#hi aven's reply got me thinking about jing yuan but it's sad

[everlastiingiimmortals]

It's the way that Jing Yuan could regale you with tales of his youth, of all the mischief he got up to and all the battles he fought, all of his struggles with learning the blade and mastering his element, and he could have so much to say and so many stories, especially ones of struggle and loss, that one almost can't help but think 'incredible, the general is being so vulnerable. How truly lucky am I.' And maybe one might believe they are special to be an audience to the Divine Foresight's tales.

But Jing Yuan will never tell you about the giggles and clumsy fumbling of hands and stolen moments in a hidden corner of the Luofu. He will never tell you about the warmth of that brilliant blacksmith's hugs, or the cool comfort of that incredible High Elder's embrace. He will never tell you about the rings tucked under his shirt. He will never tell you about the old weapons room in his abode, that museum and tribute to just a fraction of his beloved's work and achievements, the fraction Jing Yuan could only salvage because they belonged to him. He will never tell you about the days spent sitting in a cold prison on the other side of the cell, talking aimlessly, desperately, trying to stave off the silence that he knew would be his only response. He will never tell you about the shouting and insults hurled at him as he marched out the door of his family's home, barely over 13 years of age, not looking back even as he flinched when the door was slammed shut behind him. He will never tell you about the grief he had to discard after defeating his own master -- more of a nurturing figure to him than his own parents had been -- because there was too much work to still be done, there was no time to rest, and as a newly appointed general he could not feel for a traitor, no matter who they might be. He will never tell you about those countless times he grappled with the idea of survival and the guilt that came with it, time and time again, when everyone who made up his world was lost or no longer themselves. He will never tell you about the ache in his right eye, or how he got it, or the helplessness and isolation that plagued his every step upon witnessing the inevitable. He will never tell you about the wave of despair that washed over him the first time he held that tiny infant with eyes so remarkably like his, not only at the fate of the babe but because he knew instantly that he was going to raise this boy, and he could only regret that he no longer had his partners by his side to raise the boy with. He will never tell you about who ordered the construction of those jade dragon fountains, the one in the gardens behind the Palace of Astrum and the one in Locufox Forest, and who they might be a tribute for. He will never tell you about Snowmoon.

He will tell you so much about death, and fear, and loss, and battles and sacrifices and suffering and yes, he will tell you about his favorite foods and his favorite memories of Yanqing growing up and his own fuck-ups because he has so many, truly, and he will offer you slivers of his doubts as a younger soldier and his dreams of yore and there is so much and still it is only a tiny fraction of who he is, the only fraction of him he is willing to share.

If he were to ever divulge in the rest, what would you think of him? The general was (is?) in love with two of the Luofu's greatest criminals. Would you think him weak? Pity him? Despise him?

Would you wonder if you ever really knew him at all?

#//about; (DIVINE FORESIGHT) #hi aven's reply got me thinking about jing yuan but it's sad