i would need to know far more than just what it looks like."

#( &jun wu. ) #( mu qing&jun wu. ) #( &mu qing speaks. )

[masqce]

                     Good— the fact that Cassie agrees to come, that is. It’ll be good to have her around for the game. In spite of everything, he, too, liked having her around to cheer for them. And, not at all unimportant: it’ll be good to have others see that they do hang around each other; that they do care enough to be supporting each other’s goals and aspirations. He does genuinely support Cassie in that, too, wishing nothing but the best to come her way. Really. These thoughts run through Jin’s mind with conviction, assuring himself that there is indeed nothing wrong with the pair of them— it’s the others that are concerning themselves over nothing. Once they reach her home, however, he’s acutely aware again that those concerns aren’t entirely for nothing. “I will see you on Sunday, then?” he confirms, making no move to lean in for at least a simple kiss. Instead, the thought that he’s not doing exactly that is becoming more and more prominent in his head, making him feel all the more awkward and self-aware. In the end, he settles for a quick hug, trying not to think it over again as he forces a smile back on his face. “I’ll text you tomorrow— sleep well.” 

she's pretty sure what had happened is still bothering him, but really, it's not his fault. some people aren't physically affectionate, what's wrong with that? their friends shouldn't be gossiping and butting in to other people's relationships, now should they? she can't blame her boyfriend for something out of his control, but she can blame her friends for being entirely incapable of keeping their mouths shut. "thanks. i'll let you know." and see, that's nice! boyfriends do that shit, it's the kind of stuff they put in romcom trailers, and she can't help but grin a little bit at him, as if that small offer changes all the other things bothering her. "yeah, that sounds like fun, meri's been wanting to do something, she gets bored easily. i think she'd have a blast going to a game. and i like cheering for you guys."

#( &cassie. ) #( lott jin&cassie. ) #( &lott jin speaks. ) #im looking away very hard @ the awkward jsyk #im sorry 2 cassie

[masqce]

                    An even blend of both nerves and agreement, the laughter that spills from Jesper’s lips does at least help to ease a bit of the tension from his muscles. Whether or not Sophie’s presence would end up being helpful in a fight, at the very least, she effortlessly makes him feel more comfortable. He can understand how a friendship between her and Lanhua had come to be; the relationship between her and… whatever his name is, not so much. But it wouldn’t be fair to question Lanhua’s judgment when she wasn’t even there to argue her point, so in her stead, Jesper adds: “I suppose he isn’t ugly, when he’s not frowning. Perhaps with a smile, he may even be considered handsome.” Which Jesper wouldn’t know, considering the man had never cared to smile in his presence— if he were able to smile at all. But, alright: unfair to Lanhua. He’ll ask her some other time. Especially when Sophie touches on a subject that is far too sensitive to keep fooling around (though that only makes him want to resort to jokes even moreso; that’s easier). “Missing for weeks?” he exclaims, a little too fast to be considered composed. “Haven’t you contacted the authorities— Never mind, if you’ll let me, I may know of someone who is capable of tracking down most anyone. But how—?”

she knew if she were out here alone, she would've called one of her sisters already, just anyone who could have picked them up so they were not sitting here wondering what exactly was rustling behind them both. the most she could do was enchant some knitting needles, which.. could be useful, if she did it correctly. and that was always the biggest if. "i just wish i understood what the appeal is there." sophie muttered, mainly to herself, but she was sure jesper had questions about the dynamic.. not that sophie was one to talk when it came to questionable dynamics in a relationship, when most people would hear her talk about their husband and question if she even liked him. "i'll split it with you." sophie added. "i was.. i was looking for my husband, howl. they've been missing for a few weeks.."

#( &jesper speaks. ) #( &sophie. ) #( jesper&sophie. )

[masqce]

                    Not everyone would've been happy to learn that he’s still alive, Zechuan’s sure, though even those who would wish him dead would likely not speak those words to his face. Nevertheless, he would have been less surprised had someone told him to die, than he was by Ding Tao’s sincere.. confession? Zechuan breathes out a chuckle, quiet enough not to bother his body any further. “I am also glad to be alive,” he admits half-jokingly, “thanks to your help.” He’s fairly certain he would’ve managed to get away regardless of Ding Tao’s help, though perhaps in a worse state, and with even less survivors. So the gratitude is real, even if he finds it hard to fully accept the situation as it is. But it doesn’t hurt to tease the younger a little longer; “Your place? Are you going to be watching me sleep the entire night? If I end up dying in my sleep, people are going to assume that you're the one who killed me.” 

They're not X-ray vision eyes that can automatically do CT scans that's for sure. "You are alive, which I am very glad for by the way." Ding Tao admits. "I really should carry you to a hospital and stay with you. . ." Ding Tao starts off. "But. . .I supposed I can go against better judgement to stitch your head and watching you at my place for the night. . ."

#( &ding tao. ) #( shen zechuan&ding tao. ) #( &shen zechuan speaks. )